The Dressing Room

I had a meeting at a clients this afternoon. The meeting finished up too late to trek back to the office, but a little too early to head home. So, I did the only reasonable thing any woman would do with an extra hour on her hands - I shopped. Well, actually, I justified the errands as more of a returning than a shopping expedition, but the truth is - I always have returning to do. (particularly at the stores I frequent the most. It's a sickness.)

I brought my return into the store and told the salesperson that I would love to do a quick peek around the store before I did my transaction. Before I knew it, I had a few things to take back with me into the fitting room.

As I tried on my selections, I heard a woman asking the salesperson for another size in a sweater.

"See," said the saleswoman, "I told you that a large would be just too big. Really. Just huge on you."

"It is really big, isn't it? A large has quite a lot of room." The woman responded.

"That large is just swimming on you. I knew immediately when I saw you that you weren't a large. A medium maybe, but really, a large?" The salesperson gives a quick laugh and continues, "I mean you just aren't that big."

Their conversation made it gobs of fun to try on my size LARGE tops in the dressing room RIGHT next door to them. Lots and lots of fun. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to interject myself into their conversation. But I kept my size large opinion to my size large self.

A Tribute to Lincoln - First Grade Style

After a long day at work, what parent doesn't want to go see each class at Aidan's school from kindergarten to grade 8 put on a presentation that is a tribute to President Lincoln? (I know. Bad mommy. Bad.) But I'll admit it, I was weighing our odds of successfully escaping school presentation night at Aidan's school from the moment we entered the cafeteria. Thankfully, the school begins the night with the lowest grades. (The forlorn faces of the trapped eighth grade parents tugged at my heartstrings just a bit. I saw my future and it isn't pretty.)

Aidan and his class rocked their rendition of "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" and "Dixie" while dressed to impress in construction paper crafted pilgrim gear. While other parents brought out their impressive high tech gadgets to record the event for posterity's sake, I remembered I forgot to bring the camera and held out my cell phone. (Hey - it works, right?!)

After each class presented, they were ushered off to an ice cream social. Aidan accepted his scoop of ice cream as merely an excuse to ladle heaps of m&ms to the brim of the bowl. I even let him go up for seconds. (It's hard to say no to a boy eating ice cream in a pilgrim hat.) And I am sure even President Lincoln could appreciate a boy's love for candy coated chocolate.

Monday at the Playground

We continued to celebrate spring today. I bribed Brennan and Griffin with a trip to the playground to get us through a trip to Wegmans. It's amazing how agreeable two little boys can be after an hour in the sun running, jumping, and climbing.

Is it Spring? Could it Be?

Spring has sprung. (Well, maybe. In March, in Buffalo, spring is sort of an on again, off again proposition. Today, we enjoy sunshine and the birds chirping. Tomorrow it's a blizzard. That's how spring is ushered into Buffalo.)

But this time it could be different! Really! The weather forecast shows sun, sun and more sun for the next week! And 50 degrees baby. That's practically balmy for March in our parts.

It could not have come at a better time. Cabin fever has settled into our home. We are all a little sick of each other, of the four walls of our home, and of bitter cold temps. (It was an unbelievably, record breaking, cold winter.)

After an hour of tennis this morning, I rushed home to take the boys for a walk. We walked around the block enjoying the sunshine and sky of the bluest blue. We circled back after a bit and headed to our neighbors playground. (The boys call it the playground because while it is owned by our neighbors, it is about the size of the town playground. I am not exaggerating in the slightest. Thankfully, our neighbors graciously offered up their backyard playground for the use of all the kiddies in our locale. This may be because they are the type of people who can have like 8 kids, homeschool them and still appear unfazed.)

As I pushed Griffin in the sun, he giggled and lifted his face up to the sky. After a moment, he sighed and said, "I love the sun, Mommy."

I think we can all agree that we all love the sun. Now let's hope that mean month of March doesn't take away our sunshine please.

The 38th Year

Today Chris is 38. It's hard to imagine for me. I still see us young tykes instead of thirty somethings quickly advancing into middle age.

We celebrated his birthday with an adult dinner out at, of course, a steak house. (To Chris, steak is like chocolate. He is at his happiest with a big pile of succulent beef in front of him.) As I ate my petite filet and Chris wolfed down his 20 oz porterhouse, Chris remarked that the uber trendy couple next to us sharing a bottle of wine must be all of 12. I laughed and placed them at 23 or 24 years of age. It made us both realize our age. An age when anyone and everyone starts to look like a young un.

We are getting older. And in Chris's case, a little grayer. But if I had to do it all over again, I would still pick him to be by my side, to share my life, to grow older and grayer together.

March Roars Like a Lion

March roared its way into our life this week by taking all of us down with a nice ol' fashioned stomach bug. It's not March unless we are vomiting in our house, right? (Seriously. I checked my archives and literally a year and a week ago we all had a stomach bug. How's that for reliability?)

Our sole hold out was Brennan, who despite my being convinced he will fall at any moment, has endured and is healthy.

The stomach bug, some other health issues I have been dealing with (minor, but annoying), the gigantic piles of clean laundry tormenting me with hours of folding time, and the cabin fever settling into all of our bones has made me a little grumpy. (I say little, but I really mean alot grumpy. The kids and Chris can attest to that.)

But on Friday, I took a break from the grumpies, put boots on Griffin and Brennan and went outside to enjoy the muddy almost spring like day. The boys stomped in puddles, collected rocks and indulged their fascination with drains. I was amazed at how a simple thing like a muddy walk with a warm(ish) breeze blowing into your face can make you feel a million times better.

Shut What?

The boys were dancing to my mix of songs on my ipod when the shuffle switched to the song "Shut Up and Let Me Go" by the Ting Tings. (It's a catchy tune from one of the Apple commercials. Oh hell, I guess that's no help at all, considering ALL the songs from the Apple commercials are downright catchy. In fact, I may just well be Apple's itunes bitch because I seem to download every single song from every single commercial right after I hear it. Either that or I am just a marketing wet dream.)

The boys started strutting their stuff to the beat until Aidan let out a loud gasp at the first chorus.

I turned to him and asked with concern, "Aidan, are you okay?"

He turned bright red, shook his head and said softly, "Mom, that song just said a bad word." He turned to Brennan who danced on obliviously and yelled, "Brennan, did you hear that? A BAD WORD."

I honestly was confused and had to ask, "What are you talking about? What bad word?"

He looked back at me aghast, shook his head and walked close to me. He whispered, "Shut up. Mom, they said SHUT UP."

It was probably not one of my finer parental responses that I started giggling uncontrollably and couldn't stop for the duration of the song.

Exhaustion Sets In

I am tired. I am completely wiped out. Chris has been gone for five days and I desperately need a quiet moment, anywhere, anytime, someday. The boys, while they have certainly had their challenging moments, have on the whole been pretty good - no major incidents to report. But the lack of back up, of trading off to someone else, the inability to go to the bathroom without some little tyke banging on the door with a question or a need - it is bone deep exhausting.

The kids were especially crazy tonight, completely wound up after a pick up game of hockey in the foyer. (Our poor hardwood floors never had a chance with our brood.) The hockey game evolved into a game of tackle and wrestle. The wrestling switched into let's all climb on top of Aidan. And that's when I grabbed my phone (my pretty little iphone) and snapped this shot:



They are exhausting and crazy and they create noise levels I never knew possible. But they are mine. All mine.

Off to Ski

Chris left yesterday on his yearly guy trip to skiing wonderland. I was upbeat about the trip this year because life is easier and it will be great and we will SAIL through the five days he is gone! It will be a snap. (I'm funny, aren't I?)

Last night, Brennan woke up screaming at 2 a.m. He had a nightmare. I got him back in bed. I went back to bed. Brennan woke up screaming again at 3 a.m. Another nightmare. I get back to bed, start to drift off and Brennan decides he now has to use the boys' bathroom. He turns on every light in the hall and the bathroom and basically lights up our house as if it is Christmas Day. It is 3:30 a.m. and I am getting a little cranky.

I start to drift off yet again, but I am jolted awake by Chris's alarm clock screaming at 4 am. I resist throwing the thing across the room and attempt to get back to sleep. I snooze for an hour until I hear more screaming coming from the direction of the boys' rooms. It's Griffin and he is up. He informs me he is "ready to go downstairs now." It is 5:30 a.m.

Yep. I am starting to get alot less upbeat about Chris being gone for five days, child free, skiing with his buddies. A lot less upbeat.

Excuse me while I go hunt down an IV full of a caffeinated beverage.

Singing, Kisses and Some Hair Tangles

After we have all read books, I tuck each of the boys in their bed at night, laying down with them to hear about their day or just to cuddle.

Griffin goes first. We rock together on his chair and sing songs. His favorite song right now is "Old McDonald." I think, in part, because he laughs hysterically whenever I make an exaggerated animal noise. After we giggle our way through the farm noises, he picks another song that I softly sing to him as his head rests on my shoulder. He lets out more giggles when I lean over to steal a kiss during our song. Often, he will quietly sing along with me, watching me closely with his big blue eyes so intent.

Next on the bedtime routine is Brennan. Brennan loves to give kisses, kisses and more kisses. He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my nose. I return his kisses with my own, listening to his little boy giggles when I evolve into the "Mommy Kissy Monster" who slobbers sloppy kisses on his neck. We chat about his day as he snuggles until he begs for one minute to lay on my back and play with my ponytail. Tonight, he snagged the elastic holding my hair back and claimed it as his own, hiding it in the recesses of his bed. The last words Brennan always says to me, every night, including tonight - "I love you Momma. You're the best."

And last is Aidan. Aidan loves to talk about his day interwoven with cuddles and hugs. Tonight he asked if he could untangle my mess of a hair after Brennan made off with my pony tail holder. Piece by piece, he gently unwound my hair with his fingers weaving carefully through my strands, careful not to pull or hurt me.

After a few minutes, he smiled at me and softly asked, "Does that feel nice Mommy?" When I told him it did, that I had forgotten how wonderful it was to have someone play with my hair, he smiled again and said, "I could do this for you every night! So then when you go to brush your hair at night, all the tangles would already be gone and you never would get hurt. Ever!"

I have moments where I love them so much I honestly feel like my heart could burst from the sheer force of it. My singing, kissing, hair untangling sweet boys - how will I ever stand to have them grow up?

With Confidence and Joy

9 months after I started playing tennis, I finally have won a singles match. It felt good. It was jumping up and down, hooting and cheering, unbelievably good.

I walked into the tennis club tonight with butterflies in my stomach and my hands shaking from nerves. Halfway through the match, we took a quick water break and I could barely drink from my water bottle because my hands shook so badly. My hands still shook when we handed in our score card at the end.

My goal in tennis is always to have fun, but I also hope to grow to into a player and a person who has more confidence, both on and off the court. I am just a beginner and I will probably stay a beginner for years and years, but I’d like to be a beginner who embraces the game with confidence and joy.

I have a feeling tonight’s win will go a long way to helping me achieve that goal.

Our Little Old Man

The teachers at Griffin's school call him their two year old little "old man." This nickname started a few months ago when he approached his buddy Jacob, smiled and said, "Jacob! Would you like to come over to the mat and play with me please?"

He has come out with some equally old mannish phrases and a few doozies that are fairly funny, but his teachers were lining up at the door to tell me about "terrible, terrible" last week.

One of Griffin's friends scratched him in a disagreement over a crayon. After the teacher put the little boy in time out, Griffin pointed his finger at his friend, shook it and said, "Dominick! That was terrible of you! Terrible, terrible, terrible!"

A few minutes later, the director of the center walked into Griffin's classroom and heard what happened. She asked Griffin if he was okay. He sadly shook his head no and told her, "Miss Mary, it was terrible. Just terrible, terrible, terrible."

This has become Griffin's catch phrase now. Any time we walk by a teacher from his school, they chuckle softly and murmur, "terrible, terrible, terrible."

I admit it. I sort of miss the days he was known as the toddler yelling "Go Obama!" around the school.

People!

We were sharing a family dinner when Brennan asked to be excused from the table to go to the bathroom. After ten minutes had passed, we all realized Brennan was still missing.

"Brennan?" I yelled.

"Brennan?" Aidan shouted.

"Brennan, are you in the bathroom?" Chris asked loudly.

At no response, I asked again, "Brennan, what are you doing?"

Finally, we hear a loud sigh from the downstairs bathroom. (Brennan refuses to shut the door when he is in the bathroom. There is no such thing as privacy in our life.)

After the sigh, Brennan yells back, "People! I am dealing with some serious gas issues in here, okay? We are talking about LOTS and LOTS of gas."

Never ask a question when you aren't sure you really want to know the answer.

Valentine's

I am not a huge fan of Valentine's Day. It doesn't seem like a real holiday to me, but a somewhat contrived made up day created to get people shopping in their mid-winter, post holiday gloom. We decided to opt out of the traditional romantic notion of Valentine's Day this year and instead hosted a little gathering for a few friends. Friends that, well, like to play Rock Band. For hours and hours and hours.

That's how it started at least. Then we added a mini-spa day for the ladies in the morning. We enjoyed massages, facials and much quality time on the lovely chaise lounges in the serene ladies' retreat room. We finally nudged ourselves out of the fluffy robes and went out to lunch.

After lunch, we ran home to change for our doubles tennis tournament. One hour, two tennis courts, four couples and lots of laughing. The tennis play ranged from Christine and me who started playing in June, Cynthia who has played since high school and our hubbies who barely ever get out to a court unless we drag them to the (wow, we were totally out of our league) expert levels of our dear tennis rock star friends Carolyn and Mike. It made for interesting (and really funny) matches.

The kids were at our house under the watchful eye of babysitter Nicole, who took off like a shot the minute Chris and I got home. As I watched the kids quietly enjoy a snack at the kitchen table, I commented on how they were playing so nicely and quietly. I was quite impressed with all of their behavior.

They all looked back at me wide eyed and smiled innocently until sweet little Hayden (Greg and Cynthia's daughter - almost 4 years old) commented with glee, "We are now. We were alot louder and wilder when just Nicole was here. You should have seen us then!"

I was laughing too hard to have a response.

The adults regrouped at our house after showers with pizza. We fed the kids, got them all settled into the playroom and commenced our reentry into the land of rock band. I am not sure what our slight addiction to this game says about all of us, but at least I know the addiction is shared with good company.

We stayed up way past all our bedtimes. Much, much too late.

I don't think the life of a rock star ever faced the harsh reality of the oh, too early 7 a.m. wake up call by the ever energetic kiddies. This rock star needs a nap, or maybe a nanny?

Easier

I took some time to stroll down memory lane yesterday. I read my old blog posts from the past two winters and realized, suddenly, that life has gotten easier. Not easy, mind you. Life with small children is never easy, but it's eased up a bit, allowed a little bit of breathing room. Life is easier.

This is the first year in six years that we have not added a new baby to our lives when our youngest hits two. I never got to enjoy the part where your youngest seeks independence and needs you just a wee bit less. I was otherwise engaged in the sleep deprived, nursing, all hours trenches created by a newborn. I am sad as I watch Griffin transform from sweet baby to fiercely independent (and strong willed) toddler, but it also gives me a break to do such exciting things like pick up the kitchen or throw in a load of laundry.

We have had a mild flu season this year so far. (knocking on wood!) The past two winters have been fairly horrific, but this year apart from a few colds and one mild visit from a stomach bug for Griffin, we have muddled through without major incident. Last year, we literally lived through back to back stomach bugs, flus and coughs from January through March. I shudder just to remember it.

Chris is traveling less. He will always have to travel as part of his job, but as his company has flourished he has been able to hire real life actual employees to do some of the traveling for him. He is home more. And this makes my life a hell of a lot easier. (and happier!)

I read the day to day accounts of my life from the last two years and honestly, there is a part of me that isn't sure how I did it. We sleep through the night now - until the ripe hour of 7 a.m. The boys play together, entertaining themselves for an hour or more! I get to share drop off and pick up on the days I work now, with a husband that is home to help with the bedtime routine. I have had time to rediscover myself, spending an hour, three times a week, to enjoy the game of tennis.

Life is easier. We were always happy. We always felt blessed to live our life with our three amazing, beautiful children. Our life, in the last six years, has always been a good place to live. It may never be easy, but what a welcome relief to know it does get easier.

More Whining as a Prelude to the Catwalk

Our whining started Sunday morning.

"I really don't feel like going out tonight," Chris confided over our morning coffee.

I quickly agreed and added, "Sunday nights are supposed to be spent at home."

We whined more and more as the day continued. I even whined to my brother Travis on the phone later that afternoon when he asked what we were up to that day.

"We have to go to a fundraiser - the Catwalk for Charity thing by Ryan Miller." I said and then quickly added, "But we really don't want to go. Really don't." I let out a huge sigh and continued, "But we have to."

My brother, knowing me very well, just laughed and said, "That's what you always say. I'll read on your blog how you and Chris were partying it down in a few days."

How well he does know us. We may not have partied it down. (I mean, no shots of tequila were consumed while dancing on top of a bar or anything.) But we had much, much fun. Open bar, yummy food, good friends and Buffalo celebrity sightings galore. (I mean, hello!, the principal guy from Saved by the Bell was there people. This is good stuff.)

My girlfriends and I spent a little too much time in the photo booth with a life size cutout of Ryan Miller, only to gawk at the real thing when we stepped out of the booth and found him standing right in front of us. We managed to put ourselves together a few minutes later and breezily chat him up on the money he was raising for cancer programs by hosting the shin dig. (And then Christine had to go and ruin it when he walked away by informing us he must think we are all "very, very old women." Sniff. Who you calling old?)

At one point in the evening, I got trapped in a corner behind two former Buffalo Bills - Jim Kelly and Alex Van Pelt. After a few minutes of being stuck and a few laughing glances by my friends who were engaging them in conversation, both guys realized I was there, grabbed me in a group hug and declared "I was trapped in the sweet spot." (I only wish I had taken my friend Greg up on his offer of 20$ if I grabbed both their asses at once. Damn. One more glass of wine and I would have been golden.)

The live auction continued, for the third year in a row, to be out of our bidding league. I wanted the sweet little black lab puppy so bad I even had Chris convinced we could bid on his furry doggie cuteness. Until the players' wives decided they wanted him too and bid it up to $6000. Yes, a tad bit too much for us. We also convinced ourselves that maybe, just maybe, if we got all of our friends to pitch in we could afford the Iron Chef backyard barbecue competition, complete with wine tasting and Sabres sous chefs. And then it went for $10,000. So, not so much success on the auction for us, unless you count our drooling over the deep pockets of the other fancier guests.

I also did a little bit of drooling on my newest itty bitty crush on Paul Gaustad. (Hi Paul! You handsome devil you! If you like mid thirties women who have given birth to three children, have stretch marks and regularly wear spanx, then call me, k? Let's make it happen!)

Wisdom

Brennan, Griffin and I set off this morning to Target to pick out Valentine's cards. 1 hour, 2 icees, 1 popcorn and a 100$ later, we were headed home. I am baffled by Target and the 100$ rule. It matters not what I head inside its doors for, I will inevitably walk out 100$ poorer.

My 100$ mandatory donation to Target today included an impossible to resist red trench coat. I didn't have a chance to try it on until later that afternoon. As I contemplated my purchase in the bathroom mirror, I turned to Aidan and Brennan and asked what they thought.

"Do you like it? Do you think it looks okay?" I asked as I stared into the mirror.

"Sure," answered Brennan.

"You look nice Mom." Aidan said.

After a beat he continued, "But, you know, it really shouldn't matter to you what we think. It doesn't matter what other people think. What matters is if you like it."

I like when my six year old reminds me of the important things.

Good Morning

I am not a morning person. Not even in the slightest. I take forever to wake up and once awake, tend towards the cranky until I have had a cup of coffee or two(or three.) Chris knows this. And even our boys know it. On the weekends, they never wake me up. EVER. They quietly and gently shake Chris awake and let me blissfully slumber on in peace. (My sweet boys. I have, on the occasion when I am feeling guilty, told the boys to wake me up instead of Chris on a weekend morning. But even with that request, the boys are reluctant to disturb me.)

I have come to realize I am better in the morning if I attempt to wake up before the boys. This works best on the days I work because it allows me to have a cup of coffee, slowly wake up at my own pace and get things organized for our morning rush. I enjoy my morning alone time, as much as it is possible when you must be awake at 6 a.m.

But now Aidan is on to me. He has figured out my early morning routine and sleepily will trudge downstairs minutes after me. At first, I admit, I was not happy at sharing my morning solitude. But this morning changed everything.

This morning, Aidan shuffled into the kitchen to greet me wordlessly with eyes half closed with sleep. He grabbed my hands and pulled me over to the couch. I sat down and he quietly crawled into my lap. We snuggled in the quiet of the morning, peacefully, for a good fifteen minutes. Just me and my sweet first born boy.

The first words he spoke were a good five minutes into the cuddle session. He lifted his head, smiled at me and whispered, "I love you Mommy."

It's enough to make me want to be a morning person. Almost.

Smackers, Smoochers and the Sloppy Ones

Brennan has a bedtime routine of giving kisses. He tells me where each kiss will go, but likes to surprise me with the variety of kiss he will bestow upon me. He is not done until he has kissed each of my cheeks, my forehead, the tip of my nose and my chin at least once. Often, he likes to hit them all twice. Sometimes three times.

The smacker kiss is one of his favorites. He grabs my cheek, smacks his lips together and makes loud smacking noises as he pushes his lips into my cheek. It's a variation on the smoocher where he lightly presses his lips to my forehead and makes fish like noises as he kisses me. And then there is the sloppy kiss. Let's just say the sloppy kiss is certainly sloppy, and involves a nice wet cheek when all is said and done.

At the end of the kissing, Brennan will smile and whisper to me, "And now Momma you get your nice kiss." He will lean over and barely, softly, brush his little puckered lips up against my cheek. Then for good measure, he pats my cheek and tells me to "rub the kiss in so it lasts you all night long." Every night, without fail, I obey him and rub my cheek in a circle to ensure no magic is lost from his sweet, soft little boy kiss.

The world would be a better place if we all ended our day with a smacker, a smoocher, a sloppy one and a sweet, nice kiss to last us all night long.

Sweetness

Three things, sweet things, from the mouths of my babes that I must commit to memory from this weekend.


1. Friday was a rough day in our house. Griffin caught a stomach bug and was doing his best to vomit on any area of our house that had previously been left untouched and unstained. Brennan, disturbed by all the attention being focused on Griffin by me because of said bug, decided to act out. He acted out spectacularly. My only saving grace to the day was going to be my promise of an hour of tennis that evening. And then tennis was canceled.

I was not in a good place. The boys were fighting and yelling and in a bad moment of temper, I slammed a drawer shut in the kitchen. The drawer broke off and fell onto my foot. As my foot throbbed with pain, I went into the living room, away from the kiddies for a moment for a good pity cry. I sat in the dark for a minute with my eyes closed. I opened them to see Aidan standing next to me. Wordlessly, he climbed up next to me on the couch, cuddled with me and gave me hugs.

Later that night, I thanked Aidan for coming in to give me a hug. "I really needed it, Aidan," I said to him, "Thank you for doing it."

"I know you needed it Mom. And I was the only one out of the three of us that wanted to..."

2. Saturday night was a quiet family night in our house. We watched a movie, had pizza and were simply content to hang out in our pjs. As I put Griffin to bed that night, we rocked for a minute in his rocking chair in his bedroom. He rested his head on my shoulder and snuggled into me while I rocked. After a few minutes, he lifted his head, smiled at me and said, "Momma, you're my best friend. I wuv you."

I smiled at him, resisting the urge to giggle, and replied, "You're my best friend too G."

"Thank you Mommy. I go to bed now."

That is a perfect way to send a child off to bed.

3. We celebrated the Superbowl over at our friend Christine and Dylan's home. They have an adorable golden retriever, Simon, who is loved by my boys. Unfortunately, Simon's treat that afternoon had been a giant container of peanut butter. Due to Brennan's peanut allergies, Christine locked Simon up in her bedroom.

Simon was not pleased and protested by barking loudly. When Dylan asked Christine why Simon was locked up, Brennan was listening intently to Christine's explanation about his allergies. He looked up at Dylan and said, "I can go, if you want. I can go."

It broke my heart with its sweetness. My lovely little boy willing to leave the party so the dog could be freed.