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.

A Special Lunch

I spent lunch today with Aidan. Once a year, his school hosts a special persons lunch and each student gets to invite a person or two to share lunch in the decorated, festive cafeteria. Last year, Chris went – and this year, Aidan decided he wanted me to go.

The parents get really into the lunch and bring special menus to please the kiddies. Parents come into the school bearing pizzas, take out bags and picnic baskets. There are also the brave souls who come to the lunch to purchase the cafeteria food with the students. (I am not so brave.) I brought Aidan’s requested meal of chicken nuggets, french fries and chocolate milk. (He’s a fast food connoisseur.)

The parents gather in the cafeteria and wait for the children to come in with their class. One by one, we watch the teachers usher in their students as they walk in a single file line. The students are dismissed in a mass, off to find their “special person.” It was wonderful to see the kids’ faces light up as they spotted their mom, father or grandparent waiting for them. Kids raced everywhere, jumping up to give hugs with glee.

Aidan and I gabbed with his friends and their parents while he ate. He sat as close as possible to me, hugging my arm, rubbing his hand against my hand and softly touching the back of my hair. Near the end of the lunch, one of the other mothers smiled at me and said, “He is such a sweet boy.”

He is truly such a sweet boy. There is a part of me that never wants him to change. I wish I could box him up and have him remain my sweet little boy forever, hugging my arm - just happy to be with his mom.

Cookie Jar

I have a love-hate relationship with parents' magazines. I love to read and have amassed a startling number of subscriptions to monthly reads, including several child-parent type mags. But to be honest, the parents magazines annoy me. They always profile these freakish parents who live and breathe their kids and come up with things that I would never even dream of in order to ensure a perfect universe in which to raise their precious young'uns.

(Like the one magazine that profiled the mommy who wanted her children to eat only organic veggies so she started a completely organic garden in her backyard, complete with her own COMPOST PILE. I mean seriously. Who has time to do this? Really? In this same issue, they also profiled a mother who keeps her grocery list on her blackberry so she can buy food that only has rebates back into her children's college accounts and is on sale. Ain't she thrifty? Now, when I go to the grocery store, I'm just happy if I remember to use a few coupons, the kids are alive at the end and I haven't harmed any innocent shoppers with my gigantic, extended kiddie friendly shopping cart. (After reading this issue, I think I both canceled my subscription and wrote them a letter asking if anyone who works at their magazine actually HAS any children. I doubt it.)

Okay, I digress. Every once in a while, one of these magazines does have a cute tradition or a tip I find helpful. A few months ago one of the blurbs was about creating a winter tradition of baking cookies. A mother wrote that she had a special winter themed cookie jar she brought out at the first snow and baked cookies with her kids to keep it filled all winter long. (Now this I can get behind! Cute cookie jar and baking! Yipee.)

I picked up an adorable snowman jar at Target and with help from the boys, we got a baking. The boys love the baking, they definitely love the eating and they love peeking into our cookie jar for a snack.

This afternoon, the cookie jar was empty. Unfortunately, our cabinets were also pretty empty. Using the ingredients on hand, we improvised a chocolate cookie with mini marshmallows. I wasn't quite sure how it would turn out, but we may have hit a home run. Aidan declared it his "favorite cookie ever." Brennan concurred that it was "the bestest cookie." And Griffin yelled triumphantly, "And I make it! I make the cookie!" before he took a huge bite.

The boys glowed as we filled up our jar with our creations. And I decided that maybe, just maybe, there may be some value to these parents magazines after all.

They had us at Limo Bus

Imagine a gigantic limo bus. Now imagine that bus filled with twenty four kiddies. TWENTY FOUR kids, ages 2 to 13. Would you want to be one of the adults on that bus?

Our neighbor organized an outing to Disney on Ice. But being our neighborhood, this wasn't just a plain ol' excursion to watch Mickey skate. Oh no. They rented a limo bus. They rented out the new local kiddie gym for two hours. We would feast on pizza, let our kids bounce and jump and run their heads off, and then, only then would we make it to Disney on Ice.

I'll be honest. Chris and I could not stop giggling when the whole shin dig was explained to us. Who lives like this? Who does this? But the thought of doing it was too tempting to say no.

And that is how we came to spend a Friday night on a fancy bus with two dozen children.

My boys were so excited at all of it that I thought they would burst from sheer excitement. We live across the street from the organizers, so when that giant bus pulled up in front of our house, Aidan and Brennan were squealing with glee. It didn't help their anxiety level that I was still in my pjs. (Don't judge. It's my Friday at home - an unofficial pj day in our house.) The boys kept screaming at me to get dressed already! We can't miss the bus! The bus may leave! We must get on the bus!

After we were on the bus, the bus traveled slowly around the neighborhood to pick up other families. It was very funny to see eight other families in their driveways waiting for their bus pick up.

We all loaded up, complete with drinks (both kiddie and adult), snacks and music, and headed to the kiddie gym. The gym is new to our neighborhood and we haven't had a chance to check it out yet. The boys loved it. It was pretty amazing. They climbed up rock walls and nets. They did uneven bars and rings. They jumped into a giant pit of foam cubes. Griffin did his first balance beam. A good time was definitely had by all. By the end of the playtime, they were all a sweaty, exhausted mess.

We refortified with pizza and headed downtown to HSBC arena. On the bus ride there, the organizers passed out favors to all the kids - large, swirly glass globes on sticks that played music and lit up in psychedelic colors. The kids went wild.

And then... Disney on Ice. While the other kids stared transfixed at the ice show, Aidan and Brennan kept up a running commentary the entire first half.

"Is this real Momma? Where's the puck? Where's the hockey guys? Is the ice real Momma? What are they doing? Who are these people? Why is that girl gliding around the ice? Who is she supposed to be? Did she jump? What happens if they fall? Do they get in trouble? Is she going to fall? Is she going to trip? How did they do that? Where's the music coming from? What happened to the lights? Who's back there? What's up with the castle?" Imagine all this and more (much more) for a good 45 minutes.

My personal favorite was two quotes from Brennan: Every time they ended a number or had a break in the music, Brennan would shake his head and yell, "Is it over? Now? Is it over?" Every. Single. Time. He also finished our entire bucket of popcorn. When he reached the bottom of the bucket, he sighed and said, "Wow, I hope no one wanted any more popcorn." And then he burped. Loudly.

Griffin, meanwhile was in awe. He oohed. He ahhed. He danced with his arms up in the air. I honestly didn't care much for the show myself, but to see it through Griffin's eyes and expressions was a delight. I could have watched his face all night.

When all was said and done, we didn't get home until 10 pm - a good three hours past our normal bedtime for the boys. I said a quiet prayer the boys would sleep in this morning.

I should have known better. I really should have known better.

Scenes from the gym portion of the evening:

Fore What?

Brennan asked to give me a kiss on my head. He lightly kissed my forehead, and then asked, "What do you call that part of your head momma?"

"My forehead?" I replied, uncertain.

"Forehead?" He said unbelievably, "I like to call it my egg head. Do you want another kiss on your egg head momma?"

Sure, B. Sure.

Snowy Friday

It is bitter cold here - so cold that you want to wrap yourself up in fleece and stay inside until spring. The 20 below temps made me cave to Aidan when he wanted to stay home from school. The thought of all of us, warm in our pjs, playing and doing nothing much at all was too tempting to pass up.

We stayed in our pajamas all day. We played Legos and space ship. We made home made chocolate chip cookies and ate them warm from the oven. And then we all climbed up into my bed, popped in a dvd, and snuggled under the covers to watch it.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

It was so perfect that I almost forgot about Brennan and Griffin's yearly appointments at the doctor's office. Reluctantly, we changed out of our pjs into more presentable attire to trudge through the cold to the doctors.

In an act of maternal genius, I scheduled both boys in a group appointment. It made it go faster, seemed to keep everyone much more calm and less scared. Brennan handled the exam like a champ. He is in the 95% for both weight and height. And he also appears to be colorblind.

I had a hunch he might be color blind for about a year, but the doctor confirmed it today. My poor guy. I am honestly not at all sure what this means yet, beyond the fact that Brennan will never be able to match his own clothes!

Griffin also did great with the exam. He is in the 95% for height - and off the charts considerably for weight. He weighs about the same weight as an average three year old. He is one solid little boy, who may just be genetically predisposed for the football career he is currently obsessed with. (He will only wear clothes related to or about football. This has narrowed our choices considerably.)

After the exams, we came home and had dinner. The boys begged to watch one last show before bedtime upstairs with all of us cuddled up back in bed. Chris came home from work and found us upstairs, all in our pjs, snug as bed bugs. It's a good way to spend a Friday night.

Foreshadowing

I was changing out of my clothes from work while Aidan and Griffin played in Griffin's room. Brennan was in the boys' bathroom on a potty break. After a few minutes, I heard the toilet flush. And then it flushed again. And again. And again. And quickly, it flushed again.

Remembering Brennan was the child in the bathroom, I got a tad worried and I hightailed it to the bathroom to check on things. I found Brennan hunched over the toilet, flushing the toilet with his head almost in the bowl, watching the water go down the drain.

"Brennan?! What are you doing?" I asked (maybe screeched... just a little.)

"The water won't go all the way down Momma. It's stays up. I think it's broken."

I looked over at the toilet, saw the water resume it's normal level in the absence of repeated flushing, and assured him it was fine.

Brennan gazed at the toilet thoughtfully for a long minute. He turned to me and asked with contemplation, "Momma? What would happen if a whole lot of toilet paper got put in there? Would it stop working then?"

"That's not going to happen, so it doesn't matter, right Brennan?" I said with emphasis.

"No, no. But, if it did? If somebody did put a whole lot of stuff in there?" He asked gesturing to the toilet. "If they did do that, would the water go everywhere? Would there be a whole lot of water running all over the place?"

"Brennan. We do not put anything in the toilet, okay? NOTHING in the toilet."

"Why? Why can't we?"

"Because, it will break the toilet. And you will have no where to go potty." I said with force.

"And water would go everywhere! All over everywhere!" He said clapping his hands and with one last backwards glance at the toilet he walked out of the bathroom.

I sense trouble flowing our way. Big overflowing, watery trouble.

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly: My Monday in a Nutshell

The Good: Tonight, rocking Griffin in my arms before bed watching his eyes close as I softly sang "Blackbird." I stopped for a moment when I thought he was asleep, ready to put him into bed, when he opened his eyes to look at me, smiled and said softly, "More singing momma. I want more."

More Good: Tonight, watching Brennan declare he wanted to give a hug to Aidan before bed, right before he jumped on top of Aidan in bed and tickled him. They giggled together for at least five minutes. There is no sound sweeter than that of a child giggling.

The Bad: The incessant smoke alarms going off periodically for an hour because I spilled lasagna in the oven. I had to open every door and window in the house to get them all (like five of them!) to stop screeching in unison. It's winter in Buffalo. I thought we were all going to turn into Popsicles. And my neighbors may think we are a tad insane.

The Ugly: Catching Brennan in the bathroom after he dropped his mini soccer ball in the toilet. He shrugged, grabbed it out of the toilet he HAD JUST PEED IN, and them WIPED IT OFF WITH HIS SHIRT. When I gasped and yelled, "Brennan?!" He looked at me surprised and said, "What?" Because in Brennan's world - that is completely acceptable hygienic behavior.

Just an Hour, I Swear

Chris and I start almost all of our nights out with the pre-function whining. We will whine about having to leave the house, or having to get dressed up or make ourselves look presentable. We will share jointly out loud to each other our fantasy weekend night - a night at home watching a movie. In our pajamas. And then we really up the ante when we talk about how great it would be to go to bed really, really early and wake up the next day refreshed from our perfect quiet evening at home.

The whining continues as we both get dressed, as we prepare to leave, hug the kids goodbye and bid farewell to the babysitter. We then, almost always, assure the babysitter we will not be longer than an hour, because, truly we just want to be home. Quite and comfortable at home.

We mean it. We do. It just never happens. Inevitably, once we get where ever we are, join in whatever festivities we have planned, we evolve into party people. I don't know how it happens, but the next thing I know, the night has stretched from one hour into many.

Last night was such a night. We were invited to a friend's 40th birthday party celebration - Vegas style. The invite specified dressy attire. I was cranky when I was forced to bust out the cocktail dress and make up. Chris moaned about having to wear a jacket. We promised each other - an hour, maybe two - but at the most, home by 11. Sure.

The party was fantastic. We were greeted by a life size Elvis and balloons galore. Upon walking in the door, you were given a raffle ticket and each half hour a ticket was drawn for someone to spin a giant wheel of fortune wheel for party favors. And these were not your grandma's party favors. Throughout the night, we saw people winning ipods, sabres tickets and gift certificates.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, including a guest who came dressed as Elvis, resplendent in a polyester jump suit. There were five black jack tables and a roulette wheel all manned by dealers. I played black jack for hours, laughing harder than I thought possible with a drink constantly kept full by friends or the waitresses. Chris and a friend were constantly running back and forth from our spot at the black jack table to place bets on roulette. It was pure mayhem and lots of fun.

At the end of the night, guests were asked to cash in their chips for more raffle tickets. The chosen tickets got a chance for thirty seconds in a cash machine filled with two hundred, dollar bills. I can not tell you how absolutely hysterical it is to see people with many a drink in them jumping for dollars at 1 am. Dollar bills were shoved into dresses and pants as people cheered and hooted. It was a riot.

We were home late. Very, very late. It wasn't the early Saturday night at home watching a movie we had dreamed about, but I think I liked my late night gambling in Vegas just the same. But next time, just an hour, or two, I swear. Really.