First Football

A few weeks ago we took the boys to the pre-season Kids day Bills football game. The boys were excited to see the stadium up close, view the players on the field and well, eat a whole lot of junk food.

They lasted all of half of the first period. After the whining and fighting got to be too much for all of us (and the people in front of us), we decided to head home. About half way into our walk back to the car, Griffin started projectile vomiting on the side of the road. (Good times, people, nothing but good times for our crew.) But for a moment, in between the whining, complaining, vomiting and fighting, we had a sweet family moment and snapped this shot:

This family looks like they are having fun. Let's remember the evening that way, shall we?

Hot is Not Just a Temperature

Aidan and I are chatting in his bed before bedtime about, what else, Star Wars. (The kid is like an encyclopedia on Star Wars. It just never ends. The only other topic getting any play from him lately is his fascination with ancient Egypt. I have no idea either.)

Aidan pats my arm and says to me, "Mom, you're hot!"

I nod in response and say, "It is hot in your room. I will open some of your windows to let some air in, okay?"

He laughs and says, "No. Not hot like that, but hot as in DEAD SEXAHY."

I am not sure I heard him right and say, "What?"

"SEXAHY, Mom. HOT! Like the Hot SEXAHY ladies, you know?!"

I was laughing so hard I couldn't speak for a good five minutes. I would like to thank Aidan's older cousins for imparting some of their extensive and valuable knowledge upon my not yet seven year old.

The Rocker

I listen to alot of music around the house. After I had Aidan, most of our music hours were consumed with children's music. He adored the Wiggles and Laurie Berkner. When we were not listening to the kiddie tunes, Aidan's tastes tended towards the more mellow, preferring the likes of Norah Jones. (He used to cooo over her songs as a baby.) Brennan liked any and all music. He could bust quite a groove to Dan Zanes and he would go crazy for a little Choo Choo Soul.

But of course, as it is always the way with the third child, Griffin was raised on my playlists, rather than his own. He wouldn't know Laurie Berkner if he fell on her, but he will pump his fist in the air with exuberant joy over the Killers. He likes anything with a hard, fast beat that allows him to bust a move around the family room. If music is on, he is bobbing his head, jumping in the air or twirling with abandon. But he also isn't shy about sharing his opinion about the music randomly selected from my ipod and will regularly demand I pass on Adele, Fiest or anything else that does not fit his rocker groove. If it's slow, soft or melodic, forget it. It just isn't Griffin's style.

My baby, the rocker. Let's just hope he doesn't try to transform his preschooler buddies into a band.

From the Mouth of the Middle Child

I am getting ready to go out to an adult dinner. Brennan, who would be happiest in a world where he is surgically attached to me, always gets antsy when he knows a babysitter is coming over. I hear him calling my name as he searches the house for me. He finally comes upon me in my bathroom upstairs.

"Momma, are you going now?" He asks me nervously.

"No B. Not yet." I smile at him, gesture to my unkempt hair, makeup free face and underwear clad self and say jokingly, "Do I look like I am ready to go out yet?"

Brennan looks relieved and says, "Nope. You don't look pretty at ALL."

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I am putting Brennan to bed. He grabs onto my hair, up in its ever present ponytail, and takes the elastic out of my hair. He pulls my hair around to the front of my face, looks at me seriously and says, "Wow, Momma, you almost look like a real girl!"

After I put the hair elastic back into my hair to make a ponytail, Brennan looks sad and says, "Now you are a mommy again."

Big Boy

Griffin has had quite a week. He has abandoned diapers in favor of Star Wars and Buzz Lightyear underwear. Apart from a few accidents, he is doing well as a member of the potty trained set. I am aghast at the thought of a world without diapers. It has been almost seven long years of life amongst diapers and now, finally, remarkably, this may all be coming to an end.

What? Did I cry? Over diapers? Come on now. Let's give me some credit now, shall we. I shed not one tear over the arrival of the underwear. Not a one. I swear.

But then we had to roll out the big boy bed. I was all set for the transition for our G from crib to the land of the twin bed. I pre purchased adorable sheets (Batman!) to charm him from his crib. And let's face it, Griffin has probably exceeded the weight limit for his crib from the time he turned one. At two and a half, it's time. Seriously, it's time.

Chris set up the bed this morning before joining us at the pool. When we arrived home and I saw the crib in pieces resting in the upstairs hallway, I couldn't help it - I cried. The crib - our crib - has lived in our house over the last seven years sheltering our babies. There was such a finality in seeing it taken apart. We're done with babies now. We have boys. Sweet boys who sleep in beds and don't wear diapers. (They also tend to pee anywhere and everywhere, but that's neither here nor there.)

Yes, I cried alot then. I thought I was all done with the tears, but then I went grocery shopping and cried in the baby aisle. I also teared up whenever a baby drove by in another cart. It's amazing no one called security. (Crazy lady in aisle five crying over baby wipes!)

Griffin loves his new bed. He looks comfortable and happy and all big boy now too.



(Yes, slightly blurry picture of new big boy bed is not due to parental tears of joy, but rather a camera that was almost out of batteries and kept shutting off during my Kodak moment. I persevered with the picture taking until it came through, albeit blurred. I need to spend some serious time learning how to use my brand spankin' new fancy camera that would never take blurry shots like my traitor of an old camera. But the instruction manual is so thick, I need a good day to figure it out. So, blurry picture of our G's big boy moment. Sigh.)

27, right?!

I keep telling the kids that I turned 27 yesterday. I am not sure who I am trying to convince, them or me because I'll be honest, 37 has the sound of 40 barrelling towards me more quickly than I would like. 37!

I spent the birthday morning with the boys. I got my behind handed to me in Wii tennis by my four year old. I then engaged in a battle of chess with my six year old. Aidan beat me in about eight minutes into our chess game. Apparently 37 means you can no longer keep up with the young 'uns.

After our morning entertainment, we headed to the pool for lunch and swimming. We soaked up the sun and heat, content with the very late arrival of a beautiful summer.

I spent the evening with Chris and friends, eating good food and drinking (much) red wine. And even better, was the sweet husband who got up with our boys this morning so I could sleep off that red wine until the ripe old hour of 8:45 am.

37. Let's just try and hold off the impending arrival of 40. That just may be too much for me.

All Tennis Weekend

This past weekend was the USTA Eastern Sectionals in Syracuse, New York. The teams competing were all the winning teams from their regions around the Eastern Division of the USTA. We were up against teams from New Jersey, Long Island, New York City, Rockland County and Cooperstown.

Our first day of competition was at the courts at Syracuse University. My nerves were jittery with excitement as I saw the people gathered to compete and to watch the matches. I truly felt like a real tennis player. (This feeling dissipated somewhat as I watched the men from the 4.5 level (which in non-tennis speak basically means they are unbelievably good) play matches right next to our matches. There may have been a (ahem) slight difference in our playing levels. Just a bit.)

I couldn't' t believe I was at Sectionals. I never imagined our team would win the Buffalo area and I know none of us believed we could prevail at Regionals, so to be at Sectionals facing all these talented players seemed almost surreal. I was proud of our team. And I was damn proud of me. I never knew I had any of this in me.

I played five matches in three days and faced physical exhaustion beyond anything I have ever experienced. There was a point in my second match on Saturday that I honestly didn't think I was going to make it. We were in an intensely competitive, physical match that left me serving one game for almost half an hour because we reached so many deuce scores. I had to chase a loose ball during that long game and I saw my friend Carolyn who had driven to Syracuse to see us play, watching me walk towards the ball. I gave her a long look through the fence and whispered, "I'm not going to make it." She told me I was. She told me to take my time fetching that ball and take some deep breaths. Her calm and confidence in me reminded me I had it in me.

I did make it. My partner Christine made it. (Okay, she also runs marathons, so perhaps, for her this was not the test of physical endurance it was for me.) At the end of that first unending game, she turned at my groan of relief, grinned back at me and muttered dryly, "Hallu-fucking-lueigh." That quickly became one of my more favorite quotes from the weekend.

That match was my favorite. We didn't win, but I played better tennis than I thought I could. I kept going even though I wanted just to curl up in a corner and take a long nap. I pushed myself further physically than ever before. I won two matches of the five I played over the weekend, but that match, that physically demanding intensely competitive, but losing match, will always stay with me.

As an aside, the match will also stay with me because of a little "disagreement" we got into with the other team over one of their calls. We had to call in the ump to work it out and when it was resolved in our favor the other team was none too thrilled. A few minutes after the resolution, I had a particularly good shot and our opponent said quietly to me, "Nice shot." Christine hadn't heard her, but knew she had engaged me somehow and bounded up from the service line, pumped up to all her 5 '10 height, leaned over the net to the other player and said evenly, "What did you say to her? "

It took every ounce of my willpower not to laugh hysterically at this new side to my very calm, non-competitive, conflict avoidance friend. It was fantastic.

Over the weekend, I learned alot. I cemented my obsession with tennis. I now have a to-do list a mile long of what I want to learn next to improve my game. I also laughed more than I have in a long time at the antics of my teammates and friends. I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to share my new obsession of this wonderful game of tennis.

You Just Never Know

We do not know the extent of our talents until we are challenged to expand our boundaries.

Aidan reminded me of this today as we sat at his swim banquet, gathering his swim meet ribbons and, the real hit of the night, his first swim team trophy. Aidan hated swimming when he started taking lessons at the age of 3. His fearful tantrums were legend among the whoville swim set.

This summer, he wowed all of us with his enthusiasm for swimming, his love of the swim meets and how quickly he grew into a truly competitive swimmer. He evolved from one of the slower swimmers on the team to one of the faster swimmers for his age. At the swim championship, he not only raced in his age for the freestyle stroke, but he did the six and under relay, and got bumped up by the coaches to also do the eight and under mixed relay.

The most miraculous part of his evolution has been his love for swim team. He loves the practices, the meets and the swimming. He has already asked to continue his training in a winter swimming program.

You just never know.

Swim Championships: In Pictures

So Much Good Wrapped Up in a Weekend

I don't know where to start. There was almost too much goodness wrapped up in our weekend. Lots and lots of goodness.

We enjoyed a fantastic dinner with friends on Saturday night, outside on the patio soaking up a perfect summer evening. As we finished up dessert, we found out there was a fireworks display scheduled that evening for a wedding reception being held in the same venue. For fifteen minutes, we were treated to an almost personal fireworks display that took off above our heads, streaking the night sky with color and light. It was perfect.

I barely slept Saturday night keyed up for the big tennis play offs for my tennis team in Rochester on Sunday. My teammates and I streamed into the Rochester tennis club for our matches bleary eyed and pretty nervous, only to meet our competition, the uber tennis squad. Their coach was screaming drills at the women as they ran laps across the courts. After their drills were over, they took turns trying to psych us out by giving us evil stares. I'd be lying if I didn't admit they freaked me out.

At the same time, I started humming the melody from "Eye of the Tiger." Yes, really. I blame my hubbie and Aidan for putting the idea in my head. But all cheesiness aside, the Eye of the Tiger humming and singing got us all laughing, even in the midst of the evil stares.

First match of the day: doubles with a new partner. We did not start out strong. We were both really nervous and things were not looking good for us. We lost the first set and were down 4-1 the second set. The next thing I knew, we had come from behind to win the second set 7-5 to force a tie-breaker. We won the tie-breaker 10-8. We took Rochester and their crazy drill running coach down, on to the afternoon match.

Second match of the day against Binghamton Region: doubles with my dear friend and more regular partner Christine. We are good partners because we embrace the fun in tennis. We are competitive and like to win, but we like to have fun more. And we had a whole lot of fun. A whole lot of 6-0; 6-0 fun.

Two competitive matches in one day was exhausting, but it was also exhilarating. After some disbelief and a whole lot of giddiness, we realized we are on to the Eastern Region Championships. Three days of tennis next weekend. Game On.

We celebrated by meeting up with the hubbies to see Jason Mraz on concert. And we toasted, of course, in our new USTA champion glasses. I am currently renting them out for special events.

Potty Power III: The Return of the Potty

It's that time again. That horrible, no good time. The time when Chris and I have to actually put some effort into potty training a child. And let's face it. We sort of suck at the whole potty training thing. We are half hearted potty trainers. Sure, I can rock out the Potty Power song, and sing my heart out about "doing it yourself," but at the end of the day, the truth still hurts. I hate it and I'm not good at it.

I was putting some effort into our own episode of The Return of the Potty a few days ago. After Griffin wowed me with his potty prowess and managed to eek out some business on the throne, he turned to me, smiled and said, "Mommy, are you just SOOOO happy right now?"

I interrupted my humming of "potty power!" to assure him that yes, I was just soooo happy at his potty efforts.

He clapped his hands, helped me pull up his pants and said, "Good, because now you are my princess! My Potty Princess!"

"Wow, a princess? Really?" I asked laughing, "And a potty princess at that?"

Griffin nodded enthusiastically.

"Well, what does a potty princess get to do anyway G?" I inquired.

Griffin thought for a second and said, "You get to wear lots of special hats."

That's me. The potty princess rocking it out in her special hats. Potty Power to all!

Insanity

You think I'd be used to it by now. But the craziness of summer has wiped me out. We spent our weekend running from one engagement to the next, kids in tow. We didn't stop running until Sunday night and unfortunately for me, I had to work this morning.

We started Saturday with a tennis lesson for the boys. After tennis, we hustled home to change and hurry on to church for a full mass in honor of my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. After mass, we stayed to hear my grandparents renew their vows. My grandmother's eyes glistened as she barely whispered out her vows to my grandfather. I only hope to be as happy after fifty years.

We had a family luncheon after the renewal ceremony. Then we hustled home, again, to change for a birthday party. Pizza, cake and gymnastics oh my! I pleaded exhaustion after two hours of trampoline fun and told Chris he had to head on out to our last party of the day (night) alone. I tucked the kiddies and myself into bed early.

We spent Sunday morning at a surprise birthday brunch. Aidan had a golf lesson in the afternoon, followed by a tee time for Chris. I snuck in some tennis. We finished up with dinner at the pool with a side of swimming. (Required when you haven't found time to grocery shop in almost three weeks.)

It hasn't been a particularly nice summer in the Northeast - rain, rain and more rain has led us to believe we have relocated to the Pacific Northwest, but not even the rain and a few clouds has slowed our Buffalo summer down.

It was the Bathing Suit

After a year and some of swim team and many years of swim lessons (screaming his way through at least two years of those), Aidan made his swim meet debut this evening.

There is a swim team uniform, that I, of course, forgot to buy until this afternoon approximately one and a half hours prior to the meet. (I am nothing if not organized. Well, okay, in all fairness to myself I did try to buy it yesterday,but my car broke down in a crowded intersection on my way to the store and well, that's a story for another time.)

When I brought home his fancy, schamncy speedo swimsuit, Aidan's eyes lit up like he won the Olympic medal. He's a swimmer and he looks like one too. He pranced and preened right up until we left for the meet.

When we got to the meet, Aidan confessed he was nervous to swim. I, honestly, was just as nervous for him. The mass of people, the popping of the start gun, the loud announcer - it can all be really overwhelming. My heart thudded as I watched him preparing to dive off the block. He, however, looked calm and composed while he waited for the start.

True to form, Aidan surprised us all, even himself, and took first place in his heat. First place to my baby! I was embarrassingly proud of him. I was that mother, cheering as I ran along the pool, dodging people along the way. I yelled too loud, was too excited, and loved every single second of it.

I was proud of his confidence and proud of his joy. After the match, I heard him tell our friends Christine and Dylan that he only went that fast because of his new bathing suit. Yep, it was all the bathing suit alright.

Perspective

I had a freak out this morning. Our house is a disaster. And well it should be, since there is no time to pick up or clean up or do anything else that is required to maintain a home. We have barely had time to stop home to change or even sleep since we have returned from vacation. Summer activities are in full swing, friends and relatives from out of town are visiting - life is go, go, go!

Whew! So this morning, bright and early, I decided that I should make time to clean the floors, vacuum the rugs and scrub down the bathrooms. I had about an hour to squeeze it all in before the boys had to get to swim team and swim lessons. Rock on. It could be done, right?! Right?!

No. It can't be done. I am the queen of setting expectations for myself that simply can't be met. I get frustrated when I can not meet these expectations and then end up snapping at my children in the heat of the moment. Our hour of lazy Monday morning soon evolves into a stressful, crazy yelling Mommy morning. It's not a good look for me.

By the time we got to the pool for swim lessons, I felt like the worst parent ever. The worst, yelling impatient mean parent ever. After a few minutes of getting the boys settled, one of the other pool mothers walked over to me, smiled and said, "I just don't know how you do it."

I smiled back at her and laughed because she has three boys of her own, all the exact same ages as mine. I replied, "I don't know how WE do it," as I gestured to include her.

She shook her head and said, "No. Your boys are so sweet. They sit with you and listen to you. They'll eat lunch with you and chat with you. My boys don't do that. I don't know how you get yours to do all that, to act like that."

I smiled gratefully at her and thanked her. I told her I really needed those kind words to remind me what is important. Summer days full of sweet boys, my sweet, darling boys, are important. Clean floors, vacuumed rugs and scrubbed down bathrooms - not so much.

Best Vacation

I am not sure I can put into words how wonderful our vacation was to the Outer Banks. After several days of beach and pool, of constant attention and love from a multitude of family members, Aidan turned to me and said intently, "This is the best vacation in my entire life."

I have to agree. I know I love my family. But there are times when I am immersed with them that I am overwhelmed with the fierceness of that love and how far it extends. The opportunity to see my family through my children's eyes, watching them as they are loved up by their uncles, cousins, aunts and grandparents - well, that is, to me, what life is all about.

We spent a week forgetting life includes having to put on shoes to go outside. The boys took all their showers outside next to the pool. Aidan learned how to play poker. All three boys stayed up way past their bedtime to chase crabs in the dark with flashlights on the beach. There was skim boarding and surfing and digging giant holes in the sand and collecting mini-oysters.

Our house was unbelievable. It was big enough that 28 people never seemed like too much. There was a game room with pool and foosball, a media room with video games and movies and sitting rooms galore to host our many board game sessions. (I learned I apparently suck at Scattegories. My cousins kicked my behind.) The boys loved having their very own pool and two hot tubs. I think they spent more time in the hot tubs than I did. Brennan could not get enough of the elevator and preferred to spend his mornings riding it up and down the three floors.

I documented the geezers vs. young uns as they took on both basketball and volleyball. Both games provided more than enough entertainment for the giggling spectators. And of course, I loved, once again, beating Seth and Travis in doubles tennis. Victory is sweet.

Each family was assigned a night to cook dinner for the group. Our night, Thursday night, was Mexican Fiesta. We had party favors of sombreros and chili pepper necklaces. We had Mexican tablecloths, a cactus cooler and even a hanging cut out for people to take pictures as flamenco dancers. Chris, Seth and Travis manned the grill and pool bar with mustaches and good humor. Travis even prepared a play list of Mexican tunes to groove by the pool. And there were, of course, margaritas in generous, oh so yummy quantities. Ole!

At the end of it all, I cried as we packed up the car and said our goodbyes. I didn't want to leave the beach, the house or most importantly, my family. As I brushed the tears away, my cousin Alli grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eye and said, "You know most of us live like right across the street from you, right? I mean, I think we even have plans to see you all tomorrow."

She's right. They do. But I loved having us all together, there, on the beach with nothing to do but enjoy each other. It was a perfect vacation.

Beach Baby!

I have a day to pack up my stuff, the boys stuff and all the other assorted stuff I have convinced myself we can not live without for a week. In this day, today, I also have to take the boys to swim team, swim lessons, soccer practice and a soccer game.

I also need to clean my car. Ugh. My poor car has completely succumbed to the title of family vehicle with wrappers and debris, lego men and transformers littering every available inch of floor space. And did I mention that Griffin gets car sick any time he rides in the car over twenty minutes? Yes, my car doesn't smell all that good either.

Instead of doing any of this, I am drinking coffee, perusing blogs and reading facebook. Denial is a wonderful thing.

Beach vacation? What beach vacation? 12 hour drive? What 12 hour drive?

I need to kick into high gear. Beach, baby! Beach!

The Wardens

My gift to Chris for Father's Day was time to himself. I think we reach a point, particularly after having children, when time to do as you please is truly the best, most indulgent gift.

He was at the golf course by 7 a.m. and did not return until almost 4 p.m. I think he liked his gift.

The boys asked once or twice where Chris was throughout the day, but after hearing he was golfing, they were content with the explanation and did not inquire further. Daddy golfs and to them, that is good.

On Monday evening, I had plans to meet a friend to play tennis for an hour. As I prepared to get up from the dinner table to get ready to hit the courts, the boys were not pleased.

"Where are you going Momma?" Brennan asked for the third time.

"To tennis Brennan. Mommy is going to play some tennis for a little bit."

"For how long?" Aidan asked gazing at me seriously.

"Hmmm, I don't know. An hour maybe?" I replied.

"So, does this mean you'll be back to put us to bed or not?" Brennan inquired.

"Not sure - I will definitely come up when I get home to give you kisses though, okay?"

"But when?" "Will I be awake?" "Can you wake me up?" "Who are you playing tennis with?" "Are you only going to play tennis or do something else?" "Are you coming right home after?" "Are you leaving right now?" "Can't you stay longer?"

At this, I stopped answering their questions and burst into laughter. I gave Chris a mock glare and yelled, "Okay everybody, Daddy was gone for like 12 hours yesterday and no one says a word! I only want to leave for an hour guys!"

They didn't find it funny. Not funny in the least. My three little wardens. At least they're cute.

Backyard Bliss

Rain, Rain Go Away and Don't Come Back til Fall

It has not been a nice few days here in the Northeast. The rain came at the end of the week and has lingered, dispensing a fine mist that is never ending. Our family is not happy about this freak weather system and is chomping at the bit to get back to our regularly scheduled summer activities. (I haven't hit a tennis ball since last Tuesday, people! I am going through a serious withdrawal.)

Instead of our normal weekend activity of playing at the pool with our buddies:

We have been forced to come up with a more creative way to entertain ourselves indoors. Forts composed of boxes and bubble packing? Rock on.

(Hmmm, the availability of all those boxes probably confirms I have an online shopping problem.)

If all else fails, we make crazy hats out of construction paper and dance like crazy. Desperate times call for desperate measures! Let's hope the sun comes back soon.

(Check out Griffin's face near the end of the video. I think he is trying to sing the bass line. As an added bonus, you can also hear Aidan and Brennan "negotiating" the merger of their box/bubble wrap spaceships/forts.)

Swim Team 2009

Opening practice for swim team 2009. This year, no tears and two kiddies in the pool. Brennan jumped right into the pool like a champ. He was a streamlining fool. Aidan was all over his strokes and did laps like a champ.

All this and a freak weather pattern that brought us rain and 55 degree weather.

You know they love it when they even want to get in the water in spite of their goose bumps.