Toasting Cookies

Happy Halloween! While the older boys were at school, Griffin and I celebrated halloween by making halloween cut outs. We ate them warm from the oven, breaking them in half to let the steam seep out so we wouldn't burn our mouths off. We each ate a bite and then Griffin giggled, yelled, "Cheers!" and touched his cookie half to mine.

A cookie halloween toast. I like it. Even more so when the "toaster" is covered in flour from head to toe. Too cute for words.

More to come from our trick or treat adventures this evening I am sure...

Halloween 2011: School Edition

The boys' school had their annual Halloween party on Friday night. We have skipped the shindig the last few years in favor of attending other Halloween festivities (read: those parties that serve parents big glasses of wine to dull the noise and chaos. And holy hell is there ever noise and chaos at these things.) But, now that the boys are older, they want to party with their friends. And so we were off to the school gym for pizza, music and games oh my.

The boys ran around the gym like crazy, only taking short breaks to wolf down some pizza, a cupcake and a few million glasses of cider. Aidan ran around with the boys in the gym (three of his classmates also dressed as harry potter), involved in some fierce battle against the boys costumed up as ninjas. Brennan ran around with the girls in the gym, some uncomplicated game of tag and chase that had every single girl in his class trying to get him to chase them. Griffin ran around a little bit, but then became addicted to one of the craft stations - making ghost lollipops. I think he made like a dozen of these suckers. We have named them his minions.

The kids had a great time. And surprisingly, so did we. I am really happy with the boys' school. It is unassuming, small school. It isn't perfect, but it has worked really well for our family. The boys are comfortable and happy there, and so are we. After several years, we know all these families, their kids, the parents. It truly makes it feel like some giant family.

The party ended with a bang as one of the dads (dressed up as batman) kept letting the kids play with the smoke machine. It set off the fire alarm and resulted in a whole lot of screaming kids racing outside. I couldn't stop laughing as we bid our farewells. I guess it's like some giant family with a couple of crazy uncles thrown in for good measure.

First Frost!

One of the things I love best about being a parent is the opportunity to see the world and all its wonders with fresh and excited eyes. My boys find joy in the smallest moments. Ordinary things in the world that I have long ago stopped noticing, they not only notice, but they celebrate.

This morning, they celebrated the first frost of the season. They hadn't even been awake for more than a few minutes before they started excitedly discussing the frozen ground.

"Do you see it Mom? What is it? It's all white outside! Is that frozen? It looks icy! This means it will snow soon! It's coming! I can't wait! The snow! Daddy, do you think it's going to snow tonight? The ground is just getting ready so it can pile up and up and up!"

It wasn't enough to discuss the frost from behind a frosted window. No, they knew they had to get out there and experience it first hand. While I normally have to nag to get them ready for their morning school drop off, they were putting on coats and shoes without any reminders from me. They ran around our front yard over the frost giggling and yelling.

"We found ice! There's ice! It's hard! And the frozen ground is everywhere! Can you see it Mom? The snow is coming!"

I watched them from behind the glass of the front door, laughing over their excitement. I turned as Chris was coming downstairs.

"Apparently frost is cause for celebration." I told him, gesturing to our crazy children with their red button noses playing with frozen grass.

We both laughed and watched them for a minute. My children's joy elevated my mood and made me stop for a moment to appreciate something so ordinary, that I probably would have never even given a second thought. The wonders of the first frost.

Navigating the Crazy : Part Two

It's easier to navigate the crazy parents of overachievers when your kids are doing just fine. The boys have done well at their athletic endeavors to date and Aidan has naturally excelled at school. No tutors, no extra coaches, but we could hang with the best of the crazy group.

Then Aidan started indoor tennis team. For two hours a week, he competes in matches against kids who are really, really unbelievably good tennis players. There are eight year olds slicing backhands and killing serves. It's like mini Nadal and mini Federer battling it out on the courts. Aidan is clearly the most beginner player on the team. In three weeks, he has yet to win a match. I keep telling him that for the first year I played, I lost every single match. Every one. And if he is working hard and enjoying himself, then that is all that matters.

Aidan loves it. He is improving. And he looks forward to it every week, losses or not.

Then we got an email from Brennan's teacher. She is recommending Brennan receive extra help in reading. Three times a week, he will be pulled out of class to work with a reading specialist. My heart broke for our B. I cried. I agonized. And then I put on a very happy face, to tell B how lucky he is that he is going to get extra practice in school for reading because it will make him a better reader even faster.

Tonight before bed, Brennan cried when he told me he feels like he is never the best at anything and he knows he isn't the best reader in his class. I quickly blinked back tears, took a deep breath, and told him that we all have things at which we may be the best, but we may not be the best at other things. Everyone has things that they have to work a little harder on in order to get better.

It is heart wrenching to watch my sweet boy struggle. It is unlike anything I have ever felt before in my life. I want to go through it for him, to help make it better for him, to do the work for him. But I can't. It's my children's journey to learn how to work to get better. It isn't mine. I can support them. I can listen to them. I can guide them. But I can't do it for them.

No matter how much I may want to.

Navigating the Crazy

As the boys get older and broaden their horizons, it is harder and harder for me to avoid the crazy side of parenting. The thing is, there are a lot of parents who are just plain nuts. Their children have become their life's work, their masterpiece, instead of you know, just kids who are their own beings, trying to discover who they are in the context of the larger world.

Instead of kids who just play baseball or soccer at age 7, they play on select teams and travel teams and have private coaches to keep them ahead of the game. There are kids who have private tutors to get them (and keep them) in the gifted and talented program. There are kids who after a full summer day of swim team and tennis team (in which they are the stars at both because they practice every day all year long), they return home to their summer tutor in science and mandarin. (Yes. Mandarin.)

Kids are expected to specialize in todays world at a very young age. Seasonal sports in which you enjoy learning new activities and new things about yourself are not in vogue. Instead, you have year round devotees to whatever sport (or in many cases sports) each child has "selected" (parent picked for them) and parents who commit to private coaching and practice sessions multiple times a week. Parents are already discussing college scholarships at tee-ball games.

These same parents are obsessive about their kids' school performance and are convinced that every single thing their child does is special or spectacular or just plain genius. I have heard things said to teachers or written to principals that have made me wince in embarrassment for the parent, but to my shock, the parents aren't embarrassed. They are convinced that their child should be treated differently, should be above the rules and should be given special accolades. I have even heard from two different sets of parents that they think their "gifted" child should be given services before those offered to children who have been labeled as developmentally or physically delayed because isn't being unbelievably smart just as much a special status? I mean, their child is going to change the world someday. The first time a parent actually said this to me, I laughed because I thought they were joking. (They weren't.)

I am not exaggerating, not even the littlest bit. If anything, I have even more examples of this insanity that would make any sane person's head spin off their head.

How do you raise a child in this world? There comes a time when you are surrounded on all sides by this crazy and you start to wonder if I may be the crazy one for not subscribing to this parenting style.

It has made me take some time to think, really consider, what I want for my children. I want them to be good people, with kind hearts. I want them to be well-mannered and thoughtful. I want them to see the joy in the everyday. I want them to experience failure, but to be resilient enough to overcome lives' challenges. I want them to be happy people who do some good in the world.

Yes, I want them to do their best at school and to develop an intellectual curiosity, but I will not be hiring a tutor anytime soon to teach them mandarin on the hopes it will increase their chances to getting into an ivy league school. I didn't have children so I could get a bumper sticker from Harvard.

Heaven

Brennan and I are having our bedtime cuddle conversation when he asks "Mom, what do you think heaven looks like?"

"Hmmm, I think heaven is all the stuff you love most in the world or that you find the most beautiful." I reply.

Brennan smiles. "Then my heaven is going to have a whole lot of puppies."

Pre-K, Take Two

Griffin is loving year two of pre-k. He is large and in charge, the big man on campus. He walks into school with a confident swagger, saying hello to anyone and everyone we meet in the hall. He is a stitch our G. He even greeted the principal of Aidan and Brennan's school by name at the open house.

Our G is a talker. I swear, the boy could talk All Day Long, and often does. I love our Mondays together, but by the end of the day with my chatterbox I am all talked out and just dying for a bit of quiet. If he isn't talking, then he is singing. He often makes up his own songs, to which he will bust a move as he sings them at full volume.

No, he isn't shy. Not at all.

Speechless

We were in the car, driving home from our pizza party with Ryan Miller. The boys were excitedly discussing who they would share the news of their meeting the famous Sabre.

"I am going to tell Owen and Trevor and Sam," Griffin exclaims, and then continues in a much milder, almost reverent tone, "And Ellerey."

His tone changes so much when he says her name. It is a voice that is wistful and oh, so very much in awe of a sweet little girl.

Brennan caught the change in Griffin's tone immediately. "Why do you like her so much Griffin?" Brennan asked him.

"I don't know," Griffin replied "It's like. I just... I don't know, but when I look at her... I think... I think she is just so..... beautiful." His face beamed a bright, radiant smile as he said the word "beautiful" and looked out the car window.

I, of course, cried the whole car ride home.

A Hockey Pizza Party

Many moons ago, we bid on a kids' pizza party with a group of friends while we were at Ryan Miller's Catwalk for Charity. It took a level of scheduling to rival that required of a presidential summit, but we finally got our little pizza party scheduled.

The boys were thrilled to meet Ryan Miller. Aidan was so excited he told his teacher, but he told me she didn't believe him. He promised to bring in his signature to prove the meet truly, really happened.

Ryan was such a good sport, very kind and patient to all the kids. He also brought along his new wife, an actress who had just wrapped up shooting on a movie in Toronto with Rob Lowe about, strangely enough, hockey! (Go youngblood!)

And while we didn't get our picture taken with the hockey star, I think the adults enjoyed it just as much as the kids.

Camp Pathfinder 2011

Peace and Quiet

A week or so ago, my beautiful boys went on a trip, camping in the Canadian wilderness with their dad. I, however, was home. Home all alone, for my first overnight at home without my children since Aidan was born.

I was worried I would hate it. I was worried that I would spend most of the time missing them and roaming the empty hallway of my house. I was worried I was going to cry a whole lot.

But I didn't hate it. I loved it more than I ever thought possible. The quiet. The peace. The lack of people pulling me, here, there and everywhere. I could do just about anything I wanted to do, whenever I wanted to do it. And every once in a while, that is a pretty nice thing to experience.

The boys were off with Chris at 6:30 a.m. Thursday morning. I teared up watching them get packed up in the car, excited to join their friends Ellie and Casey for the long ride up north. But when I got back into the house and poured myself a fresh cup of coffee, I felt it. Peace.

The house was completely quiet. I don’t think my house is ever, truly completely quiet, unless you count the middle of the night. I heard a floorboard creak in my kitchen floor that I had never ever known did creak. Quiet! At best, my home pretty much operates at full volume, a dull roar of three boys and a dog that has become my constant background noise. I have learned to tune most of it out, but when you finally experience what true quiet sounds like, you realize that my life can be mind-numbingly loud.

I sat with my coffee in the quiet, petting the dog and soaking up the silence. Then I watched the Today show. Not my normal, turn on the Today show as background noise while I get dressed and ready for work in ten minutes flat. No, I really watched it. And then, when I felt like it, I got ready for work.

I had already planned to leave work early. I knew I would enjoy my weekend of solitude much, much more if I got the house shaped up on my first day. I got home early, scrubbed the floor, washed sheets, dusted, and vacuumed my head off. Four or so hours of cleaning and then when I was done, there was no one home to mess it up.

After the house was clean, I passed the next few days in bliss. I shopped. I went to the movies. I went out to dinner twice. I read a book. I hit the spa. I took a long walk with the pup and even got in some tennis. (of course.)

It was a perfect four days. I missed my guys. I probably could have had them back on Saturday, to be honest. By Sunday, I was itching for them to return so I could hug them and kiss their faces. They returned happy, exhausted and oh lord, smelly. Each of them (even the hubbie) needed a nice long soak to get the camp out of them. I heard their tales of archery and canoeing, diving into a frigid lake (it snowed up north!), daddy races, campfires, zip lines and ropes courses. All had a great time. When they asked me about my weekend and I shared my days with them, they looked a little sad for me. They told me they wished I could come with them camping on their Pathfinder weekend next year.

I don't think that is ever going to happen. I am already counting down to my four days of peace again next year.

The Pup

I often stop to think that if it wasn't for our B and his obsession with all those Buddy movies starring adorable golden retriever puppies playing sports or manning space ships, we probably wouldn't have our pup.

And I can tell you, in my completely unbiased opinion, he's probably the best dog ever. Really. He is! He is so unbearably sweet. He is like a giant stuffed animal come to life whose only purpose is to seek affection. I love this dog. I adore him. We all do.

I am not the only one. Apart from his adoring fans at home, Chewy has quite a following. He has gifts left for him in our mailbox. Our neighbors buy him toys regularly. They even asked us if they could buy a dog brush so they could come over and brush him. Anyone who walks by our house brings him a treat. And we have even had people take pictures of him and leave us copies of them. (He is quite photogenic, our Chewy.)

Yes, he sheds like crazy. He brings a whole lot of mud into our house. He also has a weird habit that he carries shoes around the house in his mouth. He doesn't chew on the shoes or eat them, he just likes to carry them around and put them on his bed. This means we are constantly searching for our shoes or tripping over mismatched pairs of shoes strewn about the house by the dog. He is also probably not the brightest dog and has been known to run into glass doors by accident. He could never be a watch dog, because he simply would love the intruders to death, rather than chase anyone off.

Unlike other dogs, our pup lives not for food, not for the treat, but for the belly rub or a snuggle. Every night, Chewy waits until the boys are all in bed. He knows that when I finally sit down each night, he gets me all to himself. My almost 100 pound lap dog jumps up into my lap for a snuggle. He will fall asleep with his head in my lap.

When we took a walk recently with the boys, the boys took turns carrying Chewy's leash. They raced ahead of me often, eager to see what was ahead of each corner. But if they got too far away from me, Chewy would stop and simply refuse to go any further until I have caught up and we were all in a group again.

Best dog ever. In my completely unbiased opinion, of course.

Beautiful Day

We have had a lovely fall, warm and sunny with just a bit of a cool dip in the evening to remind you that we will start breaking out the sweaters soon. After some tennis this morning, I grabbed the boys and the pup and we set off for a morning hike.

It was an hour or so of walking in the woods, giggling over minnows, checking out fallen logs, and searching for wildlife. A beautiful fall day.

Mondays with G

Now that school has begun, Griffin and I are back to our Mommy Days, our Mondays together, all by ourselves. It feels good to have some time to soak up my last little one. This is our last year together. Next year, he will be off to kindergarten. But for now, he is all mine.

Griffin was eager to get back to our days. He spent the last few weeks of summer counting down to his mommy day. I told him that for our first day together, he was completely in charge of our day. He quickly had it all planned out. We would play. We would read books. We would snuggle. We would watch Dino Dan together on the couch. And we would go to Panera for lunch.

The boy loves Panera.

Our first Monday, I decided to switch it up a bit and asked Griffin if he would like to start the day with a hike. We loaded up the dog and set off on some trails a few minutes from our house. We crossed bridges, walked among trees, saw streams and the big highlight, had an encounter with a snake.

(I didn't handle the snake part too well. Poor snake was just on the trail getting some sun and I had to go all bat-crazy on him, yelling, throwing sticks to get him to move. Not my finest hiker mom moment.)

After our hike, we dropped the dog off at home and went to Panera for lunch. I left Griffin pick out our seats. He picked a booth all the way to the back of the restaurant, away from the hustle and bustle. He ran up to the booth, but before he sat down, he asked me which side of the booth I was going to sit in. I pointed to a random side. He nodded his head, grinned and said, "Then I will sit there too because I want to sit right next to you."

He nestled into my side, snuggling against my arm in between bites of his ham sandwich. We hugged. We snuggled. We giggled and gabbed. It was the sweetest moment with my baby boy.

It feels good to have our Mondays back. I think it is going to break my heart a bit when our Mondays are gone for good.

Sad, sad news

We got a note home from Brennan's teacher last week asking us to send her a quick note to let her know if one of us would like to serve as a homeroom parent. After reviewing both mine and Chris's commitments to the school this year, I decided we would have to decline the offer of home room parent responsibilities, not only for Brennan's class, but Aidans as well.

(Yes. I declined. I said No. I opted NOT to take on an additional volunteer position. This is a pretty significant development in my growth as a parent to a school age child. Just a few years ago, I would have ended up as a homeroom mother to both boys' classes. It's a victory of sorts.)

Aidan and Brennan were both a bit disappointed that I wasn't going to sign up, but when I explained to them that I had already agreed to help out in a whole lot of other ways, they seemed pacified.

Fast forward to Monday. I am putting Brennan to bed. He leans over me, catches my face with both his hands and looks at me seriously with the biggest and saddest brown eyes I have ever seen.

"Momma?" He says with a serious frown face. "I have sad, really sad, sad news to tell you."

"What? You do?" I ask, a bit bewildered at Brennan's serious side. He is normally joy in a bottle, bouncing in place from the sheer effort it takes to remain still for more than a second.

"Yes. This is very sad news Momma." He takes a deep breath and peers into my eyes. "You were not picked to be my homeroom parent."

"What?" I ask, a little confused.

"I know Momma. It is very, very sad. But you weren't picked. Other mom's got it. I am so sorry Momma." His hand moves from the side of my face to grab my hand and give it a squeeze.

"But, Brennan. I didn't say I wanted to be a homeroom mom..."

He cuts me off. "It's okay Momma. I am sad too."

"No, B. I never told your teacher that I was going to be a homeroom parent for your grade."

"You didn't tell her, but I did. I told her to pick you." Brennan proclaims sadly with a shake of his head, "But you weren't even picked." He gives a big sigh. "It's so sad. My teacher picked 'em out of a hat and our name wasn't picked."

"This is really, really sad. Are you sad Momma?" Brennan asks, sorrowful.

Yes, I'm sad. I'm sad that my six year old is trying to rope me into more volunteerism without my knowledge. I finally have my own impulses under control, now I need to worry about my children. Let's just hope they don't sign us up for any parking lot duties anytime soon.

How You Like Them Apples?

Today was the big day for Chris. The day he has been training for, day in and day out, for the last year or so. It was half Ironman day. 70.3 miles.

While he was swimming, biking and running his fool head off, the boys and I decided to celebrate this beautiful sunny and 70 degree day, by picking too many bushels of apples. I love the self-picking fruit expeditions, but have a hard time with controlling the amount of fruit we actually bring home. I can't seem to stop myself or the boys from picking anything and everything we can grab. We must fill our bags to the brim! We must get the biggest and best apples! Go team apple picking! And that is how you go home with 46 pounds of apples. (But at like 30 cents a pound, please. We should have picked another bushel.)

I see a week of apple pie, apple crisp, apple sauce and apple butter. What Ironman doesn't deserve a little apple pie a la mode to celebrate 70.3 miles?

First Love

I picked Griffin up from school this week and was greeted with a serious announcement from our G.

"Mommy, today I met a girl. And I really, really like her!"

Griffin shared this with me in a serious tone laced with excitement. He had found someone special and he wasn't afraid to let everyone know about it.

My baby has his first crush.

I tried to stay calm, but also I need some more info. I need to scope out this little pre-K crush a bit. Is she good enough for my G? My sweet, green eyed boy?

"Wow, Griffin. That's great you met a new friend. What does your new friend look like?"

He considered for a moment and then said, "She sort of has hair like yours Mommy. It's long and goes on forever. And I know that if I touched it, it would be so very soft."

Oh, sweet boy. My baby has it bad.

Octoberfest... in September

The big fundraiser for the boys' school is the first weekend after school starts - Octoberfest. Except it is in September. And that is how we roll.

The day started with a 5K Race and/or 1 Mile Fun Run with a post-race celebration - hot dogs, snow cones and popcorn oh my. (The school lost money on my kids with the snow cones. I lost track of how many snow cones each of them had consumed and was almost scared to ask. Sometimes, a little ignorance is a good thing for everyone.)

The boys did the 1 Mile Fun Run with my dear friend Christine and her girls Ellie and Casey. Chris did the 5K Run. I stayed behind to take pretty pictures and be a school volunteer at the registration table. (and eat a snow cone.)

The boys loved the run. Aidan and Brennan both want to do the 5K next year. Chris ran to his glory (well, all the glory you can find in an elementary school parking lot anyway) and won his age group for the race. (I ate another snow cone in celebration of his big win. I'm quite a giver that way.)

The Octoberfest fun continued later that evening with an adult beer fest back at the parking lot. Much beer, some questionable german food, and a lovely german band! And a good time was had by all.

Too Cool for School

I am ashamed to admit this, but, well, I am that silly mom. That mom who likes to put cute little notes in my kids' lunch boxes and shape their sandwiches into trucks, planes or Star Wars spaceships. I don't do it everyday, but every so often I like to have a little fun with my boys' lunches.

For the first day of school, I lovingly crafted each boys' sandwich into the shape of an X Wing Fighter, thanks to those cool sandwich cutters from Pottery Barn (and my sweet friend Danielle who had an extra set and passed them off to me.) I thought it was cool and the boys would love it.

The next day, I was pulling the sandwich stuff out of the fridge and saw Aidan watching me intently.

"Mom?" He asked hesitantly. "Could you just make me a plain sandwich? No star wars stuff? Just a sandwich?"

I was floored.

"What?" I asked, surprised. "No X-Wing fighter Ham surprise? No Millennium Falcon roast beef with cheese?"

Aidan shook his head. "No. Just a plain sandwich. Nothing else."

"Oh." I tried to hide my disappointment and a tinge of sadness that my baby is too cool for all that kids' stuff.

Aidan walked away and Brennan came up to me to hug me. Brennan tugged my shirt and whispered, "I'd like an X Wing fighter sandwich Momma."

Whew. I still have a boy to baby a bit. My fourth grader is all grown up, and too cool for school. I have a feeling this is only the beginning.

First Days!

We began our first week of school with Griffin on Tuesday. Griffin starts another year of Pre-K with his fellow Orange Bears. He has told me more than once this summer that he missed school, missed his teachers and his friends, so we was thrilled to be headed back. He woke up, got dressed and promptly put his backpack on his back, even though we had a good hour until it was time to actually get to school. When he returned home that afternoon, he pronounced the day a success, even though he "already knew everything." That's our G.

Today was the first day back for Aidan and Brennan, my fourth and first graders. Neither boy was all that thrilled at the prospect of school. There were quite a few tears and too many "I don't want to go" at bedtime the night before.

This morning, however, Brennan was so excited to get his day started that he could barely sit still. He was all joy, all giggles, all suppressed excitement threatening to burst. All he could talk about was how he got a desk this year. A desk! He couldn't wait to see his desk! I don't think he was still for a second this morning. He wiggled while he ate his breakfast. He danced while he got dressed. He giggled while he brushed his teeth.

Aidan was a little more serious. He had a stomach ache. He was nervous. He wanted just one more day at home. He thought he had a sore throat. A runny nose maybe? He should definitely stay home, at least for today. He didn't let up. My first born has a tough time with change. The first few days of anything are a challenge to him as he works it out. I know he will be fine. I know he will get there. But to watch him struggle with nerves and uncertainty breaks my heart.

(As I explained all this to Chris later this morning, he let loose with a barely repressed chuckle and murmured, "I wonder where he gets that from..." Not funny.)

Seeing Aidan's nerves and Brennan's energy, validated our choices for both of them for their school. Their school is a small, tight knit community. It offers consistency and certainty for Aidan, with the same class of kids every year since kindergarten, allowing him to build confidence and get over his nerves. And for Brennan, it has a nice, small class size to ensure his teacher has time to manage his high energy level. (Fifteen children in Brennan's class. Only four boys. Two out of four boys are named Brennan. What are the odds?)

Another school year has begun. Onward and upward.