Whoa Mama

GRAND Caravan

2012-01-03T21:21:00.004-05:00

I used to drive a Jeep Wrangler and traded up for a station wagon when my pregnant belly prevented me from adequately reaching the steering wheel. *Such* a good family solution. Jetta TDI Wagon. Tons of space. Super efficient (45 miles/gallon!!).

Perfect.

Then my babies decided to come two at a time. My sassy wagon comfortably fit my baby and potentially one sibling. However, three babies? No can do.

Welcome to the Minivan.

From the day it transported home my 5lb, 6oz-er and his hardly 4 lb brother two days later, through countless treks on the NYS Thruway/Mass Turnpike, the many many many pick up/drop offs and the deep thoughts from the cheap seats, the Grand Caravan has served well.

Routine maintenance and frequent Super Kisses could not stave off age. Last month, a chunk of the hood fell off after it rusted under a bubble. All signs indicated necessary pending work on brakes and transmission. Those were the big things. The little things that wore down over time included:

knobs fell off the left/right and front/back controls
blinker doesn't turn off by itself
interior lights only sometimes work
the passenger seat belt sticks
rear door doesn't lock
one rear power outlet "expired"

These things do not include 8 years of toting around 3 precious monkeys. Raisins, Cheerios, milk, fruit cores, juice, occasional hidden sandwich, melted crayons, crumbs and timbits ground into the interior.

The case was clear. But not having bought a car in nearly a decade made the task daunting. I'd been living with so very many (ahem) idiosyncrasies that there just wasn't one clear sign. Too dirty just didn't seem like enough.

Thankfully the fusion of luck, timing and grinding brakes led us to the VW dealership. After hearing the salesperson's mildly disparaging comments on my "classic" minivan, the decision was practically and painlessly made for us. Now I am the owner of a newer, more gadgety, fully functional, also blue MINIVAN.

Suddenly it doesn't sound so sexy. However my heated seats will warm my empty soul.

ill equipped

2011-12-21T21:21:00.003-05:00

Perhaps this has been mentioned, but I may have been ill-prepared for mothering boys. My sister is a Boy Mommy; my brother, well, is a boy. If you asked anyone who knew me 10 years ago, I definitely had all the makings of a mother of girls, perhaps a boy or two. Not mutually exclusive but certainly leaning towards girls.

Apparently I checked the wrong box. And I got Sam. The boy who was obviously meant to be ours. In my glee, I the next time I accidentally checked the "2" box.

So here I am the mother of 3 boys who are 2 years apart. A whole bunch of dirty years and so much chaos and then the fun really kicked in. Now I'm having to tussle with burgeoning big-boyhood.

Aidan: Mommy, Fletcher says when he gets hit during recess 'ow my nuts'. Do you know what he's talking about? (he clearly did)

Me: yes

Aidan: what?

I'm formulating a response, when he delivers (with strategic use of the dramatic whisper)

Aidan: he's talking about his critch. That rhymes with nitch. I can say 'son of a nitch' in german. The veteran who came to talk to us on Veteran's Day taught us.

I don't even mind the 'nitch' largely because he doesn't know what he's saying or is he saying it correctly. Nor am I especially worried about an old vet teaching them foreign curses. It is the 'nuts' and 'critch' that I'm hung up on. I have a hard enough time with the actual biology, but can rise to the occasion when necessary. At the risk of future embarrassment, I just cannot see how I need to expand their vocabulary for more words to cover their junk.

Daddy may have to address the rude awakening when some son of a nitch aimed right at the critch and got him in the nuts!

oh snap!

2011-12-05T21:20:00.002-05:00

Without getting into the ugly details, my oldest had a very bad time at his after school program today. He does not have to spend much time there on a typical week and he usually doesn't mind at all. Today was without question, the exception.

I went to pick them all up and the group leader came out to tell me that the group had had a very bad day with behavior among other things. He quickly add that S was not involved at all, but that he thought I should know as things had been so bad. Well my guy blew past him and was headed out the door when he was called back. He was clearly steaming, but wasn't going to say a word.

When nudged a bit, he rounded on the leader with "EVERYTHING HERE SAYS "Boys and Girls Club, a **positive** place for kids. It says a positive place for kids. Well it was NOT positive today!"

It all turned out fine, but I cannot help but score one for the smart kid whose mom has a degree in social work.

Can't even blame it on Blitzen

2011-11-28T19:21:00.005-05:00

Remember when you got your first email address and you loved email from anyone, including dirty jokes, smartly photoshopped animals and inspirational poems? Now all that crap and sometimes their senders are unilaterally dismissed to the junk, ahem, recycle bin. Well, I always remember written by Irma Bombeck that amounted to a message about appreciating life. She commented something like "if I knew how short life was I'd have burned those candles shaped like rosebuds". There are a number of other sentimental woulda, coulda, shoulda's. You get the idea.

Now, overlay this sentiment with the fact that I have really really loved those Pottery Barn Reindeer FOR-EVVVER. If you aren't familiar, they are a kitchy version of Rudolph and friends acting out a quality of their name: Vixen is cloaked in a plush stole, Dancer is meant to be twirling, Blitzen, well, you get the idea. They are stupidly priced. I could never justify buying any of it. After adoring the whole motif since graduate school when I had to couldn't afford to spell reindeer, much less have frivolous dishes, I treated myself to the set of bowls 2 years ago.

They are ceramic, hand wash only and have a metallic band prohibiting them from going in the dishwasher. Ridiculously impractical!

Yet....

SOSOSOSOSOSO fun for little boys. Truly, what am I going to do? Use them for the soup course at Christmas dinner? No. I'm going to bust them out for as many meals as possible, let the boys wager on whose got which reindeer, and seek out bowl-able meals and maybe even throw a sandwich in them from time to time so that we don't accidentally miss using them on any day during Advent.

Well, as of today, Ms. Bombeck,we've got one down, seven to go and I will not be sad for a minute.

I could say that I wasn't warned.

2011-11-22T20:50:00.002-05:00

We lurve books.

Our kids lurve books. A comment on a recent report card for one of the twins was:

"He is an avid reader and it is sometimes difficult for him to transition from independent reading to a different activity" Translation: canIjustreadonemorepage?????

The 9 1/2 y.o. inhales books with an astounding speed coupled with retention. Case in point, in second grade, at 7 y.o. he picked up "The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe" from the classroom library, completed it during school hours and 9 months later recounted meticulous details about the story before watching the film for the first time.

We try to keep them all three boys at 7 & 9, stimulated, age-appropriate and happy, i.e. not the last three Harry Potters, Star Wars graphic novels, Dumas' Three Musketeers or Pokemon.

We've done pretty well, with some good advice and creativity, keeping their love for reading engaged and appropriate. On a recent trip to the library, the three of them and I agreed that we would start Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events. I've heard good things about the series. Kids seem to like them and we've been needing a new series. This was a Wednesday. We began "The Bad Beginning". By the time we hit our driveway, in under 5 minutes, the parents were killed in a blazing inferno, setting the three orphans off on the inspiration for the title.

By Friday's commute home, bearing in mind that thanks to my mom, I don't drive them on this 10-15 minute trip to school everyday, I was horrified by what we were hearing. To give an idea, the guardian had just backhanded the 12 y.o. boy, after caging the infant. I turned off the CD and said, "do you guys *like* this book?!" To which, they uniformly responded, "can you turn it back on ?!"

At this point, my 9 y.o. makes a vague reference to liking the second book.
"what do you mean", I inquire.
"I finished it at school", he says.

To clarify, it is a 190 page book. He actually participates at school. He's finished it in 2 days. I'm really in trouble with this one. But I digress.

"does the second book get any better?" I ask, giving serious consideration to home schooling so as to shelter my babies from anything ugly, scary or bad.....like the book I'm playing for them.

"MOH-M...it is the *series* of *unfortunate* events. Can you turn it back on now?"

I adore four

2011-10-04T21:33:00.002-04:00

I got some unique, treasured, seriously adorable and alone time with my nephew this weekend. He is four. Maybe I've mentioned it, but four is my favorite! I like to think that I've documented some of the hilarity.

Four year old kids are so creative, silly, engaging little people as they come of age taking things literally, while translating things functionally and acting whimsically. I adore four!!

So anyway, the man and I got a cookie, discussed the merits of raisins and talked about F words. Not "the" F word. F words, because that is what you do at 4. Your learn letters. What they sound like, look like, feel like on your tongue. So we ffffff-ed our way down the street. I ultimately said, "what is your favorite thing to eat"

M: fish
me: what kind of fish?
M: not the dead kind.
me: really? alive?
M: not the dead ones.
me: live ones? like goldfish?
M: yes.
me: really?!??!??! you eat the live goldfish like you get at the fair?
M: you can get goldfish at the fair?
me: sure. you eat them alive?
M: no. not really. the ones that have never been alive.
me: are you talking about goldfish crackers???
M: yes.

I adore four!

"Family"

2011-09-25T19:28:00.006-04:00

Our family is like so many others of the new millennium. To the letter of the law and following the traditional, write-it-in-the-front-of-the-family-bible family, we aren't all that big. Pretty average.

When you delve into the must-come list of attendees at family functions, the people we'll-make-time-to visit, and/or it-wouldn't-be fun-without people, we get rather obscene in size. We've got the steps and the half's and the might-as-well-be's. The never-was, should-have-been and where-did-they-come-froms.

It is dreadful to try to explain if someone really asks "so how are you related"? Besides I'm never really sure I owe those folks an answer always. I just want someone to walk away with the understanding that we just are.

The kids have grown up with lots of women they call Grandma. Grandmas Marcia, Mare, Julia, Patty -sorry Patty, but "Grandma" works for them and it is a high title :-), Rosie. Always with deference to ones that they call just "Grandma" (my mom) and "Grandma Wilks", who they don't get to know. Loads of aunts and uncles and "aunts" and "uncles". Cousins translates into we like them a whole lot and hopefully we'll see them at holidays.

One night Sammy at age 8 had a diatribe recently about who, how and why. We gaped at his articulate analysis and insight. To sum up, he knows where his blood lines are and are not, but he's real clear on who his family is. He, like us, has love for our family in all of the forms they come.

I treasure it all. So as this crew of love continues to expand, I have to share that it seemed like 2 weeks ago that we had these little fellows:

But that would be impossible, because here they are today:

it comes to this

2011-09-19T21:04:00.003-04:00

if we can do this:

then why in the name of all that is holy and scientific and intelligent, does beast cancer screening look like this, but without that smile.

just really really funny thoughts

2011-09-16T21:50:00.004-04:00

Sam went to a friend's house after school, which was met by a chorus of boo's by the twins. "Why can't we have more playdates with friends??" So I had to explain that they have a buddy every where they go and Sam doesn't tote around a guy his age all the time.

We got home and they launched into a series of games and fantasy play in the backyard. They had some spinning game, something with Pokemon cards on the slide then there was a spontaneous obstacle course with an upturned soccer net. That required some significant grass stains all over the new school khakis. There were challenges that included moving sticks and dodging wiffle balls.

This game evolved mysteriously into the net as a giant monster mouth operated by one while the other threw a ball into the "mouth". If the ball went in, the thrower. in a curse of twisted logic, had to dive in to get it before the jaws snapped shut on him. If the net edges popped apart, the roles reversed.

They had each other in stitches. Yet, still I was a neglectful mommy for not delivering friends to them.

Later I got peppered with deep thoughts that started with:

A: Mommy, I know why girls don't take their shirts off.
Me: yea? why?
N: (gesturing with two pointer fingers to his chest) these!
Me: Yes, women keep their nipples covered (may I get a holla for crossing over the precipice of anatomically correct verbiage)
N: Why are the pimples (clearly he didn't pick up on the vocab lesson) private on girls but not boys.
Me: I don't have a good answer for that.
A: Do you need to think about it?
Me: No, it is just that way where we live. Not everyone around the world thinks that they are private.
A: Like in Africa?
Me: Well, yes and in France and Martha's Vineyard.
(they brightened up at this)
N: Did you do it when you were there?
Me: No.
A: Why not?
Me: I just didn't.
A: (almost instantly, in a very matter-of-fact tone) I would have.

Forgive a Repeater

2011-09-15T22:42:00.002-04:00

I cannot remember if I've ever written about this, but it's timely so:

My young parents were too young to figure out the root cause of the issue, so at 20 & 21 they were going to welcome their second child. They are both wonderful parents and quite remarkable considering their ages. It recently stopped my in my tracks when I realized that my parents were my age when they divorced. I was a senior in high school.

I digress.

With this pregnancy, my mom went into preterm labor and not for the first time. Her doctor, a wise, educated man, told her to go home and have a shot. My mother didn't drink. My mother listen to her doctor. If one was good then two must be better. My mother got drunk on shots. Then (try to contain your shock) she went into full on labor. She was 26 weeks along. For those of you playing along at home, this is 2/3 of a full term pregnancy, and arguably before there are eyelashes.

So that baby was born 14 weeks premature. That is a full trimester plus before this chicken was fully cooked. The grandparents were called. The grandparents came. My mom's folks came from 3+ hours away. My dad's folks came from about 5 miles away.

My mom's dad told her that she had to name that baby because she wasn't going to live. My parents named that baby. They had that baby baptized. That baby was 2lbs and 3 oz, or half of a bag of sugar my grandmother likes to say. My dad stretches his hand out to say that that baby fit, in fetal position from tip of the thumb to tip of the pinky finger. With very little substance, that baby had a dixie cup on her head to hold the needles in place, plus the feeding tube inside the isolette, where there could only be sterile contact through hand holes.

Remember that the grandparents came. The country grandparents came and cried and prayed. The city grandparents came and cried and prayed, after they stopped to take the edge off. The hard working, proud, strong, Irish grandmother was no more equipped than anyone to hand this. The Manhattan did its job and she marched into the hospital to see her son, his wife and this baby.

One look through the window and she blurted out, "SHE HAS NO ASS!! SHE HAS NO ASS!!"

Well, I've made up for it.

In 1972, I had no business surviving, to say nothing of surviving without any disabilities from heart or lung to motor function to immune system. But here I am.

I love this story for the respective strength and personality and love of my grandparents. But I love the stories from the weeks following when my dad (age 20) would leave his pizzeria job, take the bus down Delaware, get a transfer (raise your hand if you've *Ever* gotten a transfer), and run to the hospital. He would come up a rub my back. Preemies need human contact, but it has to be sterile and within the isolette. So he could put a couple fingers on my tiny back, while watching the clock so that his transfer didn't expire. Then he would run down and catch the bus to Buff State to go to class. By the way, all of this was while my mom (age 20) was home with a toddler and one car, coming in to see me and feed me when she could wrangle my brother in her post-partum state.

So to all of the parents who never knew love like the love of their child, whose strength of character and fathomless devotion arrived with your babies, this is for you.

before the coffee

2011-09-13T20:15:00.003-04:00

what do you think about when you wake up in the morning?
your day?
your job?
cake?
us too.

at 6:30 a.m.
A: oh. I hope that Mrs. S takes the paper off the new job today.
Me: huh. (first cup of coffee still 3/4 full)
A: since the beginning of the year she takes a paper off one of the jobs on the list. I hope today she shows us a new one.
We went on to discuss the merits of one 2nd grade job versus another.
Ten minutes before this he was sleeping.

at 6:40 a.m.
S: Mommy, what time are you picking us up today?

at 6:45
N: Can we have cake for breakfast?

What we did over summer vacation

2011-09-07T19:30:00.010-04:00

On the latest return trip, I asked the boys to make a list of everything they could think of that we did this summer. This was one boy's list, spelling not corrected. Italics are my commentary.

Cookies for Breacfast (thank you, Aunt Jessi!)
Seaport
Aquariums
Hidden Valley Farm
Darien Lake
Slept in a tent
Choir Camp/Retreat
Drive in movie
Smurfs
Sam give the Didjto Noah and I
Daddy first one to get murdered (at "Murder Day" at camp)
Swim, Pops pool, Darling pool, cuca lake, rushfurd lake, lake erie beach, ma (Massachusetts) con (Connecticut) beach
Soccer
Tee Ball
umbrella factory
LaSalle and Caz sprickler swimming

These are all the things one boy came up with and it didn't include, some other high points for his brothers and him. The list is in no particular order and doesn't necessarily pertain to all, but you get the idea of what kind of crazy or summer was packaged it!

baseball practice with the Buffalo Bisons

one 7 y.o. beating a 12 y.o. at chess
tons of backyard soccer
Sam's first 9 holes of golf
smores
trip to the farm

rides on four wheelers
more boogie boarding that should be legal
birthday parties
training wheels off the bikes

winning the championship and the defensive MVP trophy
making (that I know of 2 double plays)

and now we are back to school!

The Devil is in the Details

2011-08-19T17:25:00.003-04:00

My little men and the Big Man have been at sleep away camp. The following conversation transpired before they left.

Me: I will miss you every day!
Noah: I will miss you too.
Aidan: Mommy, sometimes when I'm away from you, I forget about you.

I paused to put on my big girl panties knowing that I don't want him to miss me really. I want him to have an absolutely amazing time and be happy to see me when he comes home. I want them all to charge confidently into the world knowing that I will always miss them when they are gone and will love them extra when they come home.

However I still thought we needed to clarify the point.

Me: Aidan, maybe you just don't miss me, not forget about me.

Aidan regards this twist and assures me that he does think that he forgets about me.

I have to make one last pass. I give him the idea that it is also possible to just forget to miss me. He says, "yes, that's it". And we can both live with that.

Now, however, it is out there. So I needled Scott with it today. "Do they miss me?" I ask, with my tongue firmly in my cheek. He responded that he wasn't even sure that they knew he was there.

Well good. At least we are even.

Tonight I went down to hear them all sing. Aidan ran across the hall, around Gramma and straight into my arms.

He missed me

The Trials of Big Brotherness

2011-07-28T20:17:00.002-04:00

Sam: "NO-AAAAHHHHHH don't pull your pants down (heard from the bathroom)"

I am fighting the instinct to tell Sam to stop parenting his brother, while they are sharing the toilet. But if I'm going to go correct behaviors, where do I start?! I take the eavesdropping approach.

Noah responds with something inaudible from my perch.

Sam (in an exasperated tone): "Nobody needs to see your whole butt. That's gross."

points for relevance

Sam (again, exasperated, but with a hint of "oh alright, SOMEbody has to tell you): "Noah, what do you know that hole in your underpants?"

Noah grunts something of acknowledgement.

Sam: "What do you think its for??"

Noah obviously does not get the right answer when Sam's tone softens to guide him through this transition to big boy-hood.

Sam: "What about your barn door?"

Now, I am on the cusp of needing resuscitation from holding back the laughter.

Sam (with the tone of "hold on to your hat...this is gonna be big"): You poke your penis out of the hole and **just** out of the barn door."

Sam lets Noah absorb this for a minute, and for his big finish adds:
"What do you think you do when you go to work?"

Getting our game on!

2011-07-06T20:42:00.004-04:00

It is sports central here at our house! We embraced it with full knowledge of the potential, almost imminent chaos.

Here's what we knowingly agreed to:

Monday: baseball, for one boy and Daddy to coach
Tuesday: soccer, for two boys and Mommy to coach; golf, for one boy
Wednesday: baseball for one boy and Daddy to coach; t-ball for two boys
Thursday: soccer for one boy
Saturday: t-ball for two boys

It has been a sweaty, busy, fun, sports-filled summer. I hope they are getting some sportsmanship, learning some rule of the games, feeling proud of themselves and having a really good time. Scott and I are enjoying it, despite the sometimes frenetic activity. Typically, it is all said and done by 8pm anyway so it isn't like it is late night or excessively long. Soccer and t-ball as especially nice from a family perspective as they are an hour long and we are home pretty early. We have, I hope, yielded to the times it has been just too much like when the twins canNOT sit through whole game even if it is only 6 innings and when it is so freaking hot that the sidewalks are buckling. Summer isn't long enough and I'm happy they are playing lots.

I know that this is the profile that most families live with, but still I count it as newsworthy, that is to say, blog-able. Before I go any further, a shout out to allllll parent, grandparents, step-parents and various support in families' lives that help us all juggle the work and play. Especially my mom and who has filled in with rides and food and cheered them all on lots! And my dad who makes sure that there is always a cheering section for you even when you are the 0 - 372 LA Girls Soccer Team!

With the hours spent out there in the trenches, I have to share some of the gems heard from the various sidelines. This is one week's worth. A few of my favorite nuggets include:

You can't pass in the baseline" "But he's stopped!"
"NO-AH (from his brother), where the heck was *that* going?!"
"Aidan! Pay attention!" (also from his brother)
Coach Wee-ah, my wegs can't take it anymore"
"Tell Mikey if he hits it good Gramma will give him $1." Brother runs off with the message and soon returns with "he says he wants $5"

About 1/2 way through the baseball season, Scott tells me that Sammy needs a cup. Oh-Kay, I'm pretty sure that this falls directly on his side of the gender line along with condoms and tie tying and I get maxipads, training bras and birth control. But since I'll never be called to task, I can pick up the protective gear.

There I stand in (no pun intended) Dick's in the cup aisle. "Protective gear aisle" as there is also a bull's eye looking item apparently for catchers chests to "prevent serious injury and even death". Yikes. Back to the less scary injuries. Sizes, shapes, styles. Mental note, send Scott for next box of tampons. I decide to go with the boxer shorts that come with the insert. The logic is that truly that last thing that I want to do I deal with strapping him into a garter belt. Mission Accomplished! I continue my shopping and realize that there are 17 awkward ways to carry this business. Now I am shopping with it hanging from my finger as if my finger were a hook.

Now I'm done.

I get this thing home and later when we are chatting. I say to Sam, "I got you something at Dicks today. It's called a cup." I'm locked and loaded for this conversation. And go!
Sam: Oh Thanks.
(silence)
Me: Do you know what that is?
Sam: Yep.
Me: How?
Sam: Guys on my team wear them.
Me: How do you KNOW this?
Sam: At the beginning of every game, Coach Keith says 'raise your hand if you are wearing a cup?' and if you raise your hand then you can be catcher.

I fought my urge to take it back.

Now all summer long we've done really well managing the schedules and all that that entails, including uniforms and gear. They are very good about keeping cleats, mitts, hats in relatively reachable condition. Right up until last Wednesday when I left work early enough to squeeze in a bike ride around the park with all the boys. We had a lovely afternoon and really enjoyed our time together.

We got home, ate and geared up. Only to realize that for three boys, we had exactly one mitt. I figured that I'd get them there at least and run home to scour for the others. Scott called during the three minute ride and offered to bring Sammy my mitt. It's pink.

Actions-Consequences....sportsmanship ain't the only thing we're learning this summer!

Fine. Sammy's got the pink mitt.

Then the league director's wife passes us, looks down at the twins and says,"do they have a game? I don't think they have a game." Shit. They had only one bye week. This was it. I've geared them up for nothing.

And finally we get to play off week. Sammy's team is IN! We are having a typical week at home and I say to him on the morning of his game, "do you have your stuff ready?" "yes." he firmly tells me. Great, off we go to the day. I've got dinner planned. The getting home/getting out should be easy.

He heads out the door to the car and on my last glance around before leaving, I see that he has laid out what his 9 y.o. mind has prioritized as "his stuff": his glove, his hat and his cup all laid out on the dining room table.

Game on!

Beach Vacation Part One

2011-06-28T18:07:00.006-04:00

We are on **VACATION**!!!!

I haven't been on vacation in a year. More specifically, I have not been on the beach to relax and hang with friends, family and kids in TWO years! On the surface that just seems whiny, but we used to live here. I don't mean figuratively. I mean literally used to live 10 minutes from here

The boys kicked off the vacation with an almost instant squirt gun fight, after they helped unload the car...one of the great advantages of traveling with big boys.

We had to move on to the beach before sundown, where they dove into the ocean, jumped waves, dug individual holes as deep as they each could, then tunneled to connect them, then made them into a giant moat. So far we have toted zero gear or refreshments. I had a crossword puzzle book. They had the ocean.

Naturally we had to celebrate vacation with ice cream.

Don't worry it gets better from there.

Stay tuned for pics from days in the sunshine with friends, cousins and boogey (boogie? bogey? boogy?) boards.

same title, different details

2011-06-09T21:31:00.005-04:00

I feel that most of my blog posts should be entitled: I can't make this up.....

Aidan & Noah had their birthday at Chuck E. Cheese. It was not as dreadful as I had feared. In fact, it had some significant pluses.

Pluses:

# 1 – no prep

# 2 – no clean up

#3 – no kid wrangling

#4 – everybody was completely entertain

#5 – No one contracted e.Coli, flesh eating bacteria, or even a cold

#6 – many many friends came on a Tuesday night (their actual birthday) for two short hours after which they all happily receded to their points of origin where it is assumed they came down from being over-sugared and over-stimulated for the subsequent 2 hours.

#7 – a sweet teenager, in an apparent daily re-affirmation to stay in school, led them in song, dance, cut the cake, offered me booze (which I declined b/c I wasn’t stressed. See items 1-6) and hauled away all of the trash both food and present related.

Minuses:

Holy crap!! I’m never hosting another party in my life!! Who wants Christmas at Bounce Magic??

My true high point was not the bliss on their faces or the ease of the event. Like the boys, it was the presents. Not all of them. Just one.

The favorite came from my favorite little friends and the very favorite girl that they know. She is the sweetest little thing with giant saucer eyes who loves butterflies. She can also light saber duel and can burp the ABCs. Clearly this is why my boys lurve her!

The boys were unwrapping presents when the following conversation transpired:

Precious Cherub: I made boys a present.

Me: oh how sweet!

Precious Cherub: I only had time to make one. So they have to share it.

Me: I’m sure they will. They are good sharers.

PC: do you want to know what it is?

Me: sure.

PC: I made boys a knife.

Me: (insert spit take) a what?

PC: I made boys a knife. It took a while to get it sharp. Then I tested it on my brother. I’m going to make sure they open it.

This sweet little darling made my children a shank! She sharpened a rock, apparently for days, her very nice (and normal) mom told me, when checking to be sure that I had “seen” it. And if “seeing” it meant slipping the shank to my sister, my uber-wing man, who did not need anything more than the right look to back me up, than I did that.

Seriously though, if you are going to give someone a weapon, keep the fight fair. Make two. Or give a belated gift if time doesn’t allow. But one shank, I call a flag on the play.

My First Half Marathon

2011-05-30T20:18:00.005-04:00

Last year I started training for a half marathon. For a number of reasons, I had to pass on the October target date, despite having gotten up to 9 miles. I ramped it up again after a predictably low mileage winter. I got some solid motivation started taking advantage of my Friday's off in earnest and got up to 11 miles.

Then being the slave to fashion that I am, I sported a hot pair of tall, red heels to see "Wicked" on May 4. On May 5, I ran....and realized that something squirelly was going on the in left leg. I had 25 days to go.

I R-I-C-Ed with devotion. This inherently means low to no activity. I was off, what seemed to be, a pulled muscle for 2 1/2 weeks. If you are not doing the math, that left precious little time to be ready to run 13.1 miles.

This is all the long-winded way of explaining my S-L-O-W time. I did terrific through the first 8 miles, including the climb to Porter Ave, aka the very top of WNY. Then I hit the Old First Ward, the land of my people, when three freaking bridges kicked my sorry butt. I walked/ran for about 2 1/2 miles.

Then when picking up a respectful pace, a woman ran up behind me and called, "way to go Team Cure! My father-in-law has cancer and Roswell has been a God-send". Thank you, sister!! That pushed me through the hardest mile I've ever run. At that point, I thought I'm not trying to beat cancer or provide the devoted, brilliant, caring medical intervention of the professionals who bring their A Game every day. I'm just running ONE damn mile.

I averaged 13 minute miles, including the walking. I can live with that. I'm not going to lie, I got into the stretch and lost some time due to the emotional crying.

My Inspirational Signs (note the 'speed' lines)

The Team Cure pinafore cinched with wind breaker.....NOT a good look.
My mobile cheering section I am so very humbled and proud to have been part of the Team Cure Challenge to help raise money for Roswell Park Cancer Institute. The collective raised over $35,000 at this event alone.

I've said it before, I'll say it again and again and again: We can all do our part in the fight against cancer. All free. Unfortunately not against all cancers, but we can all do this much:

Join the NATIONAL BONE MARROW REGISTRY. There is a Veteran/Parent/Spouse/Child who might live a longer, healthier life with your donation, which amounts to a blood donation by you.

WEAR SUNBLOCK

QUIT SMOKING

so shiny.

2011-05-17T20:08:00.009-04:00

So we had birthdays this week. A & N gratified me with a pose with their "Birthday Jedi Knight" pins. Sammy at 9 (NINE YEARS OLD!!!!!) did no such thing on this b-day the next morning.

We have shined up a bunch lately. Here is Easter. Super polished with Daddy.

Fast forward a few weeks to Ellie's Christening. Also super shiny. WAY less posed with Mommy.

Ok - I may or may not have had something to do with this......

11

2011-04-29T13:12:00.004-04:00

It is 4 weeks and 1 day until the half marathon. I exceeded my goal to support Roswell Park thanks to very generous family, friend and co-workers, and am happy to exceed it further should you want to support. After today, I feel really ready to do this thing. It was rainy, cold and very windy today and with that working against me, I still did:

I ran ELEVEN miles. **11**

It took forever. I am not winning any races, least of all one that requires that I run for over 2 hours. Part of what happens out there is after you get over the hurdle of convincing your body that you are going to be doing this for a little while, at least for me, is that your brain 1. shuts off or 2. occupies itself in odd ways like long divisions. Typically, I am the latter. Today, there was just an assemblage of observations.

I did about 6 miles on the street, during which multiple people honked. To all of them, I say, please don't do that! Unless I'm wearing a number, this isn't a spectator sport. I'm not dressed like I'm on the cover of Lucy so the act of being out there sweaty, slogging along shouldn't evoke any acknowledgement. If I don't know you and have don't express knowledge of the car you drive, I'm not waving back. Move along. If you DO know me, please stop with water and/or a tissue.

Knowing that I was facing a new personal record, I tried a new route which included really quiet, safe place to loop off the road for about a mile. It comes out on the back side of the senior center and is on city property. I ran into some city worked doing, I think, what the posted signed said, which was "abating nuisance animals". I guess that means don't let your dog eat anything back there AND wear florescent. They must have been taking a break when I came upon them because they were attempting pull ups on one of the workout bars along the path. I'm not typically a smart ass, but I couldn't resist and called out, "99! 100!" They were good natured about it, because really, who is the girl trotting 20 minute miles to poke fun.

I headed over to the track at the high school, where I found the engineering genius that is the manufactured track surface. As I was approaching the school, I shuttered at the thought of the miniscule gravel that used to shoot up and burrow into my socks during gym class, soccer sprints and marching band practice. I weighed it against more pounding on a road and decided it was worth the trade off. When I hit this new stuff, my legs were gleeful! It was buoyant! The track was clearly set up for track & field practice with hurdles that were much more like limbo bars. Seriously, I could more easily vertical jump one of my six-year olds than get over one of these things. Sadly I got chased off the track and its dreamy, mousse-like surface when a gym class came pouring out.

Slogging up a viscous hill at 8 miles, I thought about being pregnant. The first time around wasn't bad. Starting to run at six weeks postpartum was hard. I was uncoordinated, sore in strange places and giggly everywhere. Sam was an easy pregnancy, easy birth and all told, easy recovery. Then I carried twins for 35 weeks. I remember being 30 weeks along, way to early to give birth and just unfathomably large, with Sammy walking through the Wegmans parking lot. I was so slow and ungainly. A woman easily three times my age blew past me and I vowed to never take advantage of my healthy body again.

That was a very easy, soap opera-like statement was frosted in hyperbole! Time, effort, energy, desire easily overshadow the desperate promise of the pregnant mother. However I thought of that tired, slow mama and reminded myself there was no reason not to keep going today.
With eight miles behind me and three to go, I ran home, got the dog and finished what will stand, at most for four weeks, as my personal record. I ran ELEVEN MILES!

no such thing as a simple story

2011-04-27T21:13:00.003-04:00

Junie B. Jones, for those of you unfamiliar, is a sassy, tell-it-like-it-is kindergartener/1st grader. One my my personal favorites is how she refers to her kindergarten teacher as Mrs. "She has another name, but I like just Mrs. and that's all"

Junie B. is about to loose a tooth and is hoping for some sort of honor for being the first kid in Room 9 to do so. She has a tete-a-tete with her teacher about this and he delivers the blow that he doesn't really have any prize. She instructs him to check his desk "because teachers always have things in their desks"

The boys loved this idea and jumped in with a query about the purpose of goodies in the teacher's desk. I said, "I keep goodies in my desk too. On my desk too." Of course they needed details. I had to share about the mug of treats on my desk. M&Ms, jelly beans, whatever seems seasonally fun.

Aidan wanted to know why I had treats so I told him that I have to have something for when my boys are in the office. Also there are lots of people who walk by my office and when I have treats they stop and say hi. Noah added that he would also like some treats before they go to Pop Camp. This is what they call days they spend with my dad in the summer. Pop camp always opens with cocoa and munchkins, so of course stopping by my office for a fistful of M&Ms is necessary.

This was on page 2 of Junie B. It took us nearly 1/2 hour to read 8 pages, including deep thoughts on the use of Junie B.'s prolific use of bad words including "dumb bunny", "hate", "meanie" (as in Meanie Jim), and the mother of all 1st grade bad words "Stupid".

Happy Easter

2011-04-23T20:02:00.016-04:00

In honor of Spring/Break/ Easter, this dapper young fellow had his first lunch outside today.

We had some seriously **fancy** egg decorations this year, quite by accident. The boys were thoroughly inspired.

We went through 2 dozen and then had to call Grandma for permission to steal hers.

Scary how much these two can still look alike! I am only confident that they are two different boys from this angle because of the jammies.

Anyone who has been following along will be surprised to know that the "grow your own Easter grass" project was a success.

Aidan: Mommy, How does the Easter Bunny get all over the world? He can't fly over the ocean.
Me: Maybe he takes a fast boat.
Aidan: That would wake the people up.

Happy Easter!!

Now if you'll excuse me I have some egg salad to make....

Dyngus Day with the the Irish

2011-04-22T19:43:00.004-04:00

If you've ever read my blog or seen a Facebook status in the past year, then you know that I have deep-seated love of Wegmans. There are many many reasons for the inappropriate love of a supermarket.

Biweekly Friday Kids Movie Nights
WKids - free child care for while you are in the store
Fresh Sushi
Divine Salad Bar - one of the great luxuries in my life has always been someone else chopping fresh vegetables and providing me with any manner of delicious protein
Bulk - set the bar for bulk food, closely tracked by Whole Foods, but the original is still the best
Any any any thing you need - wonton wrappers, peppers in adobe, fresh scallops, extraordinarily affordable dye/fragrance free laundry detergent, delightfully dark coffee, awesome fresh muffins (French Vanilla and Morning Glory are divine! I've tried to replicate them and cannot respectfully close)
An olive bar - I know! Why would you need/want/think of such a thing. TRUST ME! It has fresh hummus and baba ghanoush and makes you find reasons to use the olive.
Open 24 hours - parents??? haven't we all either had a sick child and needed meds and other supplies and/or had time at 11pm to pick up some necessities.
They have a small, manageable little toy section. Odd you think? It is perfect for birthday party shopping when you a) have to do it the day of, and b) do NOT want to deal with the aisles of Toys R Us or Target, and c) enjoy the opportunity to get in and out with the latest gallon of milk.
40 products on which they are not raising prices in 2011. Seriously, I do not care if they make up for it on other prices. On these 40, I can fill 85% of my weekly necessities. Strike that, I just checked the list. Probably 95% of my weekly necessities.
Affordable holiday goodies - muffin cups, sprinkles, decorations and other things that make it easy and practical to really enjoy all the holidays. Let's face it. I do not want to have to think twice about buying St. Patrick's Day muffin cups, heart-shaped cake pans, all things Christmas. I love doing all the holidays all the way.

We embrace maaaaany holidays. The large and the small. One of the few on the fray of holidays we don't rise up to is Dyngus Day. If my defense there are no cookie cutter shapes to celebrate Easter Monday. Nope, I cannot explain better than Wikipedia as I learned long ago that things like the Broadway Market, the Butter Lamb and family gatherings to make perogies are unique to not only the Eastern European cultures, but deeply entrenched in Western New York. Eastern European cultures are intensely woven into WNY. If you haven't ever lived in WNY, do you know anyone who identifies themselves as Polish, Croatian, Slavic? At age 4, my sister rolled her "R's" like the Croatian nuns who ran her pre-K. I'm not going to pretend like I'm deeply enmeshed. I'm Irish from South Buffalo-ish. Again, something that only holds water if Western New York means anything to you. But I loved it today when I went into Wegmans and the "seasonal" section was piping out polka music.

Necessary information here is also that Sammy sings in the episcopal cathedral choir. He is really bright and has a frightening aptitude for almost anything.

Today in Wegmans, breezing through for milk (always), eggs (for more dying) and dish washer tablets, Noah bopped up and down to the Polka music, clearly in honor of Dyngus Day. I said, "you like this, huh?". "yes! what is this?" Sammy jumped to the rescue of the query. "It's.....I know this!" We continued walking. Noah continued to shake his money maker.

Sammy continues to struggle with the name of the music (polka). "oooooooh. I **know** this!" He is practically chanting it.

Finally, Sammy announced, " I KNOW! This music is OLD FOLKS MUSIC!"

7 Weeks and Counting

2011-04-16T15:19:00.004-04:00

The half marathon is 7 weeks away. So I layered up this morning, despite the high wind warning and drizzle, which devolved into driving rain circa mile 4. Spring brings any number of predictable signs on my preferred route: the bright green of the golf course, shoots of daffodils, any manner of poo to dodge, all ages, sizes and modes of transportation, even this morning, the lights of the local ball field! Spring is here!

It is a lovely park surrounded by woods from which loads of creepy types emerge, including a freaky wolf/dog thing and some equally hairy things that usually carry brown bags. It is largely safe despite the time there was a masked man trailing us. No I'm not kidding. After passing us multiple times in the early hours, this creeper drove by with a bandana over his face. Thankfully the police wasted no time getting there.

Anyway, the weather kept most everyone away, save for the minivan driving the wrong way in the bike lane. I plowed through 5 miles almost entirely alone in the park. I was ready to go further, but duty called. I've got to get in at least an eight mile run, though I was hoping to do nine, this weekend to stay on track for the half marathon. Tomorrow promises to be a bit warmer and should be much drier.

The really newsworthy part is the I managed over 2 nine-minute miles! Fueled by G.Love, Black Keys and Joss Stone, as well as a couple bites on Noah's pancake wrapped around brown sugar, I flew! Finally the wind and wet took hold a little and I had to slow down. It is not a pace that I typically achieve so it was really gratifying. Whether it was the music, the food,the pressure to get home so that boys could get to rehearsal or the encouragement of the very generous donations to the Team Cure Challenge, it came together today and I've got the sweat to prove it.

Brave beyond words

2011-04-14T20:34:00.003-04:00

I have been reflecting an awful lot about mental illnesses after the NPR piece last week. Thinking about the stigma, the unspeakable challenges, the silent struggle that so many people face every day with mental illnesses.

Mental illness does come in so very many forms. It seems that most of what people generally know of mental illness is from films and some books. There are the dramatized, "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" types, the stereotypical and grossly misrepresented, ridiculous horror movie types. But those just make good entertainment and don't represent the vast majority of people with any form of mental illness.

Bipolar disorder has as the name implies, two sides: the manic and the depressive. Depression is also in my opinion wildly misinterpreted with a romantic notion of tortured souls and artistic temperaments. The biography of poet Ann Sexton "Searching for Mercy Street" is a raw account of bipolar disorder from the eyes of her daughter. Her descriptions of the highs and lows are remarkable and heart wrenching. Nonetheless, the common perception is that depression is just pretty sad. Anyone with any experience with it will assure you that it is far from glamorous. So when it was released that Catherine Zeta-Jones was being treated for bipolar disorder, it was obvious that hers was the manic kind, not the easily spin-able, alluring (by Hollywood standards) depressive kind.

My first thought was simply awe. This stunning, successful woman with the world before her has just announced to the world that she has a mental illness! She has built a career, managed an extraordinarily public life, including very open struggles and had a family while also managing what has very likely been a life long demon. I am so impressed and cannot applaud loud enough for her brave decision to come forward with her very personal illness. I hope that her public position and this beginning of informed dialogue brings about better understanding and acceptance. I also wish that by acknowledging her diagnosis helps others seek treatment.

OK - cute stories to resume....

Clothes make the (wo)man

2011-04-12T21:00:00.006-04:00

Clothes make the (wo)man. Naked people have little or no influence on society. ~Mark Twain

Admittedly there is a wide range of acceptable in professional dress for women.

There is the basic issue of profession.
The corporate attorney and graphic design artist would rarely have to worry about wearing the same outfit.

A small office typically has a more relaxed standard than a large firm.

Miami vs. NYC vs. Buffalo -ha! to say nothing of London, Paris, Tokyo. You get the idea. Even geography is a factor.

Throw in stockings (yes/no/color), skirt length, shoe choice, hair, make-up: the permutations are innumerable. The potential offenses are astronomical.

A few basic rules go a very long way. We all need to find our own. Many of mine are outlined by my good friend Ann (Taylor).

My cousin and I enjoy comparing notes on personal experiences. She recently shared this blog
http://corporette.com/
It's just one of many places to find loads of good tips. Yet still so much tacky, fashion impaired, bad judgements out there! There is an attorney in my building who needs to meet some low lights and a flat iron on her hair which should easily be 8 inches shorter, manages to belt everything, shimmers and routinely manages to screw up even a black suit. Couple that with a very junior intern and I've got loads of material for my mental makeovers.

Clearly I also want to be polished and present well. Something I believe I typically achieve. I have a great stock of go-to dresses with any number of shoes and several jackets without looking at all. I can put myself together pretty well and clean up if necessary like today when I dribbled coffee down my cream sweater in my car and promptly wrote all over myself in Tide pen only to arrive shiny clean, if fragrant.

I have no excuse or explanation however for yesterday when I wore my dress backwards all day.

Nothing cute about this

2011-04-07T20:46:00.003-04:00

For two years I worked directly with people with serious mental illnesses. It was a meaningful, shaping, challenging and rewarding job. At the end of the day, it was a job. When I ultimately left to get my master degrees, I left believing that direct care work should be an experience everyone should have. I saw how people were stricken with mental illness and taken from happy, productive, loving lives, trapped in a cavern of paralyzing psychosis with voices or emotions driving your actions.

I once heard an accomplished professional with a PhD and schizophrenia talk about having to "go in for an oil change" every few years when her body chemistry or some less defined factor decreased the efficacy of her meds. That is to say, she started hearing voices again. She knew enough to self-monitor and typically was able to check herself into a psychiatric unit, most of which are locked by design for every one's safety. She recounted a story about how people's behavior changes by virtue of being locked up. She said she was waiting for an orderly to take her to an appointment on a different floor. She was waiting on a bench by herself when a wave of crisp lucidity came over her and she realized that she had her finger up her nose! "Now I know if you have to pick your nose, you do it in your car by yourself! Yet here I was seeped in the illness coupled with the anonymity of the hospital PICKING MY NOSE". Ultimately she again got herself balance and drove off to consulting jobs picking her nose in a better car than I've ever had.

She has stayed with me, her success with mental illness, the horrible challenges and injustice of life with mental illness. She is undoubtedly a success story. For every one like her, there are thousands whose illnesses are far to profound to ever hope to live with the freedom of driving a car and picking your nose. Yet you all know someone with a mental illness of some form. They probably mask it well and you likely don't know it. Sadly they may not know it either. Mental illness is far far far more prevalent than is commonly believed and it is NOT always violent. Some violent criminals may have mental illnesses, but a mental illness does not assign someone to a life of violence.

I don't intend to get too preachy about the system and treatment methodologies and politics and doctrine du jour. I want to say that I had the honor of working with some incredibly dedicated, inspirational, strong, creative, brilliant people in direct care. Truly amazing people devoted to helping this population thrive in whatever ways were possible within the parameters of their lives.

And in one year alone, I can think of three serious acts of violence in our population of 12 against our staff of 8. Mine was the least serious with a punch in the head by a woman who weighed about a 94 lbs soaking wet. Fueled by CRAY-ZAY voices in her head, over tired, undermedicated, over caffeinated and just generally pissed at me, she packed a whallop as I rounded the corner on a staircase. [Incidentally she was pissed at me because I was young, blond and drove a red car and she had just had a "break through" on her meds and was more lucid than she'd been in 15 years and realized that she wasn't young anymore, didn't have blond hair and would never drive a red car. All of which she documented in her journal.] Anyway, I was stunned and it showed. She wanted to hurt me and when I didn't react with hurt she wound up again. Trained in non-violent restraint and realizing it was coming this time, I took her down on the stairs and called for help. It was over. I was fine. That also stayed with me. When I got my mandatory counseling after it all, my manager said that anyone with violence in their past is prone to flashback and other effects of reliving their own trauma. That wasn't me, so what I ended up feeling was just sad for this woman. It was her last chance in a halfway house and she got sent back to the hell of which Ken Kesey only scratched the surface.

Today I listened to a piece on NPR about an incredible spike in violence in mental hospitals in California. I thought back to that night that the voices took Anita back to them. I thought about the fundamental issue of safety while providing even the most basic services for this extraordinarily risky and challenging and needy population. And I teared up in traffic when the audio played picketing workers chanting, "what do we want? safety!" I hope they get all get it because they sure as hell aren't getting paid well, surfing the web on their lunch, chatting whimsically with their coworkers, bringing sick kids to the office in a pinch, cutting out a few minutes early to make sure their elderly parent gets their meds or or or or

I'd like him to start wearing a helmet socially....

2011-03-27T15:53:00.003-04:00

While pointing at a construction site, Noah announced, "Mommy, that is a big hole!" (pause) "I could jump in that hole". It was easily 30 feet deep.

This is the same boy who at 3 announced that he was going to jump off the skyway. His gear:
1. his tight shirt (summer surf shirt)
2. bathing suit
3. two noodles (because clearly one wasn't enough)

I am having anxiety about my babies doing things like snowboarding, motocross and extreme sports!

Smitten

2011-03-25T19:44:00.005-04:00

One of the boys' kindergarten buddies has a sister. Last year, our school 2nd grade was matched up with another school's 2nd grade as pen pals. Sam ironically ended up with the sister of the twins' buddy. And then she got into the boys' school this year.

Sam and said sister are good friends. She and Sam are tight. She was the new girl. Sam is just a sweet as sweet can be. And now is just as smitten as smitten can be.

Let it be known that she is also very nice. There are some 3rd graders toying with the land of the big girl. This week, Sam announced that two girls in his class wear fake nails, "even though they aren't supposed to." There is some extraordinary, well maybe quite ordinary, cattiness. OK. Move on. But the little sweetie that he raced around the skating rink with tonight hasn't discovered make-up, even lip gloss, always says hello to me by name (and not the first one), and skates fast.

Sammy dumped it repeatedly trying to keep up with her. They went round and round and round and round. Finally, we flagged all the kids down when it was time to go. We were plus one as new baby niece is 2 weeks old so old niece came with us. I've got three kids ready to go and Scott has *again* given Sam the head's up. I head to the car with 3/4 of our crew. Scott and Sam finally come out. It was only after Sam called repeatedly to his pal, when her mom said, "do you want me to get her?" Sam said yes and then told her to have a good weekend.

My baby is smitten.

This brings to mind a quote I recently read "If you are going through hell, keep going" (Winston Churchill). I believe this means I cannot stop moving until they are 24.

LC

2011-03-22T21:09:00.002-04:00

A consultant sent me qualifications today. One resume had LC after his name. Now I've seen any number of alphabet of combination and if I haven't, they are typically easy to find. Until LC. So I looked it up. Here is what LC might mean:

Low Carb (not one I run into professionally)

Legion of Christ (again, not really applicable)

Lyrical Combat (like a sing off?)

Lovin Cupful (of anything in particular?)

And seriously...I have nothing to say about this one:

Lemonade Conspiracy

Bigger than me.

2011-03-21T16:39:00.012-04:00

OK - It was bound to happen. I had a crappy day at work. I don't have those. Today I did.

So I came home and finally ordered pictures that I'd been meaning to:

Waiting to get into the Magic Kingdom for the first time.

This is Aidan pretending to fly a jet pack.

And I went to Zumba.
Still feeling just grumpy.

So I decided to do something that is better than stewing in frustration. When I run the half marathon in May, it will be to benefit Roswell Park Cancer Institute. I've joined the Team Cure Challenge with a very modest fundraising goal. If you are interested in supporting me you can search me at:

https://giving.roswellpark.org/sslpage.aspx?pid=964&tab=1

I can also email you my link directly.

I was very excited to run the half marathon before but after this day I'm even more excited to put some other purpose behind it. It puts things in perspective.

Incidentally, if you cannot support me, you can still do your part in the fight against cancer.

Just please wear sunblock.
Don't smoke.
Register with the National Blood Marrow Donor Bank.

The Road to Wellville

2011-03-21T05:44:00.008-04:00

My mom, sister, cousin and I managed to pull off a girls weekend in Saratoga this weekend. With the schedules we individually juggle this should have taken as much negotiating as the Kyoto Accord. But schedule it we did!

We started with an overnight on the farm where we got lost in a pile of old photographs that my Gramma brought out. I learned that my Great-Grandfather's father and mother were shunned by their families because he was a Christian of some variety and she was Jewish. His parents disowned him and bequeathed him $1!

This is my Gram, looking not unlike my niece's most recent school pic with the giant bow.

My Gram also is really ready for spring and keeps an unbelievable garden every year in a former in-ground pool. This is her window, lined with seed packets giving her something to look forward to.

Saturday we made our way to Saratoga and a divine little spa with all the trimmings. It would seem that I was sheathed in dead skin since after my facial I had my 25 year old face again! I ran a total of 9 miles this weekend, soaked, steamed, swam and best of all hung with these fabulous ladies.

Please note that there was very little hair product or make up in use!

And then somebody ran by the pool.....

THEN, I came home to a clean house and a pork roast! Which is pretty good on any given day, but damn good when this is how they spent their day.

penance

2011-03-17T21:50:00.004-04:00

Noah told me to close my eyes for a surprise this morning. I was in the middle of getting breakfast, lunch, water bottles, teeth brushed, shoes, homework, shirts tucked and pinning every boy's St Patrick's Day pins on. I said no. Then quickly thought better of it and sat down, on the dirty kitchen floor, while he fumbled with one of the pins.

"OK!" He beamed.

This was it! It reads "World's Cutest Leprechaun" (transferred to my purse since I couldn't wear it all day at work)

He's the sweetest sweetest boy.

which witch?

2011-03-16T20:08:00.003-04:00

Noah: Why are your putting that on your face.
Me (dripping in sarcasm): To keep my skin pretty. Do you think I'm pretty? (insert my snicker)
Aidan: sort of.
Noah: yea sort of.
Me: What about you, Sam?
Sam: yeee-ah.
Me: Do you mean to say that I'm NOT the prettiest girl you know?
(insert their evil cackling!)
Me: Well, who IS the prettiest girl you know?!?!
Noah: Abby.
Aidan: Chloe.
Sam: Katie.

(insert my animated, over-the-top response here, specifically orchestrated to elicit more cackling)

Me: alright! That's it! You are getting a new Mommy. A pretty one.

Noah: NOOOOOO!

Me: Yep. She'll be super pretty.

Then I turned and Noah's eyes were glistening with tears. "No, Mommy." He melted in my arms. I promised him that I was joking and that he was stuck with me for life so it was a good thing that this Mommy forever, even if I'm not so pretty. That broke a smile and got me an extra hug.

Which I'll hang on to while soothing my aching guilt.

Anyone for a little green and leafy

2011-03-15T21:00:00.003-04:00

Vegetables. We have a good relationship now. Fresh, steamed, canned, raw. Preferably not over cooked. Mushy = blech! It was not always the way.

When we were introduced to spinach, hot and buttery. I stared it down until it was cold and coagulated. I got moved to the kitchen from the dining room. Hee Haw came on. Then off. I finally choked back the spinach. Gagging the whole time and then got sent to bed. I love spinach now. Cooked or raw. And now my boys loved it. Someone recently commented to Aidan that something was better than having to eat spinach. He looked at he like she had three heads and said, "I LUV SPINACH".

Eggplant, cauliflower, broccoli, B-R-U-S-S-E-L- S-P-R-O-U-T-S
It's all delish.

The line in the sand is drawn at the hideous little ball of hell known as the pea.

I remember as clear as day telling my parents that peas popped and oozed. I may have been three years old. They were grossed out. Thus was created the family rule of one elimination. Everyone got to have one vegetable that they didn't need to eat.

Mine was clearly the pea.

Fast forward:
We have the perfect school/afterschool arrangement. The kids can go on any day of the week and I don't need to plan for it, i.e. something runs late at work and they just go. It is attached to the school, run by the Boys and Girls Club (which incidentally is currently advised by Condeleeza Rice) only for kids at our little school. They feed the kids snack. They will feed them a (reasonably) healthy dinner if they are there late enough. And oh, by the way, it's free. exactly $0, every day, week, month, no matter when they go or don't.

Last week, they sponsored an ice cream social. It was also free if you brought a donation of cans to support the Torch Club, the little community action group. The boys stayed through dinner until the ice cream social. I went and, while eating homemade sundaes, I said, "what did you have for dinner?". Noah said, with a mouth full of hot fudge, chocolate chips and sprinkles, "we didn't eat". I posed the obvious, "why?"

We had plans to go out, had counted on the boys full and ready for bed for the babysitter. I was a little irritated, just until he responded, "there were peas". I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a hypocrite.

Oh-Kay! Grilled cheeses for dinner!

So Many Legos

2011-03-11T13:27:00.005-05:00

I used to believe that my father-in-law really loved me. I now know that 750 legos are immutable evidence to the contrary!

It all got done.

2011-03-09T20:55:00.002-05:00

My part time job has been very nearly full time for several weeks now. The deadline was noon today. I got home way late last night and could not face the mid-week restock.

So Scott went Wegmans sometime well after 9pm. He forgot his wallet.

So I went to Wegmans before 6am this morning because that is when I wake up.

And work? Well there were four more hours that followed the four hours of getting the last of the last done.

Finally got to see my little men for some QT tonight.

After dinner and getting Aidan & Noah to unload, then re-load the dishwasher, they showered, brushed teeth and we built the Woompa Cave. Folded laundry. Vacuumed. Changed the sheets. Rotated the wash. Fed the dog and cats. Walked the dog....in the rain.

Finally sat down with my nail polish, a glass of wine and Scrabble on FB. I went for the second glass of wine, put the bottle back in cupboard and caught the full glass of good Cesanese on the way back down. My kitchen looked like a crime scene! I was so spent that for a nanosecond I thought about leaving it.

Clearly, I did not leave shattered crystal and red wine strewn across the kitchen.

Let's just say, that now that I've vented, I'm going back to the wine. In a plastic cup. Classy.

old chocolate is still chocolate

2011-03-08T21:43:00.002-05:00

I went to a conference as a vendor back in the fall. In attention-getting 101, you are taught to feed them and they will pay attention. This applies to conferences, presentations, sales pitches, class, work…..what have you.

Well my fancy book learnin’ tells me that good candy gets more attention than bad candy. So Dove Chocolates and Reeses Cups adorned my table in pretty fall colors.

Today I was cleaning my office and found a few chocolates at the bottom of my convention bag. Instinctively I popped the six month old Reeses Cups into my desk drawer until later having learned from the best economizer known to modern times,- don't waste. The only Reeses Cups I’d ever known growing up were always at minimum six months old with the white coating of having weathered temperature fluctuations. This was due to my Grandma Eagan buying everything in volume including food that could never come back across the border from the Canadian beach cottage. These deals, too good to pass up, were left in the mothballed, contact paper-covered cupboard next to the awkward volume cans of Coke for next season.

To all of the Eagan cousins and friends who ever scorched their lilly white, irish skin at Bay Beach chasing Eli’s fries with Coke and last season’s Reeses Cups, this one’s for you!

Some Recent Gems

2011-03-01T07:45:00.006-05:00

My brother and sister-in-law are so so so close to welcoming their newest baby. And as anyone who has ever given birth has likely enjoyed the exhausting last month. My nurse midwife once told me that she believed the last month of pregnancy was intentionally so hard so that you wouldn't worry about actually giving birth.
Last Sunday, I had my niece and nephew for the day to give the mom-to-be to be a chance for a nap or whatever. We took the kids on a nature walk. Played trains. Made chocolate chip cookies. Played Disney trivia. Played trucks. Watched a movie. Had baths. It was a terrific day and the kids were awesome. Julia and I ate cold, left-over chinese with our fingers, out of the box.

We are not as child-proofed as we once were, but it isn't as if there is a bowl of marbles, a pile of steak knives and booze in sippy cups on the shelf next to the high chair. There was, however, a six foot ladder in my kitchen. The three year old boy focused right in on it!

Miles: Can I climb this ladder?
Me: No.
Miles: Why not?
Me: It isn't set up.
Miles: Can you set it up?
Me: No.
Miles: Why not?
Me: Oh ok.
(once the ladder set up)
Miles: Can I climb it now?
Me: No.
Miles What are these for? (pointing to the supports on the back of the ladder)
Me: They help hold the ladder together.
Miles: And (pointing to the legs of the ladder) is this the slide?

Of course, because why would you climb a ladder if you weren't going slide down something.

In other topics, I am not handle philosophical conversations at bedtime.
Aidan: Mommy, why do kisses make the noise?
Me: So that you know that you landed it.
Aidan: I think it is because God made them make noise.
Noah: Mommy, maybe, but I think Mother Nature made the science stuff though.

Sure. Ok. I've got nuthin'! That will have to do for the night boys.

Simply Real

2011-02-25T21:41:00.005-05:00

Back in the day, I worked for a company that was in the business of development of products featuring ease and innovation. That year a fun new mag hit the scene with recipes, problem solutions, decorating tips, accessible fashion suggestions. It was like Martha Stewart for every girl. I subscribed, saved issues and used the heck out of them.

There were things like:
New uses for orphaned socks
Best detergent for allergy sufferers
A weeks worth of meal in under an hour
Spruce up your home for spring for $50
Making the most out of the last of a roll of wrapping paper
Best method for clearing a zit, washing the cat, writing a cover letter, organizing your desk

Really loved this magazine. Over the years, I stopped reading too many magazines; any of them. I try to squeeze in the Sunday paper, a crossword puzzle, and few books, but rarely magazines. I ultimately canceled the subscription to Real Simple, Fitness, Newsweek, leaving only the People mags that Colleen bequeathed my for gym usage.

A while back I subscribed to the Real Simple online newsletters. They include bite-sized bits of things I could digest in the limited time I have; a recipe or two always jumps out, maybe a helpful tip. I've enjoyed it for awhile.

I've decided though, that I need to dump it because the themes lately have seemed, well, less than "real" and only "simple" if you are pondering life's challenges with your feet up eating bonbons, dissatisfied with contrasting pillows and duvet and pondering a deeper pile for the carpet. These are a few of the recent, actual teasers:

Cutting Board Holder (the counter?)
Beer Koozie as Shaving Cream Holder (or for a koozie for beer and shelf for the shaving cream holder)
Ribbon Smoother (not aware that my wrinkled ribbons were a lifestyle problem)
8 Adorable Egg Cups (wah??)
8 Delicious Treats for Bacon Lovers (Delish, weird, not making my life any better)

what really really sent me was this, the Joseph Joseph Double Dish. The pitch read: Edamame pods, pistachio shells, olive pits: There’s never an acceptable spot for tossing them. The three pockets on this space-saving double dish are made for stashing.

Well, Real Simple, it's been good. It's been meaningful. But you've jumped the shark.

(sigh)

2011-02-24T20:55:00.004-05:00

Long ago, "Three Under Three Feet" was renamed "Whoa Mama" because my young 'uns were no longer all under three feet.

Tonight, I was tucking the twins in and listening to a rattling noise. I asked Sammy what he was doing. He reported that he was measuring himself. That made me chuckle a little because Sammy never does anything without a purpose. This could have had something to do with rides at Disney that he's anticipating being tall enough to ride or how deep into the pool he'll be able to stand. Who knows?! Kisses and hugs and snuggles to Aidan and Noah then off to investigate.

Me: so, how tall are you?

Sammy: four feet, three inches

(stunned silence)

I knew he'd had a growth spurt. He is noticeably taller. And now, he's exactly one foot shorter than me!

This revelation, coupled with formal announcement that Aidan and Noah are eligible to go to sleep away camp this summer and this girl is having a moment.

A moment that is making me even more anxious to snuggle the bundle of sweet baby tre. As much as I'm looking forward to meeting him/her, I really hope he/she hangs out just until this mess goes away.

Get out what you put in

2011-02-22T10:18:00.010-05:00

My mom and I were chatting recently about juggling it all, so to speak. I took into account such things as making breakfast two or three times a week. This is down from the 7-12 times a week it felt like I used to make breakfast. Pancakes, waffles, and occasionally eggs. Throw in some turkey bacon, yogurt and french toast and fruit and that makes an ideal breakfast spread.

This started early in my motherhood. I remember like it was yesterday the day that the sweet, loving, and gently firm day care provider said to me, "I think he'd like something more. He seems to like the look of the pancakes." Sam was 7 months old. It began Sam's and subsequently the twins' love affair with the breakfast carbs. I make pancakes from scratch, though am not above a box of complete pancake mix. (If I'm going to cut corners, I'm going to just add water.) I own and use a waffle iron. We have favorite muffins, ranked by flavor and maker (Wegman's is the favorite).

When the boys were very young, another mom of young 'uns asked, "do you make pancakes *everyday*?" At that point, I did. Pancakes, yogurt and fruit were our typical breakfast. Let me simplify, because I never meant to make this mom, or anyone else feel anything about themselves, parenting, their children, etc etc etc simply because of food:

1 c. flour
2 T. sugar
2 t. baking powder
1/4 t. salt
1 beaten egg
1 c. milk
2T. oil

Mix dry ingredients. In separate bowl, combine, egg, milk and oil. Add flour all at once to wet ingredients. Stir until blended but slightly lumpy.

Pour 1/4 c. batter onto hot, lightly greased griddle. Turn heat to low.

Cook until first side is bubbly and edges slightly dry. Flip and brown second side.

Serve it with syrup, powdered sugar or rolled up with brown sugar in the middle or any other way you please. Enjoy!!

It isn't anything more than sustenance. But it is what I know. I cook, bake and poke around the kitchen. I am the daughter of the daughter of a farmer's wife. When you have to feed a dozen mouths, you cook good, healthy, hearty meals, as my grandmother did. My mom stayed at home with us. She made breakfast, lunch and dinner from scratch. It is just what I know. Admittedly, making breakfast from scratch is the expectation that I put upon myself because I choose to, I enjoy it, I want to, I feel that it is a little something I can do for my boys.

When I came upon this quote, it resonated, and made me laugh a little:

When you cook it should be an act of love. To put a frozen bag in the microwave for your child is an act of hate. -Raymond Blanc

However, it also occurred to my that I am unsure of what it means when you call Imperial Pizza.

Spring has sprung

2011-02-15T20:37:00.002-05:00

I pulled in and there was a woman, shivering, huddled over her steering wheel trying to hide her dirty secret. But she needn't be shamed. There were lines of people in their parkas, moon boots and trying to dig their money out through gloved hands. Ungrateful kids climbing on dirty snow, threatening to topple their recently acquired goods into the snow. First of many that will need to be replaced this season. Nothing could dampen the mood!

It's February 15! Happy spring!

DAIRY QUEEN IS OPEN!!!

The Recovery

2011-02-08T08:13:00.004-05:00

So, if you have been following the manic chronicle of my life at all, perhaps you remember when Aidan let go a little word we like to reserve for adult use. I quickly copped to it as it is my word of choice though I'd always thought I was careful about not swearing in front of the kids. I was recently vindicated with the following conversation.

Aidan: Mommy there are three bad "S" words:
the one that you say when you want someone to stop talking
the one that is mean to call names
and
the baaaad one. The one I said

Me: if it was so bad, why did you say it

Aidan: Louis (named changed to protect the innocent) told me that it was a reeeeeaaaalllly bad word. Then it got stuck in my head like a song and I just said it.

Oh that poor little honey must have just been about to burst! More importantly, IT WASN'T ME!!!!

Which one are you?

2011-02-07T23:02:00.004-05:00

Who doesn't love library day? Our boys are lucky enough to be at a school that doesn't cut corners on "specials". Library, gym, art, music, spanish, and my personal favorite, dance. As to be expected, you must return your library book to get a new one. Sometimes this works out for the boys, and sometimes, well, sometimes, we enjoy Star Wars for weeks and weeks when it reappears at unpredictable intervals, but never on Monday a.m. when needed.

This morning, the sun shone down and library books were returned and new ones brought home in their place. Noah broke from his pattern. He's been in lurve with all things adventure, even better if it is a comic book, ahem, graphic novel.

I need to deviate briefly to share that over this past weekend, I backhandedly called Noah "Mr. Hyde" after he went from sweet to whiny. Then told him the very brief, 1st grade version of the story. He did not seem to be overly moved or interested.

Back to library day. As if to compete with his older brother's sweet, engaging, almost Haskell-like behavior, Noah ran to me after school and hollered, "Mommy! Guess what I got from the library??" I guessed a bunch of silly answers. He responded with "NO! Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde! Mr. Hyde kills people!"

Not sure that was the literary exposure I was going for.

Not from Sesame Street

2011-01-27T09:17:00.004-05:00

While driving to school, Noah announced that I was going to be quizzed on Greek gods & goddesses. After getting several right, including Dionysus (thank you very much), we had the following exchange:

Noah: Mommy, who is the Greek god of the sea and earthquakes.

Me: the god of the sea, hmmm

Noah: and earthquakes.

Me: what does it start with?

Noah: P

Me: Paul? Patrick? Pamela?

Noah: Mommy

Me: I give up.

Noah: Posey Dawn

It is Poseidon.

Waiting,Wishing, Hoping

2011-01-26T20:09:00.005-05:00

Mr. Noah is still waiting for that pesky tooth to fall out. Every day is excruciating for poor Mr. Aidan. Noah wiggles it, does tricks with it and broadcasts its every change. Aidan seethes and grinds his firmly planted teeth.

It started with "I think it is loose. I moved my tooth when the rest of my head was still." I peeked in only to find the sign of future braces as evidenced by the big tooth growing in behind the baby tooth, a la shark teeth!

We are happily entertaining the process for Noah. Sammy has been telling him what to expect. Noah has been sharing the very satisfying movements with every one. Aidan and Noah were toe-to-toe, while Aidan had his finger in Noah's mouth and declared, "ooooo cool".

As I was leaving for work this morning, Noah called, "hey Mommy, wanna wiggle?"

Like there are two answers to that question!! Such a funny, fabulous way to start my day.

Watered Down

2011-01-25T22:06:00.002-05:00

After 12 years, I have finally broken a Waterford crystal. Not that I was trying or hoping, but I was using these stunning goblets. I think that they shouldn't sit on the shelf waiting for a special occasion. Shattering on Christmas only means we'd be picking shards out of the spoils of the boys' stocking. Instead, we were sweeping shards from beneath my seat where I typed recipes for the school fundraiser. Plus, as they were a gift from John & Esther, I know they support healthy use and will certainly forgive the loss of one. Sad, nonetheless.

Things I just can't get behind

2011-01-17T20:50:00.004-05:00

1. Cookie batter in scoopable tubs.

2. Mattress fundraisers

3. TVs in the grocery store

4. Churches advertising

5. the redundancy of anything pitched as "portable fruit"

How I Spent My Christmas Vacation

2011-01-11T20:21:00.008-05:00

In an unusually warm week after Christmas, this is where we spent our vacation.

and have a night out...without crayons on the table.

In Mystic, or maybe Watch Hill, you can find this delightfully silly rack of slippers.

Back home, we rocked the skating rink with our cousins.

This is how we do winter in B-Lo. This young friend was taking shots on a little corner of freshly shoveled South Park Lake.

good things in small packages

2011-01-10T22:35:00.008-05:00

So a big happy birthday to my big brother! He turned 40. Which means my delightful watershed year is a 16 months away. Since I've had children, I realize how sucky that must have been for my young mother. Mine were further apart but I did have one more. They were younger and we were right on top of each other. I think they did a really great job raising us despite challenges I cannot imagine at 20!

In any case I have said any number of times, "I could use a break". Short of a day on rewind without the sweet babies, I'm not sure what that even means. I wouldn't change a thing. The 3/4 time job, three kids' worth of homework, activities, and the overall life management just keep us all very busy. "Mommy, LOOK!", "Mommy, tuck me in", "Mommy, can we read stories", "Mommy, help me find a Lego piece". I try to remember that these are all quickly going to be replaced with something much less sweet and affectionate. Yet, there are still days that I think "I could use a break".

Yesterday, I realized that one form that takes is as delicious, healthy leftovers from my brother's fabulous party. Our families put out a crazy amount of amazing food, including two lasagnas, homemade gumbo from the Mississippi Mimi, hand rolled sushi, CHEEESE, and Alaskan crab legs that outweighed some of the smaller ones among us.

And when it was all over, we were sent packing with so much food that I am headed into Day Three of a dinner that I do not have to make. My best estimate is that I can stretch out into Day Four judging by the side of ham in my fridge.

So a big, side of ham-sized THANK YOU to Grandma Julia, who knows very well how a little help goes a loooong way! Thank you daily, loudly, sincerely to my own mom who delivers little help and big help routinely, including making sure that I didn't leave my bag of food behind. xoxo!

PS - according to one of the six year olds: Uncle John is the coolest because he tells the funniest jokes. Happy Birthday!!

PPS - wishing all the Moms & Dads a much needed break from time to time

Cuz it needz to be sed

2011-01-04T08:37:00.007-05:00

We are devolving into sloppy spellers and poor punctuators. Or perhaps we are evolving as language and communication does. Regardless of which side of this particular communication debate you come down on (OR on which you come down), there is just no excuse for stupid.

Phonetic spelling should be reserved for Webster. Z's and S's are not interchangeable, nor are Y's and I's. If I have to say it out loud to make it make sense, I'm working way too hard at your logo or tag line. And emoticons are just a poor excuse for bad communication skills.

Is a toy more fun because of those jaunty K's in Kozy Koupe?

Despite annoying me every time I darkened the doorstep , I used to be a frequent customer at "Bagelzz" as if they anticipated patrons to still be sleeping when they arrived.

A perennial favorite is the bedding store called "800 Mattres", who reminded you to "leave off the last S for savings". It amused me to learn that the founder was Napoleon Barragan, which led to wonder if he intentionally phonetically spelled his last name "Bargain."

The one that fired me up most recently was the construction supply company "SaftiFirst", clearly a play on the mantra "Safety First". So alarming! If safety truly does come first, let's make that clear.

Merry Christmas Eve

2010-12-24T21:54:00.002-05:00

We have an Advent Calendar that is a house with a door for every day of the month. Couple that with the wily elf we call Kirby who hides some place different every day checking up on things for the Claus and an entirely separate countdown calendar, it seems un-possible that Christmas would sneak up on the boys.

Noah asked me today if tomorrow was the "real Christmas". Not as smart as he looks.

We've had a few flubs this year, what with all the magic we are charged with making every night, one can hardly blame us! Kirby has forgotten to come back once, while on another day that lazy spy was just in the same spot. Totally forgiven for the time he was hanging like a trapeze artist from a plant hook, causing Noah to squeal like a girl and his brothers to melt into peels of laughter.

Then there's the advent "calendar". I had to run out one night when I realized that I had only planned out 3 days. Important to know that each boys get a day in rotation, so that after Aidan got a piece of gum and Sam got a piece of gum, they collectively called foul when Noah got a matchbox car. We just lost steam at the end, plus we were out of order and what to do 6 days later about the inequity? Does Noah get his gum the day before Christmas? In the interest of Christmas Eve sanity, I leaned the game "Bananagrams" against the house with a note from Kirby the Spy Elf. They were so unhinged with excitement that they cheered and Noah and Aidan ran to the tree, from which Kirby was dangling and called out thank yous!

Four days ago they drew up a cookie menu for Santa. And today Noah produced this, and Sammy edited the emphasis.

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope this holiday season finds you among loved ones and blessings!

In full force

2010-12-22T05:58:00.005-05:00

We took the boys on the Santa train this past weekend. It was fantastic. From the strolling musicians to the picturesque backdrop and of course the company!

waving at the train

we're excited!!!!

sure, I'll smile but I'm not taking the orange pop from my lips

checking out the "nice list"

what's that I see???

trying SSSOOOOO hard to be good waiting to see Santa

I defy you to find a non-believer in this crew.

High fives for the man!

Failed

2010-12-17T20:13:00.002-05:00

There are books written about the topic.

Careers have been ruined because of the subject.

It is the annual hot topic on management blogs.

It is: the company holiday party.

The basics are clear:
1. Don't drink too much.
2. Don't bring a new date.
3. Don't wear anything that you wouldn't wear to work.
4. Don't talk about work, politics, personal issues, or any other zesty topic.

In short, don't do anything that will cause you to be the topic of conversation on Monday. Pretty much my motto for life. I don't want to be the topic of conversation. I never want to embarrass myself. I don't even like to see other people embarrass themselves. Not a huge fan of being the center of attention.

Last week the boss gifts and accompanying cards were purchased and returned to the office about 15 minutes after I left. I declined the offer by the admin to sign them for me after she said she was signing them from Frank, our project manager "Love, Frankie". At the party the next day, she slips me the cards minutes after I said hello to her. I get the cue and excuse myself from our banquet room to sign them at the bar.

Returning with them, I slipped them into my purse just before walking back in. Glancing down at my purse, I failed to discern the glass partition to the banquet area and WALKED INTO IT!!!!! And gonged like the steeple at Notre Dame!!!

Needless to say, if my goal for the night was NOT to embarrass myself at the company party, I failed.

Penance

2010-12-07T21:05:00.002-05:00

Raise your hand if you have ever repeated yourself, with total clarity, to a precious child.

This game isn't restricted to parents. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, babysitters. We've all been there.

Don't do that.
or
Stop.
or
Knock that off!

The maddening repetition, waiting for it to sink and and stick, once!

Well, if I've told Aidan and Noah once, I've whisper-told them 150x, "don't touch the rack" (that holds the hymnals in church). Since they've continued to do it at least 149x after the first time I've told them the first time, they clearly still do it. Usually pulling themselves up off the seat, sometimes just swaying on it while waiting to sit again or I'm sure, to have their prayers answered and leave! Aidan snapped one finally. His face dropped. I was waiting for another "shhhit". But there was silence. He was just stunned. Probably petrified. I quietly, firmly, and, I hope also lovingly, told him to stand and be respectful and we would take care of it.

Fast forward.

We agreed to have Aidan help out with something since he couldn't exactly fix it. He agreed to the suggestion that he help clean something. Today he made good. I think it is safe to say that he will not be dangling from the pew again soon.

it snowed and snowed and snowed and.....

2010-12-02T19:12:00.009-05:00

It did not stop snowing today. It hasn't truly let up in nearly 24 hours.

We've made national news largely b/c the interstate is closed for a stretch and has been for about 18 hours. The boys are blissed out and played and played and played through snow in the boot, glove, coat until we finally had to drag them in.

The front walk here shows about 3 hours of accumulation. Please note that two days ago it was 55 degrees.

Anyone who knows my neighbor, knows that he never moves his car. The lump here is his car at about 3:00 this afternoon.

Sam is about to run the sled off the side of the porch.

This is a two lane road with a full parking lane on either side.

ATV in the road

Sledding off the shed roof.

Welcome Winter!

2010-12-02T06:55:00.007-05:00

We've had an extraordinarily pleasant fall.

That's over.

Lake Erie 45 degrees, which means we will be susceptible to lake effect snows for quite some time. Like yesterday and today and maybe tomorrow.

Let the digging begin. Because the snow blower broke last night, we're doing it like the pilgrims.

itchy.

2010-12-01T20:39:00.010-05:00

Again this week, we got a lice alert from the boys school. These insidious little critters are simply not letting go of our sweet community. Thus far our blond heads are thankfully unbitten. Weekly checks generate as frequent notes in backpacks and mirror emails. For concerned parents, these information updates typically include tips to avoid infestation, some suggestion for how to talk to your children about the subject, and what to do if your child brings some friends home. [No problem: skip a few hair washings, lice like really clean hair, and we'll have a trio of Uncle Festers]

This week the PSI include pictures! Really?? Necessary??? The description is sufficient, I thought. And with very frequent checks, the odds are in favor of Nurse Dana spotting them over me. In any case, do I need to see this??

This got me thinking. If you are discerning enough to want to identify one bug from another, this might help.

While staying in a hotel in NYC, here's one you want to keep an eye out for:

Skip a month of Advantix and:

Step into New England or be my little Noah:

Pick up some pre-teen reading and watch out for :

Stumble into a pre-K playroom and this guy is sure to get you:

Now I am itchy as sin!

to be thankful

2010-11-24T13:03:00.008-05:00

things I have learned from the Turkey Trot:

1. anyone can run 5 miles
2. the TT is 8k, or 4.97!
3. anyone can run 4.97 miles
4. there are lots of ways to interpret "running"
5. apparently the organizers of the event/suppliers of the timing chip also believe that anyone, including the common idiot can run 4.97 miles judging by the instructions to strap the adhesive circle around your shoe laces. I kid you not when I report that there were three (3) sets of instructions on how to correctly strap the day-glo orange band around your shoelaces.
6. I was reminded how grateful I am that I can run under my own steam.
7. I will run in gear, maybe even costume, but I will **never** run attached to anyone else, for example dressed as a centipede.

In Gratitude!

From the mouth of...

2010-11-18T14:24:00.005-05:00

The boys were digging through the garage, recently packed away for winter. They were looking for their Flying Turtles. Noah was successful. Sam was successful. Aidan, neck deep in lawn furniture and sand toys, muttered “shhhhit”.

I promptly called him out and inquired, “what did you just say?” He has the poker face of, well, a six-year old. That sweet sweet face replied ever so surprised, “shit.” I said, ”Aidan, that’s not a word you use!” He, again very innocently said, “Is it a bad word?” I choose to believe that he really did not know because the face that goes with anything less than the truth reads like a neon sign.

I gently told him that he is not to say that and gave him a battery of other things from “rats” to “pits” to choose from. He happily went off to play.

Notice I did not ask where he heard that word, because it is totally mine!

score one for me

2010-11-16T09:50:00.003-05:00

Sammy has really acquired his attitude and can be known to whip it out indiscriminately. However, with the predictability of a pre-nap toddler, some things are guaranteed to set him off. Reliably anything that his brothers get near that belong to him will annoy him. For example, this morning Aidan grabbed one of Sam's warm sweatshirts from the laundry I just brought up. I told him he could and told him Sam wasn't going to be happy when he got up but just tell him he'd take it off after breakfast.

I happened to be in the kitchen when Sammy wandered in. I decided to head this one off by telling him myself.

Well, I should have put money on that horse because it took off! Grump, grumble, snap....and I almost engaged. Instead in a rare moment of parental clarity, I said, "Sammy, honey, what am I going to say".
Sam: You'll say just let him wear it.
Me: What will you say?
Sam: I'll say I don't want him to.
Me: And what will I to say?
Sam: He isn't hurting anything.
Me: And what will you say?
Sam: That he can until after breakfast.
Me: And what will I say?
Sam: (silence)
Me: I'll tell you what a good sharer and nice brother you are!
Sam: (laughs and hugs)

And just in case the mood wasn't light enough, Aidan added, "Mommy sometimes I laugh so hard that snot comes out of my nose."

Run fast and jump high

2010-11-15T12:32:00.000-05:00

We have eight new sneakers in the house. Six of them sport a light-up Spiderman. Two of them are mine. The boys put them on for the first time after dinner last night and of course needed to try them out. We decided that they needed to run outside since Aidan was going to go through the glass doors while watching them light up. Plus it was dark and they light up! Noah and I ran at top speed down the street with Violet before the rest of them got outside. I passed the torch to the brothers who ran a synchronized course as instructed by Sammy. When it came time to go in, I said, “last one to Mommy is a rotten egg”. Sporting MY new sneakers, I waited until they got about 5 steps away and ran. Then I heard the blood curdling screams of Sam & Noah, who had crashed into each other at top speed.

As if this Mother of the Year didn’t feel bad enough, Sammy, through sobbing tears, said, “Mommy, you shouldn’t have run”.

Many More Babies

2010-11-13T05:43:00.010-05:00

I've gotten some good quality time with my niece and nephew this week. It has included picking them all up from school. I tried to corral the after school chaos by launching into our favorite part of the day. Noah declared that his favorite part of the day was learning about schema (love this school!!) and he would share more later. Julia is up but "Aunt Leah, I don't want to tell you my favorite part of the day because I would like some peace and quiet." I'm thinking, "you are in the wrong car, sweetie!" Thankfully the masses obliged because it was library day and they were inhaling their new reads.

This pic doesn't do the crew justice. We had a fifth in the middle in the back. It is one full car!

We had a trip out to Chestnut Ridge to blow off steam and tear through the woods.

Everybody taking turns leading through the woods with the boys schooling their younger cousins in tracking.

Keeping up the big kids.

Me: Miles, your cheeks are all red.
Miles (grinning mischievously): nnnnooooo. They are green.

My Vaca

2010-11-10T20:47:00.020-05:00

This is where I spend my long Columbus Day Weekend. The photos cannot capture the fresh seafood, massive fresh pumpkin muffins, roar of the surf. You get the idea....