Kiddie Kaleidoscope

What We're Reading

2010-10-16T11:04:00.005-05:00

I love holidays. And one of our family traditions is to curve our reading list to go along with the season. Whether it be Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas or Easter, we have books that we bring out to help us celebrate the occasion. So, here are some of our favorites for Halloween. I'd love to hear if you have any. I'm always on the lookout for a great children's book. Please feel free to share your favorites in comments. Here's to curling up with some hot cider and your favorite little goblins. Happy spooking to everyone!

Our number one favorite is I'm Not Afraid of This Haunted House by Laurie Friedman and Teresa Murfin.

Who could resist the lovely rhyme of Room on the Broom by Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler?

The seasons books by Jimmy Pickering are delightful in their illustrations. Right now, we are reading It's Fall.

Mouse's First Halloween by Lauren Thompson and Buket Erdogan is one of R's favorites. She loves to make the Eeekkk noise.

A Very Brave Witch by Allison McGhee and Harry Bliss.

R loves to turn the flaps in the pop up book, I'm Going to Eat You by Matt Miter and Jimmy Pickering.

Of course, B and A now read some holiday chapter books by themselves. Some of these include The Best Halloween Ever by Barbara Robinson.

And Magic Tree House's A Good Night for Ghosts. (They won't give this series up even though they've been reading it since first grade. What can I say?)

There are a few more, but these are the favorites for now. Can't wait to hear yours!

Here

2010-09-27T06:35:00.001-05:00

He is out on the field with his new team. The A team. The team he was moved up to this year. The team that was ranked number one in the top bracket of boys U9 travel soccer teams in this area. The competition is fierce. Everyone at this level wants to win.

He was a leader on his old team. He had unending confidence in his abilities.

Here, he doubts himself. You can see it in his play. On his face.

Here, he is wondering where he fits in.

As he told me yesterday, here, he feels the need to impress someone. I asked him whom he needed to impress. He is not sure. But, he feels the pressure still.

On this team, the boys will turn on each other for errors.

He misses a defensive opportunity.

Damn.

He is off his game today.

His little round face. It looks over to me on the sideline. Reassurance?

He looks little and big all at the same time. It’s what eight and a half looks like. That place right in between.

I want to yell that it’s just a game. Something to be played for fun. But, I know how important it is to him. How hard he works. How much he loves it.

He is a good athlete. He will settle in eventually.

It’s one of those hard moments when there is little we can do as parents to secure them any more. He is out in the world now. He has to face his successes and his failures. But, as his mother, it is hard to see him out there struggling. Trying.

The season has just started. There is plenty of time to adjust.

His life has just started. And there are many mountains ahead of him.

The Boiling Point

2010-09-16T05:47:00.002-05:00

Pressure.

It’s everywhere when it comes to raising children these days.

Both of my eight year olds play travel soccer. They each practice twice a week and have games on the weekend. Yet, some of the children on their teams are now attending extra practices. Just to try and improve. Some more. It is not mandated by the coaches or requested by the children. But, their parents are taking them. Sometimes, B and A will make a comment about it. I tell them not to worry about it. They get loads of practice in already.

Pressure.

Every one of the boys on my son’s soccer team is also playing fall baseball or football. That’s in addition to the travel soccer. This year, we told B that he had to take the fall off from baseball because his sister started playing and traveling also. Our family (me) needed to see if we could manage this new schedule. Travel tryouts for baseball are this year for him. Will he be behind the curve now? I’m not sure.

Pressure.

We attended their school curriculum night on Tuesday. Most of the other mothers that I talked to the next day were not pleased with how things went. People are disappointed in the pace for this year’s learning. They are hoping for more of a private school experience at a public institution. There was lots of discussion regarding the extra work that will have to be done at home to get the desired results. In order for them to be competitive when it comes to college enrollment. They are currently eight.

Pressure.

When we were young, we did an activity because it sounded like fun. Because we were interested in it. Maybe we did one thing at a time. Throughout my childhood, I took ballet lessons, played softball, swam on the swim team, participated in girl scouts and was in cheerleading. I loved these activities. They were fun. But, I never had more than one going at any given time. We did not come home from school and race around from one thing to the next. We never ate dinner in the car. I just wonder if these kids are going to burn out before they even get to high school. It’s my sneaking suspicion that they might.

So, I try to place limits. Let some of the steam out of the pan. I refuse to drive them crazy at this early of an age about these things. Thus, why we opt out of the extra practices and the extra sport for now. Thus, why A had to let girl scouts go this year when she chose travel soccer and orchestra. Give and take. I’m not sure where everyone is heading with all of this. The constant push. The constant quest for more. They want the superstar athlete on multiple teams. They want the A+ student that is Harvard bound. They want it all. I just wonder. What do these children want?

No pressure.

Here and Gone

2010-09-03T06:43:00.007-05:00

This summer was a bit different from those in the past. I was disappointed at the start of it in June. We had a few camps to participate in. We were still adhering to our sports schedules as they wrapped up for the season. It didn’t feel all that different from how busy we were during the school year.

I longed for a little escape. I wanted a way to pare things down. I yearned for my children to have an old fashioned summer.

You know the type. I’m sure you had them yourselves. I wanted them to discover nature and what it had to offer. I wanted their toes to touch sand and run through grass. I wanted them to fish and swim and enjoy lakes or oceans. I hoped for them to be active on bicycles and water skis. I wanted long, lazy days figuring out what came next. If we could do all that with almost abandoning technology, that would be great.

And so we did.

We had to leave our house and travel for over a month to do it. But, we made it all happen for ourselves and for them.

Our first trip was out east. We headed to Cape Cod for a little over two weeks. The children swam in the ocean and in pools. They ran on beaches with nets catching hermit crabs and discovering seashells.

We were out on the water discovering these beautiful creatures.

They ate seafood until they were about to bust. We saw a great Cape League baseball game (go Chatham A’s!) where you did not need a ticket to attend and a hat was passed for a small donation. All great stuff.

We returned home for 3 days and then my sister and I headed to the opposite coast and took all six children to California. There, we stayed for a few quick days at a family members beach house. Pretty cool experience to see both oceans in one month! But, the majority of our trip took place at a lake house in Lake Arrowhead. We rode in the boat all day long. The kids swam in the lake. All but the two youngest learned how to wake board.

They were so brave and willing to try. The adults had great conversations on the deck at night, which included lots of wine and no mosquitoes! The children had two weeks that were one big sleepover with their cousins. Does it get any better than that? I don’t think so.

I know escaping is not going to be possible every summer. And it makes me a little sad that I feel like I have to run away from our life in order to get things to settle down a little. However, I was actually looking forward to seeing people when we got back. I didn’t mind the activities as they started up or the calls for play dates quite as much. We needed to recharge. And any time that I can spend just enjoying my children being children is worth the time and effort.

They started school at the end of last week. So, while it was great to be away and while we packed a lifetime into one summer, it really made time fly by. We did not do the summer things we typically do at home. In a sense, it felt all the more fleeting. I guess when you are spending time with people you love, whether at home or away, you can never get enough. It escapes us before we are ready to let it go. Just their presence each day made me happy. And the ability for me to be present was worth every effort.

100 Things About Me

2010-08-22T08:08:00.003-05:00

Time to celebrate! This is officially my 100th post. One of the reasons I have not posted in a while is that I wanted to do a 100 Things About Me list that is somewhat of a blogging tradition. And to be honest, I am also disappointed that it took me over a year to get to 100 posts. I should have reached this deadline somewhere around, oh, month four. Oh well, real life has a way of butting in to the best laid plans. So, without further ado, here is my list. Raise your glass with me now... Here is a toast to small accomplishments and to posting on a more regular basis from here forth!

100 Things About Me

I am not good at thinking about myself. So, this list is hard for me. Maybe that’s why it’s taken so long to write.
I love to write. When I grow up, I want to be a published children’s author.
I started off as a Journalism major in college and then moved on to Marketing.
I was going to be a copywriter. However, I ended up on the account side and hated every non creative minute of it.
I am now a stay at home mom and I love (almost) every minute of it.
I have three children.
I have twins (boy/girl) who are eight and a three-year-old girl.
Somewhere, deep down, I have always known I would have twins.
One of the things I am most proud of is taking care of them without any help from the beginning.
I feel like I have parented my twins in the exact way I always envisioned and dreamed of mothering.
I feel like I have done the opposite with my third and I can’t get over the guilt of that.
I feel guilty about everything. Parenting, relationships, use of time you name it and I can get some guilt going.
I have been with my husband since I was 16.
We started dating in high school.
I was married when I was 20 years old. When you know, you know.
That makes us married for 15 years already.
I hate that when I tell people how long we’ve been married, I think they’ll believe I’m at least 40.
I have good hair. It’s very thick and takes about 20 minutes to blow dry, which I groan about all the time.
My eyes are brown. Everyone in my extended family has the same brown eyes. None of my children have them. Not a one. I still can’t believe it.
Both B and A have a chin dimple, just like me. At the hospital, it was how I felt I knew they were really mine. R has a cheek dimple. It’s absolutely adorable.
Chocolate. Is there anything better? I don’t think so.
I don’t drink soda or anything with caffeine in it.
I absolutely hate coffee and never drink it.
Hot tea is my morning drink. I also love the ritual of afternoon tea. My mom and sister and I have gone forever. We now bring our girls.
I hate sushi and I don’t care if it’s trendy or not. Why eat something raw and slimy, squishy? This is me-gagging.
Even at 35, I cannot drink orange juice with pulp. I’m embarrassed to admit that I will seriously freak out.
I love to cook. I am actually pretty good at it. Perhaps it’s from watching the Food Network constantly.
I hate reality TV with one exception, Real Housewives of New York. And I don’t know if we can really count that as reality. But, it’s trash and I love it.
Books. I love books.
I recently bought an e-reader and I don’t like it. The smell of the paper, the turning of the page between your fingers. the knowing how much you have left to go, the writing in the columns or highlighting something that is so moving you can’t lose it- it’s all gone.
Technology and me do not always get along. However, try to pry my iPhone out of my hands and I might take you down.
I crave structure and organization. Sometimes, if my house is a mess, I can’t think clearly until things are back in order.
Since I’ve had children, I feel dumb. My mind is not the same and one of my biggest fears is that it’s not going to come back.
Laundry sucks. I am bad at it. We have mounds that I avoid doing at all costs. Someone please tell it to go away and leave me alone…
One of the things that freak me out most in this world is the stomach flu. I cannot deal with throw up. At. All.
I am considered to be on the shorter side at 5’ 3”. In my head, I am at least 5’ 6”.
I have needed glasses since I was in 2^nd grade. However, you will only ever see me in them if I am dying. Thank God for who ever invented the contact lens.
I have never in my life worn lipstick. I just can’t do it. The makeup trend I am most happy about is lip-gloss. One time I spent almost an hour at the makeup counter trying to find a lipstick that would work and the girl ended up saying “You know, you’re right. This doesn’t work on you.”
In good makeup news, I look like I wear a pretty light brown eye shadow but it’s really just my eyelid color.
I think the good coloring comes from my Croatian and Czech side of the family and not the French side.
My parents have been married for 41 years. They are so close.
My grandparents have been married for 65 years. They are not close.
I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago.
I am a city girl at heart.
We have a perpetuance to move, but have lived in our current house for 4 years. I am antsy to move again. Damn recession and real estate market.
The best time of my life was when we lived in NYC. Every day was exciting.
I want to live in Europe at some point.
I want to learn Italian so badly.
I love music. I love the symphony. The first time I went, I almost cried it was so moving. However, I am not the least bit musically inclined. I am a poor singer and cannot read music at all. I think I may be tone deaf.
On a similar note, I hate the opera. I just completely do not get it.
Lately, we have begun to really learn about wine. I love red wine. The whites, I can do without. But nothing is better than opening a bottle of cabernet or pinot on a Friday and cooking and chatting with my husband about the week. Or sharing several bottles with friends on the patio.
I like to entertain. I love having friends and family around us.
My husband is my educator. He keeps me up to date on what is happening in the real world. Without him, I would be all Sesame Street and Sweet Life mumbo jumbo.
We love to travel together.
He is the keeper of my sanity.
Right now, I can’t believe I am only a little over half way done with this list.
In high school, I was a cheerleader and on prom court. How cheesy is that?
I had a good high school experience. However, I only keep in touch with two friends from then.
Most of my friends are from college and adulthood.
When I was 10, my grandparents took a trip to the east coast. They were stopping in Boston. I begged them to get me a Harvard sweatshirt. It was my absolute dream at the time to go there. I wore that sweatshirt constantly for years. I wish I still had it.
At that time, I also would tell grown ups that I wanted to be a Republican senator when I grew up. Who was this kid???
My parents asked me to go to U of I in Champaign instead.
My sophomore year, I withdrew from classes without telling them. I knew I did not want to be there. It is by far one of the single bravest things I have ever done. And one of the things I am most proud of.
I ended up attending an art school in the city and loved every single minute of it. My only regret is that I did not start there as a freshman. You live and you learn. That’s what college is about. Finding your self.
I feel guilty now that my parents paid for a college degree and I stay at home and am not using it.
In similar news, I am completely jealous that my husband had the opportunity to go back to school for his MBA. Not jealous about the MBA, just the school thing.
I am a complete math idiot. My 8 year old son, who is a math wiz like his daddy, can calculate faster in his head than I can. I, unfortunately, am not joking.
I am artistically inclined. I can draw pretty well. I have a more difficult time painting. However, I would love to study it and improve. That’s the type of thing I would choose to go back to school to do.
I hate thinking about money. I don’t manage ours at all.
I am always trying to improve myself.
I put everything I am into being a good mother. My most important goal in life is to raise good people.
I hope I will always be close and have a good relationship with my children.
I fear my heart will literally break the day they leave me to embark on their own lives.
I love to take pictures. I wish I were better at it. I marvel at people that can take amazing photographs.
I think everyone should give back to the universe in some way. I have tried to install philanthropy into my children.
My favorite time of the day is early morning. I have always gotten up early and love to be downstairs by myself. I find it very calm and peaceful.
I wish I could live by the ocean. It centers me and instills a sense a calm.
I have anxiety issues. They suck.
I drive a huge, honking SUV. I know it guzzles up gas by the mile etc. etc. Hate me if you want, but it works perfectly for us for now. One of the things I have resisted the most is driving a minivan. I just can’t make myself do it.
I live in my car, but hardly put any miles on it. I just run around our little town constantly.
I hate roller coasters and scary movies.
I collect quotes.
When I look at my children, I can’t believe how beautiful they are.
When I listen to them, I can’t believe how funny they are.
I am naturally pretty athletic. I get it from my dad. However, I am horribly out of shape right now.
I have a knack for interior design. So, I have helped almost all of my friends and family do their houses for free. My husband believes I should open a business instead. He thinks about most things in terms of business opportunity. I do not.
I have one sister. I love her dearly. We are almost complete opposites. I am the older sibling. I am totally the quintessential older sibling. I would like a chance to be the baby for once, but I don’t think I have it in me.
I’ve always been unbelievable responsible and old for my age. My daughter, A, is the same exact way.
I always wanted an older brother. How cool would that be?
I love having a son. It’s fun to watch him. He is easy and laid back and so sweet.
When I found out I was having twins, I just wanted one of them to be a girl. I couldn’t imagine not having a daughter.
I am on a constant quest for happiness.
I hate scrapbooking. Yet, I did one for my twins first year and feel obligated to do a book for R. She is almost four and I haven’t started it yet. It’s hanging over my head.
I think one of the reasons I haven’t done it is that I have a hard time remembering any of R’s babyhood, not to mention the specifics of when she did what. I, of course, feel tremendous guilt about this.
I have lost my wedding ring. I worried for a year and a half that this was a jinx.
I did not vote for Obama.
Blue is my favorite color and I do not have anything blue in my house.
I never go for the bad boy or the dumb jock. The guy in the business suit turns me on every time.
I am grateful for what I have.
I live a blessed life.

MIA

2010-07-19T06:41:00.005-05:00

Yes, I'll admit it. I have been MIA this summer so far. I can't even believe that my last post was over a month ago.

I was looking forward to the lazy days of summer. So far, they've been anything but that.

In June, it was all about wrapping up school, soccer, baseball, softball and a few camps that the kids were in.

July has been my escape. OUR escape from it all.

We took a two week family road trip out east to Cape Cod. It was fantastic. Relaxing. It finally felt like summer. I had my children and my husband for two weeks with limited interruptions.

We've been home for a few days now and are set to leave again tomorrow for 10 days on the other coast. This time, my sister and I are taking the kids to California. We have relatives out there and they've never been. It should be a blast. This will be my first vacation with just myself and the kids. Keep your fingers crossed that I can make it parenting by myself for 10 WHOLE days! I'm both really excited and very nervous all at the same time.

I think this is what it's come down to these days. We have to leave our home in order to get a break. Sad, but true. When I come back, it will be August. There have been good and bad points from spending the summer traveling. With the good comes time and focus. You can really pair down and refocus on what is important. No play dates. No activities. No DS. Little TV.

Just kids being kids.

A net to pull up the wonders of the sea, such as hermit crabs and shells.

A boat to watch the seals from.

An ocean to discover.

Long walks.

Long talks.

My idea of bliss.

The downside to all of this is that we have yet to go on a family bike ride here at home. The sidewalk chalk and bubbles have gotten limited use thus far. And all of those summer crafts are still waiting to be worked on.

And that's fine by me. While I love my time during the summer at home with the kids, I'll take their full time and attention any day over it. I'm excited for them that they have these opportunities to see the world.

So, hope you are all enjoying your summer thus far! I won't be posting again until Aug 1st. Please forgive me and hang in here with me if you can. I, like most of you, have little people to attend to and time to grab. And for that, I don't want to be MIA.

Breakfast Time

2010-06-12T09:05:00.001-05:00

During the week, our mornings are tough. Some little ones are up at the crack of dawn. I am constantly urging them to sleep longer, come cuddle up. Others do not care to get up at all and would sleep the day away, wrapped up in their comforters and under their mounds of pillows lost in contentment. It’s a struggle to get up, get ready and get three children out of the door. Needless to say, my weekday morning breakfasts are not of a great caliber.

Typically, the children are served a bowl of cereal, a glass of orange juice, sometimes with a side of fruit (if I have my act together) or a bagel or toast if they are having carb overload cravings. That is it. Nothing hot. No protein. No requests. I just can’t manage it. I have friends that perform short order cook duty each weekday morning. They send their troops out of the house only after serving up pancakes, eggs, bacon, egg sandwiches, oatmeal, homemade muffins or whatever the request may be. Not here. I’m kind of a stickler about it. Never going to happen.

However, the weekend is almost the complete opposite. I cherish breakfast time on the weekends. Perhaps, it’s that my husband is home to share the duties and just to make me happy. Perhaps, it’s because we are not in as much of a rush.

We always play music. Calm, happy music. It sets the tone. It helps to establish the mood for the day. When B and A were little, we always danced in the kitchen on Sunday mornings. We still do sometimes.

T is our pancake man. He whips them up every weekend. Blueberry for me. Chocolate chip for the kids. I’m on egg duty. There is oatmeal, if requested. Toast. Bacon sometimes. We talk. We eat slowly. We dance. The paper is out. My son is now fighting my husband for the sports page. My daughters giggle over the comics. T and I have a second to discuss something interesting we may read about.

They are still in their pjs. Their hair is tussled and messy. They are sticky with syrup. Sweet on the inside and out. When I sort their clothes to pass on or save, it’s the jamies that I keep mostly. It’s what they are wearing on mornings like these. They are worn and tight sometimes. Their chubby feet poking out of the bottoms. Always looking a few inches short on my daughter’s long legs. R the only one still in those soft blanket sleepers. The sandpaper scruffy sound of the feet bottoms on the hardwood floors.

Long after everyone’s gone, it’s one of the things I think I will always remember about our children being at home. Those relaxed weekend mornings. The complete yin to the yang of the weekday.

The Dash

2010-05-19T04:00:00.001-05:00

Soccer practice twice a week for two children at different times.

Softball games three times a week.

Baseball practice twice a week.

Ballet practice once a week for the smallest child.

A recital upcoming. Pictures, dress rehearsal and a small gathering at our house afterwards.

Piano lessons for two children, plus practice time.

Girl Scouts every other week.

Gymnastics every Wednesday.

School pick up and drop off every day twice a day.

Preschool twice a week.

At least two and possibly up to four soccer games each weekend.

A tournament in two weeks that our soccer club is hosting and requiring each family to volunteer 6 hours working.

The art fair project at school that I volunteer for each year.

End of year teacher gifts to coordinate.

Field trip next week to chaperone.

The second grade sing at school.

Volunteer breakfast at school next week.

Girl's softball game with PE teachers after school next week.

It’s ok. I got this.

I look at this time of year, the hell that has become known as May, as a mad dash. If I can just hang in there and not have my legs give out, I can make it. Make it to the finish line. The end of the school year. I will promptly say goodbye and suck it to that horrid schedule. To the demands on our family’s time. To the running. To the craziness. And into the bliss of summer.

Carefree.

Sunshine.

Here we come.

Head down.

Finish line in sight…

Remembering when...

2010-05-16T08:09:00.002-05:00

Remember when we could sleep late?

Remember when we would go to restaurants that adults frequented? The ones without crayons or paper tablecloths.

Remember when we could cuddle in bed in the morning with no one in between us?

Remember when I could get dressed without dressing 3 other people at the same time?

Remember our conversations that lingered and dissected our life and our future?

Remember dreaming with the one you love?

Remember no interruptions?

Remember you and I?

Holding hands.

A glass of wine. And then another.

Truly seeing you for the first time in… too long.

Reconnecting with my friend. Being reintroduced to my boyfriend.

All these things and more are what leaving our three children behind and running away for a long weekend with you gave me. It also told me that it’s still you. It will always be you. Thank you for fifteen wonderful years. Happy Anniversary, T.

All of my love…

The Teeter-Totter

2010-04-28T06:03:00.010-05:00

Stress is like a teeter-totter. The more things pile on in one area, the closer you get to hitting rock bottom. The less you have on your side, the higher the ride. Most of us would like to be somewhere in the middle. To achieve balance. That is difficult on the teeter-totter. It’s hard to stay centered. A little twinge this way, a wiggle that way and the weight gets thrown off.

Up or down you go.

Riding through life.

Up and down.

Soaring. Failing. Exuberance. Defeat. Contentment. Resign. Where will the ride take me today? Perhaps, if I push a little harder, I can get some great air up there.

The Cable Guy

2010-04-26T04:00:00.001-05:00

We changed cable companies for the millionth time. After waiting 4 hours yesterday, the first guy came and set it all up incorrectly. He gave us the wrong type of boxes and didn’t set up the Internet. He told me that we requested it to be set up ourselves. I assured him that we would not normally make such a request-perhaps, because we are not technically savvy. He disagreed and said that must have been what my husband wanted. I said, well since I’m the one here with you, we’re going to override that thought and have you set it up. He informed me that would require another appointment. Proceed with deep breathing techniques…

On day two of the cable saga, I learn that Zac Efron is my new cable guy. No kidding. He walked up my driveway and it took all my restraint not to bust out with “hey, did anyone ever tell you that you look like…” I’m sure he gets it a lot.

As Zac is walking into the house with me, the kids are standing there looking at him. I swear they were about to ask him themselves. He mutters hi to A. Then walks past B just as R jumps out from behind the door he was about to knock into her. He says, “Oh, there’s another one.” Yes sir, Zac. You have to watch it around here. These little kids are everywhere.

We are in the family room and I explain the problem to him. He begins fiddling with the cable box and graciously points out to me that something or another is not plugged into the right spot. I am not sure what yesterday’s cable guy did, so I say just go ahead and do whatever you need to. I walk into the chaos of the kitchen (we had just arrived home from school as he was pulling up) and begin trying to help B and A with homework before we have to leave for soccer practice. Zac gets a call on his phone from a friend. He just starts chatting away and at one point goes “Dude, I can’t even hear you it’s so loud in here.” Again, yes, children are noisy. Especially when they just get home from school.

So, he goes upstairs and starts working on the box up in the master bedroom. In the meantime, I am trying to get B and A into their soccer uniforms for practice. There was some confusion on where certain shirts and socks were located. I go up there to see if he’s almost finished and notice that someone had dumped the entire laundry basket out onto the floor of my bedroom. Perhaps a certain someone looking for a soccer jersey… So, scattered all over the floor were clothes and underwear and last, but not least, one of my bras spread out directly in front of the TV set where Zac was trying to hook up my DVR. I believe I said something intelligent when I walked into the room like “What the hell?” Zac just shrugged as I, with warp speed, picked up all of the laundry and deposited it back into the hamper.

I return downstairs and begin to get the kiddos into the car when I hear him calling “Miss? Miss?” He needed me to sign the paperwork. At least Zac threw me a bone and called me Miss instead of the dreaded Ma’am. For that, I could have kissed him. But, I figured Vanessa was surely waiting in the van. And I did have that soccer practice to run to and my youth and dignity to find somewhere…

Little Snippets 5

2010-04-22T06:29:00.002-05:00

R: Mommy, is it time to put my ballet-it-tard on now?

Me: What??

R: Time for the ballet-it-tard now? I want to go to ballet!

Me: Do you mean your leotard for ballet?

R: Yeah, my ballet-it-tard.

We had a book fair at school last week. They are kind enough to include books for small children in the fair so that siblings can have something to pick out also. So, we found a book about an iguana for R. All three children have been somewhat obsessed with iguanas after our February trip, where we were able to see lots of them up close and personal. In the car on the way home, R is reading her book. She starts calling it an ig-u-na-na. I think I must have corrected her about 12 times. No matter what, she either couldn’t or wouldn’t correct her pronunciation of it. I have to say, in that little voice the ig-u-na-na was hysterical. B, A and myself couldn’t stop the giggles.

R has reached the exact height of all counter tops, doorknobs, tables etc. Anything and everything that you could possibly run into, she is these days. I feel sorry for her little head. This weekend, she hit the granite in the kitchen and the post of a soccer goal on Sunday. She walked into the grill on the patio yesterday. Running into school to get B and A, she collided with the metal tab that sticks out from the handle on the door. I swear I am contemplating a helmet for her. As we are grocery shopping the other day, she turns and whacks her head onto the cart handle. I am consoling her when an older woman walks up to us. She tells R not to worry she just needs to grow two more inches and she’ll be fine-so, get on it! R and I sat and stared as she walked off.

I am coming up on my 100th post soon. (Yay! Cue the confetti and balloons!) This is a small milestone for lots of bloggers. So, I was wondering what you all did to celebrate your 100th post. I am contemplating the traditional 100 things you don't know about me list, but am open to other suggestions. Mainly because I don't know if I can come up with 100 things that are even remotely interesting. So, please, by all means suggest away.

Dress Up

2010-04-18T20:35:00.003-05:00

In May, B and A will make their First Communion. As many of you know, this usually entails a beautiful white dress for the girls and jacket and tie for the boys. So, a few weeks ago, we started looking for their attire.

There is a darling bridal store in the town next door to ours. Just the kind of place you’d dream about when planning a wedding. They carry the most exquisite dresses, jewelry and hair accessories. It almost makes you want to do it all over again. But this time with the elegant and refined taste that comes with your thirties and not your twenties. They also carry adorable flower girl dresses.

After striking out at the department stores with overly sequenced and tuelled dresses, we opted for a trip over there. I wanted something classic. Something simple. Something that suited A. And we found just that at this store. It is a beautiful dress with pretty lace over silk on top and the silk continues on the skirt below with a bow at the waist. Tiny pearl buttons close up the back. It is also not white. Gasp! It is more of an ivory color. I know, I know. We are going out on a limb here, but she is a brunette and looks really lovely in an off white versus pure white dress. The woman at the store wanted me to call our religious education director and to see if it would be all right. As her mother, I assured her it would be fine.

We tried on a few veils as well. And, I have to admit, that when she placed that on her head, I had to hold back a few tears. It all came rushing at me. I saw a glimpse of us twenty years from now buying another white dress and veil. I know that time will be here before I’m ready for it. So, for now, we said no to the veil. We are opting for fresh flowers on a barrette instead. I think it’s actually a lot prettier and holds off those wedding visions for me. She is going to look beautiful. Her brown hair and green eyes with the off white dress. So slight and so tiny-she is such a little lady. She will be very elegant on her special day.

While I was excited to shop for and buy A’s dress, I didn’t really think much about B’s outfit. He was supposed to wear the navy blazer that both of his cousins have worn for their First Communions. That means this would be the third time the blazer would be worn. Plus, I hate to admit it, but how many pairs of khaki pants can you buy someone in one lifetime? I feel like I have been buying him some in every size from three months to eight years. Boy’s clothes are just not that exciting.

However, when we actually got the blazer and tried it on, we found it did not even come close to fitting B. His cousins are quite a bit bigger than he is. So, a new navy blazer, dress pants, shirt and tie were needed. We actually took an entire afternoon shopping for his outfit. And I will admit, it was more fun than I anticipated. For the boy who gives me a hard time about putting on a collared shirt at the holidays, he was quite into the process. And when he slipped on that navy jacket and tied the knot on his striped tie, I was misty again. He could not have looked any more like his Dad. The spitting image. So unbelievably handsome. I caught a glimpse of him as an adult. That beautiful face and that kind heart will make some lucky girl swoon someday.

They grow up so fast. I know that is an old cliché. But, I once read somewhere that parenthood makes all the old clichés true…

Stretching Myself

2010-04-07T19:53:00.000-05:00

Life is busy. Hectic. Crazy.

Typical mom stuff.

Typical chaotic pace.

Unfortunately, lately, my mind seems to be running at the same pace as my body. This is not a good thing. I need to find some quiet. Some peace. “Serenity now!” as Mr. Costanza used to say.

So, I’ve been on a quest for some Zen.

While on vacation six weeks ago, I enjoyed a very nice massage in a beautiful spa at our resort. I left feeling tranquil. I walked out into the sunlight and felt the ocean breeze on my face. This resort and spa had a labyrinth set on a cliff overlooking the ocean. I’ve read about idea behind a labyrinth and have always wanted to try one. So, I began walking it. Unfortunately, it rained the day before my spiritual escapade. Therefore, the labyrinth was a bit muddy and I fell walking in the spiral. Completely oiled up from the massage with mud up and down my legs and all over my white swim cover up, I walked to meet my family at the pool.

When I got there, T saw me and started laughing. “What happened?” he asked. “On my path to spirituality, I fell in a mud puddle.” I answered. He thought that would make a great title for a book. It would because it sums up my quest for peace perfectly.

For me, it’s just not that easy to attain calmness. I am a doer-not a sitter stiller. My mind works at warp speed compared to the rest of me. I can think twenty steps ahead of any given situation. This is a great quality when it comes to mothering by the way and an even better quality for a mother of multiples. Over the long term, however, it not a great quality for your well-being. The mind deserves to be quiet at times. Each of us should be able to turn it off for a while and rejuvenate when necessary. I have lost the ability to do this well.

So, even though I fell in some mud, I am trying again. Yesterday, I began an eight-week yoga course. Not the crazy Pilates or Bikram type of yoga. Just the regular- learn to breathe kind of yoga. Because damn it, I can be calm!! I swear.

My class is an hour and fifteen minutes long. We stretched. We held poses. We breathed. A lot. Towards the end of class, we lay on the floor with our palms out and breathed for a long time. I’m not sure of the minute count-she makes us take off our watches. But, it seemed like nearly an eternity on that floor trying not to focus on anything but my body, my breathing and “honoring this time for myself”. I tried hard to fight the to do list piling up in my head. I fought hard the urge to say why am I here when I could be doing ___________. I fought fidgeting. I fought myself. I fought hard. And yesterday, I’m not sure who won the battle. My body or my mind. This war is far from over. But to the victor shall come the rewards.

Spring Break

2010-03-29T07:36:00.000-05:00

Ten to fifteen years ago, if you said spring break, it would conjure up images of iced drinks, tanning on the beach all day in a bikini and partying till the wee hours at night. To quote Max from Where the Wild Things Are, “Let the wild rumpus begin.”

It may be apparent by my choice of whom to quote, but things are a little different these days.

Our spring break is going to be marked this year by spring-cleaning projects. Sounds thrilling, no? It has to be done. Our house needs the weeding out. We have now lived here for four years (longest we’ve every lived anywhere!) and it is apparent by the amount of stuff we’ve accumulated.

The closets are bursting at the seams. What can I say? These children keep growing and needing new clothes every season. So, I am behind on my runs to drop off the outgrown to the local charity, boxing up those worth keeping for memories sake and passing on a few items to my niece. The clothing situation-quite a pain in the you know what.

The basement needs to be organized again. Our crafts area is out of control. My husband jokes that instead of Joanne’s or Michael’s, we have Laura’s. I really shouldn’t have to purchase anything until we use up everything we have. It’s a good philosophy that I think I’ll run with. And we so happen to have to turn those First Communion banners in at the end of this week. Yet another way I’ll be spending spring break. Gluing felt and beads onto a religious banner. My twenty something self could never have predicted that one.

The refrigerators have gotten cleaned out. Scrubbed from top to bottom. My china cabinet will be completely emptied and each piece washed and dusted. My mother terms this cleaning the breakfront. I have despised it since I was a child. But, now that I have my own, I realize that it gets dusty in there. Uggh. So, that will be conquered one afternoon.

A more pleasant spring task will be filling my flowerpots with some pansies and forsythia branches. What can I say? Flowers make me happy! They truly do symbolize the first signs of spring and the winter that we need the break from. So, we’ll end the to do list on a positive note. One of my favorite things is to take the kids to the garden center. They love it and so do I. Bring on the spring.

A Fresh Perspective

2010-03-23T06:17:00.003-05:00

So, it's official.

I have lost control of my iPhone to my three year old.

This girl has moves that you would not believe. She can pick pocket it from me and, I swear, I don't even feel it happening. I hope this is not indicative of a future career that will involve me posting bail.

I will admit, I give it up freely at doctor's offices, basketball, soccer and baseball games, school functions, checkout lines at stores. What can I say? The videos and all of those learning apps really come in handy for a mom in the year 2010.

My last iPhone was broken and I replaced it with this version a few months ago. While in the store, I had to have a discussion with our salesman about which case could provide maximum protection-just in case the device was dropped a time or two. He sold me a rubber like cover that actually has two shock absorbing bands that is proven to absorb the impact when dropped. He must have seen me coming. It cost more, but has been worth every bouncing penny. But, that's what I get for giving my phone to my three year old.

As we walk through stores, people will comment on the fact that R is whooshing her finger and tapping away on the glass front like a pro. She can find whatever you need on the phone. Set up a movie, play an app, take pictures, play music. You name it-there's an R for that. My husband, a huge apple fan, takes this as a testament to how simple these devices are to operate. As her mother, I of course, take it for the fact that she is a three year old genius. But, that's just me.

So, because of her love of the iPhone, he are some shots from R. This is what she does when she's in charge of the phone and bored in stores or on errands. This is her perspective. It's interesting for me to get an inside view from there.

Furniture shopping with my parents, B and A.

Eggs at the grocery store.

Shopping at Target.

From her perspective atop the bleachers during a soccer game.

Spring Fever

2010-03-18T04:30:00.001-05:00

Short sleeves. Zip up sweatshirts. Playing outside. Bike rides. Sunshine. The sunroof is open in the car. The tulips and the daffodils are two inches out of the soil.

It’s official; we have spring fever around here.

The past few days in the Chicago area have been full of blue skies, sunshine and 60 degrees. After close to four months of nothing but gray, freezing cold and snow, we couldn’t be happier.

The children are naive enough to think that this is it. Spring has officially arrived.

Suckers.

This is Chicago after all. That is why the weatherman has predicted snow and sleet for Sunday and Monday. But, I can’t bear to tell them what March is really all about. That lion and lamb nonsense. That they haven’t seen the last of the yuck yet. It’s still out there, on the horizon.

Just in time for outdoor soccer to begin. They’ll slosh through torrential rains. They’ll be covered in wet, goopy mud. At the same time, it’ll be freezing cold.

However, the air will smell different. Perhaps, it’s the trees blooming or the grass coming in. The rain will make everything green. It will wash away the drudgery of winter and usher in the true spring for which we are all longing.

What will this breath of fresh air carry with it?

The change that is eminent.

An end to the itch of winter.

The beginning of something.

I hope so. This fever is hot. Send in the rain of renewal.

Little Snippets 4

2010-03-16T17:31:00.001-05:00

B: Hey A, did you know that Papa was in Vietnam?!?

A: (wearing Nikes) B, did you know my shoes are made in Vietnam?!?

R in the tub taking her bath.

R: Mommy, will you marry me?

Me: Well, I’m already married to Daddy.

R: But I wuv you sooo much! I wuv you and Daddy!

Me: We love you too.

R: Then can I marry both you and Daddy?

Me: Don’t you want to marry a boy you fall in love with?

R: (thinking for a while) No. I want to marry you and Daddy.

Me: Alright then, I’ll check back with you on that in a few years.

A: Mom are we going tonight to the Orthodontist?

Me: We are not going to the orthodontist. That is the doctor that puts braces on your teeth. We are going to the dermatologist to check on your rash. He is a skin doctor.

A: So we’re going to the dermathodontist tonight then?

Me: What did you call him?

A: The orthotologist?

Me: The dermatologist.

A: Yeah, that’s what I said.

Me: Not even close…

Focus

2010-03-10T05:38:00.005-06:00

Blank.

Empty.

It seems that lately, as I sit down to compose a blog post, my mind goes blank. I stare at my screen. I try to force my thoughts into something coherent-to string together a few words.

For the first time in a long time, it's difficult.

Things are jumbled. I stare at my screen and think only of the list of to dos. It's quite a long list these days. When things get busy in life, I have trouble focusing. Getting out of the mode of that thinking and taking time for myself to be productive in other ways.

I started this post at 5:00 am. My eyes were so tired, I couldn't focus on the screen for a good five minutes. Perhaps that's the problem. Am I giving myself the best opportunity to be successful at this? Or, is it just getting crammed on the to do list like everything else? The problem is, this is about the only thing on that huge list that is mine alone.

I don't want it to be like that. I walk around all day composing blog posts in my head. The children will do something funny. I'll have a little insight somewhere between soccer and the grocery store. But, life with three children happens and that thought gets lost along the way. I should fix the process. I know that. I should make the time for something that is important to me. I know that also.

I am aware of the changes and the focus shift that needs to be made. However, I am in a rut. I need someone to throw me a rope or lend me a hand to pull me out.

Just Another Manic Monday

2010-03-08T08:06:00.004-06:00

Crazy morning today. Aren't they all? So, here's a photo from our vacation. This was last Monday. I'm sitting here daydreaming of that blue water and having my husband and children to myself...

Comfort Zone

2010-03-02T04:15:00.003-06:00

Travel can bring forth so much emotion. It can fill you with excitement at the possibility of what lies ahead or dread at the unknown. At various times of my life and for various trips, I've fallen into each camp.

When I was 21, T and I went to Europe for the first time. It was thrilling. New cultures, new countries, new languages. Everything was unknown and I loved it. At the time, I was finishing up college and he was already working. So, we went together for 2 weeks and then he had to return to work. I stayed on for 2 more weeks by myself. I didn't mind roaming alone or the seven hour flight by myself home. I was elated at the sense of how much of the world there was to discover.

However, a mere 6 years later, it was a completely different story. T and I were to fly to New York City to check things out for our upcoming move. The flights were booked. The hotel was reserved. This was going to be our first trip alone since we had B and A. It was a tumultuous time in our lives. T was wrapping up graduate school. He was in process of changing careers and things were uncertain as to where we would be living. He was originally hired for the Chicago office, but things changed and we had to go to New York instead. The babies were just a year and we sold our house in four days. I was stressed and facing uncertainty. So, the night before the trip, I had a panic attack and was unable to make myself go. We ended up driving out east with our two babies a few weeks later. Not very rational. Not of sound mind at the time. My sense of adventure was all but quashed. I longed for stability.

Bike riding down the Blue Mountain and through the rain forest in Jamaica was thrilling and terrifying all at the same time. Snorkeling out in the Molokini Crater in Hawaii was breathtaking in it's beauty. Frightening was the mode of transportation that my husband chose for us to get out there. Picture a large inflatable tube boat with a super fast motor. We rode out to the crater straddling the inflated tube, holding onto a strap to keep us on at speeds of 40 mi/hour. We did stop to see that whale a mere 20 feet away. Two emotions-fear and exhilaration all at the same time.

Perhaps, that's what travel does for us. It takes us out of our comfort zones and shows us something new. Something we weren't aware of before that trip. It opens up the world. It introduces us to people and places we didn't even know we would fall in love with. It shows us that if we can get over our fears of the unknown, we may discover something that we were meant to experience. Something that will change who we are and what we can do. Our travels. Our experiences. They make up who we are once we return home.

Adventure Calling

2010-02-28T06:03:00.001-06:00

Adventure.

To some, it means climbing mountains or conquering beasts. While, to others, it could be as simple as trying to board an airplane bound for another country at 7 am with three small children in tow.

But, as they say, what is life without a little adventure?

Today, we leave for a remote island. We travel by plane. Flying above the clouds and over the seas. I am blessed with happy, easy going little travelers. We've taken them on trips from the time B and A were a year old. R was nursed at 3 months on board her first flight and has been excited about them ever since.

What awaits us at our destination? Seven bliss filled days of sun, warm weather, white sand beaches and nothing but time together. No must do or must take or must hurry. We are operating on our time. Time for our family to come together. Time for our children to see new things and to be exposed to new cultures.

Time away from the home and lives we love in order to refresh.

The thought is too appealing. I need this trip. The kids and T need this trip. I think everyone I know could use this trip right about now. Winter is hard. Hard on the mind, body and spirit. So, we shall rejuvenate. Leave the gray behind us.

I'm hoping for some great pictures. I'm hoping for even better memories to take back with us. The children are going to see a tropical rain forest for the first time. I have a sense of excitement in the pit of my stomach. It reverberates throughout the plane.

Oh, aren't we fortunate to have this opportunity? This chance for some adventure? Everyone needs a little in their life.

Pure Gold

2010-02-19T13:27:00.003-06:00

I have a secret love affair. It makes my heart race. My adrenaline pumps a little harder when I hear that certain music. I feel a rush when I know it’s getting to be that time.

This clandestine affair is with the Olympics. More specifically, the winter Olympics.

During my childhood, I enjoyed watching the Olympics as much as anyone. Figure skating was my favorite. I grew up idolizing the dazzling Rosalynn Sumners. I thought she was just gorgeous! Not to mention the exotic Katarina Witt. My mother cut my hair in the seventies to look like Dorthy Hamil. Was there a little girl who escaped that look back then?

However, my true passion for the games came the winter that B and A were born. In February of 2002, I had my first babies. A week after we brought them home from the hospital, the 2002 games in Salt Lake City began.

As most of you are aware, when you have a brand new baby at home, you are up at all hours day and night. It was during this time that we discovered that they also happen to rebroadcast the Olympics beginning at 11:30 pm until about 4:00 am. This was very convenient for someone awake with newborn twins.

That year, we watched every morsel of Olympic coverage. We were stuck indoors and at home with our new babies. So, we’d start watching the broadcast at 7:00 pm, but would miss some things due to feedings, changings, pacing back and forth. (Did I mention they were colicky? That is surely another post.) Not to worry! We’d watch it all again throughout the night. I felt like Apolo Anton Ono and Sarah Hughes became personal friends.

We watched the opening ceremony and saw the flag from 911 paraded in. And I cried when we watched the closing ceremonies. I felt like I was losing something. What were we to do now? What would keep us awake and alert enough to take care of these two babies all night long? When I say that I cried, I mean real tears. My husband consoled me. He said it wouldn’t matter. We’d find our way without the games. Of course, not having crazy hormones pumping through him and not breastfeeding two babies, he was much more rational about it all. Somehow, we did get through it and the twins started sleeping through the night a month or so later.

I remember thinking that the next time the Olympics would be on; my new babies would be four years old. I laughed thinking about how far away that seemed.

It arrived in a flash.

During the games of 2006, I thought-we can’t be here already. How had four years gone by so quickly? My new babies were little people. Preschoolers. And I had just found out 2 weeks before the games began that I was pregnant again.

Each time the winter Olympics end, I think about B and A and the age they will be at the next games. This year, I realized that they will be twelve. Gulp. That was my heart dropping into my stomach. Twelve. Can that be possible? Having watched their progress throughout the last 3 games, I know how fast those next four years are going to go. In the blink of an eye, they will be twelve. And so on and so on. Twelve is close to being gone. Out of the house. Off to college. It’s much closer to that step than to having them home with me.

So, the Olympics this year have reminded me that at eight I am almost at the half way mark. Half way through them living at home. Half way through my time to teach, to lead, to help grow these people. Again, I question whether or not I am doing well enough. Am I doing all that I can for them? We are often given these opportunities. These touchstones. Something will come along and remind us to check in. To see the progress, the growth. To evaluate how we are doing. For me, the winter Olympics have become one of those touchstones.

But first and foremost, they will always remind me of how it feels to be deliriously happy and content with your arms full of new babies. At home, tucked away from the cold and snow with those that you love. Becoming a family. And that feeling… is pure gold.

Love From Me to You

2010-02-15T07:24:00.002-06:00

Red heart doilies. Glitter. Pink, red and white construction paper. Ribbons. Candy conversation hearts.

Our Valentine’s Day was filled with all of the classics.

It’s our tradition that the kids make their valentines. So, this past week they were busy cutting, gluing, and glittering their little hearts out. They made cards for their grandparents and great-grandparents, aunts and uncles. And of course, T and I received one. So much love and thought was put into each one.

We exchanged a small gift. Books all around. Just a little something to say I was thinking of you and I love you.

That night, we made a chocolate fondue for a special Valentine’s dessert. They absolutely love this. What’s not to like? Melted chocolate that you can dip your favorite fruit, marshmallows and cake into. Sounds yummy, right? It sure was.

As we were dipping, we worked our way around the table telling each person one thing we love about them. Here are some of my favorites.

B: I love that dad is my guy.

Me: What do you mean by that?

B: Well Mom, it’s just him and I as the boys around here. So, you know. He’s my guy.

R: I wuv that I can cuddle with Mommy in her big bed. I no like my bed. It’s scary.

A: I love that Daddy is friendly and funny.

A: I love that B is my twin and he’s always there with me.

B: I love that Mommy has a kind heart.

Oh, these are just too good aren’t they? They warmed my heart. They made me happy. Sometimes, that’s the best part of these random little holidays. Yes, card companies and flower shops make them up. But, they can actually force you to slow down in the course of your hectic life and plan a little something with those you love. And remember what that feels like. It’s the reason you do what you do each day.

Because you love them.

It’s simple. Hope you enjoyed your little sweeties yesterday! Here’s to spreading some love…

What a Stud

2010-02-08T06:20:00.001-06:00

The latest craze amongst the second grade girls has been ear piercing. It seems as if all year, they have succumb one by one to the trend. A has sat by and watched as some of her friends have gotten theirs done. She’s debated whether or not she was willing to conquer her fear of needles and the pain involved versus the very cool results.

It seemed like with her birthday coming up and First Communion coming in a few months, this would be as good of a time as any to get them done. So, last week we went with her two best girlfriends and their moms to get her ears pierced.

They were all so very nervous. When it was time for one of them to sit in the chair and begin, suddenly no one wanted to go. Before this turned drama, as things tend to with eight year old girls, I held A’s hand and said, “Why don’t you go first?” Before she knew it, she was up in that tall stood and the woman was marking purple dots on her lobes.

I stood in front of her and held her hands. She started to cry, just a little. I whispered to her how brave I thought she was and that it would only hurt for a second. She didn’t waiver in her decision though. She was just trying to work through the anxiety and pain. In a mere second it was done.

She instantly looked older to me.

A little girl.

I realized that there are so few traces left of the baby that I knew.

What a rite of passage. For however silly it may seem, we all remember whom we were with and when we got our ears pierced. So, while I do miss the baby that I mentioned, I sure am excited about the little girl that I get to share these moments with. She is so brave and confident. She knows what she wants and who she is. And she was willing to try something first, to be the leader. I couldn’t be more proud of her or think that she is any more beautiful. Earrings or not.

Happy Birthday to B and A

2010-02-04T04:00:00.001-06:00

B and A at 2 months

On a cold, winter day in February, you arrived. B stepped into this world at 2:20 and A followed at 2:21. We joke that you could only stand to be apart for a mere minute. I think that describes your bond and relationship perfectly. I cannot put into words the first moment that I saw you. It was as if the world had stopped. And I knew nothing would ever be the same again.

I am struggling to write this. To put into words what the two of you mean to me. You are my first babies. My first loves. A piece of myself was born with you. Because of you, I fell into my destiny. I figured out who I was supposed to be.

Your mommy.

On the day of your birth, you gave me that gift. We learned together. We made mistakes together. We’ve grown together. Through it all, we’ve loved each other.

I could not be more proud of the people that you’ve become.

So bright.

So inquisitive.

So kind.

Such caring hearts.

While no one is ever perfect, you two are just perfect for me. From the beginning, we’ve just fit together.

It seems as if you are growing and maturing each day. You are constantly continuing to change. These days, I see glimpses of our future. The way you carry on conversations. The way you share your thoughts and feelings. The things that bring you joy and happiness. I see the people inside of you forming before my eyes.

The preteen years are ahead. I am longing for knowledge on how to navigate them. How to help you find your way and to be prepared. To feel confident in yourselves. To make good decisions. To be strong in your beliefs. But, I have faith in us. We’ve made it this far together after all.

You are such good children. It has been the greatest joy of my life to raise you. I love you with all of my heart. Happy eighth Birthday, babies!

Gifts from the Heart

2010-01-28T18:01:00.009-06:00

Sometimes, when you are down and out about ridiculously unimportant things, there is a little someone who comes a long and gives you something that realigns your perspective.

A gift that touches you deep in your heart and reminds you that the condition of your house is not important, nor is the laundry piling up or the fact that you can't walk into school to pick them up.

It only matters that they love you and you love them. And all will be ok tomorrow or next week because this feels good right now.

You are loved. And that is enough to heal all.

Card and Flowers from B.

Card with game from A.

From my littlest artist, R.

Control Freak

2010-01-25T18:35:00.000-06:00

I am an admitted control freak. I’ve said it before. Time and time again. I know this about myself. Yet, this little tidbit has resurfaced to smack me in the face. You think it would leave a little common sense behind with it, but nooo.

Last Friday, I had surgery on my foot. Nothing major, but a major pain in the you-know-what. My foot actually, that’s what.

When the orthopedic doctor told me back in December that I needed surgery, I looked at him and said “Well, I can’t do that right now. I don’t have time for something like this. I have small children.”

Yes, I am very rational like that. In my defense, my regular doctor thought I would be going to him and getting a cyst drained and out and about after the visit. I went from that to having a piece of bone cut off (I’ll spare you the rest of the details in case you are disgusted by blood and guts type stuff like me).

So, here I am all laid up for 2 weeks in a boot. No driving. Pain medication, which I absolutely hate. Not able to carry my three year old. Not able to run my children around to school and their activities. Eyes rolling back in your head wiped out from the meds.

I am not a good patient. I suck at it actually. I am usually the caregiver not receiver. So, this makes me cranky. My husband has been great. He has been holding the fort down, along with my parents. My mom cooked dinner for me twice. That was awesome. Food always tastes better when someone else makes it for you. It’s one of life’s simple pleasures.

I am trying to focus and write, but I am uncomfortable. The throbbing in my foot. The headache and haze from the meds. I need to go lay down. I do not feel in control of things. It’s adding edginess to me-to the situation. It would be easier if I could just sit back and relax. Enjoy being waited on. Enjoy catching up on bad TV and good books. But, it stresses me out instead. At least I know who I am.

A Prayer

2010-01-18T07:06:00.001-06:00

They sit there. On little patches of dusty dirt. In diapers and t-shirts.

Who is changing the diapers? I wonder.

They look around. Are they wondering where she is? Where is my mother? Why has she left me?

Who is doing the reassuring? Who is holding them in their arms for comfort? I wonder.

I can’t watch the coverage.

I can’t stomach the pictures.

I am weak like that.

These little children. Babies. Left alone to look around and see the images themselves.

Body parts sticking out of rubble. People piled up on the roads.

The smell.

If they are lucky and survive, how will they move forward? Will they ever be whole? I wonder if that’s even possible.

I want to walk up to each one of them sitting on their patch of dirt and scoop them up. Bring them home. Hold them for a long time in my arms and try to transfer some love. Whisper reassuring words that all will be ok.

There may not be anyone to do this. To tell them how special they are. To share their stories with them about the day they were born. To love them in the way that only their mother does.

My heart is breaking for each of them.

Give what you can. Remember them in your prayers tonight.

I wonder what more we can do.

My Dad

2010-01-14T12:58:00.002-06:00

My dad has two daughters and a wife. He has spent his entire adult life surrounded by females. He’s never once complained or said that he wanted a boy.

He is one of the most patient and kind men that I know.

He’s a big guy. Six feet tall. His hands are like paws and his feet are a size 12. I like this about my dad. Even now as a grown adult, I still feel like a little kid when he hugs me.

Some might describe my dad as a gentle giant. He has that kind of demeanor. Easy going. Laid back. Not a lot gets him riled up.

Everyone likes him. His grandchildren adore him.

He is a great baseball player. All state third base. It just came naturally to him. He teaches the game to my son. They all know Papa loves baseball. His heart is broken each and every year by the Cubs. He doesn’t understand aluminum bats or water bottles at games.

My dad helps me out with the kids a lot. He is around during the day if I have a doctor’s appointment or need to volunteer at school.

He brings his grandchildren pieces of chocolate when he comes to see them.

He is at almost every game of every sport that they play.

A few Halloweens ago, he wore a scary mask and cape and scared the bejeezus out of my four year olds. They still haven’t forgiven him.

My dad loves the Beach Boys. He should have been a surfer and lived by the beach. He did once, briefly, but gave it up for my sister and I. This summer he taught B and A to boogie board on vacation.

He was crushed when it took R through her first year of life to succumb to the charms of Papa.

He likes, no loves, pizza and is upset when you don’t order enough or he thinks we’re going to be short.

Twenty years later, my dad still dislikes teenage boys. He doesn’t trust them for anything.

He took me on my Indian Princesses camping trip. We had the best time.

He has learned to text recently and talks to my sister and I throughout the day this way. He hates to talk on the phone.

If there is a cookie to be eaten, my dad is all over it.

He used to make a tent out of blankets and kitchen chairs and sleep with my sister and I in it on Friday nights.

My dad also used to let us put our belts around his neck and act like he was a large dog or horse for us to lead around or ride on his back. Again, the man has the patience of a saint.

The night that I got engaged to T, my Dad came and sat on the top stair, as I was getting ready in our hall bathroom. He talked to me for about fifteen minutes. Where were we going? Why would we be going on a horse and carriage ride? Something special going on? He tried to ask me how I felt about T. Did I love him? I think I answered flippantly. He sat there the whole time like he didn’t want to leave. He said nothing against or pro T. He just wanted to be there with me before I left.

T had not asked his permission prior to asking me to marry him. So, he did not have any knowledge that I would be getting engaged soon. But, somehow he knew. And I think he just wanted to freeze that moment in time with me getting ready for a date in the hall bathroom one more time.

That is my dad.

Happy Birthday, Dad! For all these reasons and more, I love you.

The Brawl

2010-01-13T07:02:00.000-06:00

Last Friday, B missed lunchtime at school because of a follow up doctor’s appointment. He also missed participating in a huge fight that took place on the playground during recess.

The incident involved the majority of his friends. I’m not sure what started it. There was tackling, faces being shoved in the snow, hitting, sitting on other children. Sounds kind of barbaric and upsetting to me. To my husband, it sounded more like typical boy stuff. Coming from a household of only girls, I am still learning when it comes to all things boy related.

The boys all ended up standing against the wall for the rest of recess. This is seen as a punishment at their school. When they returned to class, they were each issued a yellow card-another type of punishment for poor behavior.

A friend of mine called to fill me in on what happened. Her son was involved. She was upset with him, as I would be.

The fight began with a particular child. One that has been causing issues on the playground all year. One of those kids you would rather not have in your child’s class. The parents of this child are very nice. They are also very naïve. He was not disciplined this weekend at home at all for his actions. This is his third such fight this year and there have been no consequences for any of them. I know this because I know his mother very well. This child was worried about his school consequences to the point that he faked a stomachache on Monday so that he did not have to attend school and face the teacher. His parents let him stay home even though they were aware of his faking.

We talked to B about the incident. We asked him what he would have done. We’ve tried to teach him about guilt by association all year. This is a hard lesson for a seven year old. His good friend got the same punishment as the others after he went over to try and stop the fight. He ended up getting pulled in instead. We’ve preached up and down about whom you choose for friends and what that means. We’ve talked about consequences for your actions and about good decision-making. I know some of it has sunk in. He has a grasp on pieces of this and has proven that to us recently.

I hope he would have made the right decision if he were there. But, I know it’s hard. It’s hard to walk away and be the only one doing so. It’s hard to be a lone voice when the bully is shouting out orders and all seem to be listening. Is it right for us to expect this from him? Is it too much for us to ask? I don’t think so. I think it’s just the beginning. He needs to be able to hear himself above the noise. To hear the echoes from home guiding him with these decisions. If there is a next time, and I’m sure there will be, I hope he gets the chance to stand still and listen before he acts. And to know that we are always there with him.

Fancy Pants

2010-01-11T11:39:00.000-06:00

R has taken to the book Fancy Nancy like a fish to water. She loves the glitter on the cover. She loves crazy Nancy. She really thinks she is smashingly fancy. That’s a fancy word for really.

She wears her sparkly silver shoes while reading it. You know, the $9 ones from Target? I think she is channeling Nancy.

She now wears all sorts of jewelry-necklaces and rings galore. That’s a fancy word for a lot. Today, she has an extra ring in her pocket just in case. In case of what, I’m not sure.

Yesterday, she informed me that fuchsia was a fancy word for pink. Just randomly. Thanks for the fancy vocabulary lesson, R!

We are on our way to see The Princess and The Frog. She is dressed up for the occasion. That’s a fancy word for event, which is a fancy word in itself.

I don’t think I have it in me to go all out like Nancy’s family in the book and get us all dressed up to go. She told me she likes my earrings though. And asked me to put on a necklace. She has her daddy wearing one also. So, maybe that is fancy enough for today. Let’s hope so.

The Phrase That Pays

2010-01-08T06:45:00.003-06:00

Since becoming a mother, there are several phrases that are used regularly around my house. Some of them I have come up with myself. Yeah, I'll own them. Others, were passed down lovingly from my own mother. Either way, I cannot believe I use them on a regular basis. Some of them are down right ridiculous. Some won't make sense to those outside of my house. I guess they are the language of our family.

Teeth and Face! This little ditty is screamed out each morning at my three children. On average, it gets yelled at least three times and spoken maybe two more each and every morning. It can be difficult to get all three children dressed and out the door in the morning for school. One of the tasks that I believe they can accomplish on their own by this age is to wash their face and brush their teeth. (I do still help R with these.) Somewhere along the way, I lost the patience for asking if they washed their faces and brushed their teeth. So, I start off saying it's time for teeth and face. Did you do teeth and face? (These are the more in control times I mentioned where this is actually being spoken.) Surprise, the children don't always listen to me those first few times I request something. So, it usually comes down to me yelling teeth and face! Let's go! Anyone that walked into my house on a random morning might think I have lost my mind and am just randomly shouting out body parts-arms and legs! I'm open to better ideas on getting them to move in the morning.

Get out of the dining room! I know you will be shocked, but this one is also not always spoken in a calm voice. It is old fashioned and passed down lovingly from my mother. She would scream it at my sister and I each and every time we so much as stuck a big toe in there. It was as though she had a sixth sense about such things. I now know that small children are very loud and not so sneaky. Our house room layout forms a race car track like circle. The children, at times-mostly when friends or cousins are over and they are housebound in the dead of winter and losing their minds, can get rambunctious and start to "lap the house" as we say. Oh look, an added phrase for you! This means running around in a circular pattern through each room. Unfortunately, in order for them to complete their lap, they need to go through the dining room. This is where my catch phrase enters. Now, I firmly believe that houses are meant to be homes and lived in by the family. This is why I do not have a formal living room. We actually use our living room,which looks similar to the family room in our house. It took me about 12 years of marriage and until this house to own dining room furniture. The first week the table was delivered, my son took a match box car and "drove" it across the top of the table. A large scratch was left in a trail behind the car. He is lucky that the table had to go back for a new one for other reasons. The dining room is the only room completely furnished, painted, and decorated how I would like. The white trim work is not dented, scratched or nicked. In other words, if I had a house to myself, it would look like my dining room. However, I don't. So, all I ask for is this one room. So, stay out.

Shoes, Coats, Potty! Shoes, Coats, Potty! When did I become so busy that I apparently cannot speak in full sentences? This is yet another mantra that is lovingly spoken to my children each morning. It comes right after breakfast and before we get into the car to go to school. As you may guess, I am looking for them to get their shoes and coats on and to use the potty before we leave. Such simple requests. So difficult to complete. So, I repeat it many times before it gets acted upon.

When I am old and gray, you may find me rambling around in my bathrobe, drooling, muttering things like shoes, coat, potty, teeth and face! No one will know what I am saying. However, it may not mean I've lost my mind. That will have happened years prior. I will most likely just be remembering the hay days of motherhood and missing my children.

Little Snippets 3

2010-01-06T05:00:00.001-06:00

We are pulling up to the house and A is supposed to run in to grab something and come back to the car. B decides he needs a snack, so he runs out also. Guess who else decides she needs to get out of the car? R. I tell her no. She throws a tantrum. I try explaining that the reason we are all not getting out is because then we’d all have to reload in the car and get R back in her car seat. B then says, “Yeah, and we all know how that goes…” Spot on son.

I am in the process of making lunch.

R yells down from upstairs: “Don’t come up here Mommy!”

Me: “What happened R?”

R: “Don’t come up. I no want you to come up!”

Me (heading upstairs, duh): “R do you want to tell Mommy what happened?”

I get upstairs to find R naked and standing in the middle of her bathroom. She missed the potty, completely soaked her clothes, the bath rug and the floor. Then, being the neat freak she is, she attempted to clean up the mess with all of the toilet paper and towels hanging in the bathroom. Proceed with deep breathing techniques…

A is enamored with Taylor Swift’s Love Story song. She has known the song for a while, but just saw the video over Christmas break with her older cousins. It must have left a big impression on her. She has walked around singing it for days and is now getting down on her knee and proposing marriage to anyone who will stand still for a minute. And I thought the fairy tale bug missed this girl!

We are getting ready to leave the house the other day. R comes in my room dressed in a purple, blue and pink stripped shirt. She has a Chicago Bears jersey over that. Fuchsia fleece pants with cupcakes on them. Roxy pink and white patterned moon boots. All topped off with a Chicago Cubs hard batting helmet on her head. I swore the dressing thing was going to be one of my concessions. It isn’t worth the fight. I had to swallow a bucketful of pride to just walk out the door with her. And remind myself repeatedly that anyone who saw her would know there is no way that any adult could have possibly come up with this combo.

2010-01-05T07:18:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, I went out to collect our mail. This task is not nearly as joyous now that the holiday cards have ended and what’s coming are the bills from the month of December. So, I am opening envelopes when I see a magazine offer that is personally addressed to me.

The magazine is entitled Mo.re. They are new. They were offering a free year’s subscription.

Now, I am a magazine junkie. I subscribe to numerous magazines of a large variety. There is O, Entertainment. Weekly, Par.ents, In. Style, Martha. Stewart, Bon. Appetite, Gour.met, the now defunct Coo.kie. You get the idea. It’s a nice varietal mix. Some entertainment, a little improve your life, some parenting, some cooking, fashion.

So, answer me this. Where in the hell does that magazine list read old lady?

Because that’s what this new magazine was offering. Let me quote you from their letter.

“Are you landing or taking off?” This one just pissed me off and not because I am in my twilight years, but because I am in that weird motherhood induced confusion phase.

“In Mo.re, we talk about real issues that matter to you now-from hot flashes to ways to enhance your natural beauty.” Call me crazy, but I am not hot flashing yet at 35.

“Fact. You’re different from the woman you once were.” No shit. But, I can tell you this. I am not yet the fully gray haired woman on your bi-fold brochure either.

(Under a section about finances) “What to say if your children don’t want to sever the financial umbilical cord.” Well, this would be sort of difficult for them since I just severed the real umbilical cord only three years ago. Call me crazy, but a three year old and two seven year olds might need us financially for a few more years.

“In Mo.re, we’re open about things like weight gain, menopause, cancer and anti-aging.” All fun topics that I would love to read about in my five minutes of down time, no?

I have never been more annoyed at receiving something randomly in the mail. I don’t know why it struck me so harshly. In a very logical way, I realize that I probably was put on some bizarre mailing list or purchased some things that led them to believe I was of a certain age. However, I think I am upset because I just had a birthday I wasn’t that comfortable with. In my defense, I don’t think turning 35 should justify aging magazines and products to come calling.

Perhaps, what bothered me the most, was it reflected one of my biggest concerns. That I went from being a youthful twenty something to having children. The years of motherhood and taking care of little people are thrilling and exhausting and can seem kind of like a roller coaster ride. I’m just recently aware, and a bit afraid, that if I don’t slow it down and pay closer attention, I might just step off the ride and be… old.

I want there to be something there for me when I get off this ride. I want to step into a fulfilled life. Not the typical emptiness or loneliness that comes with the children leaving. A life for me has to be waiting on the other side of the platform. Thanks to that magazine for pointing out that it may not be as far off as I'd like…

The Play Date Conundrum

2010-01-04T14:15:00.002-06:00

I have never been one to fully dive into the play date pool. Perhaps, it’s a factor of being a mother of twins. I have a built in play date for my children any time I need one. And the bonus is that I don’t have to watch, monitor, or entertain anyone else’s children.

We are swamped with our schedule as it is. The kids have loads of activities where they get to see their friends. These range from soccer, basketball, brownies, religious ed and ballet. They see their friends at the practices and then at the games each week. Some of the kids overlap activities. So, with a practice and a game per sport, we are seeing these children at least four times a week outside of school. Yet, it never fails that the parents will ask for additional play dates.

Is it me or does this seem excessive?

I am pretty protective of our family time. T works and travels for work during the week. His time at night is limited with the children. He gets maybe an hour or an hour and a half before they go to bed. So, the bulk of his time falls on the weekends.

We spent Christmas break avoiding the phone. Family was in town. It was the holidays. We had parties, activities and fun things happening with grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. Traditions that the five of us were taking part in together. Yet, the phone would ring. Every single day. The phone would ring.

I am grateful that they have friends and that we’ve met so many great families at school. But, I do get the looks when I say no we can’t do this or that’s not going to work time wise. Sometimes, I find myself rushing them out after a game on a Saturday just to avoid the dreaded play date request.

I just don’t want them booked out every single day. I don’t want someone over here constantly either. They need time to decompress. To play with their siblings. To do their homework. Time to just be kids. They shouldn’t have a schedule at their ages. I still believe that they need to be bored sometimes in order to use their imaginations and creativity to figure out what to play or do. They rarely get that time as it is. I don’t want to lose the last tidbit left.

So, we’ll continue to hold the play dates at bay-for now at least. Wish me luck. I'm hoping I don't get pushed in!

Settle Down for a Long Winter's Nap

2009-12-29T13:45:00.001-06:00

I’ve been neglectful. Neglectful of any readers I may have. Neglectful of any writing I’m trying to do. Neglectful of my house.

I have come to the conclusion that I can do only so many things at one time. This may seem obvious to some, but not to me. I still hold on to this delusion that I can have and do it all. Silly and naïve, I know.

The holidays were magical for the children. They had a wonderful time. We had loads of houseguests. The first relatives were in prior to and through the holidays. The second group came after the holidays. The third group comes tomorrow for New Years. All have had a nice time. We hosted Christmas at our house. It went well.

I swore it would be different this year. I would share more responsibility and workload. I would concede some things and not try to achieve perfection.

I didn’t.

I am exhausted.

I am the only one for whom the holidays might not have been so magical-just tiresome.

We did too much. We hosted too much. We ran around too much.

I want to just be still.

To be bored.

To linger.

Is this possible any more? Are others capable of this and just not me? I’ve read the other mom blog descriptions of their days and everyone seems to have relished in the wonder of it all. Cherished the traditions. I feel that. Less this year than others. But, am I the only one spent?

I’m going to get there next year. It’s my New Year’s resolution. I’m taking back my holiday. Mine. Hopefully, it won’t wreak havoc on anyone else’s idea of what that means.

We Wish You a Merry Christmas!

2009-12-23T22:02:00.003-06:00

I wish I had a loving, heartfelt story prepared for this post. But, alas, this Mrs. Claus has been going nonstop and has left no time to write. Do not fear- the cookies have been made, the stockings hung with care, each present is wrapped and the feast is prepared. The children are happy and T is excited. And so, my job this season is winding down. Now comes the fun! To each of the Mrs. Clauses out there- get some rest, relax and enjoy it all. So much work goes into the preparations for our families. You ladies make the holidays happen. In case anyone hasn't said so- Thank You and Job Well Done to each and every one of you! I wish you a very Merry Christmas from my home to yours. Peace and good will to all and to all a good night.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-12-23T09:21:00.003-06:00

A perfect night. My favorite Christmas movie, a comfy blanket, roaring fire and cuddling up with my kids on the couch. Aahh.... makes it all worth it.

A Letter to Santa

2009-12-22T05:00:00.000-06:00

Dear Santa,

Merry Christmas! Hope you are doing well this year. It’s been a tough one for most people. I know this is probably not in the rules, but I wanted to write you a letter with a few requests. I know that I am 35 and have really passed the age where I’m allowed to ask for things. But, well, I’m going to anyway.

If you can find it in your heart, I’d really like someone to come and take care of my laundry. You see, it has finally beaten me. I am succumbing to its evils. We have people in from out of town and I just can’t keep up with a family of five’s laundry along with the shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, baking and general merry making. So, a laundress (God bless the woman who decided to make a career out of this) would be a Godsend. I thank you in advance with all of my heart.

Also, not to be greedy, but some additional items that I would find useful are:

a child occupier

a noise reduction machine

a full time housekeeper

a hand washer

a nose wiper

an activity planner

Wait-maybe this isn’t a good plan. These presents may cause for my position in the household to be eliminated. Well, either that or I could finally get some rest and relaxation. Go ahead. Bring ‘em if you can. I’ll take my chances because I’m flat out pooped. And I’ve been a pretty good girl this year. Thanks so much for remembering me!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

~Laura

The Griswolds

2009-12-21T06:42:00.003-06:00

When I was a child, a portion of our extended family moved from Chicago to California. Another portion lived up in Wisconsin. These were my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. So, at Christmas time, we would get a huge contingency of out of town visitors. Most of them would stay with us at our house. As a child who had only one sibling, I thought this was awesome. For a week or two, we had the chance to see what it was like growing up in a family like the Brady Bunch. Or at least that’s what the scenario was in my head. Christmas came to mean that your house was bursting at the seams with family.

Those relatives still come for the holidays. However, it’s not necessarily every year now. But this year, they’re here. And I have to say; it feels more like Christmas now that they’ve arrived.

We do your typical holiday activities. So far, we’ve seen Santa, had a feast or two, watched Christmas movies, and had lots of good conversation and laughs over numerous bottles of wine. Last night, the little ones put on a fantastic play about Christmas and even the 3 year olds were given a part. Six little people built this spectacular gingerbread house. As they each wore their red Santa hats, they colored and taped up mistletoe around the doorframes. They couldn’t be any cuter or filled with any more anticipation.

My grandparents are getting older. They are 90 and 83. These are their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren that I’ve been talking about. I am so grateful this Christmas that we can be together. Grateful for the opportunity my children have to experience a Christmas full of family. A house full of love. And all of the crazy chaos such a large group brings with it.

The Giving Tree

2009-12-14T05:16:00.004-06:00

Just when you are starting to lose faith in Christmas, something like this happens. Yesterday, B and A and I were able to help out distributing gifts for our church's Christmas Giving Tree project. Those little branches sticking up in the middle were filled only a few weeks ago with hundreds of gift tags. People from lots of different agencies with not a lot of hope for a present this year at Christmas. Most of them children. Even in this year, even with this economy, the tags still were taken from the tree. Each and every one. That generosity resulted in this pile of presents. A gift for each individual on those lists. When you entered the family area of our church and saw this pile of presents, this pile of generosity-it was overwhelming in person. On a stressful Sunday in December, it restored my faith a little. It showed me that some people have not forgotten what it's really about. That people are still good. That they have the ability to get outside of themselves still. B and A helped attack that pile. They sorted, they checked off the lists to make sure that no one was left out or forgotten. They bagged and labeled. All the while truly enjoying themselves. I couldn't have been more proud of the fact that not once upon seeing that large pile of presents, 2 weeks before Christmas, did they mention gifts for themselves. We are fortunate and blessed in so many ways.

THETA Mom

2009-12-09T15:53:00.003-06:00

My dear friend, Tiffany, over at ElastaMom’s Excerpts has tagged me as a Theta Mom. Theta stands for The Truly Authentic Mom. Thank you Tiffany! I am honored that you thought of me. You are so sweet and do an amazing job each and everyday with your children.

This title comes with some responsibilities and one of them is that I share five experiences that have shaped me as a true authentic mom. The other is that I tag five other ladies who I think bring a certain sense of authenticity to the title of mom. This is beyond difficult to do because there are so many wonderful mothers out there each doing it her own way. That’s what I call authentic. But nonetheless, those are the rules.

Here are the 5 experiences that have shaped me as a Theta Mom.

1. When I was in the operating room having B and A, I was terrified. I had made my husband swear that he would not leave me for even one second at the hospital by myself. I am not too keen on hospitals and I used to almost pass out upon entering one and having that hospital smell hit me. Anyway, being the wonderful man he is, he swore up and down that he would stay by my side like glue. I already had to leave him to get my epidural because of hospital policy. I was lying there and B was born first. Within one minute, A was born. We were hitting a rough patch in the delivery concerning myself-not the babies. Long story short, I survived something that 99% of women die from during delivery. Even though I knew something was not right with myself, I heard them crying. I immediately turned to T and directed him to go to them. Go now I said. They need you. In my head I was thinking they are alone, they are scared. It’s your turn now to be there for them. And I braved my dilemma on the operating table by myself. I was scared, but I thought of them first. I didn’t even really think. It was just a natural gut reaction. The mother in me took over and I knew what they needed and I put that first. T hesitated to leave me. I can still see that torn look on his face. Leave my wife here or go to my children? I think he saw my face and knew I meant it. So, he went to be with them.

2. The decision to leave my career behind and become a full time mom when I had B and A. This is never an easy decision. To me- the financials didn’t matter, my career path didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that I was there with my babies whenever they needed me. So, I left and didn’t look back. There are so many moments that make up their childhood. I have been there for almost all of them. That is important to me. People say that these stages only last so long. They are only little once. It goes by so fast. I couldn’t agree more and I am so glad that I have my memories of it and that I am a part of theirs.

3. When you are pregnant or have small children there is always someone pushing their ideas onto you. Try this. Do that. When I first had B and A this happened to me constantly. There may be something about the frazzled look of a first time mother of twins that screams "Please help me!"-whether that person really wants you to or not. I listen when others talk about their parenting philosophies. I take in people’s advice. I read books. However, I will never let someone else push their parenting ideas on to me or influence how I parent my children. In other words, I’m doing this my way. The way that I see fit. The best way I know how. You can judge. You can question. Feel free. But, you won’t affect my parenting if I don’t completely agree with you in my heart or in my head.

4. Getting pregnant with R. We had a hard time conceiving B and A. There was a time when I questioned whether or not I’d ever be a mother. For four years after we had them, we left things up to fate to determine if we’d have any more children. I wasn’t willing to go through fertility treatments again, but would have liked another baby. The exact month that we said, ok that’s it. They’re getting too far apart in age. It would be too tough to start completely over at this point. Let’s close off the possibilities now. Guess what? Bingo. I think getting pregnant on my own somehow justified to me that I could do this. That this is what my body is capable of. On it’s own. It just happened. I had the chance to be shocked by looking at a pregnancy stick. And she has been surprising me ever since!

5. Each and every time one of my children needs me or calls me or hugs me or kisses me. Each time I see their little faces light up because of something that they want to show me or because they are excited to see me. I know. I know then that this is what it means to be a mom. Each time I have the opportunity to teach them something new-a math problem, how to tie a shoe, how to be kind, how to support a friend. Each time I have the ability to influence them in a positive way. I know that this is what it means to be a mom. Each time I realize how it feels to love someone more than you ever could have thought. To love someone more than yourself. To worry endlessly about their well being. I know then that this is what it means to be a mom. An authentic mom. Doing it my own way. Hopefully, when they look back, they’ll feel all of the love and thought that I have put into raising them.

And finally… here is the list of ladies who I am tagging as Theta Moms. Can’t wait to hear about what makes each of you authentic!

1. Dana at The Kitchen Witch

2. Kristen at The Norwindians

3. Laura at Who Moved My Groove

4. Lulu and Moxley’s Mom

5. Jen at Mama Never Said There Would Be Days Like This

A Tale of Two Trees

2009-12-07T14:13:00.008-06:00

Once upon a time, a young girl dreamed of lovely Christmas decorations. She fantasized about a home of her own, with her new husband. One where the halls are decked and the lights twinkle. Ribbons and bows of rich velvet and frosty tulle sweep over the tree. Garland swags line the stairs. Everything shimmers in elegance and beauty to reflect the season.

When that girl was first married, the young couple had only a few ornaments for their tree. They also had a limited budget with which to decorate. But, she made the best of it and went about making most of what they put out-from the stockings to the bows to the garland. She crafted, she glued, and she even sewed! And her home looked lovely. Yet, she would eye up the department store trees. Oh, how they were color coordinated or themed. They were so very pretty to look at. One day, she swore she’d have a stunning tree of her own.

Well, when the girl moved into her current house, she finally was able to put up such a tree. She bought the new ornaments. All of them in gold, amber, and chocolate hues. She draped it in tulle and put a rich chocolate velvet skirt underneath. She had a special bow made for the top. The tree was lovely. People commented on its beauty. The girl was pleased, but also surprised.

While she liked looking at the tree, it didn’t put forth a feeling of Christmas for her. You see, her heart belonged to another. Her true love was for the family Christmas tree. The one with ornaments like these.

These ornaments symbolized a life lived. There were those that marked all of the major milestones in her life. Ones for new babies, a first home, and vacations spent with friends and family, graduations, marriage and anniversaries. Her wedding ring was even presented in a little wooden ornament box one December day. That very box now hangs on this tree.

There are the ornaments that were made by her children. These are the ones that she cherishes more than anything. These are the ones that can never be replaced. The ones made out of love by the people she loves more than life itself.

This is her tree. The one she truly cherishes and adores. The one that her heart desired all along. When thinking about that young girl and what she was looking for at the beginning of her married life, she realizes that it can be found on this tree. A life. Spent with people you love.

This tree is Christmas. This tree is family. This tree is home.

It's That Time of Year...

2009-12-02T05:09:00.001-06:00

I love the holidays. Really, I do. Truly love them. I do. Really. At least I used to with my whole heart. Now a days, the holidays and I have more of a love/hate relationship going on.

Since I have become a mother, I feel the pressure of the holidays. I never used to. They were just something to enjoy before. Now, I know I am responsible for someone’s memories and I want them to be truly fantastic. So, I hold myself up to unbelievable standards.

I used to be able to swing every thing when it was just T and I. I could run around like crazy, manage to get everything accomplished and still be a sane person. I was working full time, yet I’d do elaborate things like make gift tags by hand, copy a Martha Stewart truffle tree dessert, sew Christmas stockings for T and myself. By the way, I don’t sew. But, I still did it. And they looked great. You get the idea.

It’s a little bit tougher now with the three additional little people I tote along. Harder to get things done. Harder for it to look easy. Harder for me to feel like I am happy or enjoying it and not just feeling the pressure.

We have so many great things that we do as a family during this time of the year. So many wonderful traditions that we’ve carved out. But lately, I feel the squeeze to get them all done. So, I’ve been contemplating when is it time to let some things go? What is going to make everyone in our family happy?

I’ve pleaded my case to my husband. I tried to explain to him that I haven’t lost my passion for the holidays. They’re just beating me down a little. So, this year, he has promised to chip in. He went shopping for our ridiculously lengthy gift list with me this weekend. He took a peek at the holiday card and gave input on which one he liked and why. He assembled both trees and fluffed them himself while I got out the rest of the decorations. We decorated them as a family later on in the day. It isn’t anything crazy or over the top that he’s done, just little things here and there.

I think I feel different this year sharing the load more with someone. Even if he’s not outside stringing the lights with me or doing the baking, at least he’s checking in to see how it’s going. I am pleased about this little shift. I guess more than anything I just don’t want to feel like it all rests on my shoulders. Maybe that’s all I needed was someone to take some of the pressure off.

Giving Thanks

2009-11-25T05:56:00.003-06:00

Pumpkins A crackling fire in the fireplace Children laughing A warm home Coming together Good health Friends Stories The beginning of the holidays Good wine and good food Sparkling conversation Being thoughtful Showing kindness A grateful heart Peace Love Family

For all of these things and more, I am thankful.

To you and yours, a very Happy Thanksgiving!

City Kids, Country Kids

2009-11-23T08:17:00.003-06:00

Ok, maybe not country, but definitely suburban. Once upon a time, we lived in New York City. There, our children were exposed to so many things on a daily basis. We would wander over to the Met or the Guggenheim and look at the pretty works of art. We’d wander through Central Park and listen to fairy tales being told by the Hans Christian Andersen statue. We could also hear many musicians playing their instruments throughout the park and see many artists sketching or painting. There would be dancers performing.

B and A took a class call Mini Mozarts. I am not even going to admit here what that class cost me. However, it was worth every penny. The teachers were 20 somethings trying to make their living on Broadway. So, each class, they played instruments and sang adorable children’s music to my two year olds. Needless to say, we got one amazing performance each week. I do think that this class, along with others we took while in Manhattan, really formed the base for B and A’s musical interest. Since we’ve been back in the suburbs of Chicago, there have not been the same opportunities for R. Sure, she’s taken the Kindermusik classes at the park district and such, but it’s not nearly the same quality. However, she still likes music and for that I am grateful.

So, this weekend, we took all three children into the city to hear the Chicago Symphony Orchestra perform a special children’s series titled Mother Goose and More. It was part of a wonderful series that the symphony is putting on for children. They did an excellent job engaging them for an hour. B and A were mesmerized by all of the instruments. They began to play piano last year and this was very interesting for them. To give her credit, R did an amazing job sitting quietly and listening to the music. I couldn’t believe how well it held her attention for just turning three. Of course, it helped us immensely that they included a Cinderella waltz and her face just about lit the room at this.

When we arrived in the lobby, the symphony was promoting their music school. A girl, who was maybe 9 years old, sat down at a grand piano in the entryway and played the most unbelievable piece of music. She did a fantastic job with it. There were a few pauses here and there, but for her age I couldn’t get over the fact that she could play that complex of a piece. T and I were instantly reminded, again, of the difference between living in the city versus the suburbs. This was a decision we’ve struggled with when we moved back to the area a few years ago.

In the city, you have more options with your children. The schools, the lessons, the culture that they are exposed to on a daily basis are much greater usually in diversity and in quality to some extent. In the suburbs, they have other options though. They can run free to some extent. At seven they have the freedom to not hold my hand everywhere we go. They have more independence. They have more room. They are a little more innocent based on what they see on a daily basis. While we love the city, we chose the suburbs in the end. I’m still not sure if that was the right choice. But, it’s the one we’ve made. For now. And every time we go back, it pulls at my heart strings a little more.

*I am not being compensated by or endorsing Kindermusik, Mini Mozarts or the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.

Friday Fotos

2009-11-20T05:21:00.007-06:00

A getting her eyes examined.

B's turn...

I thought they looked hilarious in those weird sunglasses they give you after your eyes have been dilated!

Just a quick photo for this Friday. Yesterday, we had eye doctor appointments. A started wearing glasses last year for distance. She needed them for the board at school or watching TV. Lately, we've noticed her squinting more through her glasses and sitting on top of the television even with them on. Both T and I have very strong prescriptions in our glasses. It looks like she is following our lead. You can add this to the list of traits that I mentioned not liking yesterday. I am very proud of her though. She is extremely responsible with them and never lets it get her down that she has to wear them. As our eye doctor said to B yesterday, how did you manage to avoid the family vision gene so far? He is doing great and no glasses yet for him. Thank God. I can't imagine with all of the running, tackling etc. that a 7 year old boy does each day, how they would not get broken! Have a great weekend everyone! It's the last one before the holidays begin. ; )

The Woman in the Mirror

2009-11-19T05:00:00.000-06:00

By the time you are in your thirties, you have some semblance of who you are. First and foremost, you know that you are not fully developed as a person. You are constantly changing, growing and maturing. I personally believe we do that until the day we die.

However, you’ve had enough years pass to know that as a person you have strengths and weaknesses. Some of these can be a great source of pride. While others can cut you like a knife.

An aspect of parenting that I did not anticipate is what it would be like to see these characteristics, in their own forms of course, in my children.

The good.

The bad.

The ugly.

They’re all there. It can be amusing and it can be difficult to see these plain as day and know that they originated from you.

I have had the privilege of seeing my loving nature and kind heart reflected back at me through my children and in how they act to each other. The way they’ll go to comfort someone if they’re hurt or feeling down. The way I see my older children touch the face of or take the hand of their little sister. It can be something as simple as the tonality and phrasing with which they speak to her. The words could be coming directly from my lips in the same manner. These actions and feelings of empathy, love and kindness thrill me to see.

My daughter, A, has an incredible love for the written word. She devours books. Eats them alive in the same exact veracious manner as myself. B had this crazy thing he does when something is really, really funny. You can’t get him to stop laughing until he’s almost falling over. The two of us can make each other roll on the floor. Same laugh as myself. Same craziness when something is humorous.

Those are some of the good things that I’ve passed along. But, in the dark corners there are the things that make you cringe. The things that for the life of you, you wouldn’t have wanted to share with them.

My daughter, who is 7, already fights against anxiety issues at times. No! No! No! Don’t take that from me. Run the other way! My son, who at times is timid to speak out loud, can struggle to make his thoughts and feelings known. No! Let your voice be heard. You are bright. You are intelligent. You have wonderful things to say and contribute to the world. My youngest is so stubborn and bull headed that it comes back to bite her in the ass most of the time. To her I want to scream that sometimes you have to realize that there are others who know best. Give in once in a while. It won’t kill you. I promise.

I wish I could share my insights with them. I would beg them to please learn these lessons early on. Don’t wait years to figure them out. But you see, I’ve been there, done that. I already know when it’s better to head in a different direction. Unfortunately, it’s not my life to figure out. I have one. I’ve worked 35 years on it. I’m still learning and working and trying to be a better person. Trying to overcome my own obstacles.

As a parent, it’s hard to not make everything easy for them. Not to want better for them. But, in some respect, it’s theirs to figure out now. These aspects of their personalities are tough. It’s hard to see those traits reflected back at me. So, we coach them. We try and lead by example. We make modifications to ourselves. And we hope that like all of us who came before, they too will overcome what was given to them.

I Swear...

2009-11-17T05:00:00.001-06:00

When I pick my kids up from school, it’s sometimes the equivalent of pulling teeth to get them to talk about their day. Usually, I start by asking about the fun stuff like recess, PE or lunchtime. Then, I try to move on to what they may have learned. Anything to get a tiny morsel of information about how their day went or what is going on in their little universe.

My daughter is much more forthcoming than my son. But, she claims to forget a lot or not remember until it’s convenient for her to bring whatever up or cry later about an injustice on the playground. I’m fine with this. It’s on her terms. On the other hand, B is like a vault or some large walking clam. Not a lot is going to get him to open up. God bless the poor women that date him later on in life. I’m trying to help you ladies…

There is a secret though to getting them to dish. Have more than one kid around and watch the information flow like a river. Both B and A had play dates last Thursday. One boy and one girl came home with us in our car. I swear we had not pulled out of the parking lot at school and the talk started up. B’s best buddy, we’ll call him Matt, is a great kid. And he will tell me anything. Anything. He opens his mouth and the stuff just flies out. There is no stopping it. He’ll dish on how he feels about the teacher or a specific kid or a girl that chased him. He’s the youngest at his house. So, maybe he doesn’t get an adequate amount of speaking time at home. I don’t know. But, I love it because it makes B open up a little bit more.

So, the four of them are standing around my kitchen island eating an after school snack before they play. Their chatter is making me laugh. It is so cute and sweet. They talk about who won the running race during PE class. They talk about how unfair one boy is on the playground because he always makes himself football team captain. My daughter’s friend, we’ll call her Katie, demonstrates a dance step from the Barn Dance at school the previous week. They are adorable.

Then the conversation turns to this…

Matt: “Do you know that Bob* at school puts up his middle finger during class?”

A: “Yeah, he got a yellow card for doing that.”

Katie: “And Steve* in our class did it also. During class…”

B: Still saying nothing.

Matt: “Yeah and my friend, Ben* from my neighborhood, does it when we are playing at outside. He does it all the time.”

A: “Mom what does that mean? What is the middle finger for?”

Me: “Uhh…”

OH MY GOD. These children are going to leave here and tell their parents that we had a discussion on swearing and what the middle finger means… F@#K!

A is now putting her middle finger up and down turning it so it faces her and then faces out.

Me: “A put your finger down that is not appropriate. This is not a nice gesture. It’s a pretty rude thing to do to someone. So, let’s not do that again.”

The group: “Yeah, but what does it mean?”

How do you describe this to a group of 7 year olds? The very word is not even close to being in their vocabulary or realm of conscience. At least I hope so…

Me: “We’re not going to talk about what it means. It’s not appropriate for 7 year olds, let’s leave it at that.” Now, I’m trying to distract them with something else.

Matt: “Some kids say swear words out loud.”

B: “Yeah, like the Sh word and the St word.” He finally pipes up and this is his contribution?!?

A: “Someone in my class said the A word.”

Katie: Looking wide-eyed and ready for some answers. Did I mention it’s the first time this little girl has come over to play?

Me: “Ok, let’s get your coats on and go play at the park. Wait, what is the St word?”

B: “I don’t think I can say it Mom.”

Me: “Go ahead and spell it.”

B: “S-t-u-p-i-d.”

Giggling from all four children ensues.

Me: ”Ok. Outside. Let’s go.”

Before we went outside, I said something along the lines of not going into detail about this conversation to other children etc. We didn’t need to be rehashing it again. So, later that night we are driving a friend of A’s home from basketball practice. Her family is very good friends of ours. B turns to her in the car and says, “So, hey, do you know what it means to put up your middle finger?” Not. Even. Kidding. I swear I was about to strangle him.

Maybe it’s better not to know… You know, that ignorance is bliss thing.

The Showdown

2009-11-13T07:05:00.001-06:00

I love naptime. Peace. Quiet. I don’t have to play babies with anyone. I don’t have to answer the latest why question. I don’t have to wipe a bottom. Not for 2 whole hours. It is quiet. It is peaceful. Both words are worth repeating. It is bliss.

Until lately. R is fighting naptime with all of her blessed little heart. This painful ritual begins right after lunchtime.

Me: “R, time for nappies. Let’s head up.”

R: “No!!! I no need a nappy.” Shrieking, running away and hiding inserted here.

Once I’ve caught her and we make it upstairs and through the potty ritual, things really start to get tough. She hates her crib. She suddenly misses her Daddy. She asks when we are going to get B and A at school. She tells me that her head hurts. Her back hurts. Her feet hurt. Could I rub them? She tries to make me promise a lollipop after nap. She asks what is for dinner. We redo the blankets several times. We rearrange the animals that sleep with her. She won’t let go of my hand. More kisses. More I have to tell you somethings. The ritual of how far open the door has to be begins as I feel my blood boiling. This entire episode never ends pretty. At least it hasn’t for the last few weeks since it began. She is more tired than when she started the process and I am left feeling exhausted. Not to mention how much of that two-hour time frame is eaten up by it. Forty-five minutes to be exact.

I cannot, will not, give up naptime a month into turning three. It can’t happen. It won’t happen. I need that time. She needs that time.

Both B and A napped until kindergarten. It was a godsend. I can remember feeling panicked about what would happen once they stopped. How would I keep them occupied for another two hours? I had a new baby at the time. How would I recoup my energy in order to still be a good mom for the remainder of the day? But it happened. They stopped napping and as with everything, you adjust to the new stage. It wasn’t bad. It actually gave me some nice quality time with them as R slept.

But, as I mentioned, she just turned three. No way. No how. Not yet. I will go the distance on this issue with her. Not just for my sake, but for hers also. She is way too tired and cranky on the days when she doesn’t sleep. She gives up so much of herself throughout the day trying to keep up with her older siblings. She needs the rest as much as I do.

She asks me to stay upstairs with her. She asks to be checked on. I will gladly do all of the above as well as recite the dinner menu. Sometimes, I even give in on the lollipop. However, we will continue this go around until you give it up little one. I promise you that.

Just Smile

2009-11-12T05:00:00.003-06:00

The holiday season, it is upon us. I am a holiday enthusiast. I love almost any excuse to celebrate with family and friends. Good wine, great food, lots of love and traditions galore. These next few weeks will be inspiring some awesome blog posts. I look forward to sharing our family’s memories with you.

With one exception-the holiday card ritual. Yes, you know the one. The premise is that you snap an absolutely stunning picture of your adorable children. They are all dressed to the nines. They look perfect. It will be the one symbol that represents your family to those friends and relatives far and wide. For some of the people that receive these, it is their only glance of your family until next year’s card. It is also a source of great stress for me. It is the one thing about the holidays that I despise. Yes, despise.

First of all, the outfits need to be purchased well in advance so that the picture can be taken early enough to be printed for the cards. Finding the holiday clothing in early November usually creeps up on me. I am not ready to be looking for it as early as I should be.

Then, getting all three children dressed, looking presentable and in good moods for the photo is challenging at best. My son has an aversion to any type of shirt that is not a t-shirt or sports jersey. Button down collars are his nemesis. My three year old is going through sensory overload when it comes to dressing lately. Tights? Just not worth it. Thank God for A. She is the easiest child on the planet.

Sometimes, the first shoot does not produce a good photo. We have to retake. Redo the process. Torture the children and us again.

Finally, we’ll get a photo we like and order the cards. Hopefully with enough turn around time left for the arduous process of addressing them all. Yes, we still do it by hand. I don’t know why. I just think it’s more personal. Also, every year, I mean to enter our address book into the computer and I don’t have time around the holidays for such a project. Then, the only time it comes up again is the next holiday season. I just don’t have the type of brain that thinks of such things in June.

We typically send out around 125 cards. There is a business list included in this for my husband's work associates. Each year, I start asking him before Thanksgiving to gather and bring home the addresses from work. There is a reason they say that women are the gatherers. This task is too much for poor T. It inevitably results in an argument between us around holiday time, isn’t that awful? Over cards.

The day I drop these things into the mailbox, I feel as if a large weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I am not kidding. I feel free. Free to go on with my holidays. Free to enjoy our more pleasant traditions. This year, I’ve decided to fully enjoy all aspects of the holidays and to try and eliminate any sources of stress. (Stop laughing, I’m serious.) So, I cut out shopping for the outfits. I am going for simple. I am going to take the picture myself at our house. Ease up on the idea of perfect. This is not something that I do well. T has agreed to help address them provided I don’t critique his adolescent handwriting. We’ll see if I can manage that. I still haven’t brought up the work addresses to him. Peace on earth after all…

The Top Four* Most Annoying Parents on Children's TV Shows

2009-11-10T05:00:00.006-06:00

*because that’s how many I could come up with

1. Dora’s Mom and Dad-What is the story with these people? Where the hell are they? They let their one and only child wander freely in forests and over bridges. She is constantly lost and looking for assistance. Are they available? No! The have provided her with one hell of a backpack and a lousy paper map-no GPS in sight. Her trusted accompaniments are a monkey (Ebola virus?), a squirrel and an iguana. I will be kind and not bring up Benny the bull. He seems to be missing a few nuts and bolts if you know what I mean. A horrible fox is constantly chasing Dora while she is lost. Is it just me or is no one else concerned about rabies? Someone should really talk to these people. A little supervision seems to be in order.

2. Caillou’s Mom and Dad-These two really get under my skin. It may be the tonality of their voices or just their overall frumpy appearance. Can you really trust a woman who picks out heart wallpaper borders? I don’t think so. They seem totally high on something to me. They wander around completely ignoring the fact that their child is the biggest whiner on the planet. They are so high on life that this does not seem to bother them in the least. At least not in the way that his little high pitched, irksome voice seems to bother me. And what kind of name is Caillou? I’m sorry, but they did not do him any favors with that one. Not to mention they may want to talk to someone about why at four he still is not growing any hair. Call me crazy, but that would concern me.

3. Frances’ Mom and Dad- They both are annoyingly good spirited about everything. They have a nice, large house. Yet, no one seems to really do any hard work. I find it most annoying that they are both home all of the time. I know you can be a piano teacher and a photographer and set your own hours, but really in order to keep those businesses thriving someone must have to work at some point, right? Not in Frances’ house. Everyone is home all of the time. Perhaps, that’s the secret to being so chipper-constant help from your husband. Frances will do something like throw a tantrum and it won’t even faze the two of them. They just look lovingly at each other and sigh. Then, one of them will say in a very passive voice to Frances “Well, what do you think the solution to this should be?” Are you freaking kidding me here? Perhaps, it’s because my husband is on his second or third week of being out of town for 4 days in a row that I’m about ready to pop. But if you throw a tantrum like that around here, your ass is in timeout.

4. Binky Barnes Mom and Dad- One word-denial. They are in complete denial about their child. Binky is running with a not so great crowd, The Tough Customers, about half of the time. The other half he seems to be pretending to be Arthur’s friend so that he can keep his parents off his back. I mean, he is terrorizing small children on the playground from the top of the play equipment. That is not nice. He has failed a grade in school and they do not appear to show much concern regarding this situation. I would have completely flipped a gasket by now, but that’s just me. I will throw them a bone and say that they did get involved when he developed his peanut allergy. But, I believe they could step up their parenting game a little in order to get old Binky back on track. Of course, they have a new distraction with the addition of little Mei-Lin from China. So, we’ll see how having to share attention at home positively effects Binky. I’m sure he won’t rebel at all…

It's My Party

2009-11-05T05:49:00.001-06:00

Happy Birthday to me…

Tomorrow, I turn 35. I know it’s not old. But, for the first time, it feels as if it’s starting to get there.

I did not blink at turning 30. I was excited even. Your 20’s are hard work. You are becoming an adult. Finding your soul mate and settling down. Figuring out your career and starting on that journey. You may even start your family. The 20s are the beginning of everything.

So, when I turned 30, I was excited. This was the decade of reaping the rewards. I was married. Check off soul mate. I had 2 out of 3 of my children. Check to the starting the family thing. I had quit the career that I never loved to do what I believe I was meant to do all along-be a mother. We had struggled to put T through graduate school and he had successfully changed careers and was settling into that nicely. Check to the beginning of financial stability. The workhorse days of my 20s were done. Bring on the decade of enjoyment!

So, here I am. Smack in the middle of that decade. The shore of my 20s looks very far away. And the 40s hilltop seems to be gaining momentum. I’m not sure that I’m comfortable with this.

I’ve been on cruise control for a while now and that’s what I needed. The things that I mentioned checking off above were a lot of hard work. I needed to coast. Now, I think I’m bored with that. It is time to pick up some speed again. I need to focus on what the remainder of this decade is going to bring and what I want to shape my forties to look like. (Oh God. I just wrote my forties…)

So, here is my birthday wish list for myself. I am going to tell you that I could put very profound, idealistic items on here like world peace and saving the environment, but this is my blog. So, these are going to be my personal wishes. Let’s just assume things like no war, a healthy planet, no pain and suffering and so on is a given…

1. A career of my own. I’m not going to stop being a full time mom any time soon. But, I need to find a niche of my own. I want to have something outside of them. Something that gives me a creative outlet.

2. Since we are wishing here, I’d really love to write a children’s book. How fun does that sound?!?

3. A body that moves and looks like mine did before the two c-sections, three children and twin pregnancy. God, where did that go? This wish sucks because more than all of them, it’s a necessity and it is the most difficult to do. Yes, in my head, it’s even harder than publishing a book. You heard me correctly.

4. A vacation with just T and me. Somewhere romantic like Italy or Napa.

5. To be the best mom I can be every single day. To see the joy in my children and to be able to project it back onto them. To have them realize how much I love them each and every day.

6. To have time slow down just a little. I don’t want to feel like I am always traveling at the speed of light. It is making my children’s childhood move way too quickly and it is making me crazy.

7. Peace. Peace of mind. Peace of heart.

Here’s hoping that because I shared my wishes out loud, they’re not going to not come true! Thanks for helping me celebrate. This blog is my first step towards wish number one. For that, I am very grateful to those who read it each day. Now, go. Find some chocolate. It is a birthday party after all! (Damn again to wish number three…)

Fear Itself

2009-11-04T05:37:00.003-06:00

When I was a child, I was scared of so many things. The top two were the purple bunny on my dresser that I was convinced was coming to life at night and our basement. The basement held numerous terrors. It was dark. It was damp. There were strange noises that came from various equipment, like the furnace or the sump pump. I was terrified to go down there by myself. So, I’d do what every child does. I would drag my little sister with me. I could count on her always being a little more frightened than I was. I think it gave me a shot of bravery to have to console her.

My mother would call us ridiculous for acting this way about the basement. She thought it was even funnier that I believed the bunny would wake up and hop into my closet each night. At the time, I didn’t understand how she could be so flippant about something that I truly believed was happening and that scared the bejesus out of me. Now, as a parent myself, I realize what I must have sounded like each time I brought this up. Or, how frustrating it was for her to ask us for something in the basement, only to have a huge production made out of going to get it.

B and A watched a scary movie the week before Halloween. Nothing inappropriate- mind you. It was the PG rated Harry Potter movie. I thought this would be a good compromise in our Harry Potter ordeal. I was wrong. They are bloody terrified now. Since we’ve seen the movie, they will no longer go upstairs without each other. They dart full force up there, grab what is needed and rush back down. They have even tried to cajole their three year-old sister into going up by herself to get whatever may be needed. They won’t go in the basement. (Hey, I don’t blame them there…) Once it gets dark, they swarm to me like moths to a flame. All of this is driving me crazy.

The first two nights after we watched the movie, they couldn’t even sleep in their own beds. We told them they could cuddle up in ours and that we’d move them once they fell asleep. They were so terrified that when T went to move them, they woke up crying, begging, pleading and grasping for me, our sheets or anything that would let them stay right where they were.

Part of me feels terrible about this. Obviously, they were not ready for the movie. In my defense, that damn H1N1 flu must have made me delirious. We were trapped inside for almost a week and a half and had already watched everything under the sun. They had put the pressure on and I caved. I knew they might find it scary-everything is more clear in hindsight.

However, there is another part of me that thinks this is hilarious. I know, what a mean mom. I wish I could capture the looks on their faces when they have to go upstairs. Their eyes dart around. They give each other the nonverbal, super twin language look of “Dear God. Has she gone completely mad? You know you are going with me, right?” I have no idea why I find this funny. But, it sooo is. Maybe because I am the one old enough to realize that Voldemort doesn’t really exist and he for sure is not in our house upstairs. There are some really cool, spooky mansions out there to haunt. I don’t think he’d choose our red brick colonial in the suburbs-if you know what I mean.

But, they don’t know this. They believe all is real still. So, for now they are frightened. I am treating them kindly, going forth gently with reminders of what is real and what is pretend. This, of course, does not include discussions of the big man in the red suit coming in a few months.

Our fears can get the best of us. They can hold us back and cause us to not go places where we are uncomfortable. Why do we hold on to these things? Why do we not break free as easily from what binds us? What is the hold they have on us? All we have to do is turn on the light. See what is before us. Take action and grab the fear itself. Embrace it. It helps if we have someone to go with us. I’m sure glad I do. I believe it’s time to face some of my own fears. I don’t want to be held back anymore. I want to continue to go forward in life. There is more that I want to do and accomplish. And, it’s up to me to try. Has anyone seen my sister? I need to go in the basement…

Boo to You!

2009-11-02T05:00:00.002-06:00

A and her friends trick or treating.

B and his best buddy trick or treating.

A and R on the hunt for some candy!

The group hits our house. Like the spiders?

Our Jack-o-lantern.

The leaves in front of our house.

Here are some pictures that capture our fall so far. We had very few days with sunshine, but a great show was put forth by the leaves this year protruding very rich red, yellow and orange colors. We had a spectacular Halloween! The kids went trick or treating with friends. We had three separate classroom Halloween parties and a parade at school. We carved our Jack-o-lantern on Friday night, made Halloween cupcakes and read our favorite Halloween books one last time. Whew! We can rest now a little and gear up for the fun holiday season to come. I have great pictures of the kids, but I'm only willing to show those that don't give away their precious little faces. Sorry, hope you enjoy them anyway!

Little Snippets 2

2009-10-29T06:41:00.002-05:00

We purchased silver sparkle shoes from Target (on sale for only $9.99) to go with the Ariel costume for Halloween. R is in love with them. I knew the moment the purchase was made, I would live to regret it. Last night after her shower, she is buck naked, wearing the shoes and the birthday crown from preschool. Dancing and marching across my bedroom reciting the names of the months, in order, mind you. I didn’t know she knew all of the months of the year. Thank God that check each month for preschool is going toward something!

After a long explanation of why Voldemort, from the Harry Potter series, would be sucking on unicorn blood, my son makes this statement.

B: “So, you’re saying that a unicorn is not really a real animal?”

Me: “Uh, no it’s not. I thought you knew that.”

B: “No. No. I didn’t know that.”

Me: “Well, we’ve never seen any of them at any zoos, circuses, or farms have we?”

B: “Well, there are lots of animals that we’ve never seen at those places that exist.”

Me: Wondering if I just said something equivalent to There is no Tooth Fairy…

B: Sitting and stewing and looking a little ticked off.

Drying our hands after another potty stop while doing errands. The hand dryer was pretty high up on the wall. The warm air was aimed down at her. There was R reaching up, faced pointed to the dryer also, hair whooshing back, basking in the warm air like a lunatic shaking her hips back and forth. Or perhaps a better visual would be of a runway model walking into the fake wind of a very large fan. Me smiling and trying to move her along while the other women laughed. Really? I swear you could be happy anywhere, kid.

A conversation between A and myself.

A: “Mom, did you know that the last Harry Potter book is 800 pages long?!?”

Me: “Yes, I read it and it was very long.”

A: “Can you believe someone could write a book that long?”

Me: “It is a pretty big accomplishment.”

A: “I wonder how long it took her to write it. Do you know?”

Me: “No, I don’t, but we should look that up and find the answer. I’d be curious too.”

A: “Wouldn’t it be cool if she did it in one day?”

Me: “Yes, but I don’t think that’s really possible-especially with a book like that. It’s an involved story.”

A: “I would like to write something like that in one day.”

Me: “Why don’t you just start writing and not put a time frame on it?”

A: “Why? You said I could do anything I put my mind to! I am going to write 800 pages in one day.”

Me: I knew that phrase would come back to bite me in the ass…

At the end of the Cinderella movie, each and every time, R says to me out loud “Oh Mom! Cinerella is married!” She exclaims this with such enthusiasm and pure happiness on her little face. And I swear to you, her hands are clasped up by her chin. Yesterday, while watching, she added this “Oh Mom! I love in dis movie dat Cinerella looks soooo pretty in dat dress!” (Big sweeping hand movements with description of dress.) It’s official. I think I’ve lost her to fairy tales.

To Be or Not to Be...

2009-10-27T06:40:00.001-05:00

Halloween is just around the corner. There are costume decisions to be made. What to be? What to be? What to be?

Seven year-old boys are in a tough spot when it comes to costumes. It is no longer acceptable to go as something cute, such as a super hero or police officer. Yes, those are what boys would call cute. Did you think I was talking Elmo? The gory costumes have started to come into play. Either that or something Star Wars related, which my son is not into at all.

Gore is not really our thing. You see, I am a scaredy cat. I absolutely hate horror movies. My imagination is way to vivid to sit through that and then ever sleep again. When I was a child, my father used to torment my sister and I into going into the local haunted house. Thank God she was even worse than I. We were escorted out by the workers yelling to hold off so we could pass (in tears). Fortunately or unfortunately, I seem to have passed the scaredy cat gene onto our children. They may have it even worse than I do. So, a scary, gory costume is not in the picture for B-at least not at seven. I’m sure he’ll succumb to peer pressure down the road on this, but for now, we’re safe.

So, B is going as his favorite thing-a Boston Red Sox player. Good choice I think. Since the boy owns a million and one sports jerseys, we already had that and the pants and the belt. So, all that was needed were the red socks. Done.

A wants to go as something cool this year. So, she’s decided to be a rock star. I asked my very non-girly girl if this meant she wanted to go as Hannah Montana. No was the answer. Of course we couldn’t go with the readily available costume. We’d have to make this up ourselves. Which, honestly, I didn’t mind because it reminded me of coming up with costumes when I was a kid. She started to get very detailed in her idea of what she wanted to wear. I had to curtail this a bit and informed her we couldn’t be that specific. So, I’ve been trying to go out and get clothing that makes her look like a rock star. I thought I’d be able to do this pretty inexpensively at a discount store like Target. Wrong. So far, I’ve spent a ton on her costume. A terribly tacky silver glitter belt at Target cost me $9. A black t-shirt with a purple cross type of sparkly thing all over the front cost $12. She has black leggings that we’ll pair with it. I still need to locate a jacket and the appropriate jewelry. The microphone was only $5 at the party store. Got a break there at least.

And last, but not least, we have my three year-old princess, R. She has an absolute obsession these days with the Disney princesses. So, naturally, she wanted to be one for Halloween. Her favorite princesses are Cinderella, or Rella as we refer to her, and Belle. For some reason, she chose Belle. This was perfect because A was Belle when she was three and we have the costume in that size and everything already. But, R, being R, has not wanted to actually get into the costume. Last year, she was the cutest little butterfly. She refused to wear it to trick or treat. Not even for a second. No way, no how. So, I started prepping her early this year. In order to go to your ballet class Halloween party, you have to be in costume. For your sing and party at preschool, you have to wear your costume. To get candy and go to the neighbor’s Halloween party, you have to wear your costume. And so it goes.

Last night, we told her she needed to try it so we could make sure it fits. I’ve been trying to get her to do this for a month now. Nope. She didn’t want to. My husband spent 45 minutes trying to work through this with her. There were tears. The facts were presented. Costume=Candy. We waited. She decided Belle was not the way to go. I thought it was going to be because the dress was too itchy. No, she does not like yellow. In her defense, this is a true statement. I tried to bite my tongue, but did let it slip that she did indeed know that the dress was yellow before we started all of this. So, a last minute switch was made and she is going as Ariel. She has a purple, blue and green dress, which met her standards.

I know we’re going to have issues on Thursday when she needs to wear it for the first time. Uggh. Is it even worth the fight? Last year, I said no and she went in jeans and a Halloween t-shirt. How many years can that be acceptable? I think you either participate in the holiday or you don’t get to reap the rewards. That is me being difficult. I know she’s just turned three, but here is the crux of where R and I butt heads. She will never take the simple route. The easy path. The path of least resistance. Just put on the costume! For the love of God, this is supposed to be fun.

Why do I care so much? Why can’t I just let it go? Because I tried that last year and here we are again stuck in the same spot. And to be honest, I let my mommy imagination run wild with this stuff. If she can’t cooperate now and bend a little to wear some type of costume (and I gave her the choice of anything), than how will she cooperate with us when she is a teenager and we tell her she can’t do something important like date that band playing druggy guy? I know it’s a big leap. But remember that big imagination I told you about earlier? It’s scary enough. That’s why I don’t need the horror flicks. I can torment myself enough.

Hello, Harry

2009-10-25T20:05:00.004-05:00

I have a deep-rooted love for the written word. Books move me, speak to me, teach me like nothing else can. There are some books or stories that actually have the power to change who you are after you read them. Take them in. Let them become a part of you. My list of these types of books is much too long to type here.

Since they were born, I have certain books that I am just waiting to present to my children. I think of them like a gift-a magical wonder that is waiting for them to unfold and discover. Some of them we’ve already read together. Children’s literature like Good Night Moon, Brown Bear, Giraffe’s Can’t Dance, Time for Bed, Polkabats and Octopus Slacks to name a very few. My friends often tease me about the size of our children’s library.

I can admit that I am actually jealous that they have so many great reads ahead of them. Novels and stories that I wish I was sitting down to discover for the first time. Recently, we’ve begun Beverly Cleary’s Ramona series and Judy Blume’s Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. I loved those books when I was about B and A’s age. And if it weren’t for R, who still has to learn to read, I’d be heartbroken that we’ve already moved beyond Frog and Toad and Frances. But I treasure that they were some of B and A’s favorites.

B and A are great readers for 2^nd grade. They have a real love for reading. A especially can devour books in a similar manner as myself. Both of them are dying to dig into the Harry Potter series. So far, I’ve held off. I think they would be able to read them and comprehend them for the most part. However, I’m not sure they’d really get the whole story-the big picture. The wonder that is that particular series.

Based on when these were released, I obviously read them as an adult. I am dying for them to read about Harry-my son especially. He went as Harry Potter for Halloween in Kindergarten. I took them both to a huge book release party in the little downtown area of the city that we live for the last book’s release. We had a great time. They felt a little piece of the magic. Yet, I still say no. They are not quite ready. I don’t want them to miss it, to not understand.

For an entire week now, we have been trapped in the house due to the flu. It’s the week before Halloween. Discussions of Harry have surfaced yet again. They are all over me about it. They want a piece of wizard magic before Halloween. Do I give in? Or do I continue to hold out? Maybe it’s not my decision. Maybe the gods of literature are saying it’s time…

Chapter One

The Boy Who Lived

Apple Pie

2009-10-22T10:55:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, I decided to make a homemade apple pie. We have loads of apples still from picking a few weeks ago. I have a great from scratch crust recipe and over the years I’ve come up with a good filling recipe also. Apple pie is pretty simple to make, but it feels good to have a solid winner in your recipe box for this standard. Last year’s pie was to die for-the best one that I’ve ever put together. It looked like a magazine cover. The crust was the right golden hue; the pinches along the edges were spaced correctly. I had rolled out the crust just right. It was beautiful and I was really proud of it.

This year’s pie was another story. I think yesterday was probably the worst possible day for me to go about baking something. One of my children has the flu. Lovely, no? Don’t worry they are getting better. A second child was just in the process of coming down with it last night. You knew that was coming, right? I have been up for about 3 solid nights now with very little sleep. In addition to that, a friend of mine is going through something rather complicated in her life and I had just gotten off of a difficult phone call with her. My mom also had just called to release some stress regarding my aging grandparents. My sister’s little guy also has the flu and has developed bronchitis as a complication from it. I was concerned about him. The world was not looking so rosy last night. Things were piling up. Quickly. So, sometimes you need a release.

Baking-it almost always works for me. You can loose yourself in the minutiae. And if you follow the directions exactly, things will always turn out good in the end. So, I began. Even though I just had the house cleaned thoroughly that morning, I began to peel, core and slice all of the apples. A very juicy mess was created. The crust was another story. Things went along well and I put it in the freezer early that morning to chill. Throughout the process of the baking of the pie, T kept saying to me “Really, today you’re going to that? Of all days?” Yes, I was. So, I rolled out the bottom crust-all went smoothly. The filling was made and all was good. Top crust time came and it all fell apart. I had to roll and reroll 3 times. Anyone who makes pie crust knows that this does nothing but break down the butter from the heat of the process leaving you with less flavor and goodness in your crust. Not to mention it’s a pain in the ass. Each time, the phone would ring. The kids would need something. Mass chaos seemed to be happening all around me and in my head especially.

I couldn’t keep things clear. I couldn’t focus. I was not loosing myself in the process of baking. It was just adding more stress. I finally got the top crust on and realized that I forgot to dot the apples with butter. I had to remove it yet again. After putting the top on for the last time I ripped it in two places. It was hardly even. One side barely covered and one was too thick. I swear I was ready to cry. About pie. I said something to T and he just looked at me like “Really? Over the pie?” I stared yammering about how frustrated I was and how last year’s was so perfect and this was a mess.

Things feel messy right now. A whole pile of yuck. So, he did what he does best. He calmed me down. He showed me how if I turned the pie around the one side looked great. You have to just not look at the side with the tears or where it doesn’t match up. It’s all about what you choose to focus on. God, I hate when he’s right or makes sense or has the ability to always stay calm. But, I also thank God that I have him around to do just that.

Above is the picture of the pie. I guess it’s not that bad. The kids and T gobbled it up for dessert. It didn’t taste quite like last’s years. But, I’m working at not noticing… There are more positive things to focus on.

Princess Party

2009-10-19T07:38:00.000-05:00

This weekend, we celebrated R’s 3^rd birthday with our extended family. Her grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and a few long time friends gathered for her princess party. She had a great time!

It amazes me how much they change with each milestone that they reach. Instead of the tantrum filled two year-old who wouldn’t cooperate if her life depended on it, she was the picture of grace. With each present she unwrapped, she walked over to give that person a thank you or at least called out thank you to them across the room. She walked her favorites around so that everyone could get a quick peek at them first hand. She beamed as the birthday song was sung in her honor. She helped to pass out cake and waited patiently for her serving. At the end of the party, she gave our youngest guests their goody bags and thanked them again for coming to her party. Best manners were put out there with very little coaxing by either her father or myself.

I couldn’t have been more proud of her. She really has come a long way in these past few months. There was a time last spring when I didn’t think we were going to make it. Her and I. Together all day long. The tantrums. The tears. I’m talking about both of us.

My first two children did not test me in that same way during their two’s. They listen very well. They always have. They are the first-born. It’s what first-born children do best. But R, she has a mind of her own. She wants to do things her way. I had to learn how to parent in a completely new way with this child. So much of what I had in my arsenal did not pertain to her. It did not work or it was ineffective. So, this past year has been about finding what works. Taking new approaches. Easing up in some areas and not giving up in others. To me, it felt like a battle of wills. One of us was going to win and one was going down in flames. I often thought I was on the losing end. I just couldn’t break through. But, as she has closed in on three and as I held my ground on certain things and gave in to others, we seem to be at peace now. Or as close to peace as you are going to get with a three year-old.

As she fell asleep with me later that night, I truly felt a sense of pride when I looked at her. She would be all right. She demonstrated what I knew was inside of her all along. A kind heart. A good soul. A princess waiting to emerge.

Picking Time

2009-10-15T12:51:00.001-05:00

Fall. Oh, how I love fall. It is my absolute favorite season. The crisp, clean air. The crunch of the leaves beneath your feet. Sun coming through the amber hued trees. What’s not to love?

We went apple picking as a family this past weekend. It is one of my all time favorite fall activities. From where we live, you can head directly west and run into various apple orchards and farms.

The kids picked and sampled so many varieties. We filled a whole peck with bright red apples. Then, we headed back inside the barn for hot cider and cider doughnuts. Amazing! It sounds so picturesque. That’s because it is. I took lots of pictures of them running through the orchard. One of them riding a pony. They look happy and content in the pictures-despite the fact that it was freezing outside.

God, I love days like that. Ones where we don’t have to do anything but be together. Doing some simple activity. We are not rushed. We have time to talk to each other. Life is good.

T and I had a conversation on the way out to the orchard about the “packing it in” dream. Does it ever get so overwhelming that you just want to take your family, pack it in and head somewhere a little more relaxed? Somewhere that does not require enrollment in travel sports in order for your little one to be able to still participate down the road. Where you don’t have to travel for your job because it’s in the town that you live. Somewhere where the average home price is more within reason and there is no keeping up with the Joneses. Somewhere you can walk to school, church and the local movie theater. Where there is still time to do nothing. Does this place even still exist out there? We wondered.

We’re not looking for Leave It to Beaver. We know that that ship has sailed. Bon Voyage to it. We are just looking for that extra time. Preferably spent with each other. Is that too much to ask for? I hope not. For now, we are going to curl up, put another log on the fire and savor the season with each other. More craziness is waiting around the corner. I can see the holidays coming from here.

Fairy Tales

2009-10-12T05:48:00.001-05:00

How hard is this supposed to be? Parenthood. Marriage. Family. I used to think it would be the simplest thing in the world. Boy meets girl. They fall in love and get married. A few years later, they begin their lovely family. All is good. Everyone is happy. The fairy tale has come true.

What people tend to leave out are the other things that happen along the way.

Your beginning is about establishing yourself as a couple, the thing that solidifies your marriage. Learning about and loving each other. Giving each other adequate time and attention in order to feel that you are the center of the universe to someone.

You make your plans. Some of them turn out. Some of them don’t. You learn along the way. You readjust.

The first baby is born. Another calibration takes place. You are thrilled, but tired. Really tired for the first time in your life. The stress and responsibility rest on your shoulders as much as that sweet and perfect little head. You are distracted from each other for the first time. You have come together in a way that bonds you forever, but you also have let someone else enter the picture. This little darling has slipped into the middle.

Then come more children. With each one you love more than you thought you could. You love your spouse, your partner, more than you thought you could. Your attention and time are divided onto each of them now. It is a lot. You love them with your whole self, but wonder a little about how much of that self is left to give.

You are more tired. This is hard. Did anyone mention that? Warn you in advance? You don’t recall it ever looking difficult to others. You are afraid to say that it can be hard. People might think you do not have it as together as you appear.

You love your husband more than anything, but a day might go by when you think to yourself, did I look at him today? What was he wearing? You know you looked, but did you see? You hope he feels like you saw him. Everything is a blur. So much to do. So many needs from so many people. You hope each of them feels your love and attention. You want this very badly. You love them all with all of your being.

There will come a point in the story where things slow down. Somewhere in the middle, the children will become less demanding and more competent on their own. A time will come when things will not be so hard, they’ll just be again. Together, you’ll be able to breathe. To slow down. To begin to look towards the next chapter and the second half of this story. Your hard work, sacrifice and determination will have paid off. Together, you will have raised your children. They will be wonderful people beginning their own story. You will stare into the eyes that you have known for so long. The ones that you know so well they might as well be your own. And together, you will have the chance to sit back and watch them write their story. Now, that is the true fairy tale.

Little Snippets

2009-10-08T06:56:00.002-05:00

Disney channel interviews Selena Gomez as she states that this latest album is dedicated to all of her fans because without them, she wouldn’t be here.

A turns to me and says with all sincerity, “Oh my gosh. Selena made that album just for me!!!”

I asked B how his hour was with my 84 year-old grandmother and 90 year-old grandfather on Friday. His response, “Well, there were the fights and a lot of Jesus Christ words flying around and a d-a-m-e-t word also. “ Great. Nothing like multi-generational bonding with an adequate dose of bad language.

A reading the school hot lunch menu to check out the day’s options. The last entry she reads as “Ba-log-na-na” What A? Say that again. “Ba-log-na-na.” I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what she was trying to say. I made her spell it. Turns out, she meant a Bologna sandwich.

True story. Happened to a friend of mine this week. Her and her husband were at soccer and football pick up. It all happens at the same park. She gets into the minivan assuming all 4 of her children went with their father. He gets into his car assuming all 4 children went with their mother. For reasons unknown to mankind, this family still does not own a cell phone. They get all the way home when they receive a call from a man at the park, who has all four of their children waiting in the snack house for them to head back across town and pick them up. And I thought I was frantic…

I had to return my second bottled water to the lady at the restaurant counter because it was melted enough to be leaning like the tower of Pisa. I came and sat back down in the booth. R turns to me and says, “Mommy are you dispointed?” I was unaware that she knew that word, much less when it would be an appropriate time to use it. I said “Yes, R. I am disappointed. You see, restaurant X is trying to give Mommy some type of cancer apparently because their plastic bottles have been heated to the point of being deformed and the BPAs must have all seeped out into the water by now and...” (Just kidding on that last part. I actually complimented her on her sentence. But, I would have liked to have said that to the manager…)

Time Warp

2009-10-07T06:25:00.001-05:00

Last night, I was in one of those cute home accessories stores. I never get the chance to pop into these types if establishments much now a days. But, due to a weird glitch in the space-time continuum, I had 15 minutes to myself while I waited for B to finish his soccer practice. The girls were at home with T. Yes, you heard me. I was ALONE. I had 15 minutes. I was browsing in a store with breakables.

It was around 6:45 pm. While I was perusing the shelves, I saw a young couple about 27 or 28 years old. They were looking at things for their kitchen. She was making a funny reference to how hot her husband was to him. They were laughing and having a good time. I didn’t think much of it. But then, along came another couple. Their wedding rings still shining from their newness. He was helping her pick out knickknacks for their family room. She kept asking for his opinion. He kept coming up with some sort of vague, but effort filled, response. And low and behold, after them came another couple doing much of the same. There were a plethora of these couples in this store. I couldn’t have been more shocked if a T-Rex came crashing through the china department.

What was this phenomenon that I had come across in my weird time portal? Ah ha. My brain began to register something akin to familiarity. Yes, that’s it. I can almost recall back then. Back in the day. You know the one. Where you and your husband spent time just being. You had unplanned, loose conversations about things other than schedules or children. When you went out after work-on a WEEK night! When you had time to look for things to decorate your first place together. When your whole world was about being together as this new couple. At 7:00 pm, you were not so exhausted from your day that you could go out someplace to do something that is not pressing-just enjoyable.

God, that was great.

I want to say something about how this stage is also wonderful, but I am sitting here just smitten with my memories of those early days. So, I think I’ll just stay stuck here for a while and enjoy…

Tantrum Time

2009-10-06T06:04:00.003-05:00

R’s Top Tantrums (this week…)

1. There are no elephants in the handful of animal crackers that I’ve given her.
2. We cannot go to the ice cream store that we just passed. It is 8:45 am.
3. She cannot possibly go to sleep in this crib with “all of dese bars… “ (Yikes. Think it’s time to consider the big move to a regular bed?)
4. Her tights from ballet feel funny on her toes. “It’s just all wrong!”
5. She just doesn’t understand why we had to put the flip-flops from summer away. It is a high of 60 degrees today.

My Top Tantrums (this week also…)

1. Why do you people keep dirtying your clothes! I don’t want to do laundry any moooore. (Me in the laundry room throwing things…) I don’t care if it’s muddy. I’m not soaking and that’s that!
2. You keep making me do it all day long. Feed you, clean up. Do dishes. I’ve had enough! I’m not doing it any more. Humph…
3. But, I don’t wanna go… (Fill in blank with soccer practice, baseball practice, brownies, religious ed, grocery shopping.)
4. T (instead of the usual Daddy), don’t go to work! Why do you need to go to work? Stay with me all day. Pleeaassee…

Happy Birthday to my Baby

2009-10-02T05:54:00.003-05:00

We were not expecting you. You were not even a possibility in my mind. Yet, here you are. My extra blessing. The one that makes me think how could we be this lucky? We already had more than we could have hoped for and then we were given you.

You did not just come into our lives quietly. Your presence was made known from the start. You staked your place in this family and let it be know to all that you were here. The rest of us adjusted. We made room. We opened our hearts again.

You’ve given me the chance to be a mother for a second time-to apply what I learned the first time around. Then, to make sure I am kept on my toes, you changed all the rules on me. You make me work harder. Be better. Learn more. Not all children are the same. Each requires something different-one lesson I’ve learned these past few years.

Today, my baby, you turn three. And you now know so many things. How to say please and thank you. How to sing the alphabet. How to count. How to love your family. How to draw a smiley face. How to write the letter R. How to shake your booty. How to make us all laugh. How to garner most of the household’s attention.

While you have numerous accomplishments, there are so many things you have to still learn. How to have patience. How to show kindness. How to share. How to leave your Mommy. Let’s not learn that last one too fast. I hope you realize that you don’t need to be seven or whatever is the current age of your siblings. You actually make a very good three. If I can get you to learn that last one my darling, you will be so much happier for it.

And so today on your birthday, we cross over. From two to three. I am ready to say bye bye to the terrible twos, but not so ready to give up your babyhood. You are my last child. My baby. In my mind, you will always be just that. I cherish this opportunity. The chance to do it again. The privilege of being your mother. Happy Birthday, R. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Or, as we say in our family, I love you with all of my heart…

Three's Company

2009-10-01T05:27:00.001-05:00

It is so interesting to watch the sibling dynamics play out between my three children. B and A have such a unique relationship since they are twins. They have always been so unbelievably close. One of my biggest hopes is that they will always remain so. When R came along, I wondered how she would fit into that. Was there a place for her? Because, sometimes, even I feel left out of the twin thing.

It’s a good thing she has the personality that she does. R would not give up. She fought and inched her way in. Bit by bit. She’s a scrappy youngest sibling like that. There to grab up whatever is left. And they did it. They let her in. B and A have a completely different relationship with her than with each other, but they are all close.

I really do believe that A is getting pure enjoyment out of having a baby sister. She is so maternal with her-so loving and nurturing. The expressions and tonality with which she speaks to her could be coming directly from my mouth. It is wild to hear yourself like that. To hear what you sound like as you are mothering. This is what A has given me-a chance to witness myself parenting. R adores A also. She is the first of the two that she’ll run to for help or for a snuggle if I’m not right there. A teaches her things everyday. She is always ready to help her (sometimes a bit too much in R’s opinion!). I often have to remind A that she is not the mommy, but the big sister. A has actually said, “Well, she’s my baby too. “ I try to be protective of the big sister turning into the second mother role. I am a big sister. So, I know how later in life, if you want a good relationship with your sibling, you cannot be the second mother. And I want them to be close.

B is the one that R will always turn to for a good, full belly laugh. He’s the one she likes to tease. The one that will wrestle her and run around and chase her. He seems to know her limitations and how to be gentle with her. It’s very cute to watch. She really idolizes him and is always watching him. Observing him. I think she thinks he’s pretty cool-as much as a 2 year old understands what it is to be cool. He can take her or leave her most of the time. But, then, he wants or almost craves a little love or some attention from her. So, they’ll pick up a game of some sort and play for a while. While he is not the teacher or disciplinarian for R, he brings the fun. He brings the laughter. And she finds him hysterical! No one can get her to laugh as hard as B can. She gives him the chance to be soft and sweet. He has learned how to nurture someone at the ripe old age of 7 because of R. These are all good traits for a boy to have. One day, it will help him to be a good father.

This past year, as R went from one to two years old and really started interacting with them, my twosome added a third. I never thought we would have any more children after B and A. R was so unexpected. And, true to form, she seems to have worked her way in. If only to prove that she was destined to be here all along.

Walk On

2009-09-29T05:04:00.001-05:00

I walked tonight. On the treadmill. In the basement. For 30 minutes.

To many, this is such a small deal. To me, it’s not. It’s a big deal. My relationship with exercise is a love/hate thing. I love the way it makes me feel. I love the way it eases my stress levels. I love that it helps my body to look more presentable. I hate doing it. I hate sweating. I hate that I’m sore afterwards. I hate that I can’t find the time to do it. To be honest, the hate side of this list could go on and on and on.

The point being that even though I have an extreme dislike for exercise, I still got on the treadmill. And I’m coming to realize that if I want to live to a ripe old age and still possibly be able to bend over after 40, I should exercise. So, I am slowly wrapping my mind around the concept that this is not a temporary solution. I am not exercising to lose the next 20 pounds. This has to be a regular part of my life. Everyday. (This is me-growling under my breath.)

The kids love going down to the basement while I walk. They kick the soccer ball, bat off the tee, and ride tricycles. So, I can’t even use them as an excuse not to go down there. I know in my heart that they’ll love it even more if I can run around like a crazy person with them and if I’m still alive when they’re fifty. So, for now, I get on the treadmill. I walk. I’m going to take it one day at a time and just keep on walking. Maybe one day, I’ll get somewhere.

To Be Heard

2009-09-28T04:59:00.000-05:00

I have been writing this blog for almost 2 months now. That’s not very long in the blog world. When I began, it was to take a step towards something-for clarity. I wanted to begin writing again everyday. I wanted to hear my voice again. I knew it was in there somewhere, but it has been lost for a while.

When you are a mom, everyone listens to you and no one listens to you. Little people have to listen. You instruct them to smile, to hold your hand as they cross the street, to share their toys. You are constantly talking to them and instructing on how to do things. How to live. How to be.

Then, you find yourself amongst adults again. I’m not talking about other mothers. I’m talking about adults who are doing something other than raising children. It is difficult. The switch. The turning off of your simplistic (1, 2, 3, 4 year old) brain and trying to recoup the brain inside that can exist in that environment. The synopses fire differently.

Every year, my husband has an office holiday party at a very nice restaurant in the city. Every year, it freaks me out. Pathetic, I know. But, at these gatherings, only adults are present. No one has any stains on their clothing. Nails are polished. They speak of things like world events, the stock market, business, art, and literature. I used to be very adept at these types of discussions. Now, I feel uneasy. Unsure if I really know what I’m saying.

You see, in my world, I am the all knowing-the authority on everything. It’s pretty easy to be that to a 2 year old and 7 year olds. And let’s be honest, even if I don’t know, I can bluff my way along pretty well.

I’m not a woman who has stopped reading or who is not in touch with what is going on in the world. I still take in these things even being at home full time. What I don’t do is discuss them with anyone on a regular basis. I don’t speak my thoughts out loud. I don’t give my opinions. So, it all festers inside.

Lately, I think I’ve been too eager to talk. Not about worldly events or such. Just to talk to anyone in general. It’s like I’ve been deprived and now I have to make up for it. My husband has been complaining that I’ve been interrupting him during conversations lately. He’s right. I have. It’s my over eager desire to be heard. I’m not sure why this is kicking in 7 years after becoming a mother. I’m not sure why it either took this long or why it’s come at all.

Obviously, I need a release. I need contact with the outside world. I think I’ve gotten a taste of it through blogging. So, thank you to anyone who reads this. To anyone who has listened to my thoughts or stories listed here. It has helped me more than you can imagine. It’s nice to have a place to express myself and to be able to be heard. I’m hoping that with this project, I can find my voice again.

The Gut Check

2009-09-25T06:04:00.001-05:00

One of my babies is sick. B was home from school yesterday. He’ll be home again today with me. Strep throat. Yuck. The poor little guy, it came on pretty quickly. He complained of a headache when I picked him up on Wednesday after school. And when he came home, it was right to lie down on the couch-very unlike him. He didn’t even ask to watch a TV show. He was content to just rest there.

During the night, he came into our room and asked to sleep with us. No fever though. I decided to keep him home. He just seemed off to me. Throughout Thursday, he was sluggish and keeping his arms crossed over his stomach. His appetite was not the same. I kept asking how his throat felt. “It hurts a little where you would take my pulse.” he said. I believe that was his way of saying his glands hurt. I kept inquiring about the stomach and lack of eating and the arms. He insisted that no, all was fine. I decided to call for an appointment that afternoon. I knew he had strep. He always gets that stomach thing that goes along with it. And sure enough, I was right.

A mother’s intuition. I always seem to know when they are sick. I don’t know why. There are no logical explanations. Sure, there are some physical signs usually. But, I will say that there are physical signs when they have a cold or virus that I know is just that and doesn’t need any more attention. I can’t tell you how many times I have made appointments to take one of my children in to the doctor for something when T has thought it was too early or nothing to be concerned about. I’m not stating this to belittle him. I don’t know why, but that thing in my gut signals it’s time to go. Maybe it’s just that we know our children so intimately we can sense any minor abnormalities. Maybe we are programmed with a sixth sense about them for survival purposes. Maybe we just love them so much we never want anything bad to happen to them-so we rush in when we feel it.

My best friend from college, her five year-old son has Leukemia. It’s the good kind they tell them-whatever that means. They are fighting. He is doing well. She knew. She knew and told me that was what he was going to have before they even got the test results last fall. I’ll never forget that. I said to her on the phone that day “You have to be optimistic. It won’t be that. “ Her response “I already know it is.” She’s one strong mommy. I give her credit the world over.

I guess this is one more unexpected fact of motherhood that I never anticipated-to be so completely physically and emotionally bonded with another individual that you just have a sense about them. You know. Your gut tells you. You just have to follow it.

Have Faith

2009-09-24T05:07:00.001-05:00

Tonight was the first night of B and A’s Religious Ed class. It should be a big year for them. They make their First Communion and First Reconciliation this year. These are both important sacraments and rather difficult to explain to a 7 year old. I know because I tried to earlier this week.

They started attending Religious Education classes when they were in Kindergarten. So, they’re going on their 3^rd year. This still seems so odd to me. I attended Catholic school from preschool through eighth grade. The CCD kids, as we referred to them, were the ones who came in and messed with our desks and wrote nasty words on the tops over the weekend. Now, these are my children. Hopefully, not including the nasty word writing.

For a brief second prior to Kindergarten, I looked into enrolling them at the Catholic elementary school in our town. I went in for orientation and it seemed so familiar to me-a comfort even. There were the plaid skirts, the large statue of Mary, the worn out classrooms and building. All that seemed to be missing were the nuns. Where have they all gone anyway? However, the public school curriculum won out over the Catholic school’s curriculum in the end. I felt a little uneasy though at the thought of my children being “publicans” as we used to call them. It just didn’t feel like home to me. It felt like something was missing. But, on we went.

Now, we’re at a turning point in their faith. The first step in accepting Catholicism, as that faith and I feel torn. You see, these days, my faith is at best lacking. Not necessarily my faith in God, but my faith in the Catholic Church as an institution.

Since all of the (how can we completely understate this…) missteps that have been made and have been all over the news the past few years, I feel entirely disgusted and appalled at the church that I’ve grown up in. As a parishioner, I question the very foundation of this church. How can you have leaders, priests, do those types of things to innocent children? How can you cover that up and believe that you are right in doing so? How can you do so little to compensate these people or the millions of other parishioners that you have hurt? Their faith now shaken in you, an institution that is supposed to guide and lead. A faith based on love, trust and understanding. It just feels wrong. And I can’t get over it.

As a mother, I really can’t move beyond it. I can’t do the very thing that I learned to do in church. I can’t forgive them. So, I am torn. These sacraments. These religious milestones. They are important to me. They mean something. They symbolize my childhood in many ways. They are like going home to me. I want B and A to make their First Communion. But, my faith is shaken. I’m not sure I want them to be Catholics. I’m not sure I want to be Catholic. For now, we’ll continue to go forward. We’ll continue to test our faith. And, hopefully, we’ll all come out stronger for it.

Tip Toes

2009-09-22T06:37:00.001-05:00

This year, one of my goals is to make sure R is well socialized. I am feeling a tad guilty (surprise, surprise) that she hasn’t gotten as much of an opportunity to do this as B and A at her age. I know this is a repetitive theme for me.

Last spring, we took a painting class together. There we were sitting criss cross applesauce on the carpet singing the hello song. Various hand motions were involved. Very expressive parents smiling at their toddlers. It was cute. That’s probably what every other parent in the class was thinking. I was thinking-I can’t believe I’m back down here on the carpet singing this crap. And I really wish I had made that Starbucks run prior to class. The age span of almost five years in between my children is tough.

Kids classes and parent participation vary by the age of your child. When they are toddlers you attend and participate with them. Then, you graduate to sitting on a chair or bleacher nearby and can talk to the other parents. Eventually, you get to the drop off point. Here you go, your taxi service is pulling out and I’ll see you in an hour and a half. I am just getting to the drop off stage with B and A. It’s a beautiful thing.

With each of these stages comes a hint more freedom for the parent. For instance, I can remember the pure joy I had realizing I could (gasp!) read a book while B and A ran around the gym playing basketball or gymnastics or ice skated. When I drop them off at practices now, I can run errands with R and actually get things done. When I sign R up for an activity- it’s carpet time. Uggh.

So, this fall she is taking a ballet class. I have to say she has been so very excited about it. We’ve had the leotard, tights and bag picked out forever. She has been asking for weeks when it starts. Well, first day of class comes along. This one should be a mommy sits on a chair in the hallway type of class. All of the other mommies were able to do this. Guess where I was with my little Koala bear? (Graphic image of how this type of bear hugs onto a tree. Guess who’s the tree in this scenario?) I was, of course, in the ballet class. Trying to get R to let go of my neck and participate. I don’t know if she thought brutal Miss Mary (not making the name up) or her posse of six in tutus were going to take her out or what, but she clung for dear life. So, we left without a stamp on our hands because we would not even try one step.

Miss Mary did not want me to leave R in the class and have her cry it out. I’m not sure if Miss Mary has children or not or if they have a similar temperament as R. However, there was only one way this class was going to happen and I was not ready to stay inside the class again. So, this week, I went up to Miss Mary (remember I am not good at confrontation) and let her know that I would be leaving R in the class and she would cry (hard) for a minute. I would be right in the hallway. If she cried longer than a minute, I would come back in to get her. I don’t think Miss Mary thought this was a great plan, but who’s going to argue with a deranged mother?

So, I left. Miss Mary had to hold her back as she shrieked for me-for all of 15 seconds. I know this because I timed it. She was fine within 30 seconds and participating after 1 minute.

Ahhh. This time around, when R is in a class and I am in the hall, I don’t have anyone else to entertain. It’s just me, myself and I for a whole 30 minutes. The look on her face when she came in the hallway after class was priceless. R was so pleased with herself and I couldn’t have been more proud of her. And she had the stamp to prove it.

Lost

2009-09-21T07:52:00.001-05:00

Sometimes, I feel suffocated. People are all around me. Hanging on me. In my face. In what is my nonexistent personal space.

The noise is deafening. Chatter. Constant chatter. Even more questions. The sound of toys banging, whistling, crashing. The sounds of running on the hardwood floors.

Someone always needs, wants something from me. A juice box. Attention. Love. Understanding.

So, sometimes, I need an escape. A break. A moment to refresh. My husband or my parents will take the kids for a few hours and push me out into the world to find that space.

But, I am lost.

I do not understand how to exist outside of that universe anymore. I look for things to do. I try to find something to amuse myself. It is an effort. I know it shouldn’t be, but it is.

I am uncomfortable. I check the rear view mirror. No one back there. In stores, I have the sudden panicked feeling that I’ve lost them.

The silence is deadening.

There is no love. For as much as I need a break, I don’t really want one. As much as I want to claw away to be free of my constraints, I need them as much as they need me. I love them. And now, I’m not sure who I am without them.

Time Check

2009-09-17T06:08:00.003-05:00

Last night, the kids and I are in the car heading home (finally) after baseball practice at 7:15 pm. We were cold and tired. We had not had dinner yet. The girls and I grocery shopped while B was at his practice. So, I’m about to lay out our plan of attack for when we get home when R speaks up.

R: “Mommy, where we going now? Are we 3, 4 late yet?”

Me: “R, we are headed home. We’re not going anywhere- just home for dinner, cuddle time and bed. What do you mean 3, 4 late?”

R: “3, 4 late yet? Are we 3, 4 late for home?”

Yes, she was inquiring if we were running 3 or 4 minutes late for getting home on time. Yikes. Nice schedule we’re keeping these days huh?

After a brief explanation on why our day was finished and noting that we didn’t have to run around anymore, she stopped asking if we were running late. This topic has come up a lot in our household lately. It seems that in order to get these children to anything on time, I have to become the crazy time lady. Here are a few examples.

Me: “School starts in 10 minutes. We need to be in the car in 3 minutes in order to not be tardy!”

Me: “We need to be walking out of this house for soccer practice in 4 minutes. That means you have 3 minutes to finish getting your shoes on and to go potty!”

Me: “If you are hoping to go on a bike ride tonight, we need to finish dinner in the next 15 minutes or that won’t be able to happen.”

Even I am tired of this routine. I just can’t figure out how to get them to move. Or finish their dinner in under an hour.

I read a story recently about a mom of four, who went to load everyone in the minivan for some outing. She started to yell about shoes, the bathroom, coats and whatnot, when she realized that everyone was already in the car. Her children had reached that magical age when these reminders were no longer necessary. She promptly got into her minivan and cried a bucket of tears. She couldn’t believe she got there. She also was crying because she felt as if she wasn’t needed.

I don’t believe I will have this same reaction. I will most certainly be dead from the shock of it all. If that milestone is indeed out there, I can’t see it. I wish for it. I pray for it. I don’t want to hear my 2 year old talking about 3, 4 minutes. I just want everyone to cooperate and get in the car!