Sun, sand, sometimes I miss being carefree

This morning I woke up to a bright beautiful enticing sun. My first thought was ahhhhh summer is almost here. Next thought. Beach. We should go to the beach today. I got out of bed and look at my phone. 7:30 am. Perfect I will make breakfast before everyone gets up and we can head out after they are all fed and dressed.

As I made pancakes while trying to entertain Ry who sat near by in his high chair. I could hear that the other two boys were up too. Early for them on a Saturday but perfect for getting out at a decent time. We finished eating at about 8:30. Rylan was rubbing his eyes and yawning already. 9:00 is his usual nap time. I cleared the table and brought him upstairs to feed him and lay him down. He fell asleep with in minutes. Okay  I have 2 hours until he gets up. A bubble bath would be so nice. No. I want to go to the beach today. I get clothes out for Seark and Aidan. Get a dress out for me. I'll get them dressed and myself. Pack the diaper bag. Straighten up and then we will go.

After getting everyone else ready. I take my clothes and go in the bathroom. I like to do my make up before I get dressed. The tub looks so inviting. I did get the kids dressed and everything together already. Ry is gonna sleep atleast another hour. Who am I kidding I never take a quick bath. Make up. Get dressed. Make up. Get dressed. Ugh maybe I will just take a bath but set the alarm so I don't over indulge and throw off the day.

I run the water and get in. Ahhhhhh I love a bubble bath and so rarely get to take one anymore. Oh this is so gonna be more than an hour. Eh what's the difference we have all day. Right? It is still early. I close my eyes. Soak in the warm tub. Not a thought in my head. DING DONG.... F*!#!!!! Who is at the door? Oh well my husband can answer the door. DING DONG. DING DONG. Shit why isn't he answering the damn door?! Figures... Get out. Get dried. Get dressed. Answer the door. It's my father in law. Shit. I love him I really do but all I REALLY WANTED to do is take a bath. And now that's out the window.

I could get back in but I am already dressed. Might as well just do my hair and make up. I have about thirty minutes until Rylan is up. Of course on the one day I could have taken a bubble bath the baby sleeps an extra hour which puts us at 12:00. And now Aidan and Seark are hungry. Make them lunch. Change Rylan and feed him while the boys eat. Okay now we are ready to go. Almost... "mom my belly hurts". Great. Not quite ready. By the time Aidan feels better and we are ready to go Seark has to pee. Better that he told me before we were on the road but Seark has to take off everything to pee. I know I know its weird. He will out grow it. (I hope) 1:45 finally we are leaving the house!
The beach is an hour away.

We get to the beach. First get the stroller out. The diaper bag. The sweatshirts in case it gets cold. Put sunscreen on the kids. Get Rylan in the stroller but take the baby carrier cause he doesn't like to sit too long. Seark needs sun glasses cause Seark looking at the sun is a lot like those scenes in horror movies when the vampire looks at it. Finally get everything situated and we are good to go. Almost... "mommia I have to pee".

Long gone are the days of just going to the beach. So are the days of laying in the sand with only the noise of the ocean waves. Long gone are the days that I can just get up and go. With three kids you don't just get up and do anything. You plan. Organize. Pack. Forget shit that will make them cry (like the binky I forgot to bring today). You make countless trips to the public restroom (cringe). Sometimes no one even has to go. Seark likes to visit every bathroom. Everywhere. We. Go. If it has one of those insanely forceful hand driers we visit several times and you can never say no because the time you do... he will pee his pants.

I was missing those carefree days. Only for a moment. We finally made it to the beach. It was Rylan's first time. Watching him experience (and love) the sand on his feet and salty wind in his face brought me right back to where I needed to be. Present. With my boys. Right where I belong. We stayed on there for quite some time. Watching Seark and Aidan play and roll around in the sand was pure joy. I will never forget the days I just got in my car. Alone. Blasted my favorite tunes. Even happily sat in traffic (traffic with kids is hell on wheels. literally) arrived at the beach with nothing more than a towel and book in hand and simply soaked up the sun. I am grateful to have taken advantage of those days when I had the opportunity. I will even miss them from time to time. But right now there is nowhere on earth I would rather be than on the beach with three silly boys and all the shit that I lug around because they are with me.

Rocking Ry

Everyone has their favorite thing to do with their baby. For how different all of my boys are you would think my favorite thing to do with them as a baby would vary just as much. Not one bit. Each of them, all of them, equally, my favorite thing has been to rock them to sleep.

Aidan had the most perfect, serene nursery. When ever he was fussy I would sit in the over sized rocker/glider that we bought just for him and rock. For hours. I would often fall asleep in the chair. So comfortable and content with this sleeping baby on my chest. I always loved that moment right before Aidan would fall asleep. When his whole body would relax. So much it felt like he would just melted into you. Like sunshine on a warm summer day.

Snuggling a baby. Smelling their sweet scent. Stroking their soft hair. Intoxicating. At the time it feels like that high will be so fresh in your mind. Forever. It is amazing how fast they grow. How fast you forget.

I remember holding Seark for the first time. Everything I had felt with Aidan came rushing back. Once again undeniably intoxicating. I wanted to just breathe every bit of him in. Soak up his sweetness. And I did. I sat night after night rocking Seark in that same chair. Holding onto Seark and every moment. Wishing for time to slow down. Knowing that our days of silent snuggles were numbered.

That chair over the years became a stunt prop in the boys toy room. They would stand on the gliding ottoman and pretend to surf. Jump on the chair and flip over the back. Run into it head first and send it flying into the wall. They basically destroyed it. We had to throw it out before one of them broke their neck on it.

Then I had Rylan. And no chair. I thought to myself I don't need another rocking chair. We have a decorative chair in the bedroom. It doesn't rock but it will do. I can sit and snuggle him there. Not the same. For most a rocking chair is a dust collector. A space waster. For me a necessity. Thankfully my mother had one that she was willing to part with. Rylan has been sick all week. He's been extra mushy. Needing more cuddles than normal. Which works for me. Tonight I spent more than three hours rocking Ry. Running my fingers through his baby silk barely there hair. Kissing his warm rosy cheeks. Staring at his perfect peaceful face. He hasn't slept well since the fever started on Wednesday. Tonight he slept with out stirring. Laying across my chest while I rocked him until we both fell asleep. I woke up and realized how much time had passed. More than three hours. And yet I found myself not wanting to let him go. I rock Ry every night. It is the only time I have with just him. I look forward to it. Tonight I just didn't want it to end. I know our nights in this chair are numbered. And I don't want them to end. I don't want to come down from this high. Not yet. Not ever.

PART II Fairytales, lies, and all the other bs we tell our kids

2012 It is the last day of school before Christmas break. Aidan was having his holiday party at school this day. It was actually a really mild day. I had been at the park around the corner with Seark. That's why I remember that it was a nice day. I stood outside the door to Aidan's school with Seark in the stroller when a mother that I had never spoken to approached me. No introduction. All she said was... It's fine that your kid doesn't believe in Santa but most 5 year olds do. Like my son. Maybe you should tell him to keep it to himself.
I didn't even have a chance to respond before she walked away. Quite honestly I was stunned. I had no idea what to say anyway. All I could think is she was wrong. My Aidan still believed in Santa. There are half a dozen Aidan's she must just be confused. She couldn't be talking about my Aidan. Nope not "my Aidan".
Still trying to process what just happened another mother, one that I was friendly with approached me. Her demeanor the complete opposite. She was grinning from ear to ear. Oh thank god she isn't coming to tell me my kid is a dream killer. Just as she got to me she started laughing so hard I could barely make out a word that she was saying.
Girl, oh my God. Your son is FUNNY! Telling all the kids while they made their cotton bearded Santa that there is no such thing! He's a riot.
What?! This can't be. Why would my kid do that? He believes in Santa. Are you sure it was my Aidan?
Oh yeah, It was definitely yours.
Suddenly I could feel all of the other disgruntled mothers staring at me. I wanted to blurt out HE BELIEVES IN SANTA. YOUR ALL WRONG. HE WOULD NEVER SAY THAT!
I stood there. Silent. Being judged by the mommy jury. My kid was ruining Christmas. Killing the holiday spirit one kid, one crafted Santa at a time. With that the school doors flew open and there was my red cheeked delinquent dream crusher. He came skipping down the stairs so excited to tell me about his holiday party and all the cards he received from his classmates. We snuck away from the school and like inmates escaping Alcatraz. Once we were out of sight I asked Aidan....
Do you believe in Santa?
What? Why? Did someone say something to you?
ugh it was true. It was my Aidan.
Some of the moms at school told me that you told their kids that Santa isn't real. I didn't know that you thought that. Do you?
Well kinda. I mean every mall we go to there is a different Santa. And most of them have fake beards.
But I told you those are Santa's helpers because he can not be every where at once.
I know but I already know that reindeer can't fly and we don't have a chimney. And the alarm doesn't go off when Santa sneaks in. So...
Well the reindeer don't have to fly. The sled flies and the reindeer are just along for the ride. And I shut the alarm off for Santa.
Mom it's okay. I know. Last week when we went to get our picture with Santa I know that it wasn't Santa or a helper it was ________  grandpa. I recognized his voice.

I don't know how long but there was a period of silence. I was thinking of what else to say when Aidan interjected...

Don't look so sad mom. Do I still get presents if I don't believe?
Yes. Of course.
Oh then who cares if Santa brings them or the parents.
Well if your not upset neither am I. Just don't tell your friends they still believe and their parents want to keep it that way.
Why?

Truthfully I am not sure why. This moment arrived well before I ever expected it to and with no warning. Admittedly I was relieved that I wouldn't have to break it to him someday. Relieved that he had figured it out for himself and moreover he wasn't sad at all about it. Relieved that he didn't ask me why I lied to him in the first place. Worried that when Seark was old enough to understand the Santa thing Aidan would ruin it for him with the truth before he ever had a chance to get caught up in the magic. Maybe that's why we lie. To give our chance to get caught up in the magic. There is such a small window to experience all things truly magical before truth gets in the way of the illusion. Once you get the trick you can't undo it. Once you dispel the magic you can never get it back. It is the end of a chapter. Maybe the hardest one to close. Not because some fat guy in a red suit isn't real but because Santa is the essence of childhood. Its like the wind blowing a candle out with nothing to relight it. The warmth and soft glow is gone even if every thing else is still the same.

Don't worry this isn't the end... there are an abundance of lies I have told my children. I sense there will be a follow up to this. Most likely involving that obnoxious little "elf on the shelf."

Fairytales, lies, and all the other bs we tell our kids... when is a good time to come clean?

Mom. Are you the tooth fairy?
Why did you find my stash of baby teeth? (long period of silence) Kidding. Aidan clearly I am kidding. Why would you ask that?
I don't know. When I swallowed my tooth that one time I still got money even though I didn't leave it under my pillow.
Well I don't think the pillow thing is a formal rule. It just makes it easier for the fairy to find.
And then there was that time I got 20$ under my pillow but she didn't take my tooth.

I searched for that damn tooth. It wasn't there. I swear.

Yeah the money isn't in exchange for teeth. It's more like a reward for losing them.

I already know what's coming next and he may have me. I just might have to tell the truth.

Well this is really why I think you are the tooth fairy or lying about that there is one. That tooth that came out last night before I went to bed I put under my pillow. The tooth is gone this morning but I didn't get any money. I got an oreo.... with the cream licked out of it.

Think quick. Think quick. There is no reasonable explanation for this. I am a totally shitty tooth fairy.

Ummmmm. Maybe it's like Santa. Ya know like when you used to leave cookies for Santa.
What?! That doesn't even make any sense. I. LEAVE. THE COOKIES. FOR SANTA. He doesn't leave them for me.

Oh right. (Shit) You got me. I'm the tooth fairy.
Oh my GOD MOM!!!! Why do you lie to me?!
Okay. I'm sorry I am not the tooth fairy.
WHAT?! YOUR NOT?! I MEANT WHY DID YOU LIE ABOUT THAT IT WASN'T YOU?! YOUR NOT THE TOOTH FAIRY EITHER?!

Oh god I am so confused. I have no idea what this child wants to hear at this point. The truth is I had no money on me. Like nothing. I meant to run to the atm but forgot by the time everyone finally went to bed. Then I went to bed. I woke up at 3am to pee and while stumbling around the bathroom with no glasses I knocked over the tooth brush holder which reminded me about the tooth. I went downstairs to look for something to put under his pillow (with out my glasses). I couldn't find anything. Mainly cause I couldn't see a thing. In fact Aidan is lucky I didn't break my neck walking blindly down the stairs scrambling to find a present from the tooth fairy. Why oreos seemed like a good idea I don't even know other than that it was 3 am and anything seemed like a good choice. There was only one left. Seark likes to lick the cream out and put them back. I didn't even think to check it. I mean really when your leaving an oreo under your child's pillow at 3 am your not thinking at all. In fact I forgot all about until this moment.

MOM. MOM. MOM!!!! SO WHAT IS THE TRUTH???The truth is.... your brother stole your money and thought it was funny to replace it with an oreo that he licked the cream out of.
Really?
Yup. It was only a joke. Seark had no idea you would be upset, so don't say anything to him we don't want to hurt his feelings. When daddy gets home he will give you $20 to make up for what Seark took.

Did I really just do that? Why am I perpetuating this lie?! If there was ever a time to come clean it would have been now! Why did I blow my chance to hang up my creepy tooth fairy wings?! And a fairy that collects teeth from children... Really?! How has that not been made into a horror movie yet?

I normally tell my kids the truth. about EVERYTHING. Even the things that they wish they hadn't asked after they hear the truth. Like that babies come out of vaginas. I mean if there is any ugly truth to hide that would be it. I don't even want to know about that and one came out of mine.

So why lie? And not even so much the ridiculous one that I just fed him. I mean why lie at all? Why did I ever tell him that there was a tooth fairy? I didn't even hesitate to tell him about the tooth fairy when his first tooth fell out. I was excited to leave the money under his pillow and see the surprise and delight on his face in the morning when he found that indeed money was left there. Obviously the excitement wore off after he lost tooth after tooth after tooth. Besides $20 a tooth is a bit costly when they are falling out one after another at the rate they are. I had an easier time confirming that Santa wasn't real. (stay tuned for part II of "Fairytales, lies, and all the other bs we tell our kids" if you want to know the Santa isn't real story) Maybe it is the flack I caught for that one that has me so hesitant to fess up about the tooth fairy. Part of me thinks that Aidan may just be messing with me. After all I just assumed all the fairytale characters went out the window with Santa. I guess not.

I think the initial lie comes from some weird passing down of traditions. I know it wasn't even a conscious thought for me. I clearly remember him losing his first tooth. He was so upset about. I immediately with out thought started telling him about how exciting it was because the tooth fairy was going to come and leave him something special as if I believed in her too. And maybe that is it right there. Your kids bring you right back to your childhood and if only for brief moments you remember what it is like to believe in something again and you want them to have that too.

The genius of #mayaangelou

This week Maya Angelou passed away. If you are a woman, a writer, a human being you need to know who she was. A courageous, gifted woman who made her mark not only in the writing world but in history. I often say that anything is possible and she is proof. Maya Angelou had a childhood plagued by unimaginable troubles. She survived being raped by her mother's boyfriend at an incredibly young age. After the man that raped her was killed by a member of her family she stopped speaking. Silence. Such a brilliant beautiful mind silenced by unthinkable violence and trauma . Yet she went on to write. Not just write anything. Her words would change the world. If you have not already go out and buy/ download "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings". It is a literary masterpiece along with the rest of her work. It also the book that made her the first best selling non fiction African American woman author.  If you think you never read anything by her you are wrong. If you have ever received a beautifully written hallmark card chances are she is the voice behind that poetic sentiment.

To say she was talented is an understatement. She is credited with a long list of literary genius and that barely scratches the surfaces of who she was. Educator. Producer. Filmmaker. Actress.  She was a civil rights activist. Bravely and boldly paving the way for future generations. When I read about all of the things she has done I am in awe. She makes me want to be a better writer, a better woman. Maya Angelou is one of the reasons I believe anything is possible. She was a diamond in the rough. Although she has gone onto the next life. Even death will not silence her. She leaves behind a legacy so beautiful, so rich. Her words immortal.

time to cut the chord?

So I already know I am not the cool mom. I am not the mom that let's my kids go to sleep overs or other kids' houses if I don't really know their parents. I monitor everything they watch and play. I want them with me all of the time. Still I thought that there were things that I would be fine with and as it turns out I am not. So when do you cut the chord so to speak? Where do you draw the line? I don't know. I do know that there is class trip for Aidan coming up to a farm for strawberry picking that I am not letting him go to. Not that he is disappointed.

Aidan up until this one has gone on every class trip. Quite frankly they are overrated. You spend more time sitting on the hot, stinky, crowded bus than doing anything else. Not to mention 30 or so screaming children. The class trips are always at the end of the year on the hottest day. They are always at a farm or other equally thrilling destination. And the activity is almost always picking some sort of vegetation or possibly looking at animals. Sounds like a blast right? I am sure there are those that think that it is. But for the most part everyone is on the same page. The class trips are lame. They suck. And yet we all send our children so they won't miss out? On what? The public grammar school experience? Like I said up until this point Aidan and I have gone on all of them. After each one I felt like we could have stayed home and had a better time.

This year we got the notice with the permission slip. I hung it on the refrigerator. Debated for days about sending it back in. There is no way that I could possibly chaperone this trip. Not with two younger children. One that is still breastfed and would not eat from 8-3 if I did go. Okay I can't go. No big deal. But do I let Aidan go with out me? I am sure some other mother would make sure he wears his seatbelt on the bus. Right? Surely some one will keep an eye on him and he will not wander off at the farm. I mean they do a head count and all. Right? So why is my gut telling me to not let him go.

I am not the cool mom. But am I neurotic mom? Is it time to let go and I'm just not ready? Or.... am I perfectly sane? Do I just trust that motherly instinct that has never failed me yet and pass on this trip? Sane or not. Trusting my instinct or holding on too

tight. I am not sure. What I do know is that this trip will not be that childhood memory that will scar him if he misses out. I already told him he is skipping this trip. He just shrugged his shoulders and said ok. What I didn't tell him is that we have a field trip of our own planned for that day. You will have to read my future blogs to find out what it is. I promise it will be better then picking strawberries on the hottest day of the year.

last years class trip

Breastfeed at your own risk: This baby may bite

I have breast fed all of my babies. Aidan was exclusively breastfed for his first year of life. Not a bite of food until his first birthday when he had cake. Of course he also had not one tooth in this mouth until around that time. Although Aidan only had breast milk he would take a bottle. As a first time breast feeding mom I hated nursing in public and quite frankly between nerves coordination malfunctions and a very large baby it just never went well. I should also add large breasts make being discreet almost impossible unless you put a blanket over the babies head which I find to be super awkward and Aidan apparently did too. The blanket over the head never lasted for more than a minute or two. Try eating with a blanket over your face.. it isn't fun. I don't blame him for flailing like a fish out of water. Needless to say I was thankful that Aidan would take a bottle when we were out. It was just after his first birthday that he got his first tooth which felt like perfect timing. My goal was to breast feed for one year. We made it. I was done.

With Seark I had the same goal. Breast feed for the first year. I still was not a huge fan of nursing in public. Seark was born in May and the weather that Spring was exceptionally nice. Which meant that we would be spending most of our days at the park. I decided to put my nerves aside and just feed him where ever we happened to be. Sitting on the park bench while Aidan ran around with his friends Seark was getting extremely fussy. I had held off on feeding for as long as possible. I brought my nursing cover with me. My travel boppy pillow and found a bench kind of out of the way. The park was not busy that day so how bad could it be? I get Seark situated and covered and start feeding him. Not even a full minute later a little girl about the age of 3 wandered over by me with her dad just steps behind her. She stood there staring at me. I said smiled and said hi to her.

Whatcha doin? Is that a baby under there?
(seriously?!) Yup that's a baby under there. He is eating.
Eating what?
Milk.
Can I see him?
When he is done. Sure.
I wanna see him now... (with that she walked over and lifted the blanket up to get a look at Seark)
OH. MY. GOD. YOUR BABY IS EATING YOUR BOOBY!!! DADDY!!! THE BABY IS EATING HER BOOBY!!!

Just when I had assured myself this wouldn't be awkward at all....

I started giving Seark the bottle when we were out. Seark eventually got used to the bottle and started to prefer it. Still determined to give him breast milk for one year I started to pump. Pumping is a cruel joke.  It sounds like it should be easy. I frankly did not want to spend money on a $300 breast pump so I bought a manual one. Yeah that thing is good for strengthening the muscles in your hand and giving you carpel tunnel. Not for pumping on a regular basis. I finally caved and bought an electric pump. Still being cheap I bought a single pump. I will tell you they make a double for a reason. With in a few weeks Seark was strictly bottle fed. He was about four months old at the time. I felt guilty for not trying harder to stick with the breast feeding. At the same time I knew the nursing in public was just not for me. With in a month of switching to the bottle Seark cut his bottom two teeth and suddenly I didn't feel so bad. The thought of breast feeding a teething baby really didn't appeal to me or my nipples.

Now there is Rylan. Same plan. Breast feed for one year. I knew from doing it both ways already that I did prefer breastfeeding over bottle feeding mostly for the sake of convenience. With Rylan I have learned to be a pro at nursing anytime anywhere. I have flashed the occasional person and have had a few awkward moments but over all much smoother than the other two. So much so Rylan will NOT take a bottle. He is 8 months old and has NEVER had a bottle. Which is great. There is the obvious down sides like I have not had a drink in over a year now. I can not go anywhere for any length of time with out him because no one else can feed him which also means I am the only one that gets up with him at night. I survived nursing this baby through having the stomach virus multiple times this winter. The ability to breastfeed a baby in between bouts of puking while you feel like the room is spinning makes you feel like you have super powers. 8 months. We got this. A few more months until his first birthday. I got this. And then Ry got.... a tooth. And then another one.

Breastfeeding a baby with a mouthful of teeth did not enter my thoughts until I was breastfeeding a baby with teeth. Those words shouldn't even be used in the same sentence. They feel dangerous together.

Every night I nurse Ry as he drifts off to sleep. Last night was no different. That is until he clamped down on my nipple with those two little razor teeth. The pain was shocking. It took my breath away. I was frozen with what felt like a baby alligator trying to pierce my left nipple. It is amazing the things us moms can do. Normally a purple nurple would stop someone dead in their tracks. Render them powerless. It took all I had in me not to scream or drop Rylan like a hot potato. Which would have been a bad idea anyway because he most likely would have taken my nipple with him. I stayed calm. Tears streaming down my cheeks. Gently unlatch his barbed wire mouth. Burped him. And softly laid him down in his crib.

Normally I wake up to Rylan peering over his crib bumper trying to get a glimpse of me as I come to get him and think to myself he is one of the cutest babies ever. This morning I woke up to that same smiling face and all I could think was he should really have a muzzle or at least a warning sign that says "caution this baby bites."

Welcome to the jungle

My husband works long hours. He is tired when he gets home. Our weekends are filled with family activities. He doesn't have much free time. Our yard highlights this lack of spare time the most. It has been severely neglected. It is looking very... tropical... jungle-esque you might say. My neighbors probably use different descriptive words to articulate the current state of my yard. The grass is tall. Tall enough that we could lose our small dog out there. So if you can't see the dog imagine how hard it is to find the poop with out stepping in it. Our rose bushes are overgrown. To the point I feel like it may be purposely attacking me every time I sneak past it in an attempt to get my attention. As if to say CUT ME!!! I LOOK LIKE A HOT MESS!!! The mulch is sparse and needs to be replaced. The river rocks once neatly placed have been kicked and tossed by my kids and now just look like.... kids tossed and threw them all over the place.

I know you are thinking "why not just call a landscaper?!". Every house around me is probably thinking the same thing. I have called. And called. And left messages. And called again. We have been black listed from the landscaping community. Although you would think it is because the shrubs are scarier than Seymour in little shop of horrors it is not. We had a landscaper. He did a great job. I was friends with his wife. Best friends. Until we weren't friends at all. After a falling out I made the rash decision to tell my friends husband that we didn't need him to do our yard anymore. Clearly at the time I didn't think that we would not be able to get anyone else to come here the next week. I can't be sure but I am fairly certain he had us black listed. It has been three years since we have had someone here to take care of our landscaping. I paid my brother to do it for awhile but he didn't really have the time either. So now we are those people. The ones that have the trashy looking yard. But not for long.

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I left an absolutely pathetic message or three on one more machine. He must have heard the desperation in my voice. Finally someone was coming to get this yard in order. Hallelujah!!! Over the phone he said I am sure it is not as bad as you say and laughed off  my pleas to come as soon as possible. I am sure he thought I was a drama queen that just really wanted the lawn done this week. He came today to give me an estimate. He walked around the yard. Words escaped him. It was bad if not worse than I said. Still he was willing to take it on. Thank you Jesus! And it is only going to cost me $500+ dollars. It seems lately everything we do is costing us $500+. Either way it is going to get done and my house will no longer be the disgrace of block. 

The mistakes we make.

The mistakes I have made since becoming a mom are too many too count. None so serious that they were not fixable (thank god). For a very long time I thought that Aidan was going to be an only child. I wanted to give him everything. All of my time. Attention. Love. Those things came naturally and were easily given. Beyond that I wanted him to have everything that he wanted. From what he wanted to do for the day to what he wanted for dinner. Nothing was off limits. No matter how extravagant. This went for material things too. Not because I was under the impression that I could or should buy his happiness but simply because I wanted to give him the world. Whatever that meant. I thought this made me a good mom. My intentions were good. My heart in the right place.

Have you ever heard the saying "the road to hell is paved with good intentions"? Well that sounds about right. We were headed to hell and I didn't even know it. My good intentions we not doing either one of us any good. I was spent. Exhausted. All of the time. Trying to out do the previous day trip, meal, toy. I couldn't keep up with myself. I couldn't keep up with what I was teaching my own son to expect on a daily basis. I set out to give him the world and in turn I was giving him a misguided idea of what the world is. Having a child that believes his every whim must be met. His every want catered to. Basically creates a monster. I created a monster. Not in a day. Over years. Over the span of 5 years I tried so hard to give him everything that nothing seemed special.

I had become the mother I didn't want to be. Creating a monster instead of raising a child. I knew I was making mistakes. I beat myself up over them. Until I realized its not about the mistakes. Its about what we do to when we realize we are making them.

Things needed to change. Drastically. Immediately. But how? How could I undo what I had done? was it even possible. Of course it was. It wasn't going to be easy or fun but it would be worth it.

Aidan by now owned an ipod, ipad, xbox, wii U, Nintendo DS, and much more. He "loved" his video games. So much it was hard to tear him away from them. And when I did he would throw crazy tantrums. TV was another cause for meltdowns. Aidan would lose his mind if he couldn't watch what he wanted when he wanted. Forget taking him even food shopping. You couldn't get out of the store with out buying him something. Anything. And if you didn't you better make sure you were near an exit. Why was he behaving so badly? Because no was a foreign word and when he started hearing it he just couldn't deal.

And so we went back to basics. What does my son NEED to be happy?

1. My son needs me to be his parent not his friend. There is even a difference between being a mom and being a parent. I was mom by default. "parenting is the process of promoting and supporting the physical, emotional, social and intellectual development of a child from infancy to adulthood. Parenting refers to the aspects of raising a child biological relationship aside." Parenting is a process. A process that requires a mother to learn and grow from her mistakes. A process that requires learning to say no. It is a process. And there are no shortcuts.

2. Love. Not just any kind of love. Genuine, unconditional love. A love that is patient and kind. A love that grows with each smile, hug, milestone, passing day. Love in action. In the words I speak to him. In the things I do with him. Love that knows no bounds.

3. To be heard. He needs to know that he can talk to me about anything. Big or small. And that I will hear him. He needs me to pay attention to him. To his feelings. To what makes him tick.

4. Safety. My sons needs to feel safe. Our home has to be his safe haven. The place where he can be who he wants to be. Who he truly is. With out any fear of judgment.

5. Play. He needs to play. Be silly. Have fun. He needs to be a kid. Play that requires him to exercise his mind and his imagination.

6. Tools. He needs me to give him the tools required to make his way through the world. He needs tools for independence and problem solving. He needs to be told no and learn how to deal with that without having a meltdown.

7. Confidence. Confidence that will be gained by praise for a job well done. Smiles when I look at him. Hugs when he needs me. Confident that he can do it on his own. Confident that I will always be there to cheer him on when he can't.

8. Fresh air. He needs to be outside to play, to dig, to experience the world. Fresh air to grow.

9. Responsibility. In the form of a dog. Every boy needs a dog. Chores are great for teaching responsibility. A dog is even better. "give a boy a dog and you have furnished him a playmate". If he is responsible in taking care of his furry friend he will also learn a great deal about loyalty.

10. My son needs me. Just me. Not perfect me. Not super mom me. Just me. He needs me to be present. To learn and grow with him. He needs me to know when I have made a mistake and that where we go from there is what is important.

Not one of these things can be bought. Played in the form of a video game. Watched on a TV show. So we got rid of all of them and went back to basics. It wasn't easy but it was worth it. Aidan never needed everything just to be my everything. He is... my everything. He always will be. And because of that I set limits, say no, and only give him what he needs. He is happier for it and so am I.

passing on playdates

I have three kids. Three. One. Two. Three kids. I have enough kids of my own that I don't really want to be watching anyone else's kids. Aidan on the other hand wants to invite the entire neighborhood over nearly everyday. I have the no friends on school nights policy so that helps. But sure enough Wednesday rolls around and he starts talking about who he might want to have over on Friday. I cringe at some of the names. Aidan has only a very small handful of friends that I actually like. And only maybe two of those friends that are a pleasure to have over. The rest I hear their names and I cringe and try to talk him into the kids that I know are safe.

Playdates at my house can go one of two ways. Fantastic or F*cking horrible. Playdates are fantastic if the kids get along. Aidan has one friend in particular every time he comes over they have a fantastic time. They never fight or argue. I don't have to play referee. This other kid gets along and likes to play with Seark as well which is rare since Seark is quite a bit younger. He says please and thank you. Eats whatever we have for dinner with no complaints and since he usually comes on a Friday it is almost always pizza which is probably why he is so agreeable. Nonetheless he is a pleasure and sometimes I am actually bummed if this kid is busy or has other plans because when he is over Aidan is also a pleasure. Then there is the f*cking horrible. And we have had a few of those. What could make a playdate horrible? When you hear (through the baby monitor) your sons new friend say "let's break all of your brothers toys and make him cry". Or when your kid and the other kid can not agree on a single thing and they fight until you decide to end the "playing" by calling his mother to come get him. Most of the time the horrible playdates stem from the fact that 7 year old boys do not want to play with 3 year old boys. This is something that Seark does not understand and so he is pretty persistent in trying to play with Aidan and whoever is over. Sometimes Aidan gets away with letting Seark think that he is playing with them by giving him a controller for whatever game system they are using minus the batteries. That works out great. Until Seark realizes his controller doesn't work. At all.

I try to take the kids to the park as often as possible. The park is the equivalent of a public group playdate. In my opinion these are the best kind. Why? One: the kids are outside and they can find just about anything to occupy them. Especially boys. Stick my boys in front of a pile dirt or rocks and you won't hear from them until it is time to go home or someone has to pee. Two: all of the kids parents are there. Which means you get a little adult conversation and if a problem should arise you don't have to be the only referee. Three: and this maybe the best one, it's not at your house. All of the straitening up you did before you left stays in tact. If you time it right you can stay at the park until dinner. Bring the kids with just enough time left in the day to eat, bathe, read a book, and hopefully head to bed. That way you can enjoy your tidy house and possibly something that doesn't involve Mickey Mouse or Austin and Ally.

I try to keep playdates to those two options. Our house or the park. That's it. I really hate letting Aidan go to any one else's house. Ironically the one friend that Aidan has that I like having over to play is also the one friend that I allow Aidan to go over to his house and play also. Other than that if I don't know the parent we have to pass on playdates. You just never know what other people allow their kids to do. The current school year will be over in just 3 weeks. We have gone the entire time being able to dodge playdates. A few months ago I got a phone call from a number that I did not know on a Friday afternoon.

Hi. Is Aidan home? (the voice of a grown woman asked)
Yes he is. Can I ask who is calling?
This is ____________.
I'm sorry how do I know you ? Do I know you?
No. I don't think so. We never met. Aidan goes to school with my son. Well not with my son. They aren't in the same class or anything but they are in the same school.
Oh. Who is your son.
Oh right my son is ___________.
Oh yeah Aidan may have mentioned hi
m. I'm sorry what were you calling for?
Aidan and ________ are supposed to be having a playdate today and he never came so I was calling to see if he was coming.
Ummmmmmm. I don't know anything about a playdate and he would have to ask me before he went anywhere seeing he doesn't have his own car or anything. (yes I was being sarcastic)  
Okay. Can Aidan come over to play today?
No. We are busy today.
Okay how about tomorrow? Wait let me ask ___________. _____________ are you busy tomorrow? Can Aidan come play with you tomorrow instead? (pause) yeah tomorrow is good with ____________.

This may go with out saying but a 30 something year old woman calling my cell phone with no introduction asking to talk to my 7 year old son seemed a little off to me. Did this person really think I was going to let my son go to her house after the craziness she just displayed in this 3 minutes conversation. Did she really check with her son to see what his day was gonna be like tomorrow?! Would her son have plans that she was unaware of?! This was most definitely a playdate that we were going to have to pass on.

There was also the kid that came over for the first time after school one day and was supposed to stay by us until 5:00 at which time his mom was supposed to come for him. 5:00 came and went and the mother never showed. Then 6:00 and 7:00. I called and texted her with no answer or response. Finally a few minutes before 8:00 the kids mother showed up with no explanation. Didn't even get out of the car. Just honked her horn until I sent her son out the door and then she drove away. I was thinking how bizarre when I received a message from her saying that she was sorry that she was late and to make it up to me I could drop Aidan off at her house for an entire day during the weekend. Yeah... we are gonna pass on that playdate too. If you are not worried about where your own kid is I am certainly not leaving mine by you.

So we almost made it through the entire year with no playdates. Then last week Aidan asked me to go to a friends house. Correction he cried. Begged. Pleaded. I said no. I said no again. I said maybe next week. When next week finally arrived the mother of the other boy approached me and asked if Aidan could come to their house to play for awhile. Ugh I guess so. She seemed very nice. I see her every day picking her son up. On time. Well dressed. Polite. They live right around the corner. I guess he can go and play for an hour. I drop Aidan off. Their home is nice. Clean. She greets us at the door and asks if Aidan has any food allergies or anything she should know about. I think okay she is responsible enough to ask those things... that has to be a good sign. It was 5:30 when I dropped Aidan off. I said to the mother I will be back at 6:30, is that okay? She said yes he can stay as long as he wants. I left and returned promptly at 6:30. I rang the bell and Aidan came to the door with a huge smile on his face. Said he would be back in a minute he just had to get his shoes on. I waited for him. He came back ready to go. I said you should tell your friends mother that you are leaving.

Oh she isn't here.
What?! Where is she?!
She left.
Left? LEFT WHEN?
A few minutes after you dropped me off.
What? Why? Who watched you guys ?
Oh no one. His grandpa was home but he didn't come out of his room. We could hear hom snoring though that is how I know he was there.

Sometimes I think I am being ridiculous not letting Aidan go to anyone's house. And then I do. Only to pick him up and find out him and his friend were completely unattended for the last hour. Thank god they didn't get into any kind of trouble, but they very well could have and no one would have been there to stop them. I chalk it up to just another reminder of why we pass on playdates.

My kids are my life. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to them. Never mind if something happened after I went against my gut and let them do something that didn't sit right with me to begin with. I guess I will have to suck it up and look forward to a summer full of obnoxious kids playing at ... MY HOUSE.

Prada, Gucci, Dior.... OH MY!!!

Today was a beautiful day. 70 something degrees. No humidity. The sun was shining. We decided to spend the day in New York City. There wasn't even any traffic in the tunnel either way. That is pretty much a miracle. We got to the city in record time. Once we arrived in the city we set out to find a parking garage that wouldn't cost an arm and a leg. Seark who was sitting in the back seat dropped his binkie.

Mommia me dropped my binks. I need it now. Nooooowwww peeeeeeaaaaaase mommmmmmmia!
Searkie we are parking in a minute. Just wait.
Noooooooo mommmmmmmia me need it now!

I love listening to my children whine (insert sarcasm). I turned around to face him and leaned over the seat in the absolute most awkward way to try to reach his binks. No luck. I turned again contorting my body to get this whining plug and in an effort to reach it with out climbing over the seat ripped my pants! Awesome! Lucky for me we happened to be in the fashion capitol (as far as I am concerned). I said "shit I ripped my pants" and as I turned around there we were stopped at a light in front of DKNY. It was like a sign from the shopping gods. I was meant to buy new clothes today.

I told my husband I am just going to run in there quick and grab a pair of new pants. Just drive around the block and I will be done by the time you get back. I could have spent the entire afternoon in this store but I know that 3 children have a limit for how long they can sit in a car. My husband also has a limit for how long he can sit in a car with three children. From the look he gave me I knew that his time was about to expire. So I set out on "operation new pants". I walked in the store and immediately to my left was a clearance rack with a black pair of pants hanging on it. Perfect. And they are my size. What are the odds there would be one pair left. On sale. In my size. I grabbed the pants and headed to the register. I lied when I told him I would be out by the time he drove around the block but it was actually going to happen. Or so I thought. When I got to the register to pay I discovered there was no tag in the pants. No problem right? Wrong. Surely the store has some easy way of price checking items that don't have a tag. Nope. They don't. The cashier called every DKNY in NY and NJ. No store had the pants in question. Not one. She looked on the internet and found them. BUT couldn't find the UPC code which was necessary to ring them up. Almost 45 minutes has passed! If I didn't have a gaping hole in the pants I was wearing I would have never waited this long for pants. I didn't even want to know what kind of chaos was ensuing in the car. I had a pretty good idea though by the tone in my husbands voice when he called me for the 12th time to tell me he was driving around the block... yet again. I used to work in retail. I said to the girl isn't there some kind of style number stitched somewhere in he pants that you can use to look up the price? she assured me if there was that is the first thing that she would have done. I was about to walk away and buy some ridiculously expensive jeans instead when a manager came to the counter. She asked what the problem was and when the cashier told her the manager simply looked on the back of the tag sewn in the pants and said "oh use this number". WHAT?! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME I HAVE BEEN HERE FOR ALMOST AN HOUR LISTENING TO THE DESCRIPTION OF THESE PANTS RETOLD 15 TIMES TO EVERY OTHER STORE IN THE TRISTATE AREA ONLY TO FIND OUT THAT THERE IS INDEED A TAG INSIDE THESE VERY PANTS THAT CAN BE USED TO RING THEM UP?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?! Not to mention my kids have most likely lost their minds and I don't even want to know what kind of mood my husband is in now. The good news is the pants were 40% off and they gave me an extra 10% off for the inconvenience. Not that that matters to Aidan, Seark, or Rylan who were all doing some sort of whining, crying or complaining at this point.

We finally parked the car and went to the zoo. The kids loved the zoo and spent their sweet time walking around looking at all the animals at their leisure. After the zoo I took them to FAO Schwartz and they wandered around for over an hour marveling at all of the huge and unique toys. I didn't cry or complain at all. After the toy store we walked a few blocks to a specialty milk and cookie shop that Aidan wanted to go to. The line was unreasonably long. I waited silently even though I did not want cookies or milk. When we left there we headed back to the car. Along the way we passed Channel, Gucci, Dior and Louis Vuitton. Ugh I love Louis! I longed to go inside all or even just one of these stores and just look around. Possibly buy something. As the words Louis Vuitton left my lips, my oldest son said "I'm tired. My legs hurt. We have been walking ALL DAY! PLEASE TELL ME YOUR NOT GOING IN THERE!".
And of course I was not going in there. Not with three little monkey's that could possibly have me banned from any one of these stores for life. I could just see Seark trying to fit himself inside a handbag. Rylan (my puker) spitting up on a $1000 dress. Aidan (who we call Kramer... anyone remember Seinfeld?) tripping, falling and taking down a finely dressed mannequin with him. But it was nice to day dream and window shop for the few minutes it took us to get back to the parking garage.

This isn't Burger King

What are we having for dinner?
Pasta.
What kind of pasta? Does it have garlic or onion?
You know it does. There isn't really anything Italian made with out garlic and onions.
DO YOU WANT ME STARVE?! I AM NOT EATING THAT. I'M NOT. YOU NEVER MAKE WHAT I WANT. GARLIC IS SO GROSS. ONIONS ARE EVEN GROSSER. I'M GONNA STARVE.
Oh Aidan, what would you like for dinner?
I don't know. Do we have enough stuff to make tacos? (on his tacos he loves salsa which has tons of onions Apparently onions aren't gross all the time) 
I will make tacos tonight but I don't want to hear anything tomorrow when I make pasta .... okay? 
Deal. Thanks mom. 

I put away all of the ingredients I have already taken out to make pasta and meatballs. Take out every thing I need to make tacos and some Spanish rice. I cook dinner and set the table. Yell into the kids that dinner is ready. They both race to the table and of course fight over the same seat despite that we have 6 chairs and none are being used. 

Ewwwwwww. What is this?
Tacos... that is what you asked for!
Wait what was the thing you made last week with tacos shells?
Steak Fajitas? 
Yeah them. That's what I was thinking of. Make that. I don't want tacos.
(Looking around the kitchen)
Mom! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT THE WALLS?! DID YOU HEAR ME? I WANT FAJITAS NOT TACOS!!!
Oh I am sorry. I was looking for the Burger King Sign. Ya know what I don't see it. You are not at Burger King. This isn't have it your way. You can eat the tacos or you can have....nothing. I am not a short order cook. I am your mother. This is what I made for dinner. Take it or leave it.
OH. MY. GOD. YOU ASKED WHAT I WANTED AND NOW YOUR NOT GONNA MAKE IT?! THANKS MOM. THANKS ALLOT. 

I simply say your welcome with a smile on my face and accept the fact that Aidan will not be nominating me for mother of the year anytime soon. And despite that he was initially completely repulsed by the sight of the tacos he ate them and the salsa with the onions with no problem at all.

Once upon a time I indulged Aidan's every appetition. Making meal after meal trying to satisfy his tiny taste buds. Those days are gone. With three varying palates I have no time to make everyone their own special meal. Although if we ate what Seark wanted every night life would be easy. Unlike Aidan who is never satisfied even at the finest restaurant, Seark could eat peanut butter and jelly with a glass of milk for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

There are all kinds of theories about what makes kids picky eaters and how to change that. The only thing that has broken the cycle of "but I don't like/want that" is the absence of options. I have literally taken options off the menu. You get what you get and contrary to the saying you can get upset and even decide whether or not you eat. The kids are more than welcome to turn down dinner for the night. Knowing that there is not a second or third option waiting in the wing they usually just eat.

My constant need to accommodate I think really just came from my want to be a good mother. I wanted a happy child. I wanted to do things that made him happy. In many ways food is one of the ways we show our kids we love them. We make them chicken soup when they are sick. Reward them with a special treat when they have been really well behaved. Cook their favorite meal on their birthday. Giving into their every whim doesn't make them happy. It gives them a sense that they are the one in charge. After awhile Aidan was under the impression that it was my job to cook him whatever he requested (demanded). He was the king and I was his burger flipper. Until I came to my senses. The queen doesn't take food orders. She runs the damn castle! I took away the options and regained my castle. Aidan my not love dinner every night, but he eats. I just have to remind him every now and then this isn't Burger King. "Have it your way" doesn't apply here.

Keep calm and know your a good mom

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Is it possible for mom's to ever really have it all? I am a stay at home mom. Which is awesome. Hands down this motherhood thing is the best experience of my life. I always knew it would be. Always felt like I was meant to be a mom. I had my babies and from the moment they entered the world everything just felt right. When I gave birth to Aidan I was working a full time job that I had for almost 8 years. It paid well. Better than well. I had fantastic benefits. I liked what I did other than the long hours. I loved my boss and the girls that I worked with. I didn't even take maternity leave. I worked right up until the day my water broke. Just hours after giving birth I was on the phone with my job making sure things were taken care of since my leaving was sooner than expected. When I came home they set me up with a lap top and everything I would need to work from home until I could return to work. Before I had Aidan I thought I would work from home and that would be a piece of cake. The plan was to stay home for four months and then return.

The plan. That even sounds funny. This was my first baby I had no idea what I was in for. That I even thought I could maintain a preconceived plan makes me laugh now. Aidan never slept. Like EVER. I was breastfeeding which is a full time job in itself for the first few weeks. I had no time for a full time job at home other than being mom which was more than a full time job. If I thought I worked long hours at the office... well let's just say I didn't know what over time was until I became a mom. The 24 hour job with a boss that is a tyrant at only 10 pounds with no language skills. My work was piling up and Aidan didn't care. I could barely hear on the phone with him screaming so I rarely answered. From time to time I was supposed to stop at the office and check in with my boss. Feeling more overwhelmed than I ever had in my life and exhausted to the point I felt breakable I walked into my old place of work. An absolute disheveled mess. Baby on my hip. Laptop case hung on my shoulder and a mess of paperwork that hadn't been touched. I put it all on my bosses desk. He took one look at me and said "Your not coming back are you?" Defeated I said no. He laughed at me and said I knew it. I thought he would be furious. He wasn't. Then he said something I will never forget... "Go enjoy that baby, make walking away from here worth it. You deserve it."

I have done just that. I have spent these last few years out of the corporate world enjoying my babies. Everyone always jokes about me constantly doing things with the kids. I take them to the zoo. The park (sometimes from early morning until the sun is going down). The pool. The science center. To plays. The beach. The boardwalk. The river walk. Movies. Museums. You name it, we do it. I try to make everyday count. Make my time worth it. Worth walking away from the career that I never thought I would to do something better than I ever imagined. I always call my other stay at home mom friends to see if anyone wants to come and sometimes one or two will join me. Most times it is just me and my kids. I am always surprised especially on the most gorgeous of days when someone says to me "no not today. I have a lot of laundry to do", or something to that effect. Nothing wrong with keeping a tidy house but that is not what I left my job for. I left my job to enjoy my kids. Enjoy myself during the time I spend with them. I don't enjoy laundry or cleaning. I do both. But I never miss a sunny day to do either.

As much as I love staying home with my kids there are times I feel guilty. I feel guilty that my husband has to work extra hard to support all of us. Guilty that he misses all of the things that I get to experience and see with them. Guilty that he is tired because he is over worked. Guilty that the financial burden falls all on him. Not that he ever complains about it. This is what we both wanted. And yet I feel guilty.

I have sacrificed to stay at home with my babies. Not just my job. Little pieces of me. Until recently I stopped writing because I simply couldn't find the time. I work out less. I go out less. I take shorter showers if I take one at all. I don't wear designer everything anymore. I don't get my hair done at a salon. I eat meals with one hand. After they are cold. I sleep very little. Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don't recognize me.

Sometimes I envy my friends that are able to maintain a full time job and raise their children. Their husbands appear to help out more. Be more willing to share the load. They have financial freedom. Nicer cars. Bigger homes. Lavish vacations. Even their kids wear designer clothes.
They can go out for dinner or a cocktail without putting their kids to bed first because their spouse is capable of doing it with out them. They get adult time. No one ever says to them "oh you just stay home with your kids". And at the same time I know that no matter how things look from the out side most of them are longing to trade places. To jut stay at home and enjoy their babies. I know they feel guilty too. Guilty because they don't spend every waking moment with the most important person in their life. Guilty that someone else might get to see one of their baby's firsts. Guilty that they can't just walk away from the career they have worked so hard for.

There is a misconception that being a stay at home mom means that you love your kids more than the working mom. That you were willing to sacrifice things that they weren't to be at home. That material things mean more to the working mom than they do to the one going with out. Those things simply aren't true. Working moms are a amazing strong breed of women. They don't just maintain a job and take care of their children when they get home. They work tirelessly around the clock in an office and at home. They take breast pumps to work so their babies can still eat. They schedule school meetings and arrange drop offs, pick ups, and doctors appointments on their lunch break. They worry all day about what they are missing or if their baby is okay with that runny nose. They take conference calls and fill out paper work while longing to snuggle to their little one. When they get home even if they are tired beyond tired. They cook dinner. Clean the table. Give baths. Read books. Hold their babies until their arms ache because they don't want to put them down. They plan for the next day so that everything goes smoothly just so they can get up and do it all over again. They are super heroes with invisible capes and magic powers. They do the impossible.

And stay at home moms. Well they are not just stay at home moms. It also takes a super hero to care for another human being 24 hours a day while your needs are neglected. We take on more than anyone should because we don't want to be just any one thing. And we aren't. we are a million things that no one sees or knows and we don't say because we don't do it for anyone but ourselves and of course our kids.

So can you have your cake and eat it too? Maybe. My kids are happy and healthy and loved and that is all that really matters.  Whether you  stay at home or work a full time job... keep calm and know you are a good mom.

Park Etiquette

Excuse me. Hi. Is that your kid with the Mickey Mouse shirt over there?
Yes he's mine. Is he bothering you?
Yes. Can you tell him to leave me alone?
Sure. What did he do?
Well he keeps trying to play with me and I don't want to play with him.
Ummmm ok. I can talk to him.

I walk over to where Seark is digging in the dirt at the park looking for and collecting "rollie pollies" with his brother and freinds. Seark appears to be engrossed in the bug hunt and not paying any mind to this boy that is complaining so I leave him be.

Hi. Can you get your son?
Why? I don't even see him talking to you? Did he do something that I did not see?
No. He didn't do anything. I just don't like him. I don't want him playing by me.
Sorry. Can't help you with that.

What the hell?! I was getting so irritated by this obnoxious boy. I felt like telling him get over it. If the mere presence of my son is bothering you that much why don't you take your annoying little self and go play somewhere that you can't see him?! Of course I did not. Common park etiquette says you don't talk down to other peoples children ( although sometimes it is really tempting).  Where is his mother anyway?

At the entrance of every park where I live there is a metal sign with the park rules set forth by the town council. No smoking. No pets. No gum chewing. No bikes. No loud music. No alcohol. I propose that right next to that sign they hang another one that says:

PARK ETIQUETTE

1. Put  away your cell phones and watch your children.

2. If you see your kid being a  nuisance to another parent get up and go get them

3. If your kid hits someone else's don't act like you didn't see it. Intervene.

4. If your kid is being fresh don't pretend you don't hear him (cause everyone else does and we are all just waiting for you to reign your little terrorist in)

5. If someone else's kid is misbehaving don't take it upon yourself to reprimand the child. Go get the parent that is on their cell phone pretending to see and hear no evil chances are it is their kid. Let them do their job.

6. If your child has peed his pants (we have all been there) you don't have to run out of the park but stop letting him on the slide. No one wants to use the slip n slide of bacteria.

 

 

I totally get it. We all go to the park so our kids can get their energy out there instead of dragging out every toy they own while nagging you to play with them. I get it. They are running around and finally out of your hair for 5 minutes. You want to take that opportunity to update your Facebook status and let everyone know you are at the park on this lovely day with your wonderful children. I totally get it. But for god sake multitask. You can chat with your girlfriends and still keep an eye on your kids.

 

The park is no fun for anyone else if you let your child be a menace. Don't ruin my attempt to maintain my sanity and get some fresh air and sunshine by letting little Johnny wreak havoc! And if you see little Johnny coming to talk to me every 5 seconds and that I have to get up to see what his problem is wander on over and remind him you are his mother, he should leave the other mother's alone.

 

Let's keep the park fun for everyone :)

Dr. Douchebag

Kids for the most part have no filter. Sometimes that can be a hilarious quality. Or embarrassing. And obnoxious. Aidan is famous for having no filter. At all. When he was little he would repeat everything that came out of my mouth at the most inappropriate time. He would repeat "grown up words" that I used in a completely wrong mostly hilarious way. I was never more aware of how much I cursed than when my son was repeating me. I talk like a truck driver. It is disgusting. I don't care. Douche bag is usually my go to when referring to well your typical douche bag. I used to call my obgyn Dr. Douchebag luckily he was cool with it. He knew the 2 hour wait in his office sucked that much that he warranted that name. My son probably heard me say douche bag a million times for a variety of reasons. Especially since my pregnancies were high risk and poor Aidan spent many hours waiting for Dr. Douchebag with me. I used it so much I should have known it was only a matter of time until he said it too. So we are shopping in home goods. At the time Aidan is oh about 3 years old. I am bent over trying on some cute BCBG summer wedges when I hear my sweet sweet boy say EWWWWWWWWWWW! I turned to see what happened. There was a woman standing less than a foot away from him. I said to Aidan what was that about? Clear as day. With the volume of a megaphone my 3 year old child announced in the middle of a crowded store... MA THAT LADY SMELLS LIKE A DOUCHE BAG! Oh the horror! The shame! I looked at the woman standing by Aidan and began some sort of nervous babbling apology. All I remember saying was "Oh my god I am so so so so SO SO SORRY! I don't know where he heard that word?! He doesn't even know what that means. I am so so so SORRY!" and I was sorry. Sorry that I had ever uttered that word in front of him. Sorry I was naïve enough to believe that telling a 3 year old that these are "grown up" words would at all deter him from saying them himself. I was also horrified. I totally looked like the face of a girl in an awful Lifetime movie. I stood there paralyzed in my horror and shame. I couldn't move. My mouth on the other hand wouldn't stop. Over compensation... the tell tale sign of guilt! Luckily she was just as embarrassed as me and she didn't need anytime at all to process the situation. Her fight or flight mode kicked right in and she bolted out of that store like Aidan looked at her and said... RUN FOR YOUR LIFE THIS STORE IS ON FIRE!!!!!
Kids will almost always with out hesitation tell you exactly what is on their mind. The other day we were in the mall. On line in Stride Rite waiting to pay. The woman in front of me turned around and said "Oh my your kids are so well behaved. Good job mom!" then she bent down to Seark's level and said what is your name handsome? Seark's response... not his name. That would have been way too ordinary. No. When complimented and asked his name my child responds "Ry just tarted... you smell dat?" accompanied by a maniacal laugh. I'd like to say I was mortified. I wasn't. There is not very much left that my kids do that carries any major shock value anymore. I just smiled and said his name is Seark and he is very amused by farts. I could see in her eyes she wanted take back her compliment from a few moments ago in the worst way. Seark's fart comment took her so off guard she didn't even make a comment about the name Seark and that never happens. Or maybe she did smell that and just wanted to get away from us. Ry can be pretty stinky.
So the moral of the story... if you are prone to potty mouth, try your best to be mindful of what you say in front of your little darlings. Not because hearing the occasional douche bag or whatever your favorite bad word is will damage them but because at some point they will repeat it too. Regardless of how awesome you are in every other aspect of parenting the minute your baby drops the f bomb in public... you suck. Why would I share a story that makes me look bad? Because let's face it we all have one. I don't curse (nearly as much as I used to) in front of my kids anymore. The important thing is we take our worst moments and let them make us better.
The moral of the second part of this story is kids really do have no filter. Brace yourself because your child's mouth will someday make you cringe. Just go with it. Follow up with something just as crazy and unfiltered. If nothing else you will get a good laugh... even if not in the moment I promise sometime down the road it will cross your mind and make you laugh your ass off. If someone asks what's so funny just tell them I am a mom... everything!

The parent I thought I would be...

You have got to be kidding me?! Which one of you colored all over the wall again?!

(jumping up and down) MOMMIA MOMMIA ME DID IT ME DID IT!!!!

SEARK!!!! WHY?! WHAT DID MOMMY TELL YOU FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME?!

Only. Color. On. Paper. (as he smiles and gives me a thumbs up)

Why if this child knows and understands what I said to him is he still coloring on the walls?! The furniture. Himself. Why?! I have taken away the crayons and the markers and put them on shelves too high for him to reach them. He still manages to get to them. I swear he has a secret stash somewhere hidden away he is using to drive me insane. I have told him a thousand times or so it feels not to color on anything but paper. I have put him in time out. I have yelled. I have sat and talked with him about how much mommy dislikes seeing marks on things they don't belong on.

I tawry. I no wanna make you tad mommia.

{sigh} I find it so hard to stay mad at the little face that so resembles mine attached to that sweet voice. Until I walk past another colorful wall. I have in fact given up. I have learned to pick my battles. To find a happy medium that works for both of us. As much as this solution genuinely made me cringe in the beginning I have kind of grown to love it. Seark is allowed to color the walls and pretty much whatever he wants inside his toy room. It satisfies his compulsion to color on everything but paper and saves the rest of the house from Art by Seark. And as happy as I am to not have any future art work randomly drawn around the house there are times I can't help but laugh at what is already there. Like when we have new company over for the first time and they pull out the dining room chair over by the window and realize the seat is covered in blue hand prints from the time we painted ceramic trains. Or when I show someone around the house and then we get to the nursery where all of the stuffed animals are carefully placed and blankets neatly folded and the unstained natural wood closet door are covered in black and blue lines.

My house is far from perfect but it has been decorated and furnished with a great amount of care. The blue scribbles and red lines. Smeared marker that I tried to wash and only succeeded in further destroying the intentional paint. The super hero stickers that continually appear like magic. Once upon a time all of these things would have driven me insane. They don't anymore. I now have a love/ hate relationship with all of the art by Seark. It is a reminder that our house is more than it once was. Just like the stretch marks on my belly they are marks left with love. Soon Seark will out grow this phase just like all the other ones but the Sharpie marker will remain. You can't even paint over that shit with out some serious effort. The toy room looks clumsy and careless. It has little boy written all over it. Literally. And I love it.

It is funny how things change. Before I had any kids if I had went to someone's house and they told me they allow their kids to color on the walls in their toy room I am sure I would have assumed that their unruly children had finally worn them down. So much that the idea of them destroying the house for entertainment purposes had become acceptable if it meant they didn't have to deal with them for that hour. They were clearly failing at this parenting thing and I for sure would pity them for having to live with this small beast that was calling all the shots. Some of my friends probably think that about me. That's okay. What they see as a tiny beast to me is a beautiful creative boy. I am not worn out and although it is not the décor I had in mind it fits right in. I am not failing as a parent I am taking the approach I never thought I would but it works for us. The parent I thought I would be is far from who I am. My kids all have different needs that require me to be a different mom to each of them. They have changed me. Taught me to be more flexible. Have an open mind. Not sweat the small stuff. Seark in particular has given me a new appreciation for art.  

Milestone madness

    This time I am not going to buy into it. This time I am not going to read the monthly what your baby should be doing emails from Baby Center. I am going to put away the "What to Expect the First Year" baby book. I will not compare my baby to anyone else's baby. I will be honest with my pediatrician about what my baby is and is not doing (for the most part). This time. The third time. I am just going to enjoy this year and not buy into this milestone madness because I know by now after doing this already that every baby does things in their own time and in the grand of scheme of things the timing doesn't really matter.

Ahhhh but so and so's baby is smiling. I guess Ry smiles. I mean he does he smiles, but are they just reflex smiles or real I find you funny smiles? I will have to pay more attention to what is going on with that smile.

Ok he is definitely smiling purposefully. Whew. From this point on I will not worry over these silly things. Ry is perfectly healthy. I know that. I am going to enjoy that. Hmmmm what's that mark on his leg? Has that always been there? I think it has. It must have been. Did it just get darker? Well whatever it is it can wait until his next well visit which is on the 22nd. Oh god the 22nd is so far off. Maybe we can go sooner. Hi... this is this Rylan's mom we have an appointment for the end of the month but he has this weird mark on his leg and I'm not sure what it is and I would really feel better if we could just get it looked at... no rush though. Okay when would you like to come in? Ummmm let me see. I can be there in 15 minutes if you can squeeze us in. Aaaaaand just what I suspected (by suspected I mean secretly feared it was something more)! It's a birth mark. That totally could have waited. Ugh why do I do this to myself?!

Okay he's smiling, engaging and babbling. Right on social target. That little spot that only I can see is a birth mark. We are good to go. So let's go. Let go get out some toys he can sit and play with on the floor. He's now 7 months old. He loves toys that have bright colors. Oh and the ones that make noises. I love that little face he makes every time the toy makes a sound. Almost like he surprised it did that even if it's the hundredth time. We will just sit you right here.... woops maybe this way is easier since you seem to be kinda flopping over like that. Okay nope. Not this way either. Oh my god he can not sit up on his own unassisted! But the email that I didn't read said in the subject "your baby is 6 months and sitting unassisted". Why aren't we sitting unassisted? Should I be concerned. Don't freak out. Let's ask on the "mommy group" board if anyone else's baby isn't doing this either. I'm sure we aren't the only ones. Log in. First picture to fill up my computer screen with the caption "look who's sitting by herself?!" Shit. Maybe we are the only ones. Don't freak out! Do. not. freak. out! This is the only time we even attempted sitting up. Practice makes perfect. We will try a little while everyday and I am sure by the end of the week he will have the hang of it. If by then no progress I will call the doctor. Or maybe I could just shoot her a text. No. It's not an emergency I can wait the week. I can wait the week. I can wait the week. I can wait the week! I. will. wait. the. week. But she did say call with any questions.

The milestone madness!!!! It drives me crazy! I try not to let it. My first baby was what I now call the over achiever. He did everything early. Of course because he is a genius. A brilliant little babe walking and talking well before his time. My little baby Einestein. Clearly capable of achieving all of these milestones early because of my stellar parenting. I was that awful gloating obnoxious my baby is smarter than yours mom. I have no patience for that mom anymore. Because after my over achiever I had Seark. Seark is my I will do it when I am ready baby. And Seark was not ready to walk until well after his first birthday opposed to Aidan who was running around the house at 11 months. Seark had me questioning his hearing and whether or not he needed speech therapy when he didn't utter a single word until he was 2 years and 7 months old! Why?! Why wasn't Seark doing things early, or even on time. I will take on time. On time is perfect. Or even a little late. A little late would be awesome. No. Seark was on Seark's schedule not mine and I needed to adjust. And you know what I read Seark all the same books. Held him up and helped him get around the house. Put things out of his reach to motivate him to go get them. I did all the same things that I did with Aidan. Does this mean it wasn't my fantastical mom skills that got Aidan doing it all early?! Not possible. Or absolutely possible and true. As parents all we can do is give our babies the tools they will need to grow but it is totally up to them when they will decide to use them. And after all I never wanted the smartest baby on the block just happiest and of course healthy. Rylan is in no rush to show up his peers. He is happy. He is healthy. He will get where he is going in his own time. I need to sit back and enjoy the journey. Take it with him not push him through. I need to stop worrying. Stop comparing. Stop reading. Stop harassing my pediatrician. STOP GOOGLING. I need to remember that when it comes to milestones my kids are in the driver seat and I am just a cheerleader along for the ride.

I just want to sleep

I just want to sleep. Soundly. Uninterrupted. No one else in my bed. No phantom baby cries. Sleep. I don't think that I have really slept in 7 years. Yes I have gotten sleep. A little bit every night. But I wanna sleep the way I slept when I was in college. Sleep until it is time for lunch. Sleep with out getting up to pee 3 times because my bladder is shot from having all these kids. I just want like one good night sleep once every six months.

Before my kids. Before Aidan. Over 7 years ago I was the queen of sleep. My whole life I have loved to stay up all night and sleep all day. Everyone told me when I was pregnant get your rest now you will need it for when the baby comes. Almost implying if you could just sleep an adequate amount now you will save up the energy for a later date to make up for the lack of sleep you will encounter once the baby comes. Not true. I slept. Like the dead. I will not dare say like a baby because whoever said that did not have a baby... babies NEVER sleep! EVER. And once you have a baby you never get sleep either. Like a kid at a sleep over you get to rest your eyes. 

Sleep when the kids sleep. Sure. Even if all my kids went to bed and slept the same duration of time there are things that I would like to do while I have a little while to myself. By a little while to myself I mean time to clean up the toys. Do the dishes. Start the laundry. Possibly shower and or pee alone. Time to think. Think about adult things like grocery shopping and if I paid all the bills. Ugh the bills. Who can keep track of those things anyway. I sure can't. In fact last week my sleep deprived brain went on a bill paying sabbatical. For the first time ever I forgot to pay the property taxes for our house. The car payment. The mortgage. I forgot to pay them all!!! Who does that?! A mom of three boys and two dogs running on very little sleep. That's who. 

By the time I finish every thing that is easier to do when everyone else is getting in their fair share of sleep I sit down to watch TV. TV with out the kids. The only hour that I get to watch something other than Disney or Nick Jr. Who am I kidding by the time I get situated on the couch with my sleepy time tea and realize the remote is still on the fire place... I am just too tired to even think about getting up to get it. Ya know what Doc McStuffins ain't so bad and right after that is Dog with a Blog. Dog with a Blog has real people in it so it is practically an adult show and a dog that can blog is right up my alley. There probably isn't anything good on anyway. I am going to have to pee in 10 minutes so I will just the remote and change the channel then. Oh yeah I do have stuff on my DVR to watch. Mostly lame lifetime movies. I will watch a lifetime movie. And now it is 2am. 2am?!?! shit. I might as well just stay up until 3 and feed Rylan so I can just go to sleep when I get in bed. 3:30am finally going to bed. I have to get up in 3 1/2 hours. Did I lock the door? Maybe I should go check. No I locked it. Or did I? Oh god I'm not getting to sleep tonight until I check the stupid lock. Even if someone were gonna rob us they probably got tired of waiting for me to go to bed and at this point it is needless to lock the door. That is how almost every night goes. 

Even on the nights that I do go to bed at a decent time I don't sleep soundly. I hear every noise especially if it is one of my kids. If someone gets sick in the middle of the night some how I hear it loud and clear while my husband snores through the commotion. I want to sleep like him. He can sleep through cries, kids crawling on him in the bed, pretty much anything. The only thing that wakes him up is if you pinch his nose mid snore... ask me how I know. 

Then there are the rare times like yesterday that your sleep wish is granted. The baby went down for his nap. Seark asked to watch "The Nut Job" and I started to write. I was struggling to keep my eyes open when Seark said mommy lay down with me. I thought about all the things that I needed to do but what's a few minutes snuggling on the couch? Before I knew it 3 hours had passed! 3 hours!!! Granted I was on the couch with Seark's head on my chest and 2 dogs on my feet. I couldn't feel my legs. My shirt was soaked with toddler drool. My contacts were dried to my eyes making impossible to see for a few seconds. I was completely disoriented. And then panic set in. WHAT TIME IS IT? AM I LATE TO GET AIDAN? IS RYLAN STILL SLEEPING? Everything was fine my body was just in shock because... I SLEPT! Better than I have in such a long time! I woke up feeling surprisingly.... MORE TIRED?! What the hell?! But you can't catch up on 7 sleep deprived years in one afternoon. 

Moms of boys

I couldn't wait to find out if I was having a boy or a girl with all my pregnancies. As soon as they could tell I wanted to know. 

2006 

It's a boy!

A boy? Really a boy?

Yes really it's a boy. You see right there? It's a boy.

(Silence)

I honestly didn't care either way boy or girl. Healthy baby was all I wanted. But a boy? I guess I just always thought I would have a girl. I am happy we are having a boy. But what do you do with a boy? I am as girlie as they come. I love make up. High heels. Gossip. Pink. I don't know a thing about sports. Dirt. Bugs. Dinosaurs. Wrestling. What do I do with a boy? Yup... stupid question. Thankfully boys aren't born with a baseball bat in hand wanting to know the ins and outs of the game. They don't want to pick bugs out of the dirt (and sometimes taste them) for years to come. And the only wrestling I would have to worry about was a match between me and my chunky six month old trying to get his clothes on his squirmy little body. There was no specific special care for a boy. I was fine. I knew what to do. And by the time we reached any foreign territory I realized he is a blank slate and my word was gold so I could totally make the shit up as we went along and he would think I was well versed in just about everything. And then he started school.

I had been dreading school pretty much since the day he was born. For a few reasons. Here are the ones I was aware of. I am not a morning person. I don't like the birds chirping. Sunrise. Orange Juice. Anything morning related except for coffee which is really just liquid survival. The thought of going back to early mornings for the sake of school was nauseating. Dragging this little boy's unwilling body out of bed and dressing it with eyes closed while crying for 5 more minutes I knew would be torture for both of us and I was right. If it was anywhere near acceptable at my age I would behave the same at 7am. 

He would make little friends. I know most of you are thinking " awww yay little friends" not me. Little friends meant forging relationships with parents I didn't really care for. Having kids over that I cared for even less. Play dates (Free babysitting). All of it just made me cringe. 

As it turns out I was right I hated all of those things. While some people are happy to get the break from their kids for those few hours I was the opposite. Don't get me wrong the break is nice and sometimes much needed but for the most part I felt like school interfered with our routine. The lazy, late sleeping one we were both happy with. And it interfered with my life. All my days would have to revolve around and be planned according to the school schedule. How annoying? I basically want to sleep late and spend our days at the zoo. school didn't permit either one of those things to happen very often. 

So aside from having to finally get myself together and be an organized mom (gag) it was the first time that being the mom of a boy felt tough. 

Before your kids go to school they live by your standards and rules. They are genuinely them self and it doesn't matter if that means sensitive or quite. School aged boys are a strange breed. They are loud. Rambunctious. Fresh. Rough. Quite the opposite of the boy I was raising. I learned there was a very fine line between a boy being sweet versus being a sissy. Easy going would often be easily mistaken for being weak. Respectful of personal space meant you were afraid to fight (back). Being a mom of boy is hard because well I am not one. I am an emotional girl which is perfectly acceptable and almost expected because I am a girl. A highly emotional super sensitive boy is unaccptable. How do I teach him to be any other way? I myself don't know how to shut off the things that I am feeling. 

2011

It's a boy!

No it's not. This one is a girl.

No it's a boy.

No. 

(laughing) You are either having a girl with a penis or you are having a boy.

It's a boy.

Again I was happy to be having another boy but I still thought at some point I would have a girl and was for sure this time was it. Nope. We were having another boy. 

Mom's of boys have to make tough decisions from the day they are born. Do you want your son circumcised? I don't know. I never really thought about it until we were having a boy. That's a tough decision for a mom to make. I don't have a penis. I don't know what I would want done if I did have one. All I know is that it's not fair to have to decide. 

You might have a boy that likes to watch the girl shows on the Disney Channel like Doc Mc Stuffins, Sophia the First, and good old Dora. He might also want the corresponding toys to play with. For me it was simple. This is the stuff he likes so this is what he gets. Not so simple. Everyone has an opinion even on what a boy should be allowed to play with. I don't have a girl but I know from friends that have girls there is no toy dilemma for the opposite sex. If you buy a girl a race car.... "oh how cute she likes what daddy likes". Little girls are encouraged to like what daddy like from sports cars to football teams. And oh Lord ain't it just the cutest thing if she does love football. That's daddy's girl! But what if your son wants to wear your high heels? Well your not gonna let him are you?! He just wants to be like mommy. What's so wrong with that??? For some people everything. It's hard being the mom of a boy that wants to be like mommy. Even if it is a phase. Everyone has an opinion. My opinion... my kids will be who they will be whether I "allow" them to or not. My son can wear my shoes and we can laugh about it and have fun or I can waste my time trying to change him into what society says he should be and like. Either way he likes what he likes. It's tough going against the grain but I like him the way he is so we march on...up hill together... which is really hard in heels. 

2013 

Before you go I have the results to your test. 

I already know it's a boy.

You don't know that (opening the results to my materni 21) .... it's a 

boy. 

Yes it's a boy. 

I am not meant to have anything but boys. At this point I wouldn't know what to do with a girl. And as silly as that sounds because I am one it is totally true. My best friend left her baby girl with me for the day. She pooped. It was a mess. I called her mom and explained the poop was all the way up the back and front of her and then said "what am I supposed to do?" She of course laughed and said what do you mean what do you do? You have all the same parts as her!!! To which I responded. Yes I do. But I don't poop in my girl parts. I don't know what to do with this! 

So having all boys is sometimes hard. Harder than I thought. I have learned to love (watching) them play in the dirt. I don't know a thing about sports and never enjoyed them until I had a kid that did. Wrestling is something that we do watch now and ya know what it's not all bad. The acting is horrendous but some of the wrestlers aren't terrible to look at. As it turns out I am better at being one of the boys than I ever thought possible.