Summer days

Today was about as ordinary as a day can be. My sweet little Ry woke up at 5 am. If it wasn't 5 am he would be just about the cutest thing in the morning. His crib is next to my bed. He pulls the bumper the down just enough to peer over it with out getting up. I wake up every morning to his big blue staring at me. I pull the rest of the bumper down so I can see his face. Every day with out fail he has the biggest smile. Always so happy to see me. Always that big smile that lights up the dim bedroom. Always a diaper full of shit. Maybe it is more of a haha your waking up to a steaming pile of baby shit smile. Either way it is insanely cute.

Every morning I change Rylan's diaper. Feed him and beg that cute little face to go back to bed. For just a little while. I am always so tempted to just put him in bed with me because I know the chances of him falling back asleep are greater if I just nurse him in bed. But I don't. I used to do that with Aidan. Frequently. He also fell off the bed. Frequently. When Aidan was a baby we had a bed that was very low to the ground. So although you don't want your baby to fall off the bed if they are going to it helps if the fall is not terribly far. Seark fell off the bed way less. By the third baby I swore there would be no more falling off the bed. And so far so good. Well except that one time. Rylan didn't exactly fall. Not off the bed anyway. He fell in between the bed and the crib and kind of just got stuck. Fortunately not hurt. Just stuck. After that incident I decided there would be no more getting him back to sleep in my bed. So I put him back in the crib and he peers over the bumper staring at me like a cute little creep. Sometimes he falls back asleep. The majority of the time he doesn't. Today he didn't.

So I got up for the day at 5 am with Rylan. Seark came sprinting in my room around 7. Seark loves to cuddle. He is so lovey in the morning. It is really very sweet. One of my favorite parts of our morning. Aidan lately has been sleeping late. Like until 9 ish. I take Ry and Seark down stairs for breakfast while we wait for Aidan to wake up. Aidan is a real pleasure in the morning. He comes storming down the stairs. Disgruntled and disheveled. Yelling about how you should have waited for him to get out of bed before coming down. He gets over it quickly. Mostly because he has no choice. I give him a full 5 minutes to indulge in a pity party and then that's that. Snap out of it or deal with the consequences. After all I have been up for 4 hours already and the last thing I want to hear is whining.

Today just like every other day from the minute Aidan's feet hit the floor he wants to know what is on the agenda. What are we doing? Where are we going? Who can he have over? I told him last night on the way home from his friends house that we could have that same friend over the next day. So from 9 am until I text this kids mother all I hear is... did you call? Are you gonna call? Can you text his mom? Face time her? Snap chat? Drive by their house? I can do all of those things if I wanted to be brought up on stalking charges. Just relax. Eat breakfast. Digest. I will call at a reasonable time.

Aidan's friend came over around noon. He is one of those very rare. One in a million little friends that is an absolute pleasure to have over. He comes to play with Aidan but gets along with Seark as well and includes him in everything which hardly ever happens. Most 7 year old boys cant be bothered with the 3 year old brother. So after drawing comics and discussing the amount they may be able to sell them for. Eating pizza. Playing the x box. Doing a puzzle. Having me hide toys so they can find them. Entertaining Rylan.... they want to know what is next? Can we go to the pool? As much as I would love to take them to the pool. I am one person. I have four children with me and only two arms. So the pool is out. How about the park? Can we go to the park? Ummmmm we can. But it is really hot out. Like 90 and humid. I think it is a little to hot for the park today. Outside? Can we just go outside? Sure go out side. I fill up the very small baby pool. Three water guns and what the heck leave the hose running for them.

I sat by the front door with Rylan and watched the three boys play in the grass. They took turns spraying each other and themselves with the hose. They had so much fun. They were laughing and running and laughing some more. The hose actually kept them occupied for 2 whole hours. Watching them play brought me right back to my child hood. For a minute or two I longed to be 7 again. Running around topless being sprayed by a hose in my front yard. Kidding... I am totally kidding. I longed to 7 again because they looked so incredibly happy and care free. I can not remember the last time I felt that good. Sure I am happy. But being sprayed with an ice cold hose on a hot summer day doesn't exactly send me into euphoria but I remember the days when it did and how great is felt to be a kid especially in those first few weeks of summer after school got out. I snapped as many pictures as I could while juggling Rylan who was turning into cranky jello. Trying to capture the moment. The happiness. The summer fun I so miss.

I was almost completely lost in my thoughts of carefree summers when one summer memory flooded my mind just like the hose water that was making a mud bath on my freshly landscaped front lawn. I was probably Aidan's age at the time. I was in the pool with my cousins when one of them dropped a black piece of fuzz down my bathing suit while yelling spider. I jumped out of the pool like the water had suddenly turned into acid. Ripped my one piece tye dye bathing suit off (it was the 80's). It would have been bad enough if I stayed in the back yard naked and hysterical just in front of family. No I went streaking. Screaming and screeching GET IT OFF OF ME!!! GET THE SPIDER OFF OF ME!!! As I tore through the yard and dashed up the walk way to the front yard completely naked I came face to face with my mail man. The same mail man that I would have well into my 20's. Which is really neither here nor there. Except for maybe my summers weren't so great. I mean I get a little joke but you think someone would have told me there was no spider before it went so far. If that same scenario were to happen now the joke would totally be on them. Seeing me naked and frantic after 2 c sections and breastfeeding 3 babies would most likely scar them for life.

Anyway today was completely ordinary and extraordinary at the same time. You ever experience something seemingly benign and yet so wonderful that as it is happening you just know it is one of those things you are going to remember the rest of your life? That is what happened to me today. Summer has just begun. I hope for my kids sake and mine we have many more of these carefree summer days.

friends forever... not so much

BFF. Best. Friends. Forever. FOREVER?! Are friends really forever? Can any relationship withstand the test of time? Life changes such as college? Boyfriends? Marriage? Babies? Distance?

 Most of the meaningful friendships that we will have through out our life are formed when we are very little... our formative years... go figure. I think one of the reasons that is true because grammar/ high school are practically the only times in our lives that we have literally nothing else going on. At the age of 5 the one or two friends that you have are really all you have. Your little world revolves around play dates and get together's with these other little people that also have nothing else going on. You learn together. Grow together. Experience life together. You may turn into two totally different people but sometimes that doesn't even matter because you have already formed this unbreakable bond. A bond that formed when you could appreciate each other for who you really were. Before judgments. Before becoming jaded. Before picking sides or being cool. Before life became a problem in itself.

Over the 33 years of my life I have had friends. Friends that come and go. Friends for a season. Friends of circumstance. Friends that I have loved. Friends that I wish I had never befriended at all. Frenemies.

In grammar school I had multiple bff's. Yes more than one "best" friend. How could there be more than one best? I don't know. Clearly I was young and was not sure what best meant. Now I know there is best and then... well second best. And second best is like losing the popularity contest of friendship. No one wants to be the almost best friend. As adult there is rarely more than one person if even that in the running.

For me there was my high school best friend. Really from junior/ senior and beyond that. We spent more time together doing nothing than doing anything else. Possibly my first friend that felt much more like family. The year we graduated high school. The summer before college is one of the most memorable. Fun. Best times of my life. We spent most of the summer going to the beach. Sitting in traffic smoking cigarettes. Listening to Tori Amos. Talking about life. Making plans for our future. Which of course included each other . How could it not? We were practically sisters. By choice. We were even going to the same college in the fall. Surely we would always be best friends. BFF. And we were. Until She joined a sorority. Which I am not sure if you have figured out by now but sorority is so not my thing. We drifted but didn't completely go our separate ways. We still occasionally got together. Occasionally and then not really at all.

Life as it will went on. I got engaged. She got involved in her sorority and school work. We were on different pages but still I could not think of anyone else that I would want standing by me when I got married. And so she was my maid of honor. She came to my wedding. Gave a lovely. Touching. Well written speech. Then we parted ways. No fight. No falling out. Just not much in common. Years later we hooked up again. I was about to give birth to my first son. We became close again. She came to the hospital when Aidan was born. That meant a lot to me. In time she got engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor. I was. I went to the wedding. Gave a lovely. Touching. Well written speech. Then we parted ways. We didn't get together often but were always there for the big things. Like when she bought her first home. When I had my next baby. So maybe not best friends forever. But definitely friends for ever. Or not. I would be lying if I even said I knew where it all fell apart. But it did. So much so that we can be in the space at the same time and not even acknowledge one another. From best friends to strangers... seems strange but it is what it is. At the one point in our lives that we have the most to share there is such a disconnect something as simple as eye contact is too hard.

Then there was my friend of circumstance. If it weren't for all of these major life events coinciding with each other we probably never would have crossed paths. Our husband's knew each other but hadn't seen each other in years. Until we signed up for pre cana classes at the church for our wedding. As it turns out we got engaged with in a month from each other. We were getting married with in a few months of each other. We bought our first homes around the same time. Gave birth to our boys in the same year. From wedding dresses to home decor. Birthing classes to first birthdays. We had everything in common and plenty to talk about. We spent everdays, holidays, and vacations. Together. With our husbands. And our children. Eventually our kids began to grow up. And apart. The less they had in common. The less we had in common. Once our circumstances changed so did our friendship. Turns out we didn't really like each other at all and that was the only thing we really had in common by the time we parted ways.

 I have friends that come and go. There will be periods that I will see them often and then not at all. But we can always pick up where we left off with no awkwardness or hard feelings. I have had friends for a season. You know the people that come into your life. You have everything and nothing in common with them. You share this wonderful time together. Then when it is over... it is just that. Over. They go. And don't ever return. I am sure that in the grand scheme of things they serve some greater purpose. Whether they teach you some life lesson, heal some wound, repair your broken heart. Maybe they are just a bump in the road. The bump that broke your speed. Made you slow down long enough to see that life is passing you by. Or maybe you were one of those for them. Whatever the reason. You cross paths. For the better. And then you move on. Being grateful for having met them. Easily letting them go.

I currently have small group of friends. I am not sure yet what category they fall into. I hope they are forever friends but I am just not sure they exist. Not my friends... they are real people. I am just not sure that forever as far as friends go is a reality.

I am still a girl ....

Sometimes being a mom can be so overwhelming. Just the day to day stuff. There is rarely any down time. Hardly ever any "me time". I admit some days I don't even shower. I used to wash and blow dry my hair every day. Now that happens like twice a week. I go between feeling like a maid ... Mom get me _______. Mom I need ________. Mom where is my_______? MOM MOM MOM. (And you know like the second you sit after being in the kitchen for 45 minutes is when one of the kids will realize they are thirsty.) or a janitor. There is constantly a spill that needs to be cleaned up. Food that was dropped. Smashed. Walked in. All before anyone thinks to tell you they need it cleaned up. Pee on the bathroom floor. Toilet seat. Shower curtain. Their legs. Shoes. Toilet paper clogging up the toilet because they use the entire roll to wipe their tiny butts. I feel like I need a hazmat suit with a belt clip strong enough to hold a mini vacuum just to survive the day.

I have changed more diapers than I can count. Washed more sheets than the Marriott. Scrubbed the bathroom that looks like it has had as much traffic as the one in the subway. Clipped dirty finger nails. Picked boogers out little noses. Smelt ungodly things that come of their cute bodies. Made mud pies. Dug in the dirt and pulled out worms. Most of the time sexy is a foreign word to my vocabulary but at the end of the day I am still a girl. And I still want to look and feel like one even when I am doing not so girlie things all day long.

I have heard young about to be first time moms say "I don't ever want to look like a mom". What does that even mean? Are they talking about the driving a minivan and wearing the hideous "mom jeans" moms. Cutting their hair short in no particular style just so that it is manageable moms. Foregoing make up because really what is the point when you aren't leaving the house. And let's face it your kids don't care what your face looks like as long as you are playing with them.

I have heard from other mom friends of mine "why do you do your hair and make up everyday?" "why bother?" I posted a post labor "selfie". I had my hair and make up done and didn't quite look like I just had a baby. That picture got a surprising mix of reviews. Ranging from you look great to what are you trying to prove? Other girls posted pictures of themselves in response looking like they just gave birth with captions saying this is what it should look like...

Why should it look like anything? Why do I bother? Not to impress anyone else. Simply because I am still a girl. I enjoy being one. For me looking good is feeling good. And as silly or vain as it might be I like my make up. Of course I am all for natural beauty and don't feel like I need make up to look my best but I like it. So I wear it. If its not for you that is okay. But when there is so much I do for everyone else my make up is one of the things I do for me. I never felt like becoming a mom or even spending my days at the park or cleaning the house meant that I would have to look like I spent my days at the park or cleaning the house.

This mom is still a girl. I love every ounce of my kids but I don't want to lose myself in them. There are some things I like enough to make time for.... my appearance is one of them. There are still days that I don't get out of my pajamas and as long as I have small children I am sure there will be more of those days but for the most part if you see this face the newest line of Clinique or Urban Decay will be all over it whether anyone else understands it or not. I am still a girl.

One fish, Two fish, Dead fish, Blue fish....

My kids are always begging for pets. Dogs... even though we already have 2. Neither of which any of them care for or even pretend to. I feed the dogs. Walk them. Play with them. Even clean up their poop. And they poop a lot! But if I want my landscaper to keep coming back (among other reasons) the poop must be picked up. Aidan asks for a cat constantly. He happens to be allergic to cats so they are out of the question. Birds... Oh Lord they are fascinated with birds! Aidan has asthma. Asthma and parrots don't mix. So no birds. They have asked for frogs, lizards, turtles, and yes hamsters. If your read my recent hamster story you know we are not getting a hamster.

There are two very low maintenance (or so I thought) pets that I have let them get. A fish and hermit crab. Our first fish was a purple beta sometimes called a fighting fish named Murray. Aidan loved Murray. He would watch him in his little bowl on and off all day for weeks when we first bought him. The fish itself costs some thing like $2.50. Great a nice inexpensive low maintenance pet. Kind of. The fish costs nothing. But then you need a tank. Even small one is $20.00. Fish food $10.00. Some water rocks and a fake plant to make it more homey another $10.00. You also need some drops to neutralize the water and they are $5.00. Of course Aidan needed to get Murray some Sponge Bob decoration for in the tank which cost $15.00. By the time all way said and done this two dollar fish ran me over $50.00. Oh well a one time cost of $50.00 is not so bad. Aidan has his very first pet that is all his own. He is happy. That is all that really matters. Until Murray suddenly died. I have no idea what happened to that fish. We did everything right and yet 5 weeks later he was dead. I didn't have it in me to tell Aidan. So I did what any parent would do. I went to PetSmart and bought him another fish.

Aidan noticed first thing in the morning that his fish tank was empty. I lied to him. As I often do. I told him that Murray went on vacation for the day and that he would be back later that night. Aidan was four at the time. He totally bought it. After dinner I went out and bought a new fish. That looked just like Murray. At least he did while I was in the store. I got home put him in the water and realized he was not purple like Murray was. This fish was definitely blue. Aidan noticed immediately. I told him just like we come back from vacation with a tan Murray came back blue. Blue is like tan for fish. He didn't even question it. Just said "cool! I hope he stays that color!"

We had Murray 2 for a few years. Aidan surprisingly never lost interest in his fish. He loved to show him off to his friends. One afternoon he had a friend over after school. He took him up to his room to show off his fish friend. I heard Aidan say looks like Murray is sleeping. "HEY MOM DO FISH SLEEP UPSIDE DOWN???" Oh shit Murray 2 was dead. "Yeah Aidan they do... come down here and let him rest." That night after Aidan went to bed I scooped Murray 2 out of his bowl. I felt bad for this lifeless fish but he had a good run. I took him in the bathroom dropped him the toilet.... and to my surprise FISH SLEEP UPSIDE DOWN!!!!!. As soon as Murray hit the cold toilet water he began to swim frantically around the bowl. I returned Murray to his fish bowl and waited anxiously over the next week for him to actually die from the heart attack I gave him. He didn't. Not until a year later. By that time Aidan was pretty much over him. So over him the boys argued over who would get to flush him.

Then there was the hermit crab. And the reason I will never own another pet other than our rescue dogs. We were spending the summer down the shore. Every day for almost a month Aidan would be begging me for a hermit crab. They are at every stand practically every few feet at the boardwalk. All summer long I said no. Worn down from endless begging and whining I gave in. Since we were buying the whole set up for the crab the guy "threw in" an extra hermit crab "for free". The tank was a small plastic case lined with fluorescent orange sort of rock/ gravel. There was a small sponge that needed to be moist at all times. We bought some flaky looking food that they told us our new pet needed. The guy at the stand told us that despite popular belief hermit crabs actually like to be handled. That they would get to know us. He even suggested submerging them in water to coax them out of their shell. But warned not to do it more than a few times a week. We had the hermit crabs for about a week. We had not been submerging them in water. Or really even playing with them. The kids took them out of the tank from time to time and let them walk around living room but that was it. One night I heard from my bedroom one the crabs pacing the tank. His hard claws against the gravel mad it sound like he was digging. I stood there watching him pace wondering what was wrong. I noticed that the other crab was not moving. But Hermit crabs are not normally super active so I didn't really think too much of it. I picked up the immobile one. To my horror most of his legs remained in the tank. As I was holding him the rest of his claws began to fall off. I felt sick. What was wrong with him? Had the kids been to rough with him? Did they knock his legs loose? Why were they still coming off? I took to google. "Hermit crab losing his limbs" "sick hermit crab" "how to care for a hermit crab"

As it turns out we were unknowingly killing our crab. The whole set up was all wrong. Bright colors. The ones like the gravel the tank came with make them anxious. Keep them active because they prevent them from sleeping. Handling them causes stress. They shouldn't be taken out of their tank more than a time or two a week and you should never submerge them in water. And finally a hermit crab that is losing its limbs with out them being broken especially their big claw is doing so on purpose. The overwhelming stress and anxiety causes them to "voluntarily" drop their limbs. This crab that I had purchased to entertain my children was actively dying in my hand. I began to cry and then sob. I couldn't catch my breath. I was so hysterical it woke my husband up.

He came down stairs to me at the dining room table. Sobbing. Clawless crab in hand. Googling. Through sobs I explained to him what was happening. To which he replied... "Have you lost your damn mind?!"

Maybe I had. But I don't think so. It makes me sick that these poor helpless crabs are bred to live in an environment that they can not survive in simply for our viewing pleasure. Sick that I had participated in funding this kind of industry.

Sooooo the moral of this dead pet story... do your research. Don't just buy. Know what you are buying and the proper way to care for them before you take them home. Don't blindly take the advice or word of the guy that is selling you over priced unnecessary crap. And do not buy hermit crabs!!! They are not meant to be pets.

Cancer Sucks

My brother in law from Florida (my husbands brother)  is visiting us this week. He flew up here for Rylan's baptism to be the godfather. We haven't seen each other in a few years. The last few days have been spent catching up and reminiscing.

Whenever the whole family is together our conversations circle back to my mother in law who passed away a little over 8 years ago from lung cancer. For the most part there is a lot of laughter in the memories of her. She was the kind of person that would give you her last dime. I know people say that about everyone but for her it was true. There were so many times her "less fortunate" brother would ask to borrow money and it didn't matter what she did or didn't have in the bank or what bill she needed to pay herself. No matter what he asked for she would give it to him with out a thought. Literally... I remember so many times when she would give him her last $100 and some how scrape together another $50 if he said he he needed $150. The landlord harassing her over the phone for the rent because she was late again. She just didn't care. She wrote out checks as if they were monopoly money.
It just didn't mean that much to her.

I remember almost every week when we got paid she would head over to Pier One Imports and blow just about her entire check on candles and dried flowers. Not because she needed more but because they made her happy.

Me and her worked side by side for many years. You would think sitting next to your husbands mother day in and day out would be an absolute nightmare. It was the opposite. We spent our days giggling over inside jokes and the crazy things she would do. Like smoking in our smoke free works space. It would drive our boss nuts. He would walk over because obviously he could smell the smoke. Mary would put the lit cigarette inside an ash tray in her desk drawer and shut it. I have no idea how but with a straight face. Drawer smoking she would tell him she had no idea what he was talking about. So many times she would set off the smoke alarm in the bathroom and run out before anyone saw that it was her. Of course those years of smoking combined with flawed genes would prove to be a fatal combination later on down the road.

Mary was full of love and life. And she loved EVERYBODY. Seriously everybody. She never spoke an unkind word. She embraced even the ones that were not so kind to her. She laughed. A lot. She was the type of person that would order a waffle with ice cream for breakfast if that was what she was in the mood for. Throw a hundred dollar bill in a $10 slot machine and do the max bet on her way out of the casino. She was so much fun and yet sort of understated and quiet. Then she got sick. The life. The light that shined so bright slowly faded. The chemo. The radiation. Killed the bad cells. And the good ones. Killed the light in her eyes. Days turned into weeks. Into months. A year. A year and a half. Her body became frail. Weak. Non responsive. Tired. Sad. Cancer sucks the life out of everyone who comes near. We all felt it. Not to the magnitude which she did. But in some way we all felt it.

I spent that entire year and a half making trips to hospitals and doctors office with her. Listening as doctors and nurses spoke a language I didn't understand. I googled. Researched. Learned more than I wanted to. Saw more than I was ready for. Felt a sadness I never knew existed.  Cancer... stupid. Ugly. Fucking cancer eventually took her life. And destroyed everything in its path. Well almost everything. Cancer took her life. Her worldly body but her spirit the essence of who she was stays with all of us.

Mary died on November 1st, 2001. All Saints Day. Which was so fitting there is no way it was coincidence. Not just because the woman was a devout catholic and the closest damn thing to saint that I had ever met. But because she believed with her whole heart that this life. This journey was only meant to be a brief one. She had an unshakable faith. So strong not even the shitfulness that is cancer could break.

From the day Mary got diagnosed I spent everyday praying. Begging. Pleading with this God she so believed in to spare. Save her. Help her. Cure her. At some point all of the treatments became too much. The side affects of medicines that were supposed to make her better were worse than the disease that was killing her. She decided to stop it all. And begin to live. Again. Enjoy for the little time she had left some resemblance of the life she once loved. More than anything she wanted to see the ocean one more time. And so that is where we went. We spent most of the summer before she left us at the beach. Soaking up the warmth of sun. Listening to the sounds of the oceans. Waves of sadness. Peace. Acceptance. Quiet understanding that this time together was almost over and that was what she wanted. For all of this to be over. Because cancer sucks. And there was no cure.

My prayers changed. I found myself praying for God to take her. Eventually he did. He called her home and I guess that was his way of answering the prayers I was saying all along... to save her. Cure her. Help her. We just had different ideas of what that meant. I had always been terrified of death. The unknown. I sat by her side. Holding her hand. Scared to death of what those last moments would be like. Oddly enough they were peaceful and in those moments between life and death before the reality of the situation really sank in I felt at peace for her. For a moment I understood her faith. Felt that sweet agonizing relief she so desperately needed.

I dream of her often. Dreams so real. That even after I am awake I forget for a minute that she isn't here. I talk to her in uncertain times and somehow I know she hears me. I know with everything in me that she was the angel that saved Aidan on the day he was born. Because she knew the pain of living a life missing a child and knew I wasn't strong enough for that.

 Cancer has taken too many people I love. CANCER SUCKS!!! In this ever changing, technologically advanced world, we gain hope. Everyday research brings progress. A step closer to a cure. An answer to a prayer.

Me & Louis (Vuitton that is)

I have already admitted to being a shoe whore with hand bags being my secondary addiction. Other than diaper bags I haven't bought a real bag in probably the last 7 years. Aidan is 7... so that's about right. Since having the kids almost everything that I do is for them. They come first 100% of the time and so that is the way that it should be. They want for nothing. I don't spend much money on me anymore and I am ok with that. I don't really need much. But I have been dying to get a Louis Vuitton bag. I mean really what girl doesn't want one?

So after talking about it forever. Daydreaming. Window shopping. Wanting. Waiting. It is finally mine! Last Saturday I bought the Louis Vuitton Speedy 35 and it is fabulous. The leather is exquisite. The smell intoxicating. The bright red lining is brilliant. The coveted golden lock is perfection. I am in love ( if you couldn't tell) I HAD TO HAVE THIS BAG!!! Or did I?

I hate to admit it and I much as I love it I look at it and can't help but think of all of the other things we could have bought with the money used to pay for that bag. I mean do I really need something that costs this much? In my 20's I would have just said yes. Bought it. Loved it. Not thought twice about it. Now I have three kids. A house. A car. Lots of other expenses. Oh and did I mention no job. Yes I am a stay at home mother we all know that is a job but I mean one that I get paid for. I don't have one that I get paid for. Luckily my husband does. A well paying one at that. Obviously if we couldn't afford it I wouldn't have gotten it in the first place. So why am I not just enjoying it? Where did this unexpected guilt come from? I don't like it. Have I gotten so used to not doing things for me that they feel wrong or selfish even when I am not putting anybody else out? My kids are not going with out something because I got this bag. My husband isn't picking up an extra shift at work to pay for it. And yet it is not how I expected to feel after getting the bag I have been waiting my life to get.
Don't get me wrong it's not a let down and under no circumstances is it going back.

Maybe I just miss the days of not over thinking everything. Not feeling so responsible all of the time. When you have a family there is no such thing as having extra money. Even if there is no where that it has to go in the moment you know that you should be saving it for the future. For school uniforms. The next activity they want to try out. College. Clothes they are rapidly out growing. Family vacation. There is always the next thing to plan for. Save for. All for them. So I should be able to enjoy this one thing for me... right?

Kids make you rethink everything. Over think everything. In all of that thinking the thought about whether I really had to have this bag is one that I could not get off my mind. Yes I wanted it. I love it. But did I have to have it. Well obviously I could have lived with out it but ya know what sometimes mom should get spoiled too. We forego things like hot coffee. Hot showers. Even lets face it looking hot most of the time. We trade in designer jeans for yoga pants. I personally live in yoga pants and don't tell anyone but I don't actually do yoga. Ever. Cute shoes for practical sneakers or flip flops. We change poopie diapers and pukey sheets. Function on less sleep than humanly possible.
We tirelessly run the house. Keep up with play dates and school plays. we create memories and are responsible for thousands of smiles. So when we find something that makes us smile. That is just for us. We should just smile and enjoy it too. If you see me out with Louis on my arm you can assume its partially responsible for the smile on my face.

What you will remember...

Usually I am sharing funny stories about my own children. Today I am going to share a childhood memory of my own. Something that I had not thought about in many years but was recently reminded of. 

Do you remember your first crush? I remember mine. It was a boy named Joesph that lived around the corner. I was probably in the second grade at the time so we are talking about 8 or 9 years old. I was completely smitten. Head over heels. So much so that when my mother let me buy a pet hamster I named him after my young love... Joey. I giggle now even at the thought of basically naming a chubby rodent after some one my 8 year old self day dreamed of someday marrying. Anyway Joey was my first real pet other than our family dog Patty. He was mine. My responsibility to care for. My mom got me one of those very cool cages that had a maze made of plastic tubing that you can watch him run through. Some how one of the tubes got disconnected and Joey ran away. I remember searching the house for hours. Days. And yes, unfortunately week.

My mom put out all kinds of contraptions to try to lure my furry friend in. He loved peanut butter. We put peanut butter in and on everything that he might wonder in to. Everyday the peanut butter would be missing but no hamster. I distinctly remember telling my mother don't you think with all that peanut butter he is eating that he is going to get thirsty. She assured me if he got that thirsty he would go back to his cage for a drink. 

Finally the day would come that I would find my Joey. It was early morning. I had to pee so bad. I went to go in the bathroom but my brother was in there. Even at this young age I already had bad eye sight. I ran downstairs to use the other bathroom. With out my glasses. At first glance with my blurry sight i thought someone forgot to flush the toilet. Why I looked closer before flushing I still don't know. I bent down to get a closer look only to realize that this thing floating was.... my Joey. I was screaming. Crying. When my mother came running down to see what had happened. I told you he was going to get thirsty. I told you with all that peanut butter that he would need water. Apparently I was right. My poor hamster must have gotten thirsty and went to get a drink when he fell in only to realize that he could not get back out. 

My first real pet. Named after my first real crush. Was dead. Drowned in the toilet. I was devastated. It couldn't have been any worse... until it was. My mother took me upstairs and in an attempted to console me. She assured me that she would get Joey out of the toilet and put him to rest for me. Later that day I told her that I wanted to give him a proper burial in our back yard. I gave my mother a box to put him in. I dug a hole in the perfect spot. My mother and brother came to attend to this informal service for my dearly departed hamster. My mother handed me the box to put in the ground. When she did I could feel there was something rolling around in there. It sounded like something hard.  Not like you expect a dead wet hamster to sound if it shifted in the box. I took the lid off. What was in there would scar me for life (well not really but....) In the box was a POTATO!!!! (hysterical) OH. MY. GOD. WHY IS THERE A POTATO IN HERE?!? WHERE IS JOEY?!? YOU FLUSHED MY HAMSTER!!!!!! 

My mother looked as if she had been shocked by a tazer. My brother near hysterical... from laughter. My mother did take Joey out of the toilet. She just assumed that was that and threw him away. When I asked to have a proper burial she just didn't have the heart to tell me that he was already tossed in the trash. The experience was traumatizing to say the least. I still remember it like it was yesterday... 25 years later. Which only makes me think about what my kids will remember about the days we are spending together now. Hopefully no dead hamsters in our future. 

To the girl in the glitter bikini

Summer is here and not a minute too soon. Since the first warm day of Spring the boys have been asking when they can go in the pool. This past week was the first real pool weather that we have had. They were thrilled to go swimming. And looked way too cute in their little swim suits. Me, on the other hand... not so much. Before heading out to the town pool which is obviously a public pool I tried on every bathing suit that I owned. I have three bikinis and a one piece suit. The bikinis are from the summer before I got pregnant with Rylan. I was in good shape that summer. I had lost a ton of weight and by a ton I mean 100 pounds. I was exercising regularly (7 days a week). I felt good. I looked better than I had in my adult life. Not perfect but good. I was happy with myself. 

The summer I was pregnant with Rylan I still wore the bikini. It was hot. Maternity bathing suits are expensive. Ugly. And only useful for one season. So despite my gianormous belly and what any one else thought I wore my bikini. Besides big belly's are totally acceptable if they are incubating a baby right? 

This year I am not pregnant. Also not in the best shape. I still haven't gotten back into a regular work out routine. Yes I know Rylan is 9 months old I really need to get my ass in gear. But with three kids there isn't much time. And that isn't an excuse it is the reality. Anyway I got out all my bikinis and tried each one on. I am the same weight I was before Rylan. My clothes are the same size as before Rylan. Yet this body does not look the same. There are new stretch marks that haven't quite faded. My belly is still very flabby and a bit misshapen from another c-section. My boobs depending on the time of day are either full and border line Dolly Pardonish looking if its been awhile since I have fed Rylan or they are well just sad looking if he has recently been fed. There is no perky happy medium. There is no perky at all. So I put on my one piece suit and it didn't look much better. Sure it hid more. For as much as a bathing suit can hide anything. 

I reluctantly left the house with the one piece on and a cover up over it. Feeling super overwhelmingly self conscious. The last place you want to go is a public pool when you are feeling like a flabby beached whale. I went anyway. At the pool there were of course anorexic swimsuit model looking teenage girls. The ones you look at think I will never again look like that. Of course after they have three kids chances are they won't either. There was also a lot of women with not so perfect bodies in bikinis. One in particular stuck out. She was wearing an itsy bitsy teeny weeny bikini that was pretty much all sequins. She was not over weight but by no means skinny. She was curvy. Had obviously also at some point had a c section. I could see her scar and her faded stretch marks. I am sure some would say she had no business wearing that bikini. She wore it proudly and I must say I admired her. She didn't have the perfect bikini body but still a very beautiful one. One that didn't tell a story of endless workouts and strict dieting. A body that had a carried a baby and bore the scars. A body that was enjoying life. A woman with the confidence to let everyone see the imperfect story that her body told.To me she was more beautiful than any of the ideal bikini bodies that were there that day. 

As women we constantly feel the pressure not just to strive for the perfect tiny body but to cover up appropriately the imperfect body we have. I am at a point in my life where I have learned to be happy with what is. I have thighs that are bigger than the average girls, stretch marks that are too many to count, skin that is still loose from carrying my last baby. It is what it is.  I am not ashamed of it. I don't know why I let what other people think dictate what I put on this body. So to the girl with glitter bikini... Thank you. Thank you for the reminder that it isn't about what anyone else thinks. Thank you for rocking that bikini. I thank you because you gave me the courage to rock mine again. So watch out public town pool there is an imperfect bikini body headed your way. 

9 months pregnant with Rylan in my bikini 

that crazy park mom

Today was a busy day. I managed to get all of the kids up. Dressed. Fed. And out of the house on time for Aidan to get to school before the "second" bell rang. The late bell. If there was a third bell it would be ringing about the time Aidan normally gets to school. Punctuality has never been my strong point. Not even before I had kids so I can't blame them. Although I admit I often do. No one really argues the point or even expects you on time with three kids. Except the school. They expect your kid on time. No. Matter. What. Clearly I am past the point of really caring about that. Not only did I get three kids ready in record time I managed to get my make up and hair done. I was even wearing something other than yoga pants. Which I was wishing I had just thrown on about half way through the morning when I was getting tired of sucking my stomach in so that it didn't hang over my size 10 jeans that still don't fit quite right. I guess I can't blame the kids for that anymore either.

Anyway I was up. Out on time. And looking decent because today was the day for library school registration. I really wanted to make sure that Seark got in for September. There are a limited number of spots. It is a short program. Only two days a week for a little over an hour. I feel like he needs to have some school experience and get used to the idea of spending time away from me before he has to start a full day program. I even had all of his records and paper work together. I might actually be getting the hang of managing three kids. We pulled up to the library where there was already small line forming of parents waiting to get their kids on the list. Up until this moment I was just going to fill out some forms. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I got that nervous stomach feeling. You know kind of queasy but not quite. Oh my god do I feel like I am going to cry?! Get it together! It's only sign up today. The thought that I was sending yet another one of my babies out to take his first steps in this big world with out me makes me sad. Even if it is only for an hour 2 days a week. It is the beginning of his school career. I am not ready for that. I don't think that he is either. I guess we will find out come September.

After we got Seark all set for Library school I took him and Rylan to the zoo. It was hot today. Luckily Seark did not want to stay too long. We go to this particular zoo so often we could walk it with our eyes closed. We hit all Seark's favorite spots and headed home. On the car ride both boys fell asleep. But of course woke up just minutes after we got in the door. We had lunch and wiated for Aidan to get home. Aidan was insistent that we go to the park today. I tried to sway him with other options. Even swimming which he usually cant pass up. He said no to everything. He was hell bent on going to the park today

After much begging and bribes made in vain I packed up all three boys and took them to the park. Seark had to bring two armfuls of toys that he most likely wont play with but get upset if any other kid wants to touch them. It is a given that another kid will want to. Between Seark' toys. The diaper bag. A blanket for Rylan to lay on. Bottles of water that Aidan will cry about if I don't bring them. So many more unnecessary yet essential items. We are ready to go. Kids in the car with seat belts on check. Double stroller check.  Great good to go. We get to the park and get everything unloaded as if we have arrived for an overnight stay. I get the blanket down for Rylan. Hide the toys that big surprise Seark has decided he does not want to share. And no sooner does another mother mention in passing that her daughter had been throwing up the night before.

AAAAAAIIIIIIDDDDDAAAAAANNNNNN GET YOUR BROTHER WE ARE LEAVING!!!!!
"What are you talking about we just got here?
I know now get your brother. We are leaving.
WHY??? I DON'T WANT TO GO!!!
Because one of your friends has the stomach bug. Hurry up I will take you to Nanny's house to go swimming if you get your brother RIGHT NOW!!!

All Aidan had to hear was "stomach bug". He went and got Seark and with in seconds we were headed back to the car. With all of our crap. I probably look like the crazy germaphobe mom. I am. I can't help it. After the stomach virus going around our house 4 times this winter the mere thought of it makes me nauseous. I ran out of the park with my three children as if someone was chasing us. I don't care how ridiculous I look. I have three kids. Something like the stomach bug is brutal enough if one person in the house gets it. I HAVE 3 KIDS. 3 times the puking. 3 times the cleaning. 3 times the worry. And forget it if I get it. And I will. Because no matter how much you wash your hands and Lysol the house when you have been mopping up puke and hold cuddling pukey kids for days on end it is inevitable. So I might be that crazy park mom but if it spares me that god awful bug I will proudly wear that title.

What's in your kitchen sink

Mom reality... what's really in your kitchen sink

#normalizeitnow

Breast feeding is one of those things unless you are doing it you don't think much about it. At least for me. I admit before I had my son I never thought about it at all. Not about whether I would or not. I didn't really give a second thought to any one else breast feeding and probably cause I never really knew anyone that did. I remember one time when I was 17 or 18 and on a plane to Florida a woman sitting next to me was breast feeding her son. The seats were small. We were very close together. Too close for comfort even if she didn't have her breast out. I was young. And no too happy about it. I honestly thought really that baby has to eat right now?! Of course 8 years later sitting on a plane headed to Florida with my own exclusively breast fed baby I got my answer. YES HE DOES. RIGHT NOW!!!! Of course I thought back to that lady all those years ago and how uncomfortable she must have been. Aidan was crying and I knew it was because he was hungry. BUT the seats are so close together and some guy had already been giving me the evil eye and making comments about how my noisy baby was ruining his flight. And lets face it there is no discreet way to get your breast out of your shirt with a 10 month old baby on your lap while sitting so close to the person next to you that you can feel them breathe. I could feel my chest getting tight with anxiety and for a moment had the thought of how much easier it would be if my baby was bottle fed. It wasn't the first time that I had felt that way.

When Aidan was just a few months old I went out to eat with him for one of the first times. I fed him right before we left the house so that I would not have to feed him at the restaurant. There was a longer wait for a table than I had anticipated and by the time our food came Aidan was looking for his. I forgot the nursing cover at home. It wasn't something that I took with me normally because I NEVER fed him in public. I sat there in this tiny booth trying to fit him in front of me and feed him with out drawing any attention and it just really felt impossible. So impossible I let Aidan cry while we waited for the check in order to spare myself the embarrassment.  I missed out on a lot. I stayed home a lot. All because I did not want to feed him in public. How silly? Right?

Breast feeding is natural soooo it should be totally normal to see someone nursing their baby.... right? Yet it is not. Women are still made to feel like it is something they should do in private. Those of us that do breast feed know that there is nothing to hide. Nothing really even to see. Nothing to be embarrassed about. However illogical there is a social stigma that comes with nursing in public. Not everyone but a good amount... (good enough to make the nursing mother uncomfortable) don't want to see it.

During the time I was still breastfeeding Seark I went to the mall with a friend that also had young children. By the time I had Seark there was no way around nursing in public. Aidan was five we couldn't spend our days hiding out in the house until his brother was weaned. I got over my anxieties for the most part and just fed him where and when he was hungry. So me, my friend, Aidan, and her children are all together at the mall when Seark has to eat. I sit on a big bench. Put the nursing cover on. Get Seark situated underneath and start to feed him. One of my friends children asks  "what is the baby doing under there?' My friend, her mother immediately interjected and said trying to take a nap it is nice and quiet it under there shhhhhhhhhh. Aidan of course said no he isn't. He is drinking milk from my moms boobs. The kids giggled about it and went about their little business with no further questions other than "can I see?" My friend almost fell off the bench. Up until that point I had no idea that she felt that way. I couldn't understand why she didn't just tell her child what was going on. She said to me I am not ready for that conversation... thanks. WHAT CONVERSATION?! I wanted to say. When a mommy has a baby her boobs make milk too feed the baby. Period. End of Story. That is the simple truth. Why would that be so hard to explain? Is it really that weird to tell your kids this is what the human body does. I just don't get it. Although I didn't say anything to her I had to wonder what did she think about my son knowing all about breast feeding. Did she think I was weird or inappropriate for telling/ doing it in front of my son? For doing it at all?

Rylan is my third baby. My third breast fed baby. Over the winter holidays we went to visit my husbands extended family. We were all sitting around the family room (all women) when Rylan started getting fussy because he was hungry. I didn't even give it a thought I just started nursing him. An older member of the family got very offended and asked me to go into a bedroom with the baby. She said "you can't do that in here. What if one of the children come in?! or one of the men?!" Well if its one of my children they wouldn't bat an eye. Both of my older children know that this is the way their brother gets fed. They also know that it is the way they were fed. The don't see anything weird or off putting about it. And "the men" my god not the men!!! They might get a glimpse of a nipple and then what?! Would mine be the first they ever saw?! Would it scar them for life? Oh wait men have nipples too. I knew she was being ridiculous and at the same time I suddenly felt very uncomfortable almost ashamed. No one else spoke up which made me wonder if they were all thinking the same thing. I shouldn't have cared. I did. So much that I had a knot in my throat and tears very close to spilling from my eyes. I wanted to go home.

 There was recently an article on a popular pregnancy website about the "trend" of women posting "breastfeeding selfies". First of all it is not a trend. Since the bible women have been depicted breast feeding. Why? Because it is a beautiful. Natural. Not weird at all thing to do. I know friends that have had their breast feeding pictures, ones that were beautiful. Tasteful. Even conservative. That were reported on social media sites as inappropriate/ offensive and pornographic. It is disturbing that anyone would even think that there is anything sexual at all about nursing a baby. Pornographic?! Whoever is having those thoughts should have their head examined.

I hate when people say I am all for breastfeeding I just don't want to see it. Why?! Why don't you want to see it?! What bothers you so much the baby? or the breast? I read a comment someone left on a picture of a mother nursing her baby saying it is not the baby breastfeeding I have a problem with... it is your nipple! Not a nipple!!!! Is it like when vampires get a light shined in their eye?! If that is the case and your are going to turn to dust from the sight of nipple than I totally get it. Hide your eyes. Run. Warn your friends. I have had nipples... two of them to be exact my whole life. If I knew they held that kind of power I may have started randomly flashing people a long time ago. Oh that isn't the case... damn I was going through the possibilities of this new found power and was getting kind of excited.

There is also a misconception about us breastfeeding mamas. We don't post pictures and talk about normalizing just because we can. We don't think we or our breastfed babies are any better than formula fed ones. We aren't trying to one up you or make anyone feel guilty that they did not/ could not breast feed. We try to normalize it because it is normal. Because if you have ever felt the shame. Fed your baby in a bathroom. Let your baby cry it out because there was no discreet way to feed him/him. Given up earlier than you wanted to. Avoided going out. Then you know how awful that feels and once you get over your own fear of the social backlash you want to do your part to not ever have another mother feel that way. That is why I ditched the nursing cover. I take and post "breastfeeding selfies". I talk about breastfeeding more than most want to hear about it. And not just for others. For me too. It is a huge accomplishment. It is harder than you might think. It takes determination and commitment. It is like nothing else I will ever experience. It is beautiful. I am proud.

grocery store olympics

Taking three kids out (alone) is always an adventure. I usually try to order my groceries on line so that I can skip the hassle of going grocery shopping with the boys. Which is great except I usually decide to order when I realize we are out of everything. Delivery unfortunately is not instantaneous. It should be. Obviously if I have to order my groceries on line I have no time and need them right away. Shoprite doesn't care. Delivery is always next day. Every now and then when we are down to the wire I have to make the dreaded trip. I don't even bother making a list. I just grab what ever I can as fast as I can and get the hell out. It is what I like to call grocery store Olympics.

First of all just trying to figure out how to get the kids situated in the cart and still have room for any food is like trying to figure out a Rubik's cube. You can just assume by that statement I have never actually correctly sorted out a Rubik's cube. I am not ashamed of it either, I don't even see the point. Much like grocery shopping with three kids in tow... there is no point. You go in defeated knowing your not getting nearly everything you need to the moment you realize there is no practical way to fit these kids in the damn cart. That cart with the baby seat fixed to the front of it looks so tempting. Tempting and nauseating. I just know the one time I use it that we will be making a trip to the pediatrician with in 24 hours because Rylan caught coxsackie virus. Which is indeed as gross as it sounds.

I know Seark is three. He is perfectly capable of walking. Capable and completely unwilling. He has a thing about walking on shiny floors... he won't. Thank god Aidan is old enough to walk. And that is about all he will do. You can't ask him to grab something he is closer to. It's like asking my husband to get something out of the fridge for you. It takes twice as long as he blankly stares at the shelves. Almost like he has been blind folded spun around and is trying to get the tail on the donkey. I wind up just doing it myself. After saying "right there.... no right in front of you.... no that right, right by your hand. How do you not see it?! Oh forget it",

Chances are we went to the store for Lactaid milk for Seark. Seark loves milk. So much he could be on that show my strange addiction. Only problem with that is, Seark is lactose intolerant. I stock up best I can but I always find myself running short on milk. Most trips are made for Seark like a crack run only for dairy free milk. It 90% of the time is also the one thing I leave the store with out.  How on earth does that happen? Probably because I don't make a list.

After I have squeezed everything I possibly can with out completely burying the kids we head to check out. I don't know why but this is the point of the inevitable melt down. For at least one of them. I feel like the sprinter in first place so excited to see the finish line I get all tripped up and face plant. A stunning moment of tremendous embarrassment. On lookers gasp all with one collective thought... she almost made it out unscathed. Almost. Close but no cigar. Rylan wailing and frantically grasping for any shiny wrapper his small chubby fingers can reach. Seark digging himself out from under the mountain of food it takes to keep this family fed. Aidan whining that his legs are tired and this is taking too long.

I struggle to hear the total as my kids cries become louder. TWO HUNDRED THIRTY EIGHT DOLLARS MA'AM!!! Ok relax I am a little overwhelmed if you haven't noticed no need to break out the megaphone voice. I grab my wallet only to discover there is nothing in it. Nothing except for a smashed oreo in the change compartment. And all of the slots where credit cards go are filled with WWE cards. All of this in vain?! Dear god... please let me find something, anything in this over sized diaper bag filled with their crap. Dear god please don't make me leave this cart and go home just to come back and do it again. Dear god turn these John Cena collector cards into a mastercard...... aha my debit card!!!

For some reason once everything is in bags it doesn't fit in the cart the same way it did before. It doesn't fit at all. Shit I am going to have to take the kids out. Pushing a grocery cart with one hand while the other one secures a baby on your hip is no small feat.  Neither is making it through a parking lot of asshole drivers that don't slow down despite seeing you trying to make this near impossible trip to your car. Once at the car as I mentally curse out the guy that nearly ran me over a man stops at my trunk and says... Gee you really have your hands full. Can I help?
Although touched by his kindness I think what a weirdo and politely say no.

Finally we are home I manage to drag in 15 bags all in one shot plus Ry. I should be given a medal just for that. Once finally settled in Seark lays on the couch and says I tired can I have my hot baba.... SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIT I FORGOT THE F#$%ING MILK!!!!!!!!

30... the beginning of the end?

As soon as December rolls around Aidan starts asking "Is it my birthday today?" pretty much everyday until the 11th. Shortly after ringing in the new year he will start asking how long until his next birthday. Being a December baby means that he misses the cut off for school year. So he is always one of the oldest kids in his class which he loves. This year there was a kid that got held back. He is god forbid a whole year older than Aidan. Totally not fair. Aidan wants to be the oldest in any group that he is in. Apparently at the ripe old age of  7 being the oldest even if by days entitles you to bragging rights. I don't think that there is any other time in your life when being oldest feels so good.

Seark recently turned 3. If you ask him how old he is he will tell you "dis many" as he holds out six fingers. I think he says 6 because that's how old he believes Aidan is and he really just wants to be like his big brother. Despite the fact that he still uses his binky and drinks a "hot ba ba" at night he takes every opportunity he gets to remind me that he is a big boy. Don't ever make the mistake of telling him that he is still little. It makes him belligerent. Screaming, crying, falling on the floor, sobbing and proclaiming "ME GETTING BIGGA BIGGA BIGGA!!! I NOT WITTLE BOY NO MORE!!!!". Just today I said to him your so big now where did my baby go? To which he replied "ry guy french fry sleeping upstairs."

Ry is so little he has no idea how old anyone else is. But he clearly wants to be one of the boys already. He is always right in the middle of whatever is going on. His whole face lights up when the older kids pay any attention to him. He will shriek and squeal to get their attention.

I remember being a kid feeling like I was never going to grow up. Years seemed to drag on. Birthdays were exciting. Not just the parties and cool gifts but that you were one year closer. To being a teenager. To getting a drivers license. To graduating and being done with school. To being able to stay out later. To being an adult.

To children adults appear to have it all. It seems they get to do what they want. When they want. No one limits TV time. No one is taking their shit away because they were bad. No one is telling them clean up their room. Even having a job seems like fun. After all they are getting paid every week. Of course children have no idea about bills. And in general lack the concept of true responsibility. Take away bills and the sense of being responsible... adulthood seems awesome. It is no wonder that kids are in a rush to get here.

What a let down it is to turn 17 and find out that no one is going to juts hand you the keys to a car. Insurance cost how much?! Gas? I had no idea that gas was so expensive. Whatever I will get a job to pay for all of the new expenses this car is going to incur. What do you mean I have to work every Saturday?! That isn't going to work for me. And your going to pay me what?! That must be a joke. You mean I have to go to school ALL week and then have a job on the week end and I am only going to get paid barely enough to afford the stupid car insurance?! What the hell?

Once introduced to that eye opening reality you will adjust. You work the weekend reluctantly but hey at least you have a car. Then comes the next big thing you have been waiting for. Graduation! Yes finally done with school! Only two find out that leaves you with two equally unappealing options. College or a full time job. Keep living at home and attend college. That is the route I strongly suggest. Although you could get a full time and go to college when you figure out what you want to do with your life. In the mean time since you are working 40 hours a week maybe you will get your own apartment. No problem I can afford the rent for something small with my job. Since when does it costs money to keep lights on?!  Is that why dad spent the last 20 years reminding me to shut them off whenever I leave a room? That makes sense now. Okay. No problem how much could gas and electric run? Yup way more than I thought. And the TV why am I only getting channels 1-11? What happened to the rest of them? You have to pay for that too?! I might have to get a second job to pay for all of this stuff. It is probably at this point that it hits you... I rushed the best years of my life. To get here. It sucks here.

When I was 5 I wanted to be 10. When I was 10 I wanted to act like I was 15. By the time I was 15 I couldn't wait to be 21. After 21 I started to feel like maybe I could wait to turn 22, 25, and when 29 rolled around I was dreading 30! Who the f*@# wants to turn 30?! 30 kind of sneaked up on me. I had just given birth to Seark a few weeks before when I walked into my surprise 30th birthday party. So many of my friends and family came out to celebrate this birthday with me. My husband who never thinks anything through put together this huge party dj and all. 30 must be a big deal. I remember leaving the party and feeling like.... what now? What is there to look forward to after 30?
Having just turned 33 I think I can finally answer that question.

What is there to look forward to after 30? Everything. Turns out my 30's might just be the best years of my life. At this point I have everything that I have ever wanted. I am not waiting for anything. I have graduated high school and even college. I have had jobs that I loved and hated. Because of that I know that this stay at home mom gig is better than anything else I have done. The wedding of dreams already happened and I get to enjoy the happily ever after. The family that I always dreamt of... well they are who I write about everyday. I now own the house I grew up in where I get to raise my kids. I get to spend my days doing pretty much whatever I want with all these little people that I made. I am not waiting on anything or wishing away the day or weeks in anticipation of something else. I am enjoying everyday (for the most part). Life isn't perfect but it is pretty damn close. At one time I thought 30 was the beginning of the end. It's not. Not at all. It's the start  of having it all accompanied by the wisdom to slow down and enjoy it.

Super hero shoe whore

Before I had kids I had... a different life. I had a closet full of expensive designer clothes. Handbags. I was a hoarder of all things COACH. I owned hobos, carryalls, satchels, clutches, slings, totes, wristlets, you name it I had it. In every color. Material. Signature collection. One for every occasion. The only thing that I loved more than bags... shoes. Absolute 100% shoe whore. Platforms. Wedges. Stilettos. Boots. Oh. My. God. My love for boots is just insane. Michael Kors. BCBG. Steve Madden. Gucci. Calvin Klein. Uggs. And of course the coveted. Mother of all designer shoes. The red bottom super sexy Christian Louboutin!

Designer handbags got traded in for designer diaper bags. Which lead me to forsake COACH for a fling with Kate Spade. As much as I love COACH they just do not make a functional diaper bag. Which is really a shame because I am usually brand loyal. I don't know much about Kate Spade other than that her Stevie diaper bag must have been designed by a mother. It is the most fabulous diaper bag. Ever. Super Stylish. Perfectly sized. Functionality at its best. I have three. Why three? Excellent question... I have no idea. It is just really the perfect bag. That comes in too many enticing patterns... and I want them all. My bank account gently reminds me from time to time that I can not have them all... but a girl can dream.

Platforms, wedges and stilettos are words that do not even belong in my vocabulary anymore. I walk past them in the store and sigh remembering a time in my life when they gave me a high. Flip flops are now my go to. My shoe rack may have lost its sex appeal but not its sense of fashion. Ridiculous as it may be I am still a slave to a designer label. So I maybe rockin' flip flops even in weather that is not appropriate for them but the bottom says COACH.

Since having kids something else has also changed. I have a hard time justifying spending and exorbitant amount for anything on me. My love for shoes has not changed just shifted. I went from a sex in the city type of shoe whore to more of a mom shopping for three boys super hero shoe whore. Definitely not the same high but satisfying nonetheless. We have light up Captian America and Iron man. Spider man with laces that look like webs. Crocs in all different colors with super hero jibbitz. And then the other day I came across baby super hero shoes. Spider man crib shoes by stride rite to be exact. Oh yes there it was. The high I used to get from Gucci. That old familiar feeling I had so missed. Over soft bottomed crib shoes for a baby that does not walk. Nor does he like or have any knowledge whatsoever of who spider man is. Either way they are about the cutest things I have ever seen! Moments like this I realize beyond anything else I am a mom. A mom of three boys. I might not have anywhere to where my designer shoes while chasing around a toddler and soon to be mobile baby.  My closet is full of things that don't resemble who I am today at all. Still I can't part with them. At heart I will always be a shoe whore.        

The day doc muppins penis went missing

Seark loves to play with little figurines. They could be super heroes. Army men. Disney characters from Monsters Inc. to Doc McStuffins. He likes to take them apart limb by limb. Swap body parts with other figures and reattach them to make sort of a frankenfigure. Today he was playing with Doc McStuffins who he lovingly calls Doc Muppins which is really just the cutest thing. He has a Captain America about the same size. He dismembered Captain America first. Then started to take Doc Muppins apart. He took her head off first of course. Then her doctor coat and then her pants. So he could get to her arms and legs.

Mommia Doc Muppins is missing her PENIS??!
No silly SHE doesn't have one.
WHAT THE HECK?! (Seark's new favorite saying)
She didn't lose it. She never had one. Doc Muppins is a girl.
WHAT?! girls don't have penis??? How do they pee?
Sitting down.
WHAT THE HECK?!

Seark bursts out into laughter. Luckily although he is inquisitive he is not quite as persistent as his brother is/was. Which I am glad about because these are really not my favorite conversations. I remember when I was pregnant with Seark and as it got close to my due date (before I knew that I was having a C-section) Aidan asked how the baby was going to get out of my belly. My first response was simple. Your brother is going to come out of a tiny hole. But that wasn't good enough for Aidan who was at the time 4 1/2. He lifted up my shirt and said "what hole? where? I wanna see it?" Oh boy, how do I explain this?! Reverse psychology. How do you think your brother is gonna get out? To which he responded "You just told me that he is going to come out of a hole. Now I wanna see it?" I am of the philosophy if you are old enough to ask the question you are old enough to get a truthful answer.

So I asked him if he was sure that he wanted to know. Explained that it probably wasn't the answer that he was expecting. But if he still wanted to know I would tell him. I explained that the hole his brother would come out of wasn't in my belly. It was in another place. Aidan thought for a minute.
I could see the wheel turning in his little mind.

The baby is going to come out of your butt?!
No. Oh. my. god. No.
Then where? Just tell me already!!!
Babies come out of a girls private part when they are born. Do you know what that means?
He's coming out of your pajamas???
Yup. Yes he is. He is coming out of my pajamas.
Oh. Good. I am glad he isn't coming out of your butt.
(ummm yeah me too.)

About an hour later Aidan came in the kitchen where I was cooking dinner and said "I think I used the wrong word before. I didn't mean pajamas. I meant pajina. Is that where the baby is going to come out of?" I laughed and nodded. The reality of that nod hit him almost instantly. "MOM THAT IS DISGUSTING!!! WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME THAT??? IS THAT WHERE I CAME OUT OF??? EWWWWWWW GROSS!!!!!"

A few days later I found out that I was having a C-section which would have been really good to know and a much easier explanation. After Seark was born Aidan kept telling me that it wasn't fair that Seark got to come out of my belly and he didn't.

I imagine similar to the Santa debacle one day hopefully not soon some mother who told her child the stork lie will come to me while I wait to pick Aidan from school upset that my son has disillusioned her child and told them the truth about pajamas, pajinas, and where some babies come from. In the mean time the search is on for Doc Muppins missing penis because Seark is convinced she has one and for that matter so do I. Doesn't everyone? To a silly three year old boy... the answer is yes.

I will fix you

Mommia tan you buy me dis? (holding a toy he found in the grocery store)
Oh bud that toy is $30. I don't think that we are going to get that one.
Otay.
Mommia tan you buy me dis? (holding a play dough jar set)
Sure. That you can get. 

We leave the grocery store and target is right next door. I want to run in there real quick to get a new dog bed.

Mommia tan you buy me dat? (pointing to a display of spider man toys)
No Seark I just bought you play dough.
So what's dat mean Mommia?
It mean you kids are gonna make me go broke?
WHAT DA HECK?! WE GONNA BREAK YOU?!

I just laughed and sad no not really and then watched Seark eye up the toys. Then me. Back to the to toys. "Peaspeaspeas". These kids want EVERYTHING. Seriously everything it is never enough. If you ever came to my house you would see that it looks like Toys R Us threw up in here. We have a room devoted just to storing toys. The toy room. Jam packed with toys. Every kind of toy you can think of. Blocks. Video games. Remote control cars. Balls. Robots. Toys that talk. Toys that walk. Board games. Art supplies. You name it we have it. The toys spill over into the living room. I step on tiny Legos all day. If you have never stepped on a tiny Lego.... consider yourself lucky! Those things should come with a warning. The overflow from the living room trickles into the dining room. Even the kitchen. The top of our fridge is like a purgatory. It is the waiting place for toys that have been taken away. We have tub toys in the bathroom. In the boys bedroom there are more TOYS. I keep small toys in my diaper bag and purse. In my car and the stroller. They do not need anymore toys. Like ever. Seark shockingly did not have a melt down when we actually left with out another toy.

We went about the rest of the day running errands and playing at the park. I cooked dinner. Gave the boys their baths and got them all ready for bed. As we finished reading the first book Seark looked at me very intently. I thought he was about to ask if we could read the book again. Instead he said

Mommia I will fix you.
I am ok. Mommy isn't broken.
You said you kids are gonna make me broke. I don't want you to be broke. I will fix you.

I explained to Seark that when I said broke I was talking about my bank account and that it means to have no money.

Oh. I will fix your bank account then. I just need Daddy's stewbiber (screwdriver)
I wish it was that easy. 
It is. I fix it. Searkie big boy. I tan fix it.

Oh Seark my little sweetness! I just love him and his genuine thoughtfulness. He must have thought all day about what I had said. And how he could fix whatever it was he broke. He had no clue what I was talking about but he was ready to get the stewbiber and go to work.

Don't let them break you

The count down is well under way. School is almost over. 1 day shy of the official first day of summer my regularly scheduled life can resume. I am not sure who is happier. It has been a long year. The longest. Most exhausting. Trying. Emotional. Frustrating. Disappointing. Want to rip my hair out of my head kind of year.

My heart broke as my child recounted stories told to him in the classroom by another child. It ached as I I learned of the second education he was getting from other children about things I worked so hard to shelter him from. Many nights my eyes stung as tried to catch my breath between sobs over mourning the loss of his innocence. I watched the glow in his eyes get dim and honestly wondered how will I survive this? How do I help him survive this? I saw his "friends" punching him and cried with him as he told me "this happens every day". I write this through tears. The place where my child is supposed to learn and thrive gave him nightmares. Turned him into some one I didn't know. Even worse someone I didn't know how to help.

I turned to his teacher. Who in turn passed our concerns onto the guidance counselor. A trained professional. In charge of psychological well being.  Who in turn passed them onto the principal. In charge of the school. The "safe and loving" environment that they are supposed to collectively provide. All professionals. All paid to have my child's best interest at heart. Collectively failed him. In away I never thought possible. They used my words spoken in confidence to them against him. They humiliated him in front of his peers. They did more damage than they will ever understand or care to know.

 I sought advice from a lawyer. Who pointed me in the direction of the superintendent. Our conversations were heated. They got me nowhere. No help. No change. One by one I almost let them break me. Almost. At any other time in my life. Concerning almost anything else they would have. Not now. Not at this point. I am someone's mother. I am all he has. I am his advocate. His voice. His support. I am unbreakable.

I am also NOT overly emotional. I am NOT raising a boy that is too sensitive. I am NOT going to let them dictate to me what is acceptable. I will NOT be talked in circles and made so dizzy by their banter that I stumble in my resolve. I will NOT give up because they don't think that my child is worth it.

There is a real problem with the public school system. The tolerance it has for bullying despite "policies" and campaigns against it is enough to turn your stomach. Their curriculum that only serves a handful of children that excel in learning in that type of manner NEEDS to change. And no I am not blaming the teachers. I know they work tirelessly and can only do so much with in the confinements of the system they work with in.

I know I am not the only parent that has gone through the ringer with the school. I know my child is not the only one that suffers from a failing system. I know it is a system designed to wear you down. Don't let it.

What is the answer? I have no idea. But I won't give up on looking. I could send my kid to private school and hope that is the answer to our prayers. I could home school him. I could do a number of things. The fact is all kids not just mine deserve a safe and healthy environment to learn and grow in. I am  a tax payer. I deserve for that school to be the public one in our town. What I do know is there is power in numbers. Stand up. Speak up. Be heard. If we stand together we won't be broken.

most creative

We have tried it all. Baseball. Aidan was the kid laying in the out field cloud watching. Praying that a ball would not come his way. Counting the minutes until the game was over. Football. Was just confusing. Soccer. Too much running. Oh and its hot. And knee pads aren't comfortable. Basket ball. Oh wait  we didn't formally try that one. By the time the flier for that one came around we had already figured out that sports were not Aidan's forte. And that cleats don't come in wide sizes. Before we completely gave up we gave Tae Kwon Do a whirl. Finally something he loved. Until another boy in the class got reprimanded for speaking out of turn. It ended in tears. With Aidan in tears. He wasn't even the one that got yelled at?! But it was enough for him to not want to back.

We spent hundreds of dollars on registration fees. Uniforms. Gear. Bats. Balls. Mouth guards. Cups. You name it we bought it. The brand new glove that cost a fortune. The cool Nike cleats that gave Aidan blisters. We made trips to Sport Authority and Foot Locker. We went to opening day ceremonies. Sat in the hot sun and froze on bleachers. All in hopes there would be one sport. One team activity.  One thing that he loved. That he excelled at. Just one place that he felt like he belonged. A boy that doesn't like sports?! Can't be?! Or can it? We were looking in all the wrong places.

Aidan has always loved to read. Comic books in particular. When we read them to him he would tell us "No. Read it like they would say it.' Then he would repeat the words the way he wanted to hear them. By the time we were done with the comic book he had acted the entire thing out. Playing every role. He would want to read the book until he memorized it. He would use his action figures to set up a whole scene. Take hundreds of still shots with my phone like he was making a movie. Everything had to be perfect down to the placement of all the figures arms and the way he tilted their heads.

He loves Lego's. He talked us into buying him the Death Star from Star Wars.  It cost $500. Had 3,000 pieces. I was sure that he would lose interest after the first page of the insanely complicated instructions. I was wrong. Night after night he sat at the dining room table with his dad putting together this massive Lego space ship.

Aidan is the only kid I know that would take an entire Saturday to create his own board game. Hours upon hours of creating a story line for the game. Pages of rules and objectives. An intricately drawn board of another world. Hand sculpted characters that he would line up like chess pieces. Each one named and given a unique set of powers.

We have bought him packs of printing paper. Dozens of sketch pads. His grandpa has brought home rolls of blue print paper for him. Gone. All gone. The crayons are worn down to nothing. Markers dried out. Paint bottles emptied. Fingers callused from hours of gripping his artistic tool of choice.
So there it was right in front of us all along. Aidan is not going to be the next Babe Ruth. He won't be getting a football scholarship or competing for  a world cup. And ya know what? That is more than okay with me. My son is not an athlete. He is an artist. He is the most creative kid I know. I have finally stopped searching for something that he will love that the rest of the kids his age love. He doesn't need to belong to a group. He needs to own who he is. I need to let him do that. Instead of wasting time on finding new things I decided to put more energy into harnessing what he already loves. So he won't ever score the winning touch down but he may give Martin Scorsese a run for his money some day.

Calling all moms!!! Are you up for the challenge???

I am a thirty something year old mom. I write a blog. I am a dime a dozen. I became a mom because all I could ever see in my future was a family. I am mom because everyday I am up for the task. I take good care of my kids. I love them beyond any love I have ever known. I teach them. To be good people. To have manners. About the world. Through experience. I feed them. Healthy food. I say no to bad choices. I make them try new things. I dress them. Not always in what I like but what they pick because they should have the freedom of expression. I read to them. Encourage them to read. Do my best to instill a love for learning. I color with them and praise their artistic abilities. I put them in time out. Often. For a number of things. Why? Because they learn from it. Its not a punishment it's a consequence. Most times a much needed breather. A chance to regroup. Think about what you did. Apologize. I limit their TV time. The internet is off limits. They will get an Ipod when they can pay for the apps themselves with money they earned. Video games are timed. 2 hours.  A week. Only age appropriate games. Even if they are lame. I take them to local parks most days of the week. Because they should be outside. I make them eat dinner at the table and talk about their day even they spent it with me. I hold my kids a lot. I hug them more than they want to be hugged. I tell them I love them even when are not behaving because that is when they need it the most. I praise them for a job well done. I follow through with the consequences of unacceptable behavior. I put my phone away. I listen when they talk. I try my best. It's not always easy. I am tired. I hate repeating myself. I wish they would just listen. But they don't. So I do what I have to do to get through to them. I refuse to let the TV, XBOX, Ipod, or internet be a babysitter even if it means I have to work harder to keep them engaged. I refuse to let them be desensitized by violence in video games. Get lost in on line relationships. Break from the world we live in because of the virtual one we have access to. I am not perfect. Neither are they. But I still try. Everyday.

I write a blog. Because I love to write. I have a lot to say. I need something that is just for me.  It makes me sit down and do something other than clean the house and wash endless piles of laundry. I started this blog for me. My kids. When they older it will be a nice record of my memories neatly organized for them.

I am a mom blogger. One of thousands. My voice small. I only have a handful of readers that return daily to read what I write. I wanted to write something moms could relate to. My intentions simple. They have shifted. If only for today I want to use this platform for something else. To change the world. I know that sounds crazy. I live by the saying "be the change you want to see". And so today I am setting out to change the world. Starting with our kids. See as parents we have this very unique opportunity to make the world a better place. Our children are the future. We need to invest in them like we would a stock that is about to sky rocket. The summer is approaching. The school year coming to an end. Kids have more free time during the summer than any other time. Lets put that time to good use. Make a commitment to our selves. To our kids. There is no time like the present so lets start today.

 1. Put the phone away when your with the kids. Be present instead of distracted. It's not enough to just be there. They know the difference.
2. Take less pictures and live more in the moment. Often we miss the little things trying to get the perfect shot. Your mind is an amazing thing. Let the memories live in there.
3. Replace video games with board games and play with them. It's more fun than you think.
4. Make dinner and eat as a family (even if you are only a family of two). Scratch that don't even make it. Order a pizza. Just sit down together and eat. The conversation will follow.
5. Limit exploring the internet in exchange for exploring the world. Fresh air is essential.
6. Read. Maybe your kids are too old to be read to. Make them read. Anything. And tell you about it.
7. Listen. Even if you don't care about what they are telling you. Kids need to be heard to feel important. They are important. Make them feel it.
8. Hug your kids. Hugging reduces the risk of heart disease. Relieves stress and calms nerves. It is good for your relationship. Do it for the good of both of you.
9. Lead/ live by example. Be mindful of your actions and your mouth. They hear. See. Take in. and mimic more than you imagine.
10. Make memories. Everyday. Most of my childhood memories are very benign. Grand gestures are great. And unnecessary. It's the little things that matter. Let them remember the love they felt everyday. In the note you left in their lunch box. The extra ice you put in their drink. Their favorite book you happily ready several times a night for months on end.

Calling all moms... If you think you can commit leave a comment. Share it with your mom friends. Let's make the world a better place. Starting with our kids. Are you up for the challenge? I am.

It's all fun and games until traffic comes to a screeching halt

Today was the day my oldest son was supposed to go on his school strawberry picking field trip. Instead we went to the Museum of Natural History in New York City. It was a clear ride into the city via the Lincoln Tunnel which is always a plus. We got to the museum and parked the car with no problem. Everyone was happy.

Once inside we checked out the butterfly exhibit first. Seark loves butterflies so this was the highlight of his day. He watched all the beautifully colored creatures flit around him. Waiting so patiently for one to stay still long enough for him to get a good look. Luckily butterflies dig bald guys. Or their hairless heads anyway. A brilliant blue butterfly landed smack in the middle of my husbands bald spot. (balding spot as he calls it...shhhh we won't tell him there is nothing left there). Once he landed he stayed. Flapping his delicate wings against my husbands bare skin. Seark was thrilled he stood there staring. And the butterfly stayed. And then he stayed awhile longer. Seark lost interest as 3 years old do as I began to wonder if the butterfly was stuck. Stuck in his hair gel that most likely was moist again in the warm humid air of the butterfly house. I was overcome with laughter at the thought. My husband not so much. The more he muttered to get it off of him the harder I laughed. As it turns out butterflies are just fond bald heads. He eventually flew away.

Next we went to the Hall of African Mammals. On exhibit animals that I would otherwise never get to see up close if at all. Each one exotic and extraordinary. I was consumed by my fascination with these larger than life elephants and the case of strikingly magnificent African lions. Lost in this world of curious creatures we came to the case displaying the gorillas. In there was a baby gorilla. A baby. Just a baby. A gorilla but still a baby. The room that held so much wonder just moments ago suddenly felt sad. Gazing at these lifeless gorillas that had been dead for nearly a hundred years I couldn't stop thinking about our trip to Bronx zoo just a few weeks before where we watched the proud mama hold her baby up for everyone to see. I felt strangely sorrowful for all of the stuffed, posed, mammals from long before my time.

We moved onto the fourth floor to see the dinosaur fossils. Bones of massive monsters that roamed the earth 65 million years ago. So strange that such seemingly strong and well equipped living things could just disappear. Certainly makes you question your own mortality and that of humanity. So much for a fun day at the museum! Of course no matter how lost I could get in my own thoughts my kids always provide comic relief. As we made our way through the floors Aidan assured me it must be okay to breastfeed anywhere when all of the figures throughout the museum have their penises out for everyone to see. Both my children agreed whether historically correct or not everyone should wear pants.

Aidan wanted to take his picture with the bronze statue of Theodore Roosevelt. We waited in a crowded room for his turn. He sat beside the statue and just as I snapped the picture he stuck his finger up Teddy's nose. He also thought it was hysterical to steal the banana I brought as a snack for his brother and take pictures looking like he was feeding the monkey's.

All in all we had a wonderful day in the city. Still I couldn't help but think about whether or not he would have had a good time on his school trip. Until I saw another mother's facebook status saying that she had just gotten back from the school trip... hot. exhausted. and miserable. Oh yeah that's why we didn't do that.

After our lovely and educational day (that we did not have to sit on a hot gross noisy bus for) it was time to go home. The time in fact was 5:00. The worst time to be driving in the city. We drove a few blocks and just as I was thinking wow maybe we got lucky, traffic came to a screeching halt! We sat in one spot for almost 30 minutes. No big deal right? Not at all if you don't mind listening to Rylan scream as loud as his lungs and vocal chords will permit. While Aidan yells over him to let us know how unhappy he is about the traffic and his crying brother. At which point I want to turn the radio up so loud I can not hear ether of them. It wound up taking us nearly two hours to get home! TWO FREAKIN HOURS!!! We live 15 minutes from the city.  Still better than the hot gross bus.