Smoking at the Bus Stop- Seriously??

Seven days of school, and already I have a queasy feeling in my gut. The cause of my ojeda?Smoking at the bus stop. Seriously? With your 6 year old standing right there? I am incensed! First of all, I take issue with smoking period. I don't understand how anyone under the age of 70 could be that stupid. (That's right, you are stupid!) There is no excuse for it. I will give a little leniency to recovering drug addicts and alcoholics who need to have a lesser evil, but even they should not be smoking on the bus stop for crying out loud.
So, there is this guy, dare I call him a "dad"? who each morning is standing at the bus stop (did I mention it's a bus stop for kindergartners and first graders?) puffing away on his cancer stick. What to do??? Well, I don't want to get into an argument with the guy in front of the kids, so I kind of just stand back for a few days, figuring that once First Son is safely on the bus I can have a peaceful, grown-up chat with Joe Camel. Not so much, as an added show of concern for the well being of his offspring, Mr. Camel leaves the bus stop as soon as he sees the bus approaching. Argh. I mentioned it to the school principal last night at the PTA meeting, hoping she would be able to do something, but of course she cannot offer me anything more than a simple "thank you for being concerned." (Thank me? for being concerned? about my child?- there's a whole 'nother post.)
The other concern is, I don't want to piss this guy off, since he knows where I live - the bus stop is right in front of mi casa, and make him gather up his gang banger friends to come throw machetes in my backyard-again. I figure, I am going to have to see this guy at the bus stop every day for the rest of the year, so, I don't want to make an enemy. At the same time, I need to say something, because not only is his smoking posing a health hazard for me and my children, but it is undermining the values I am trying to teach them as well. My friend SBW, she is a vigilante. She tells anyone and everyone exactly what they are doing wrong in her eyes. On one hand, I admire her for being gutsy, on the other hand I don't want to be like her, because she isn't always the most tactful, and I think she pisses more people off than she rehabilitates.
I decide that I will take the "get more bees with honey" approach. I will say it with a smile. Today, I go to the bus stop a few minutes early, and there he is only...no cigarette! Is this a victory, or was he just between smokes? Methinks the latter. I walk right up with my bedhead and smeared mascara (it is 7:30 AM, and let's face it I live in a 9AM world) , smile and say, "good morning, I am sorry I didn't get you name, I met your wife last week." He says "Jose" I said " Hi Jose, I am Patricia, nice to meet you." " He smiles, then turns back to searching for the elusive yellow wagon. Jose Jr. pipes up "My Mom is not his wife". Shocking!
So tomorrow, my new friend Jose and I can have a friendly chat - I mean, we are on a first name basis now and all. I will smile politely and say " I don't mean to put you on the defensive, and you probably don't even realize it's a problem, but do you think you might be able to wait a few minutes until the bus pulls away before you light up?" Thanks Jose.
If that doesn't work, look for the FOR SALE sign on my lawn. We just don't fit in in this neighborhood.

God Bless America

While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,

Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free,

Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,

As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer.

God bless America, land that I love

Stand beside her and guide her

Through the night with the light from above

From the mountains To the prairies,

To the ocean white with foam

God bless America, My home sweet home.

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Today, like every September 11th since 2001, is a somber day. I tried to watch on TV, as the names of the victims were being read, but Curly kept whining at me to put on her show, and anyway, I was afraid I'd have to explain the tears that I could not hold back, and I don't know how to do that, so I shut the TV off altogether. First Son's school is marking the day today, by making patriotic pinwheels and planting them around the school. Theirs is the first class in the school who were not even born when the tragedy occurred (although several of them I am sure were conceived in the days and weeks following). I wonder what FS will have to say about it when he comes home, I wonder how I will respond. These are the days when I know that it is easier to be the parent of a baby, than it is of a child who walks, talks and thinks. Once they start to think, they can be afraid and confused. As a parent it is my job to ease their fears, to help them work through their confusion. I don't know how to do that today, I am sometimes still afraid and I am confused. What I do know, is that I live in the greatest country in the world, regardless of any mistakes our nation may or may not make. What I know is that I , and my husband were both blessed to have parents who were brave enough, and strong enough to leave their homes to come to this country so that we, and our children could fully enjoy all of our freedoms. What I also know is that those Freedoms do not come for free.
I will teach my children to love, and respect and bring honor to their country. I will teach them that they must fight for and protect their freedoms. And I will teach them that no matter what, they are American, something of which they are to be fiercely proud, just as my father taught me to be. God Bless America.

There were doubts but...

We did it. We survived the first day of school (we, because I deserve at least as much credit as First Son). And with flying colors, I might add. It wasn't easy getting up and having everything ready, since we had just gotten home from Disney at 9PM the night before, but we did it. First son climbed right up the steps of the bus and waved back to us with a great big smile. I waited until the bus pulled away and then broke down sobbing, as was my right. I did NOT, however, get in my car and follow the school bus, which is more than I can say for some of my neighbors. Yeah! me!

My little baby boy, who just 5 years and one month ago was cradled safe and snug in my arms, is now out in the world, without me. It is hard to believe it, because it really does go by so fast. That is what everybody (especially older people) tells you when you are a parent of young children, "enjoy it, it goes so fast" It really does.

For the past five years my little guy has been by my side every single day. All of a sudden I see him for half an hour in the morning and then boom, he's off on the yellow wagon till the dredges of the afternoon roll around. By ten in the morning I looked at hubby and said " I am so lonely". So, I baked a cake. It came out pretty good too, at least I think so. (come on stroke my ego a little, I could use it)

First son had a great time at school, where he was greeted by his favorite stuffed animal, Super Bear (his real name!) His teacher is nice, Hubby and I went up and met her in the afternoon, and I have filled out the form to become "class mother". I will know in a few days if I get it or not. So, first PTA meeting is set for 9/17. As I said, once I made the decision to go ahead with the public school thing I would jump in with both feet. Whee!

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Tower of babble

Things change pretty quickly around here. I mean, with three little ones, the littlest being very little, (and when I say little, I by no means mean small) they are always changing and growing and learning. No two days are the same. Poor hubby has been away most of the month, stopping home to sleep about once a week before jetting off again, and unfortunately he has missed a lot. For instance:

Paddy boy talks. Yes, that is crazy. No, I am not crazy. Well, at least not for this reason anyway.

Seriously, in the past I have talked to Moms who have told me that their own cherubs were talking at 7, 8, 9 months old. I have always smiled politely and nodded, then as soon as the coast was clear, rolled my eyes to holy heaven and had a good laugh. "I mean really lady, we all think our babies are geniuses, but don't you think, just maybe you are looking a little too far into the baby babble for meaning? "

Trust me, I have two children who can form complete sentences and one who is even beginning to grasp the nuances of sarcasm -, I know that talking children are nothing to get excited about! Talking children quickly learn to talk back, to be fresh, to question your authority! (why mommy?) - the best parenting advice I ever got, but of course, failed to heed, was "don't teach him to talk". That said, now, I have an 8 month old baby who talks! Really.

At 8 1/2 months of age, Paddy Boy says - in appropriate circumstances - "Mommy", "Grandma", "First Son" and yesterday morning, when I handed him a matchbox car to occupy him while I was changing his diaper, "Car". I thought I had my hands full with Curly, I have a feeling that I haven't seen anything yet!
Did I mention that he also crawls 100mph and stands up?

Aren't you curious?

Where have I been!!??

I ask myself this. The thing is that Hubby has been spending more time this month in FLA than at home. August 2007 and I am essentially a single parent! I am not really crying tears in my chicken soup though, I have perspective on this, it's just that I don't have time to blog.

Anyway I thought I would just log on quickly tonight to share the news that you may have been waiting for....


It is official...

First Son is going to kindergarten.

We have made our decision and I am now 100% on board, PTA and the whole bit. That is not to say that on September 5th I am not going to be having a serious mental breakdown, but I promised my friend Karen (another MrsP, seems there are a lot of us) - that I will NOT follow the bus.

So, do me a favor and say a prayer for me, and for First Son. Oh yeah, throw one in for Mrs. Hayes too, she has no idea what she's in for!! Ha ha.

Mom, you're a Hippo

First son and I have this silly game that we love to play. He will say "Mom, you're a Hippo." I will then feign indignation (because really, the term "hippo" - not so complimentary), and I will grab him and squeeze him, then refuse to let him go until he proclaims, through giggles, "Mom, you're not a Hippo, you're my Mommy and I love you"
I can't believe my sweet baby boy is almost 5!

Not sleeping

I must confess, I am not sleeping well at night. Paddy boy has little to do with it. I have something on my mind and it is BIG. Hubby and I are thinking about keeping First Son home from Kindergarten. Homeschooling him. I think about it all the time, I read books, I search the web, and mostly I lie awake in bed at night. I feel like I don't really have anyone to talk to about this besides Hubby, and it is almost the only thing we do talk about. I wish there were someone else whom I could bounce my ideas off of, someone who could help me make this decision.

The thing is that where we live, homeschooling is, well, weird. My family thinks I am crazy, although they have been very nice and respectful, as I requested in an earlier post, but I know they think it is weird. My friends are all so excited about sending their own cherubs off, that they couldn't possibly understand why I wouldn't want to. I don't blame these people for their attitudes, because not that long ago I too would have said - "what are you crazy?" I would never have thought that I would be the type to even consider homeschooling, and yet here I am. There also isn't any one pivotal moment either, this is an idea that has developed over time, I guess the past 5 years.

I have thought about the idea that if this were the right decision, it wouldn't be so hard to make, but when I think about just sending him off to kindergarten, I don't get excited about that either.

The kindergarten bus will be outside my door in a little over a month. I am feeling the pressure to make this decision. Maybe if it weren't full-day kindergarten I would feel better, but it is full day, so there is no room for "maybe". I am leaning toward keeping him with me and teaching him myself. What is holding me back? I think it is peer pressure, society pressure. I don't usually give in to that kind of pressure. Do I? Well, I do have that Vera Bradley bag. Hmmmm.

There are just so many wonderful things about homeschooling, and I can't list even half as many on the opposite subject, public schooling. Still, I am hesitating. Why?

Here it is, an open question, I welcome your comments on the following:

please respond in the comments section, and please do not be "anonymous"

1.WHY should I send First Son to public Kindergarten?

Bambi isn't just a Disney Character

I wasn't going to do this, I thought about it, but I wasn't going to do this. Now, you made me do this!

At dinner the other night I heard a tale about an old flame of Mr. DD. Of course he's madly in love with my good friend DD, even after 18? years of marriage (lots of softball), but he clearly has a soft spot for his old flame. Her name was Bambi. I know, I know what you're thinking, but there was a really good reason that her mother named her Bambi. Bambi's mother was involved in a terrible auto accident while she was pregnant, she almost lost her own life, and the life of her unborn daughter. It seems that there is a biblical/Hebrew meaning for the word Bambi - "miracle of God". Bambi seemed the most fitting name in the situation.
You may be wondering what happened in the accident. It was rather tragic. She was driving down the highway late at night and...she hit a deer.

My lawyers are on vacation.

A snooze button

Wow. It seems I have a stalker, er, fan. A few days go by without a post, and suddenly my inbox is full of people (er, person) demanding that I get back to the blog! Relax Jack'sMom, here I am.

The reason I have been away is because I have been concentrating on getting my family into the new routine I outlined in a previous post. It is working quite nicely too, with just a few kinks needing to be ironed out. For instance, now that the cherubs all go to bed nice and early they now wake up...nice and early. I know, I know, that was the point. However, now that they get up early, I have to get up early! Argh. Anyone who knows me knows that I don't do early. (whoever coined the phrase "nice" and early was a moron)For the past five years I have arranged for my whole brood to not stir before 8AM, I don't accept calls before 9AM, this is widely known. Now, I have painted myself into a corner, so to speak. I want and need the cherubs in bed early, so therefore I must adjust to waking up at 6:30AM.
Last night I decided I would retire early myself. I was in my bed at 8PM - but then I started reading. The book I was reading is marvelous, and I couldn't put it down until 10PM. Then, to sweeten things, it seems that Paddy Boy is now teething boy. (About time, he's 8 mos. old as of Friday and he has no fangs!) He was up multiple times during the night and he was quite inconsolable unless I was running my finger across his gums. (I should have had a little Jameson on my finger, I know) Curly girl then got up and decided to come into our room. Before you know it, hubby's alarm was going off, and there was first son staring me in the face asking "what are we going to do today Mom? Argh. Why don't kids come with a snooze button?
The reason for beginning this early to bed scheme is that the kindergarten bus comes at 7:30AM, which means that First son needs to be up between 6:30 and 6:45, in order to have a healthy breakfast and start his day. The kicker is that we are now considering starting the whole homeschooling thing this year, and not sending him to kindergarten. Alas, nothing has been decided yet and so I must err on the side of caution and get his bones and mine - ready to go - "nice and early".

Much Better Today

Ok, So yesterdays post was a little, um, well, let's just say emotional. Today was much better. It's amazing what a good night's sleep can do for ya! That, plus the hours I spent agonizing over ways to improve the outcome of my days. Here's some of what I have come up with:

1. Schedule - it is imperative that we implement and adhere to (is that redundant?) a schedule, one for the mornings, one for the evenings. Well, hubby and I have already discussed and begun implementing an evening routine, because we need to get First son and his mother ready to catch that 7:30 am bus that will be pulling up out front in a little over a month!
Dinner is at 6PM or earlier, but not later. Immediately following dinner are baths. 10 minute time limit in the tub, and hair washing is mandatory. Upstairs, jammied, and reading a story by 7PM, asleep by 7:30. So far, it's going ok, with the exception of asleep by 7:30, but I know that that will come with time. We really have to be strict with ourselves about keeping this schedule with very little exception. Especially in the beginning.
Today I started a morning "routine" which consists of, bathroom (my kids esp, Curly, need to be reminded to go to the bathroom), breakfast, fang scrubbing, clothes, make beds/straighten-up bedroom. Then, Mom's errands, which leaves the rest of the day open for playing. Since this was only the first day I can't comment on progress yet!

2. Nutrition - Usually we are pretty good with eating a balanced diet and not letting the kids have too much sugar, but it needs to be more of a priority. I find that first son especially is a little off kilter when he hasn't eaten properly. Yesterday he had a bag of Goldfish for breakfast, ice cream for lunch (at VBS,- I wouldn't have given him ice cream for lunch!), and a bowl of honey nut cheerios for snack - (at a friend's - I don't stock sugar cereal) - so no wonder that by the time dinner rolled around he was off the wall! Today was much better - He had a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of OJ before VBS, then a Jelly sandwich on WW (is mine the only kid on the planet who doesn't like PB?), a plum, some apple juice, an ice cream bar ( hey, we were at the pool, and he had eaten his whole lunch, plus fruit!) Then I have implemented another new part of our schedule - the 4:30PM snack - today it was 1/4 of a green pepper and some baby carrots with ranch dip. Both kids gobbled it up and then - miracle - did not bug me every two minutes till dinner that they were "hungy". Extra bonus - they then ate their whole dinners - MacNCheese, chicken spring roll, and green beans with a big old glass of milk! Curly even asked for seconds! In sharp contrast to yesterday, today I may actually qualify for MOTY, I count 5 servings of fruit/veg!

3. No computer for Mom until after the kids are asleep! - this one is tough, but it will probably make a big difference.

4. Get Hubby on board for all of the above! Good thing he checks my blog frequently!

This isn't everything, but it is a start. I mean the one thing I definitely figured out yesterday is that some changes need to be made. I don't want to have to call Nanny Jo to come fix my problems!

Woe is me

Attention: This post is at best, melancholy. You have been warned.

Tonight is not a good night. I am feeling monumentally sad, dissatisfied with myself, and with my abilities as a mother and a wife. Basically, I suck. I have been fighting these feelings for a long time now. Months at least. I have been trying really hard to keep myself distracted, and for a while especially with the hub-bub of the nuptials, it was working, but now that has worn off. I can't put my finger on any one thing, there are so many things that upset me.

Tonight I just really don't like myself. I am not being the kind of mother I want to be. Today, I am really tired. I don't really have the luxury of being tired, with 3 little ones in the house, but today, I am tired. When I am tired I have no patience. I yell. A lot. I threaten. I am cranky and I am mean. It is not the cherubs' fault that I am tired. It is my fault. So why then do I take it out on them? Because obviously, I am a lousy mother.

I had this thought tonight, as I was holding Paddy boy, I flashed back to when First son was in my arms as a new baby. I realized that as I held my firstborn baby back then, and dreamed of the wonderful life we would have together as mother and child, none of my fantasies contained the types of rage and anger that I was displaying today and tonight. No matter how much good I do, however loving and cuddling and adoring a mother I am most of the time, I know that I erase that with just a minute's worth of mean Mommy.

Don't get me wrong, as much as the cherubs are indeed angelic, they are also quite mischievous and have lately been pushing the envelope on "fresh". Still, I am the grown-up, and sometimes I don't act like it.

Please don't write me any comments about stuff I already know. I am being hard enough on myself tonight. If you have something constructive or supportive to say however, I could use it.

Re-evalutaing Friendships

So last night hubby and I went out to a lovely dinner with some very close friends to celebrate her birthday. Yes, we sprung for a babysitter and all! The restaurant was good, the decor was lovely, homey, and welcoming. The service was just OK,our waitress was working the whole room alone, with just one 12 year old bus-boy, and I don't think the restaurant expected or prepared for what turned out to be a Tuesday night rush, so I won't hold it against them. The food was mostly good - baked clams C-, filet mingon A+. The only real negative is that the restaurant was very LOUD. Sometimes it was hard to hear each other speak. Alas, the acoustical issues of the restaurant are not to blame for what I am about to tell you.

As a gift for the birthday girl, I had gotten a lovely necklace with a silver claddagh which lays over a beautiful, shiny white disc. After the gift was opened we were all admiring it, and a discussion began about the white disc, namely exactly what it was made of. It went like this:
Someone: "is that mother of pearl?"
Me: "I thought it was Capis Shell"
Her: "Appolonia?"
Me: giggle
Him: "What did you say?"
Me: "I said I thought it was Capis Shell"
Her: "Is that what it is? Appolonia?"
Me: giggle, and then, in my best bad Italian accent,
" Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday"
Them: Blank stares
Me: "What do you think it is?" (maybe I hadn't heard right)
Her: "Appolonia"
Me: "Monday Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday"
Them: nothing

I think I have to reevaluate this friendship. I don't know if I can be friends with people who don't regularly quote Godfather scenes and work them into everyday conversation, or at the very least, appreciate it when others do. Do they even realize that Appolonia is one of the most tragic characters in the entire trilogy? Think how different Michael's life as Don would have been if Appolonia hadn't been blown to bits, forcing him to return to the arms of the very "naive" Kay? Michael needed a good Italian wife to stay home and have the babies and stir the gravy, not some New England Wasp with the arrogance to think her own thoughts!
Well, at least we have Buffalo.

Graffiti

There is something funky going on. Apparently the white trash lovers read my blog.
This morning as I left my house at the un-godly hour of 8:50am (yes, I am in BIG trouble come Sept, when First son needs to catch the bus at 7:30!) - I found, on the fence that runs along my property, graffiti! Some low-life imbecile decided to leave his "tag" on my rotten old stockade fence. Boy am I mad. I dropped First Son off at VBS ( a whole 'nother post), and promptly summoned Suffolk County's finest to the old homestead to survey the damage. They filed a report, assured me that it was good that I called so that if they ever catch this guy they will have more evidence to throw at him, and said they would patrol my area more often. Woo. Hoo.
Honestly, I didn't expect them to do much, but I will not sit silently and let anyone vandalize my property. (well, mine and Washington Mutual's that is)
Hubby came home early and got right out there with the power washer and took the paint right off. The funny thing is, that after he power washed it, that section of fence of course looked much cleaner and newer and nicer than all the other sections alongside it. A conundrum you say? Not for my hubby. Apparently he has been reading my MS Living. He put on his creative thinking cap, and took a handful of mud and re"stained" the fence for us! What, you didn't think he would have power-washed the whole thing did you? LOL. Me neither.
Well, we'll see what happens tomorrow.

Nosy Neighbors

You know that old saying about kissing by the garden gate? "the flowers may be blind, but the neighbors ain't"? Well, guess what? I am the neighbor they speak of! Now, it's not that I am inherently nosy, (well, ok, yes I am), but , let's be reasonable, If you decide to have a full blown, 100 decibel, lover's spat outside my bedroom window at 3Am, you can bet your ass I am going to pull up a chair.

There I was last night enjoying my sweet slumber when I was awoken by some such lover's quarrel. So out of my bed I stumbled and over to the window. There they were in the middle of the street, F-bombs flying. I kneel down, bad back and all and settle in for a show!

He says: "don't hit me! mumble mumble, you know, mumble mumble, my father, mumble"

She says, and no mumbling here, :"I'm tired of this 'don't hit me, my father used to hit me' bullshit - your father didn't f-ck you did he?!"

Me - O MY GOD (silent thought - he didn't did he??) !

Hubby then lifts his head to ask what the heck I am doing -

Me - "shh! go make me some popcorn! "

Seriously the bickering and the pushing and shoving and "I love you so much and you know it, that's why you f-ck with me" and the "all you care about is getting laid" - he said to her!, and the "just take me home and then you can go wherever you want" - it all went on for about 2 hours.

Now, I don't live anywhere near a bar or anything, none of my neighbors were having a party, I don't know how these poor souls came to decide that the street immediately outside my bedroom window would make the perfect venue for their row, but it was quite entertaining, I just wish I could TiVo that kind of drama and watch it at a more convenient time.

Hubby may now expect me to wake up in the middle of the night for other things...

like feeding Paddy boy. But, I have a bad back, you know.

It's terrible to get old...

I can remember when I was little, big people saying "it is terrible to get old", usually in response to some ache or pain they were experiencing. Well, having passed the threshold of 30, and not having any child in my womb at the moment on whom to blame my aches and pains, I whole heartedly concur. It is terrible to get old.

Yesterday as I was going about my business , cleaning and cooking, and mommying, a terrible thing happened. As I bent down to pick up the bucket of Playdoh that the cherubs had been playing with earlier, I heard a "Pop", followed by an awful burning sensation spreading through my lower back. I looked First son in the eyes and said "uh oh". I threw out my back. Next thing you know I am lying face down on the very dirty kitchen floor, writhing in pain. I had just put poor Paddy Boy down on said floor with a spoon and a bowl to bang on, when I got the bright idea to tidy up. Thank goodness we grow them big here on our farm, and First son was able to reach and dial the phone. He called Grandma and said "could you come over? Mommy's on the kitchen floor and she can't get up" Thank goodness too, that MIL is just a block away. She was here in no time to save the day, or at least to save Paddy boy from his own dirty diapers.

After a few minutes and much wincing I was able to pull myself to a semi-erect position. Hubby got me an appointment with a chiropractor and came home from work early. Dr. Back-cracker took his sweet time, but did eventually x-ray my frame. Guess what? I have an extra vertebrate which is fused on my left side to my sacrum, a congenital anomaly, but, not in the least bit related to my pain. This diagnosis was just a door prize. The good Doc decided that I was in way too much pain for a full exam and so treated me with some electric shock therapy and advised lots of ice. He said that if I was 50% better in the morning to come see him again. (I thought you were supposed to go back to the Dr. if you don't feel better, but what do I know).

Today I am walking without having to constantly lean on something or someone, which is a huge improvement. I still can't lift Paddy boy though, which is heartbreaking. MIL was a lifesaver again, as she took the whole brood for the day.

Tomorrow should be better, please God. I am really not good at being an invalid. I stink at letting people do things for me. I can only watch so much daytime TV and IO movies. I am all caught up on my Redbook, MS Living and have been dipping into hubby's Nat'l Geographic (Malaria is baaad!) Curly girl is totally taking advantage because she knows I can't throw her over my shoulder and march her up to her bed, and poor First son is so bored, he wishes he still had preschool!! Please, please, please let me be young again tomorrow!

The Miss is a Mrs!

OK loyal fans, here I am, back in the game. The storm has passed. The niece is now officially Mrs. V, and is currently soaking up the sun and sights in Hawaii, little bitch! LOL. The wedding and all the festivities surrounding it were a huge success! Seriously, the wedding was awesome. All of the details that we worked so hard on really had impact. The cake was gorgeous, the bride was gorgeous, let's just say it, I was gorgeous! The bad rocked - and they even played Guns n' Roses, just for me! How'd they know? The relatives flew in, and flew out. There was singing and dancing and a little bit of imbibing. (just a little) I gave a toast, and though I was quite frightened, I actually caused a few tears, (the good kind, I think) The little cherubs, who everybody always wants to rent out for their wedding because they are so cute, well, let's just say that if I had rented them for this wedding, I would have wanted my money back!! They were of course adorable, but First son had a total meltdown half way down the aisle, and Curly was just so concerned for her brother (I think they might actually share a rib) that she went running off to find him. There are NO pictures of the bridal party with both First son and Curly. By the time we got to pictures the ring bearer was a little better, but the flower girl was too tired. She actually slept for an hour and a half in the bridal suite, with a tablecloth for a blanket!! The nap did her wonders though, as she then danced the night away!
The party or "Par tee" as Miss Suzy Mac would say, went on until the wee hours - literally, the bride didn't go to bed till half past 5AM!!! I myself made it to about 4, but then, I was just lucky to be there among all the youngsters!!
I am both sad and glad at the same time. I am sad that it has all come and gone, but I am also glad that it is finally over! Now I can get my life back for a little! Wait! What am I talking about? Mickey D and the Sunshine girl are getting married in just 10 months and 27 days!!! I gotta get to work!! Weddings are after all a hobby of mine, or so says the hubby!

Hiatus

In order to be fair to the two or three people who regularly read, and or check on my blog, I am officially taking a hiatus. There is so much going on in the next few weeks with the impending nuptials of the niece, that I just can't commit the way I should. I promise however, to have a new post not later than July 17th! Check back! Love ya!

Shake, rattle & roll!

He rolls! Yeah, finally! Tonight, just as I was starting to worry, Paddy boy decided to roll! 6 months, 8 days. What a relief.
His big brother caused me the same anguish. He got to the point where I said "if you don't roll over today, I am calling the Dr. tomorrow!" What do you know? Flip. So tonight was Paddy boy's night! Curly rolled at exactly 3 months. The boys? Not so much. First son did hit every other milestone on the nose or early, and walked younger than his sister (the "rolling over over-achiever"), so there is hope for Paddy Boy. The down-side? He is growing up! Soon he'll be holding his own bottle, and then it is all over, he won't need me anymore!
Also, I managed to get curly girl's hair into a pony tail tonight. It looks more like a puffy bun, but still. She looks so old. And beautiful.
Why don't they just stay little? To quote First son, "you stay little, I am growing up!" - aged 30 months.

Saying it out loud

Okay, here it is. I have been "joking" about it for some time, but now, I am serious. I hereby proclaim that I intend to make a serious inquiry into...homeschooling. Now, I am with you, at first I thought that it is crazy! Only psycho, crunchy granola types do this sort of thing. But, the thing is, my children are precious, and SMART, really smart. And who, besides me and my husband, should have the privilege of deciding who and what is worthy of teaching them?

The whole thing about socialization is bunk - of course, it is vital, but socialization these days does not come from school alone. And thanks to the Internet (thank you, Al Gore, you're not only saving the planet) homeschoolers unite, they form societies, they participate in group activities, etc. I don't exactly live in a neighborly neighborhood. My kids don't know the little girl next door any more than they know the mailman. (sad, but true, and not because I am not one of the friendliest people I know) But, at just 3 and 4, they have a lot of friends, because I include them in activities. Also, our society is activity oriented (Karate, soccer, dance. language, religion, basketball, scouts) , which I have always , at least thus far, been reluctant to join. I feel like kids these days are over scheduled, and don't have the opportunity to just be kids. Well, homeschooling kind of does away with all that.

Now, don't get me wrong, First son has had a very positive experience in preschool. But, academically, I don't think he gained a darn thing. I think his teachers have been wonderful, and in no way do I think that preschool has been frivolous, or "playschool:", but other that having two and 1/2 hours away from me three times a week, I don't think that First son has gained much either.

So anyway, all I am saying is that this is something that I feel very strongly about, something which I think deserves my full attention. I have been praying about it, and I feel that God is at the least guiding me in a direction which warrants a full discernment process. So, if you are my friend, or my family, and even f your thoughts are quite the opposite, I am asking you to please, please be supportive of this process. I assure you that the kindergarten year will happen as scheduled, beyond that is where I am considering changes. So please, open your heart and open your mind just as I am.

There's a new sheriff in town

I never had a playroom when I was a kid (I didn't have time to play, what with having to walk to school barefoot, in the snow, uphill both ways). When we found our house one of the big draws was a nice little room right off the kitchen and behind the living room which could serve as a playroom. A place for the toys to go, a place where they belong! So, I set to making it a darned cool playroom. I painted a border around the room and affixed bright primary colored wooden alphabet letters (I couldn't find a wallpaper that I liked, and I love copying things I see in Pottery Barn but paying 1/2 as much). We bought a table and 5 little chairs. I have labelled bins for every type of toy: Dinosaurs, Little People, Dress-up. There's a kitchen in the playroom, and a sit and spin, and all kinds of really cool stuff. When I was a kid I would have killed for a playroom like this. My kids? Not so much. It is a disaster area. It is so freaking messy that it gives me hives. Despite my careful mod-podgeing of labels, there are dinosaurs with little people, and little people in with the dress-up. Somehow, there's even dirty laundry in there. It makes me NUTS! I keep threatening that one day they will wake up and it will all be gone. I would do it too, if I could find the energy to pack it all up and put it all away after I struggle to get them in bed each night.
Hubby tries to help me keep it clean, but really, he just makes sure there is a clear path to the door in case of fire. Even he doesn't read my labels. So, every few weeks, MOMMY CLEANS THE PLAYROOM. This is a day that my children face with dread. One time I heard First Son say "Daddy, what IS she doing?" I get in there and dump every single container. I am a segregationist! NO Lego's with the matchbox cars! No princesses with the dinosaurs! And oh, there better not be crayons cavorting with anything but crayons!
Are my expectations too high? Do I ask too much? Well, at least for a few days after Mommy cleans up things tend to get put away correctly. I truly believe that kids need this kind of order. I find that when the playroom is clean, they play better. They play with toys and games that they haven't seen for a while. They make an effort to clean up. And, I am a nicer person when the playroom is clean. Well, Not that first day, because that day I am a bit sleep deprived, ya know?

Just a Mom

Today First Son's preschool invited parents to come in and talk to the class about their jobs. They stressed that it should be jobs that deal with people, in fact the class calendar titled today: "Community Helpers". This is why Hubby did not go in and talk to the kids about designing military airplanes and the tons of bureaucratic bullshit that go with it, it doesn't really fall neatly into the "community helper" category. No, they were looking for Doctors and Nurses, Policeman and Fireman, Trash Collectors and Postmen.
(Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? In your neighborhood? Say, who are the people in your neighborhood? The people that you meet each day!)

Well, when First Son got into the car today and we were chatting about who came to his class today ( a nurse, and a construction worker) he said "Mom, I thought you were gonna come and talk about Winnie's". Hmm. I didn't give a second thought to talking about the 1 day a week that I pour coffee and sling eggs, I mean sure, a waitress is "in your neighborhood", but you know what? I don't identify myself as a waitress. I told first son, "sorry, maybe next time" ( he was just hoping I would have brought in grilled cheese sandwiches for everyone since the nurse brought in tiny baby diapers and construction worker dad gave everyone hard hats) But then I got to thinking about my "real job". I know that I have the most important job ever, being a full time, stay at home Mom. I also believe that the job I hold gets nowhere near the amount of respect it deserves, but what did I do about it? Absolutely nothing! I totally could have gone into that class and talked about my job! I could have done it in a way that would have had those 4 year olds really thinking! I could have been a trailblazer, demanding respect and dignity. I could have had no less than 23 other moms falling at my feet, thanking me. But what did I do? Oh I could kick myself!
I told First son that I didn't come talk about being a waitress because that isn't my real job, my real job is being a Mom. And he said - " Oh yeah, you're just a Mom." Boy do I have some work to do!

Thirteen Jobs I have had:1.Babysitter2.Bagel Slicer3.Waitress4.Florist5.Lerner Salesperson (New York & Co)6. Wedding Coordinator7. Direct Mail Acct. Exec.8. Data Entry Clerk9. Audio Visual Clerk10. Call Center Representative11. Insurance Agency Worker12. Local Supermarket cashier13....the best job of all....MOMMY! Links to other Thursday Thirteens!1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

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Nice People Rock!

We've all seen and chuckled at those bumper stickers, t-shirts, magnets, etc. that say "Mean People Suck". Well, they do. Nice people on the other hand just don't get enough press. I would like to do my part to correct that.

I'll call her Aunt Dolores (I am running low on code name creative juice this week). She is MIL's aunt actually, but she's not much older than MIL is, so she and MIL are close. She lives half way across the country in the middle of the desert, and though we have met once, and we do send Christmas cards and birth announcements, Aunt Dolores and I are at best family acquaintances. Well, Aunt Dolores is a new fan of my blog (see, she's not just nice, but smart too!), and I guess that after reading my slightly somber Mother's Day post (I didn't really think it was that dark, but then, I live here inside my head so what do I know) she took it upon herself to cheer me up! Out of the blue I came home the other day and there was a box sitting on my stoop (isn't it so exciting to get a package??). It was a beautiful basket full of cookies and tea, and a beautiful new teapot! Does Aunt Dolores know of my fondness for tea? Does she know that my love of all things tea is a subtle way I have of clinging to my mother? (who was giving me cups of tea as young as four)
Aunt Dolores was just being nice, and it worked! I am definitely cheered. It is so good to know that there are people out there who are concerned about other people, and who will go out of their own way to put a smile on someone's face. Thank you Aunt Dolores for being one of those people. Thank you so much for caring about me!
Now then, you don't all have to go send someone a basket of tea, but you could be inspired to go out into the world today and be nice, what do you think? Give it a try!

Who's Your Daddy?

Ask Curly this Question:

"What's Mommy's Name?"

her answer: "Patricia"

then ask her:

"What's Daddy's Name?"

her answer: "Honey"

They Bounce!

Scary, scary day today. My sweet, sweet, wonderful Paddy Boy...fell off the kitchen counter and onto his head. I saw his whole life (all 5 months of it) flash before me. I honestly don't think I have ever been so frightened in my life, and I am officially giving up laundry duties.

Here's how it went down: I sat him in his car seat, on the kitchen counter with a floppy book while I set about fixing his bottle for lunch. The two sibling cherubs were going back and forth between eating their lunch and playing house with it. Paddy sat quite contentedly in his seat, perched atop my kitchen "peninsula". I decided to seize this moment of relative calm to grab the laundry from the dryer and bring it upstairs. Frick and Frack followed me upstairs, and I promptly told them to go finish their lunch, and to talk to their brother who I could hear fussing a bit (not crying, just fussing, probably because he was left alone). I folded a few pieces of laundry, when I heard a loud crash, followed by hysterical crying from three sets of lungs. I flew down the stairs (I quite honestly have no recollection of my feet hitting the steps), found the two oldest sitting on the living room chaise, each as white as a ghost, sobbing and screeching inconsolably. I ran into the kitchen to find Paddy lying on his back, on the floor, crying! The car seat was also on the floor, a few feet away. My heart was in my throat. I scooped Paddy up and gave him a once over, he didn't seem hurt, but he was crying quite a bit. I went into the living room, tried to reassure the other two that they were NOT in trouble, but that I had to know what happened. Through sobs and tears I figured out that Curly was trying to talk to him and calm him down, as I asked her to do, and she leaned on the edge of the car seat, which tipped.
Immediately I called the pediatrician's office, although I was lucky I could remember my own name, much less their phone number. I was shook! Luckily they told me to come right in (I was afraid they would say to go to the ER, or worse, call an ambulance). Paddy boy calmed down pretty easily, but poor Curly was distraught. She had run up to her bed and was sobbing into her pillow. My poor girl. I took Paddy with me to show her that he was OK, that she was not in trouble, that we would just take him to the Dr. so we could make extra sure.
The Dr. looked him over and said he seems fine. Thank God. She did say to watch him closely for any changes. Then she told me to of course, be more careful next time, but to be kind to myself, all babies fall at one time or another, but they bounce! Of course this happens the day before hubby is set to go out of town on business, because all drama in my life revolves around hubby's business travel.

Later on when we were safely home I asked the kids to reenact the scene using Curly's doll and doll carrier. It turns out, that Curly really saved the day! She tipped the car seat, but rather than letting her baby brother fall, she grabbed him and held him as best she could letting him drop to the floor from her arms (a much shorter drop than from the counter). She is a good sister. She realizes now that Paddy boy is OK, and she is feeling much better about it herself.

I keep reliving those scary moments when I heard the crash, and ran into the kitchen. The pictures that went through my mind were scary, much scarier than the reality. The scariest thing though is that they could have been the reality. Paddy could have been really seriously hurt. I can see myself having nightmares about this for a while. Needless to say, he will not be sitting on any counter tops again anytime soon.
My blood pressure today? High.
Forecast for tonight: sleepless
General attitude: Gratitude!

Any votes for MOTY??

Mother's Day

Mother's Day has never been one of my favorite holidays. I belong to a club, a secret society - the "motherless daughters". My Mom died when I was six years old. When I was younger, in school and Girl Scouts and such (yes, I was a Girl Scout, and a pretty good one at that, if you don't count the fact that my badges were stapled to my sash) there was the inevitable "Mother's Day project" that would come up, planting seeds, or making potholders and such. Always I would have to make my project for "someone special", and even though there are several really great women in my life, none of them could ever fill the void of my missing mother. And so, every Mother's Day became for me a reminder of what I didn't have.

Now, I have been blessed in the most incredible way. I am a mother. I have three amazing children and one angel in heaven. Mother's Day should be a reminder to me of what I do have. I love my family, and I thank God for them every day, but, Mother's Day makes me anxious. If I could, I'd rather just skip it. My kids tell me they love me every day. My husband does too, and he also tells me that I am a great Mom. I don't think my children or my husband for that matter, need a calendar to remind them to appreciate me. I hope they never will. Still, Mother's Day comes, and society makes a big deal about it (cha-ching) and so I go along.

This week I went to a special "Mother's Day Tea" with First Son at his school. I was really excited about it, because he was so excited. For days beforehand he would tell me " x more days till Mother's Day" and then when the day finally came he awoke early and jumped in bed with me saying "Mommy, today is Mother's Day, you get to come to my school!" His enthusiasm was absolutely contagious. The kids were very cute, they loved showing off their classrooms, and demonstrating their daily routine to the Moms (pledge of allegiance, reading the calendar, singing songs). I came home with a mystery plant that First Son cultivated from seed (I hope I don't kill it), and a place mat with fingerprint flowers, and a lovely Mother's Day poem which, even though it was copied en masse on a Xerox machine and glued onto every Mom's flower picture, made me a bit weepy. It was a lovely preschool afternoon, and I am grateful to First Son's very creative teachers for putting it together. In a certain way I guess life comes full circle, as those "Mother's Day projects" are back, but with a whole new meaning for me now.

With my family, I "celebrated" Mother's Day a day early as I am working tomorrow. Hubby asked me what I wanted to do, and when I thought about it, I decided that what I really wanted to do was to spend some quality time with the 3 cherubs. I have been so busy and task oriented lately, that I realized I really just wanted to play with my kids. So, we packed up and headed to the Ocean. We played and played, we made sand castles, and a Mickey Mouse face in the sand, we played Frisbee, and we waded in the freezing cold Atlantic. We had a blast. I took a ton of pictures. I sat in my beach chair, holding my baby, listening to the ocean waves and the sound of children's laughter. My children's laughter. It was a great day.

As much as I might want to avoid the whole Mother's Day thing, I can't do it. It's everywhere, so I do my best to swallow my already repressed emotions and get through it with a smile. I try, but deep down I have a muti-layered sense of melancholy. I think about the other members of this atrocious club I belong to - my 2 sisters, my good friends Jeannine & Patty, and Florian, and DD. I think about all the little boys and girls who struggled with their "Mother's Day Project" this year, especially little Cassidy, my husband's cousin's daughter who lost her Mom this year, and only just turned five. In a perfect world we should all appreciate and celebrate our moms each and every day, and even in a special way, as we see fit, not because the calendar or some card store or plant sale tells us it is that day of the year. Alas, we don't live in a perfect world, and Mother's Day comes each May. I have many more "Mother's Day projects" to look forward to, and I will treasure all of them, as I do each of my beautiful children. I will cherish every precious memory of my own dear mother, and I will think about and pray for everybody who makes his or her "Mother's Day project" for "Someone Special". I will also remember and pray for those mothers, whose arms are empty on Mother's Day and every other day, even though their hearts are full.

A pink Elephant

I belive there is a pink elephant in the room. What to do???

A liesurely day of shopping

I went shopping today at one of my favorite haunts, Old Navy. I needed some spring t-shirts for myself, and I had the three cherubs in tow. My shopping excursion was mostly successful in that my wardrobe now has a few cotton t's that don't have stains on them (at least not yet), and a cute little denim skirt, but it was a battle. The scene went something like this:
Me: Pick that ball up, and don't let it drop again.
Me: That's it, give me the ball.
Them: Noooo!
Me: I am not going to tell you again.
Me: One more time and I am taking the ball.
Me: Curly!
Me: First Son!
Me: Pick up the ball.
Me: Tell me that you did NOT just throw it!
First Son: But, Mom
Me: That's it!
Them: Nooo!
Me: Come here!
Curly runs away
Me: I am not chasing you!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: Now that's it! The ball is mine, when you show me that you can behave you can have the ball back.
Me: First son, should I take your ball too?
Me: Where is she?
Me: come here.
Me: Curly!
Me:Where is she?
Me: Now where'd she go?
Me: Curly!
Me: Where is she?
Me: oh, good stay there
Me: no, Paddy can not hold your ball.
Me: Curly!
Me: Where is she?
Me: OK, let's go!
Me: Come on, walk!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: Here is your ball, now don't let it go.
Me: have you lost your mind?
Me: Where is she?
Me: Get out from there.
First Son: Mom, watch, I 'm going in there now
Me: No, you're not!
Me: Come here!
Me: Enough!
Me: This way, let's go!
Me: First Son, get down off of there!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly!
Me: Curly Patricia!
Me: When I tell you to come you need to come right away.
Me: First son!
Me: oy vey!
Me: Honestly First son, should I have to even ask you to get down off of things in the store?
Me: Curly!
Me: Please stop.
Me: Come on guys, we're almost done.
Me: Please.
Me: stop hanging on that, what if it falls?
Me: Curly Patricia!

At this point the lady in line in back of me says - "Wow, you have such cute kids. They listen so good too!" Lady, are we even in the same store?
Methinks next time I won't let them "hold" a ball while we shop. Ya think?? Either that or leave them locked in the car, maybe.

My shnuggle bug

So, it's been a long weekend bookended by parties at our house. Last night came and we were all pretty tired. Paddy boy and Curly were the first ones down, so First son and I spent the most delicious time together shnuggling in bed. As I laid on my pillow he laid on hubby's (hubby was off catching up on the science channel) we discussed the events of the weekend, our favorite parts of the parties, the best toys that Curly got. Whenever the conversation lulled, First son said eagerly "what do you want to talk about now, Mommy?" He was really hungering for this one on one time with me, and I was basking in it myself. After a while of talking, I shut the lights and told him that we needed to get some sleep. As I turned on my side to go to sleep, he threw his arm over my shoulder and said in the yummiest little voice "my sweetheart!". Me, his Mommy, his sweetheart! And, He is mine, all mine, my little shnuggle bug.

Happy Birthday Princess!

My Dear, Sweet Curly Girl,

Happy Birthday to you. Three years old today. It goes so fast. I remember it like yesterday when the doctors pulled you from my tummy and said "it's a girl". In the days that followed your birth I replayed that moment over and over in an attempt to wash away my disbelief. How could it be that God had given me a baby girl? Oh I wanted you for so long. How could I possibly be blessed enough to be given that which I had always wanted? And now here you are, three years old, and you are wonderful! You are so beautiful. You are sweet, and kind, and above all, spunky. You make every day an adventure, I never know what I am going to get with you. Sometimes, I swear, this is not your first time around because you are wise way beyond your years. I look at you today and I imagine you tomorrow. Your future is so full of hope and promise. You can truly be anything you want to be, even now, nobody can tell you "No" and get away with it. You do things on your own terms always, which I admit is a bit much for a three year old, but I try to look beyond that to the amazing woman you will grow into. Some people say that you are just like me, but my sweet Curly girl, you are, at just three years old, already so much more than I can ever hope to be. I love you with all my heart and soul. You are my sweet, sweet little girl, and I am your sweet, sweet big Mommy. I love you. Happy Birthday.

My belly was Soooo fat!

Curly is going to be three in three days time. I can't hardly believe it. Every day this week we talk about three years ago today my belly was "sooo fat", and Curly chimes in..."cause I was in your belly!" You know what's scary? Only 10 years till she's thirteen! Heaven help us.

"Curly"

My daughter, whom I lovingly refer to as "Curly" is well, let's just say aptly named. The child has remarkably curly hair. It is beautiful. I don't know where she got it from, I mean my hair is curly and hubby's hair is curly, but we've got nothing on Curly herself. Wherever I go with her people have to stop us to comment on her hair. It's gotten so that we both just mumble a polite "thank you" as if someone had said "Gesundheit" to our sneeze. She has a head full of the tightest, golden blond curls you've ever seen. When her hair is dry it doesn't even touch her shoulders, when it is soaking wet it sports a tight wave and falls below her shoulder blades. I have never cut it. The child is truly blessed with an amazing mane.
So, what pisses me off? I'll tell you. There are so many people who comment about how beautiful her hair is, and then, without taking a breath go on to say "she's gonna hate it when she gets older." That is just so rude! Who the hell are you? Are you wishing for my sweet 3yr old to be an unhappy adolescent? You don't know her, you don't know us, do not presume that you know the slightest thing about how she is going to feel about herself when she is older. Just because you were an ugly, pimple faced teenager with frizzy hair and crooked teeth does not give you the right to project your own low self-esteem onto my beautiful child. If I have anything to do with it, my child will not judge her self-worth based on her beautiful hair or lack thereof, what will be important is character, integrity, and kindness.
So, if you like her hair, thank you. If you have any further comments, shut the hell up, because nobody asked you.

Waxing Endodontic

I have Irish teeth. They rot out of my head despite my best efforts at oral hygiene. Luckily I also have dental insurance.
Today was the last day of my second root canal on the same tooth. (incidentally, I do everything twice, had my ears pierced 2x for one hole, got tattooed 2x for one tattoo, and now root canal 2x on one tooth)
Walking into the endodontist's office (root canal specialist) was like walking back into 1987, complete with blue and silver metallic wallpaper, big hair, "The Golden Girls" playing in the waiting room, I mean, the only things missing were my black spandex pants, scrunchie socks and side ponytail. The place is really bizarre. For one thing, they keep their used "sharps" in an empty milk jug! Not one of those indiscreet red "bio hazard" containers, but a milk jug! Alas, I want my tooth fixed and my dentist has sent me here so, I proceed. The Dr. himself doesn't really give me the warm and fuzzies, more like the heebie jeebies, but he comes recommended, and most importantly he takes my insurance, and I figured, hey, he was wearing gloves. (OK, so one of them was white with sequins and he kept holding it up in the air, but again, ...he takes my insurance).
I have been to the office twice before today without incident. Other than the time warp thing, and two large needles jammed into the roof of my mouth, it's been okay. Well, today I realized I should have trusted my intuition and turned myself right back out as soon as I arrived the first time.
Caution, the following is not for squeamish readers.
After catching up with Rose and Blanche and Sophia, my turn came, and I sat back in the ever so welcoming reclining chair of torture, accepted the needle jabs and embraced the numbing of what felt like my entire face. Dr. Heebie Jeebie took his place next to my head and began his procedure. I decided to close my eyes because with all that is going on there's so much back and forth and technical talk and really I 'd rather not see all the instruments and what have you that are being shoved into the recesses of my skull. Dr. HJ starts singing off key (and if I can tell it's off key then you know it must be BAD) to "Good Vibrations". That is exactly what I am not having - good vibrations. I am a little uneasy, it is after all, root canal. I open my eyes every few seconds though, just to check on things a little bit, and so I don't appear to have gone to sleep. So there I sit, in 1987 having my root canal "retreated" by Dr. Heebie Jeebie and his assistant, Big Hair, and I open my eyes to see... are you ready? Dr. HJ pulling a big fat wad of orange ear wax out of his ear (still humming Good Vibrations) and then tossing the "cotton swab" across his tray of instruments onto the counter. The only thing that kept me from vomiting was my absolute fear of choking on my own vomit and dying in that God-forsaken place.
Thank God my root canal was pronounced "finished" today. On my way out the scary receptionist whose denim jacket almost definitely had a Def Leppard patch across the back, said to me, "you have 2 more teeth that need to be retreated, should I make you an appointment?"
"NO."

Caberet or Cabernet?

Hubby and I actually had a date last night! It has been a long time since we've really been able to do that. I had to farm the cherubs out in different directions, (really who is going to take three of them, especially when three is the new five) but it was well worth the finagling. We went to see Norah Jones. I really like her sound. She was great, beautiful vocals. Generally, listening to Norah Jones, I could be stone sober and feel like I've just had two glasses of cabernet. Good feeling. The problem last night was that I really did just have two glasses of cabernet. Sleepy feeling. I would go see her again if it were more of a caberet setting rather than in a cramped theatre. Until then, I will keep Miss Jones were she belongs, in my CD player whilst I lounge by my fireplace with a big glass of red wine and some candles.
First Son did make me chuckle though. Norah Jones had done a skit on Sesame Street some years back, where she parodied her song "Don't Know Why" singing instead "Don't know why "Y" didn't come" she then explains to Elmo that she is sad becuse she was supposed to have a playdate with her friend, the letter "Y". Coincidence or otherwise our friends at CTW aired said skit yesterday morning. So when First Son asked why I was going to New York City I explained that I was going to see a show, and told him that it was the girl from Sesame Street. He said "Oh!!, is Elmo going to be there too?" chuckle..chuckle.. Then, this morning I told him that indeed, Elmo had not shown up. He then said with a straight face "was the letter "Y" there?"
My life, I love it.

A dues paying member

It is absolutely official. I have paid my dues. I am now a PTA Mom. (Still not a soccer Mom!)

Embrace the "Now"

Here’s to good women –

may we know them, may we raise them, may we be them!

I went to a lovely ladies' tea today with my sisters, nieces (now that Mickey D and the Sunshine Girl are engaged, I have 2!), mother-in- law, and some friends. The food and service were really mediocre, but the speaker was fabulous! Sr. Pat Duffy, an Amityville Dominican gives the best talks. I really gained a lot from it which I hope is going to help me make the adjustment from mom, to mom of a kindergartner, something which I have confided to you all I am quite anxious about.
The first thing I got from Sr. Pat was to trust my intuition. My intuition tells me that Kindergarten is going to be great for First son, and that I am going to survive too.
The second thing that I got from Sr. Pat is to be present in the "now". I love that advice. I have heard it before, but it is definitely the kind of advice that I can benefit from hearing over and over, as I do tend to get ahead of myself from time to time. I am going to do my best to
"not be anxious for tomorrow", but to enjoy today. Hey - I have until September 5th to worry about kindergarten. In the meantime I still have my morning shnuggles, my leisurely schedule, and the whole day to spend with my beautiful First son. So I am going to just take every day and enjoy it, and enjoy him. When September rolls around I will cry a few tears, and then jump in with both feet. I know you're all taking bets that I will be class Mom. (and a damn good one too - you saw my cupcakes! LOL)

check out Sister Pat for yourself!

http://www.womansoul.net/index.shtml

Art Appreciation

Although I personally have no real artistic talent, I do have an appreciation for pretty things. I enjoy spending an afternoon at the art museum. Look at these two masterpieces. I believe they are called: Mona-Aidan and Nola-Lisa.

Nose Candy

Here I am sitting at my computer this morning sipping a cup of tea and doing a little research on the surprise trip to see The Mouse that I am planning, when suddenly Curly walks in and makes it abundantly clear that my life could not be more glamorous. She says....are you ready?..."Mommy, I have a shoe in my nose." Seriously. A shoe, stuck up her nose. (Thank you to UF for the Polly Pocket Easter gift! ) So I quickly put her up on the kitchen counter, and look into the shnoz. There it is, a very fashionable turquoise mule, shoved into one left nostril. So I tell her - "Don't breathe!" Well, that's not good. So I show her how to breathe through her mouth. Then I decide I will try to get her to "blow it out". This isn't working very good, and all I can think about is the phone call to the pediatrician that I am seconds away from having to make. This is great. I am starting to sweat. Curly is remarkably calm. I start to think that maybe the shoe isn't really up there, maybe I saw something else, or nothing. Then First son says, " No Ma, she does have a shoe up her nose! I don't know what happened, mine came right out!" I can not make this stuff up. What possessed you people to stick doll shoes up your nose??

A pair of tweezers and some very dexterous nose picking and the shoe was removed. Curly's biggest concern? "Don't throw it in the Jarbage!"

salt & lemon

I have to pull myself together. I have been sobbing for an hour now. Tomorrow is kindergarten orientation, and I just can't bring myself to accept it. The thing is, I really, really like first son and I resent having to share him. Especially with teachers. I hate teachers. (yes, several of my best friends are teachers, so?) I would seriously consider homeschooling, but it would be for purely selfish reasons (plus, then I would be a teacher). The thing is that he is going to love it. He is going to thrive. I guess I will come around. I'll go join the PTA or something (wait, what does the "T" stand for?)
I have known for 5 years that this day would come. I have been in denial. I have begged him to just stay little. He refuses. He just keeps getting bigger and bigger.
My friend the other MrsP has one starting High School and her baby starting Kindergarten all in the same day. I forsee 2 MrsP(s) and a bottle of tequila.

Check back soon!

I haven't written for a few days. I have been super busy. Everyone who knows me, knows that I am always busy, but lately I am on overdrive. I apologize to you, my 3 loyal readers. Tonight I am not only busy, but I am not feeling too good. (BC3, my tactile sensation is just fine, thank you)
So, this is a lame post to say, "Sorry, but I just can't post right now." I will in the near future however. I mean, I have a lot to say, this week is, after all, Kindergarten orientation. Did somebody say Tequila?

Hi, I am Tricia and I have a shopping problem.

So, my last post, total bullshit. There was absolutely no sauce in my house today. No, we settled for store bought rotisserie chicken and Stove Top. And hubby made it all, at that. Why? Well, see the title of this post. It's true. I started out this morning to go to the grocery store and I got a little side-tracked. I decided hey, since I am alone (left all 3 with sick, snotty, been in FLA for a week Hubby!) let me just run to Michael's and try to get a little glittery something to add to Curly's birthday invitations which I will be making later this week. Ok, easy enough go in to store, get a glitter pen, pay and leave. Yeah right! Me, in Michael's? Easy hour. And that's me "rushing". They were having a big sale, and I can't resist. I did get a lovely housewarming gift for my niece, an accent table for my living room (14.99 - yes, really.) and some basket fillers for Bunny duty. When I left Michael's I decided I would just run in to Dollar Tree because they tend to have a lot of good Easter stuff- mind you I finished my Easter shopping a week ago. Half an hour and 14 bucks later I was finally on my way to Pathmark. Well, on the way to Pathmark I pass a Party City. It's almost like Rosie just pulls off the road all by herself. I did want to get some confetti for those Birthday invitations so... another 45 minutes goes by, as does another 20 bucks! I have been gone 2 hours to go to one store and I still haven't even made it there yet! See post title. So, I decided not to stress myself out with the sauce. I still had to do the egg coloring (so fun!), the giant cookie egg (came out pretty cool), bunny cupcakes (a B- effort compared to last weeks litter) and Easter Bunny duty. Well, it's all done now. (oh yeah, bathed all three cherubs too!) Now I sit back and wait for the magic to happen, or for Paddy boy to wake up screaming at 2am, either way I need to get to bed!!

A big day in the kitchen

Hubby is home! Yea! A day early too, but now he's all snotty and sick. Poor guy. He's really not your typical sick and whiney guy either, so if he's complaining it is because he really doesn't feel good. I will go buy him some sudafed.

Today is the day! I am going to tie on the apron strings and do my best to be a good Italian wife. Of course, I am not the least bit Italian but I have great appreciation for all things Italian. Especially food! Jack's Mom gave me her recipe for sauce - some would call it gravy. She makes a very yummy meat sauce and she has entrusted me with the family secret! I have purchased all of the ingredients and am set today to make history in my kitchen. In just a little while I will be making the meatballs and stirring the sauce! (Hubby will have to keep checking for that damn helicopter that's been following me around all day)

Also today is Holy Saturday - the day before Easter so there will be lots of Easter preparation going on as well. Egg coloring for one. I love decorating eggs. First son is beside himself at the moment. He can't wait to start "painting" eggs. I hope he doesn't really think we'll be getting out paintbrushes. We'll be plopping those babies into little cups of vinegary food dye. I do have one of those wax crayons though, and some stickers. I will also be attempting to make a giant egg shaped cookie and decorating it with M&M's and mini Twix to look like an Easter egg. I will post a picture later. If everyone is lucky those cute bunny cupcakes may make another appearance as well. A busy day in the kitchen. I love it! I love just being home with the family and not having to run all over the place. Well, I do have to make a trip to the store to get a few things not the least of which are carrots for the large bunny who is expected to arrive later this evening.

My bleeding heart

Husband is off to FLA this morning for no less than 5 days. I know he's working, but really, when he calls to tell me what great meal he had to eat at which restaurant, or how many great waves he caught while he was surfing, my heart bleeds for him. I don't know how he manages it, the poor guy.
Seriously though it's tough for him to be away from us and our glamorous lifestyle. I mean, think of all the mac n' cheese he'll miss. And all the late night feedings and diaper changes. Think about all the toys he won't be stepping on on his way to change those diapers. Think about all the clothes he'll be wearing that don't have baby throw-up on them. Of course for the next five days he won't get to partake in any ticklefests or freeze dances either so, I guess there are tradeoffs.
Well honey, if you read this we miss you and we love you . Don't forget your sunscreen!

It's not a cup of coffee!

Dood! What is up with designer dogs? Seriously, yesterday I saw this family with two rather large dogs, one was very obviously a standard poodle, nicely groomed and oddly enough rather well behaved. The other was the shaggiest crimpiest haired mess of a dog I had ever seen. When I asked what kind of dog it was I had to lean in to hear it a second time "golden doodle". Excuse me? Cheese doodle? What the? Didn't there used to be a time when a dog was of mixed breeds and it was called a mutt? Certainly nobody ever bought a mutt dog for $1500+., which is what I have seen "golden doodle" puppies listed for. Come on people, it's a dog, not a grande half -caf low fat mocha frappucino, for crying out loud!