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.