my baby

As I glance around the room of my soon to be 4 year old,  I can see relics of his time as a baby fading away. Gone are the framed foot prints and mobile that hung by and on his crib. Instead a personalized Superman print is prominently displayed above his "big boy" bed. Gone are the polka dot crib sheets, the glider, and the soft stacking blocks. Only the 3 sketches of stuffed animals remain. The art that I found, fell in love with and spent a fortune on while I was pregnant with him. They dot his wall as a reminder that although he is growing, he is still my baby.
His room, like his personality is changing everyday. He no longer runs to me when I pick him up from school, no longer wants to be hugged and kissed in front of friends and I'm no longer a perfect angel in his eyes. These are the moments that fade away so quickly and imperceptibly that if you blink you may miss them.
I can remember like it was yesterday, the day he was born. The overwhelming love I felt. Holding my perfect son and promising that I would always love him and be there for him. I would have endless patience to help him to learn and grow. We spent hours playing and I was amazed at every new development and milestone he reached. I had every toy, every baby necessity and each thing was in pristine condition. No pacifier that fell on the floor went unsanitized, stains were treated and lifted gently out of clothing and toys and highchairs were lovingly polished to a shine. I had what I like to call "first time mom syndrome" You remember that time, when you believe that motherhood is exactly as you imagined. You have a beautiful, special child that you can take along to lunches and on shopping trips. A quiet child that naps wherever and whenever. You notice the approving glances from strangers as you pull boogie wipes, hand sanitizer and an endless aray of snacks from your perfectly packed diaper bag and you think to yourself "I have so got this..I'm an amazing mother" Now that I'm 2 kids deep and on most weeks, a single mother, I am on the opposite end of the spectrum. The other day I found cheerios in my sports bra...that I was wearing, after I had been to the gym, and without thinking....I ate them. Thinking back, this is clearly disgusting, but at that moment my choice solved 2 problems. I had nowhere to throw them away and it had been a while since my last meal. If I have baby wipes with me, its a miracle and must only be because some superior mother must have felt badly for me and slipped them into my trunk. My kids are noisy, rowdy, and dirty to the point that they literally leave a dirt ring around the tub every night. I find myself, not full of patience but constantly on the edge of shouting at someone. Each new development for my youngest is noticed in passing and does not make me want to cry out in elation and delight. This type of mothering is nothing like I imagined but as far as I can tell...its the real deal. I know, I'm not alone and I take great comfort in that. As much as I roll my eyes at the "new moms", I can't help but envy them. I remember that stage and all the joy and love that went into every decision.
As I softly close the door to my "big boy's" room, my eyes fall on a framed picture of the two of us. In the photo, I am lifting him into the air and nuzzling my face into him while he laughs and shrieks. It was taken on a day when he was still my tiny baby and that invisible line that would move him farther away from me was blissfully imperceptible. A time when his every movement was considered pure genius to me. That moment, captured in time reminds me that every moment I can keep him close is a gift. That every time I can make him laugh or amaze him will be one more moment that each of us can look back on and treasure. I may not be the perfect mother, but I'm smart enough to recognize that one day my children will be grown and drift away.

Makin new friends

Making new friends in your 30's is like dating. You spot someone in your neighborhood, or playgroup or at work who seems like they might be a good fit. You have casual conversations which eventually lead up to asking them to do something in another setting. There are nerves involved, you wonder if they like you, if your kids will get along and hope for the best.
When we decided to move back to Chicago, I was relieved to have a pre-established friend base to rely on. When we actually got here, I was a little surprised and disappointed to learn that things had changed just enough in all of our lives that  I couldn't depend solely on these friendships to get me through. Kids, jobs, husbands, work schedules and family engagements filled up social calendars to the point that it was almost impossible to find time to get together. You start to realize that its almost a requirement to have friendships with women who are on the same schedule as you. Sort of like a dating checklist which might list things things like, great sense of humor, smart and ambitious; my new friend checklist has things like: stay at home mom and able to play in the afternoons and kids with similar ages and nap schedules. Once we have established that we are compatible in those areas, we can move onto other important areas....funny? likes to shop? sarcastic? loves and appreciates Davis Sedaris the appropriate amount.?
Today, I made the move- so to speak- on woman in our neighborhood. We had met several times, waved to each other around the neighborhood, exchanged pleasantries at the park...it was enough for me. I knew she had a 2 year old son, a husband that worked long and uncertain hours, that she ran and was a stay at home mom. Perfect. I boldly went to her house, introduced myself, told her she should stop by anytime with her son to play and invited her to Jacks birthday. She took my number and now its up to the Gods.  Maybe I'll be as lucky as I was in LA when I met one of my best friends on the street. Im not sure lightening strikes twice but I'll never know if I don't put myself out there.

When the talking wont stop

Everyday around 4pm, I lose the ability to take in any more information from my 4 year old.  I have been saturated with language, but the words just don't stop coming. My son Jack can talk about anything, anytime to anybody. While I deeply admire and love the fact that he is an extraordinarily social creature, it can also be exhausting. I wake up everyday and the very first thing that I see is my son's face in mine asking "Mom, can I watch a bideo (video)." Luckily, bideo time is usually the only time he is silenced. It allows me to get my coffee, put together his brother's bottle and gather my thoughts before we launch into never ending conversation. He is funny, sarcastic, interesting and poignant but even the best conversationalists can only hold your interest for so long. Please dont misunderstand me...I love Jack and I know that one day in the not so distant future, he will be a sullen and silent teenager and I will long for the days when he wanted to chat with me for hours on end. But today, I'm exhausted. So, I will rest my ears and sit in silence...gearing up for what tomorrows conversation may hold.

A different kind of quiet time

Last night, as every other night, I was craving something sweet. Unable to convince my husband to run out to grab me an ice cream sundae, I was forced to change out of my pajamas and throw on real clothes. I drove the 4 blocks to the ice cream parlor, because God forbid I walk off the calories I was about to consume, and found a spot right in front. As, I took the keys out of the ignition I noticed, what looked to be, a mother and her teenage son sitting out front eating their ice cream. What struck me about them was that they were sitting in total silence. I've seen this kind of silence before, usually between an older couple who have apparently run out of things to talk about in their many years together and suffer through the rest of their time in silence. The image saddened me. There are many moments throughout the day when I wish, beg and cry for silence. Just 5 minutes where someone isn't asking me for something or whining at me or yelling at me. 5 minutes of quiet to appreciate and savor would be a gift. I always assumed that the loud, in your face, constant noise was a side effect of the testosterone forming in my young boys. That by the time they were older, some sort of peace would be restored and normal communication just may be possible. I imagined that they would come to me with girl trouble, friend problems, tales of woe but also share successes, sports victories and endless tales of their social life. I like to think that they have inherited my wit and we would enjoy friendly banter and quips. Not once, in all my fantasies did I picture us sitting in silence. I relayed the story to my husband through a mouth filled with bites of gooey chocolate and his response caught me off guard. "So you think, when the boys are teenagers, they are going to want to talk to YOU?" As though, I was not their beloved mother, but rather a stranger, from a foreign land who spoke in tongues. "Of course!" I nearly shouted at him. I mean why wouldn't they? I have spent countless hours caring for them, listening to them, catering to their every need. We laugh together and play together and enjoy each others company immensely...why would this change? Was I outrageous to think this? Had the Hallmark commercials shaken my grip on reality so strongly that I no longer knew what was real? I think not. I think that when my boys are older, we will enjoy conversation over our ice cream sundaes. It may not be the way that I imagined, but I don't doubt that it will happen. I prefer to think back on the scene I witnessed and imagine that this woman and her son were simply between subjects. Each lost in their own thoughts or memories stirred by an earlier conversation. Perhaps, they had spent a long day together and were trying to enjoy the last moments of a warm summer night before autumn descends upon us once again. Maybe, they were sitting in silence but doing it while sharing their favorite frozen treat and in that way sealing their lifelong bond. In whatever way we communicate with our children, I hope that it is meaningful to both of us. That we never stop learning about each other, and finding ways to spend time together. I look forward to that dish of ice cream with each of my sons and hope that if a stranger comes upon us, we are laughing fitfully, tears in our eyes and communicating in our own special language.

my kids tried to kill me today

so seriously...they must have hatched the plan last night while i slept. when i woke up this morning they  took turns alternating between screaming, whining and crying at different points and sometimes in unison. i was awake for maybe 25 minutes before I hit the wall, so you can imagine how the rest of the day went. thank god its bed time

whiiiiiiiiiiiiine

I've raised a whiner. I'm not sure at what point this happened. Somewhere between "isn't my baby so good..he eats all his vegetables and never throws a tantrum" to "oh my god, is he freaking serious right now with the crocodile tears and high pitched squeal" a whiner was born. A typical day goes something like this....want another video? whine for it! Dont like breakfast? whine and cry to get out of it! Don't want to go to school? Run to your room, slam the door and refuse to get dressed...all while whining. In between the whines he may throw out "you're not my mom" or "I dont like you" or my all time personal favorite, "the mailman hates me" (only after whining and crying upon discovering that there is no mail for him). The funny thing is, we lay down all kinds of boundaries for this child. We don't appease him at every turn and its a cold day in hell when we just give into the whining...although it has happened once or twice. He's like a prepubescent girl and having lived through that phase myself, I can say with some certainty...it sucks. I wonder if there is some sort of rebate offered by the hospital, where I can turn him in and then pick him back up after this phase has passed. Like a pawnshop...Im leaving something of value (my child) and I'll pick him up when I can deal. I'm seriously exhausted and  am not sure how much more I can take. I was told that the beauty of having only boys, was that I didnt have to deal with all the hormones and emotional outbursts. So much for that theory. I guess my only options...barring the pawnshop trade wont work...are investing in earplugs, drinking, or teaching his brother sign language in the hopes that he will think im hearing impaired and save the whining for his daddy.

WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?

I've spent some time trying to determine who the hell I am recently. I can easily label myself as mother, wife, daughter, friend, dog lover and avid tv watcher. But is that it? Is that what my dreams have turned into...A long succession of nouns? My husband keeps telling me, asking me, begging me to find one thing that makes me happy and "do it". He is of course, speaking about a career and not indicating that I sit around on the couch all day staring at the wall. Although when dealing with an almost 3 year old little boy, sometimes staring at the wall in silence is a nice form of down time. Its so easy when you're young to  have grandiose dreams...ballerina, movie star, vet, lawyer. Its when you get older and you realize you have to tackle just one that things get more complicated. I'd love to be a ballerina but I have no rhythm. A movie star? Sure, but I cant act. A vet or a lawyer require how much schooling? So, most of us pick something that requires a 4 year degree, graduate and then fall into a job that leads us into something else. The very few brave souls follow their life long dreams and I am always amazed and impressed by their commitment and certainty to that dream. Then there are a few of us, who graduate, get an easy job, and continue down a path that allows for no job advancement and really brings no self satisfaction at all. Not to mention has earned me less and less money as I've gotten older. And I find myself here at 36, not knowing exactly what it is that would make me happy "job-wise". I can say with certainty that it is not something that puts me at a desk 9 hours a day. Not something where I cant be creative or have flexibility.

New Years 2011...apparently didnt want anyone to know I was preggo

New Years eve has always been a night viewed with high expectation. The time spent finding the right way to celebrate, the right people to celebrate with and the right outfit to celebrate in. Once the perfect plan is laid out, there are the countless hours spent, primping, decorating, glittering, bedazzling...so that when the clock strikes midnight we are magically transformed into our new reality. The truth of new years eve in my younger years, more often than not, were hysterically good times, too many libations, false eyelashes that we were unable to remove for 2 or more days and a new years day that started with a headache and ended with a hazy memory of the night before. These days, its the hope that you can spend some precious time gathering with family and friends, celebrating the final night of a year that has probably brought both great days and heartbreaks and ring in a new year that you hope will bring you more good than bad. Or more correctly, a night where you hope you can make it up til 12, but are secretly glad that you didnt, because those little lines around your eyes are constant reminders that you're getting older and need more rest. 

This year, we gathered with friends at their house, before they headed out to a pre paid hotel party, that we had no interest in attending. And even though I'm 35, and even though we werent heading to the hotel party, I still bought myself some sequined mini shorts at forever 21. My husband took one look at me and let me know that "I am no longer 18". I dont care...to me New Years Eve has always been about sequins. On your eyes, on your clothes on your bod...wherever. We bid our friends goodbye at 8:15 and headed to another friends house for exactly 30 minutes. We dragged ourselves home at 9:45 congratulating ourselves on our late night. I spent another hour watching cnn highlights of 2011 before calling it a night, reminding myself that it was already 2012 somewhere!

I recently saw a friends post on facebook that read "may the best days of 2011, be the worst of 2012". I thought to myself "thats exactly right". What we are all secretly hoping, praying, looking for as we toast each other into a new year is that we can leave behind the things that broke us and enter a new year re-energized, positive and hopeful that only good will come our way. Truthfully, life will always bring us both highs and lows...its how we learn to recognize the good things...by crawling through the bad. Its what makes us wiser, more mature and more compassionate. They are the growing pains of life. Last night as I stood outside with my dog in my pajamas at 10:15, a young, inebriated man stumbled past me, took one look at me and snickered to himself. And as much as I am grateful to not be hungover today, am content to be in pjs at 10:15 while my child sleeps peacefully upstairs, am wise enough to know that those days are more or less behind me...I couldn't help envy that kid. Envy and wish he knew that the middle-aged woman in pink pajamas can still rock sequin hot pants :)

I miss co-dependant parenting

Now that we are back in Chicago, I assumed that co-dependant parenting would pick right back up with my mid-west girls. I moved in, established my presence and sat back and waited for the calls, texts and emails to come pouring in. You know the ones that read "my kids are driving me crazy...anyone want to meet at the park?" But so far, this isn' t the deal.  Sure I've gotten an email or two suggesting a playdate or a girls night out, but nothing that would suggest that my mom friends are bored or stir crazy.  I've also overheard them saying things like "I took the kids to the museum or children's center." ALONE. Could it be that these women are completely content in their individual family units? That when their hubby goes to work, they are  happy to spend the entire week on their own with the kids? Back home, it wasn't unusual to hear from more that one friend each day of the week. Often, we would group together, just in case one parent had to leave early.  You may have read an earlier post of mine, where I told of our daily spring break plan. A desperate plan formed by 2 mothers who feared a week alone with all of their children. I assumed the entire world felt this way. I thought we all feverishly sought out other stay at home moms, with whom we could spend every moment. Now, I'm second guessing myself. I know LA is kind of a weird bubble, but bubble or not...moms are moms across the board right? Isn't that what all the parenting blogs tell us? So it can't be that outrageous to think I would find other co-dependant moms in another large city. But, here I sit with no foreseeable plans to wrap up my week. I may have to start my own meetup group if this continues. I think Co-dependant moms has a nice ring to it.

School TIme

My son has been on a school break for 6 weeks. Not intentionally, of course. I meant to have him in school in California until the bitter end, but as fate and school calendars would have it, this was not the case. So after a 6 week break that included a move, a trip to lego land, a brief stay at my moms, and a whirlwind 3 weeks of exploring his new city...he finally went back today. I should have enrolled him earlier, for both our sakes. My almost 4 year old son, is a whirlwind of activity THAT NEVER STOPS TALKING. Don't get me wrong...I love my child immensely, but a person can only listen to so much chatter and invent so many fun activities before they go crazy. NOTHING else got done while he was home. 3 weeks after moving into the house, boxes were still unpacked, appointments needed to be made, large shopping trips needed to be taken. So of course yesterday, the day before school, my husband and I were extremely hung over and it was undoubtedly the LONGEST day of our lives. The exact reason why my husband and I NEVER go out...we just can't hang. When we were 25, long nights were followed by long days of lying in bed napping and watching t.v. Now at 36, long nights out are followed by 2 wake ups by the baby because he spit his paci out, 1 wake up by the 3 year old because he wanted to get into bed with us and 1 final wake up by the baby for a bottle. All this ended with a 5am wake up by the baby and a 6am wake up by the 3 year old. After 4 1/2 hours of broken sleep, we embarked on the day that never ended. It was also about 95 degrees with 100% humidity, so obviously super comfortable. After 14 excruciatingly long hours it was finally time for bed. We pumped our 3 year old full of excitement for the upcoming school day, packed up his school items and sent him off to bed. When the house was quiet and the kids were in bed, my husband and I high fived each other on making it through the day and fell into bed. Thank God for school...it keeps my son entertained and gives me a chance to breathe and actually get a few things done. I know I will look back one day on this time and wish I had more of it. All of us tell ourselves that...to appreciate the time when our kids are young because it goes so fast. I get that. I truly get that, but lets get real. Sometimes the kids make it hard to enjoy!

Chicago....again

Well...we're here...again. I swore when we moved away from Chicago 2 years ago that I would never return for more than a weekend visit. But, things change and phrases like the one above come back to bite you in the keester. So, we're back in our house that wouldn't sell. The house that seemed so large 5 years ago. When 3 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms seemed luxurious for a family of 2. Now we are back, after multiplying in hipster LA, and our family of 5 just fits into the 3 bedrooms and what I can now correctly identify, as 1 full bath, 1 3/4 bath and 1 powder room. When we left 2 years ago, I was in the biggest fight of my life with this city. We had a mutual dislike for each other and crazy as it sounds...it wanted me to leave as much as I wanted out. The weather was awful, my job sucked and I was a new mom with a traveling husband. I wanted nothing more than to go home to California and told my husband that I was leaving "with or without him". We decided to move back to his family condo, just to get settled, while we looked for a home to rent or buy, Just getting settled took all 2 years. We never moved out. Just added people. After 2 years in a 2 bedroom/ 2 bath condo with 4 people and a dog, I threw out another idle threat. "Get me out of this condo, before I take a baseball bat to the walls!". Now, Im sure I sound like a raving luni- but in my defense, I am a stay at home mom of 2 young boys, who has no help, a husband that is always gone, a large dog that needs walking and to be taken up and down a flight of stairs just to pee, and no yard. I think I am entitled to a little lunacy...maybe even a lot. To see me walk those children  up and down the stairs just to get the dog out, was comedy Im sure. First, I would try to just take the baby, but my 3 year old always insisted on coming, even though he was perfectly safe and happy in the condo. So of course shoes and socks needed to be rounded up. "Not those socks mom..I want the spongebob socks" he would cry! After rifling through 20 pairs of socks, I would inevitably grab 2 spongebob socks that did not match. After more whining and rifling, we would have 2 matching, suitable socks. After socks went on, it would take an additional 2-3 minutes to get his shoes on. Instead of standing or sitting and helping, he would be lying on his back, legs limp and no reasonable offer to be helpful. By the time shoes were finally on, the dog was panting, a clear signal that he needed to go. But not yet, dear Ralph, you see Jack still needs a sweatshirt. More rifling, more whining and then finally success. I would scoop up the baby and head to the stairs. Of course, you cant just walk down the stairs. Oh no, there was always a game that needed to be played, or an object that needed to be pointed out or an insect to talk about. Most often my son gets so sidetracked saying things, that he completely forgets what he is supposed to be doing. Meanwhile, I am holding my 25 pound baby and being dragged down the staircase by my 60 pound dog. "Lets go!" I would yell from the door leading to the outside...as Jack was still only halfway down the stairs at this point. Let me point out that it is physically exhausting to hold open a door while holding a 25 pound weight and being dragged by a large dog. By the time Jack makes it to the door, I am literally sweating. Now mind you, all this was just to get the dog out. I wont begin to describe the process of getting back in. So, you can see how badly I needed to get out of that condo.
The problem that presented was, that in order to move, we needed to sell our house in Chicago. Well....we tried and it didnt go. So, here we are again. I am determined to make the best of it this time. To experience the city, enjoy our house and yard. Even to embrace what winter may bring...although thats a stretch. To date, its been like being on vacation. The kids are busy, its hot, we have pools and water tables and bikes and scooters. When winter turns to deep winter and then deep winter turns to dragging on forever winter, Im sure Ill be singing a different tune. Hopefully, there will be no baseball bats around.

What Jack learned at his Jewish school

The story of the Jewish people, as recounted by Jackson.

There was a mean pharaoh and he made the Jewish people leave Areeal (Israel) carrying a lot of heavy things. Then a superhero (Moses) came and saved them. He said to the pharaoh "Get out of my peoples way" and then he put them all on a bus that God was standing behind.

legoland in the dark

Yup..just sitting here in the brand new legoland hotel in the dark. My youngest is napping away and my oldest is off at the park with my mom. Nothing says motherhood like sacrificing fun for a good, solid nap. Seasoned moms know that a good nap is the key ingredient to everyones day. Nothing can spoil a day more than a tired, whiny and cranky child. Although with that said..i should probably have put my 3 year old down instead.  As I sit here in the dark, making out the shadowed pirate room decorations, I have to say they did a great job. The rooms have a main bedroom and a small room (actually more like a small section of the main room) that has bunk beds and a kid tv. Promptly upon checking into the room, my son announced that he would not be returning to the park, because the room was so cool. But 2 days at legoland and a night at the hotel come with a hefty pricetag and so he was ushered quickly back into the park. the park is clean and uncrowded and seems to offer fun for all ages. Sometimes theme parks are geared towards older kids but this one is great for a 3 year old. My oldest eyed a coin collecting album as we waited for our stroller rental and 3 hours later insisted that it was hos memento of choice. Don't get me wrong. ..a 5.00 book is getting off easy. In my short time at the park,  before sitting here in the dark,  I saw parents lugging giant stuffed animals, huge crates of legos and lifesize lego dolls. I just dont understand the logic behind the coin book. Is he embarking upon a new past time? Too lazy too look past the first trinket that caught his eye? Finally getting around to organizing the money in his piggy bank? Honestly I think its the second option. He saw it first and therefore it became the ultimate thing to symbolize his time at the park. 5.00 plus the 51 cents it cost me to use the pressed penny machine and he is one happy camper...until 7pm rolls around and im here in the dark again with another sleeper.

The Weekend Away

I recently went away with some of my girlfriends for the weekend. We returned to our college to relive our glory days and visit our old haunts. It was our first trip back in 6 years, our last visit was pre- kids but post ability to hold our liquor, and we needed the time to recover. This time around we are all in our late-ish 30's, 2 -3 kids deep, and practically born again drinkers. Our hotel this time, was the new Diamond Hotel in downtown and the pricetag reflected our age. No longer, did we need to stay at the aging and dirty Thunderbird Lodge...this time we were high rollers in Chico. After checking in, we immediately went down to the restaurant to grab a cocktail. And, as often happens when friends get together, one drink turns to six and your night is on its way. We grabbed a bite at the new sushi joint and were feeling pretty great about ourselves, when some college boys asked us if we wanted to join their table. After eating what was clearly not enough food to sustain the liquor, we headed out to our favorite bars. I wish I could say that I felt like I was in college again....but I didnt. I felt like I was viewing my college through adult eyes. Trying to remember what it was like to be that young.  After a few drinks (2 of them spilled on laps) I stopped to get pizza at the take out pizza window. I waited in line for at least 10 minutes with 20 other intoxicated people, all of whom were younger than me. We finished the night at Rileys, the most popular bar, but instead of grabbing drinks and hopping up on the bar to dance, we grabbed a booth and didnt move until last call. Yes, Friday night went exactly as it did almost 20 years ago, except that we knew nobody and wouldnt recover as quickly. Thankfully, we were able to spend the next day strolling through town and campus. We visited our old dorms, our old houses and our sorority house. We marveled at what a beautiful campus it was and wished that we had spent more time appreciating and exploring it. Saturday night was dinner and a drink and catching up with old, dear friends. We fell into bed early, so happy to not be spinning. I fully expected to feel like I was in college again, and that couldnt have been further from what I felt. I guess there is that part of you that feels ageless, like it was just yesterday you were up on that bar dancing like nobody was watching. You feel so connected to that person, that its hard to believe the image you see reflected in mirrors and windows. I think she is still there, but she is older, wiser and more sober now. She knows that she has 2 children to take care of the second she gets home. She has had so much more life and seen the world. And even though, she is so happy to be where she is, she misses that time in life. A time where you never had more than 20.00 in your pocket; where your biggest concern was what to wear; where school was something to be tolerated until you could get back to your friends and find out the absolute latest. I think most especially its the carefree living, the dancing til dark, sleeping til noon, not caring about what you eat, kind of life that can only be called your college years.

What Is This

I am saddened by the events at the Boston Marathon today and I am frightened for where we are headed. It seems that tragedy after tragedy is taking place in our schools and on our streets and in our homes. I remember my mom talking years ago about the time she grew up in, "an innocent time" she called it and I would laugh and turn the volume up on my dr dre tape. And even though my adolescent years may not have been as innocent as my mothers, they were nothing like they are today. I dont remember being afraid to go to school or the mall or on a plane. It never occurred to me to be afraid, because bad things didn't happen the way they do today. I'm sure there were accidents and incidents, but not to the degree that we hear about today. I am truly frightened to send my kids to school. I am frightened to go to large public places like movie theaters and sporting events. This isn't the kind of world I want my children growing up in. I fear for their safety, their future and for the loss of innocence they will feel at a much younger age than I.

From Top to Bottom and back again

Cleaning my house is an all day every day chore. I am constantly cleaning, straightening, dusting, vacuuming, wiping pee off the floor, doing laundry, putting toys away and by the time I finish...its a mess again. At this point Im sure you are imagining that I live in a grand home or that I have OCD. You would only be correct on the second part. I HATE clutter and messes and with 2 kids and a dog..thats exactly what you get. I rarely have time to clean the entire house, so I clean as I go. And as I mentioned before, by the time I get to the last room...the first room is dirty again. Bread crumbs from the toaster, dog hair on the floor, baby spit up on the toys, pee on the toilet seat and floor, sticky finger marks on the table...it never ends. At this point, there is so much pledge and lacquer on my dining table that I am convinced it will go up in flames if I light so much as a candle near it. I know people say, "spend less time cleaning and more time playing" but I'm wondering what these people's homes must look like. Dishes piled in the sink? Dirty laundry spilling out of the baskets? Floors filled with crumbs and pieces of food? I've had dinner in a home like this before and it was so disgusting, that I sat paralyzed on a chair unable to help out with the meal as I would typically offer. When my son announced that he needed to poop, as he often does in new places..I panicked. I wondered if I would be able to sanitize the toilet seat with the Purell in my purse. And briefly wondered if anyone would think it strange if I ran him home for a quick shower before dinner. Needless to say, after my meal glued to the chair, we made a hasty exit. Upon arriving home we turned the hose on our son. No, not really, but we showered and bathed him until his skin had moved well beyond the pruney stage and into that soggy, bloated stage.
We used to have a cleaning lady, who would dust every pane on our shutters. She was a dream in that way. In other ways...not so much. After the birth of my first child, when I was headed back to work part time, she told me in her thick polish accent "I dont like...no good for baby".  Little did she realize that my staying home was the end of her paycheck. Once I quit, my husband...a man tight with a dollar, announced that I was our new cleaning lady. And boy do I take my job seriously. Sure I dont get paid, but some day when my children tell me that I ruined their childhood by spending so much time cleaning..I will look into their freshly cleaned faces, glancing at their stain free clothes, standing on a gleaming kitchen floor and that will be payment enough. Until I get their therapy bills...

a recent loss

I read recently of the sudden passing of a woman I went to middle school with. Although I didn't know her well, my best friend was friends with her throughout the years. I had become friends with her on facebook, but as it often happens, we had never exchanged a post or message. I did, however, enjoy seeing pictures of her beautiful family. She was the proud mother of 3 young children and often posted pictures and updates. I feel such an overwhelming sadness for her family. Someone your own age, at the same stage in life, isn't supposed to die suddenly in their sleep. I keep replaying in my head what her children must be going through. Not because I'm morbid, but because it is one of my greatest fears. I couldn't live if something happened to my children, but I also fear something happening to me and not being able to watch them grow. Worrying about who would love them the same way I do. Who would raise them to be strong, trustworthy, honest, confident, loving young men. Who would make sure that they ate the right foods and did their homework and played outside. Its something nobody wants to think about...which is why this tragedy brings so much emotion to the surface. I pray that her husband is able to navigate through this time so that he can heal and help his children to heal. I pray that her older children can carry the memories of their mother in their heart and be able to replay them in their minds when they need comfort. I pray that they can remember every nuance of her face and voice, and find her in themselves as they grow. I pray that they tell stories about their mom, so that her youngest son feels like he remembers her. I pray that they learn the strength and depth of her love, when they welcome their own children. I pray that their futures will serve as a tribute to their mother and that the traits that she instilled in them for these few short years, will stay with them always. I pray that they find laughter again and that this experience will not lead them down dark roads, but only through a dark tunnel where they can find light on the other end.

Spring Break 2013...woo hoo

Remember back in college, when spring break meant some exotic locale with your girlfriends? Sitting in the sun, sipping cocktails and checking out cute boys from other schools. Not so much anymore. These days it means 10 days off of school for the kiddos and a desperate search for activities to fill the days. I've been in communication with all Jack's friends' parents. We are researching, planning and organizing every day down to the minute. Park trips, playdates, days out of town. The library, a garden, a wilderness park. How can we keep our 3-4 year olds busy and active, while maintaing our sanity? The answer is pack mentality. Surviving is always easier in a group. We not only provide lunches and snacks and clothing changes, we provide friends for our kids and for ourselves. The kids are happy to be together in a new setting and the moms are happy to have adults to spend the time with. Adjusting to a new routine is exhausting for the kids and for myself. Instead of the usual...up, breakfast, school, nap, lunch, pick up from school..etc, we are now running full throttle. We are barely stopping by the house to let the little one nap before we are back in the car headed for the next activity. Tonight the hustle and bustle of spring break was literally visible on my children. Food smeared all over the babies clothing because I fed him at the park and forgot a bib; dried, green snot on my sons sleeve which he was using as a kleenex; the crusted remnants of lunch and snacks on both faces and dirt in every conceivable orofice. They each fell asleep in the car at different points on very short drives and so I was the mom with dirty children, dragging them half asleep from activity to activity. We got home tonight after 6pm, and I threw one child, mid tantrum, into the shower and shoved more food at my youngest while running his bath. I scrubbed one and then the other, hit the tv power button and ran my dog out to pee. Came back, made dinner, put the baby to sleep, fed Jack, read to him, and put him to bed. After that came my meal, the dogs meal, laundry, cleaning the kitchen and finally 14 hours after waking up...a shower. I am exhausted and I am only 3 days into spring break. I still have an Easter meal to plan, a rental table to pick up, a baby gift to purchase and shower to attend, Easter baskets to put together, eggs to dye and in laws visiting. I use to look forward to spring break...and now I wonder whose cruel idea it was to call it a break.

mama pride

I love making people laugh or at least thinking I do, but at the end of the day sometimes you just gotta put a little truth out there. I am so incredibly proud of my children. My oldest son is fun and charming and smart and independent and confident and displays empathy at a very young age. He shares and is a good friend and cares about people and is an all around amazing little boy. My youngest son is happy and smiley and goes willingly to friends and family. He is delighted and delightful and flirts with strangers for the pleasure of their smile. I hope that I have in some small way contributed to them being so wonderful, but I think I was also really lucky. I cannot wait to see them grow and develop and I feel truly lucky to be a part of their lives.

Jackisms

My son Jack is funny.  Not in the "isnt that cute" way...but laugh out loud, seriously funny. He is quick witted and he just "gets it". As someone who considers herself very funny, I take tremendous pride and an incredible amount of credit in his comedic genius. I have decided to write down some of my favorite Jackisms, so they can be immortalized on this blog.  This post will be edited and updated as necessary:


- "Mom, I accidentally peed in the bathtub, but dont worry I have it all under control"- upon returning from a trip to use the toilet, not while seated in the bathtub which some may envision.

- "i just washed my hands in the toilet mom, but there was no pee in it"- after me asking him to wash his hands and get all the glue off.

-"Jack, Im getting really tired of your sassy words". -me
"Mom, Im getting really tired too"

-"Jack if I made you chicken nuggets, so you think you would eat those?"
"No"
"Why not?"
"Because thats the kind of mens I am."

-"Jack, do I look beautiful today?" - my mom
"You will look beautiful tomorrow Mimi"- Jack

"Jack, please share some of that snack with your brother"
"Mom, I'm not really all that interested in sharing with him"

"Mom, did you know duck and truck sound the same?"
"Thats right Jack, they do. Can you think of any other words that rhyme with truck?"
"Fu** rhymes with truck, mom"
"Um...yep it sure does"

"Does anyone know what happens to snake when it gets older?" - man at children's concert asking the audience
"Ummm, uummmm, ummm, no. But i bet they don't get married"- Jack

who brought the naked kid?

Several months ago, we attended a birthday party for one of our neighbors children. It was a party at their house and the kids were free to roam from room to room. Jack set up camp in the back bedroom, where a more involved parent was reading stories to the children huddled in all corners of the room. I told him I'd be near the food table (obviously) and started chatting up another parent. I checked on Jack once, and secure in the knowledge that he was happy and safe, I got a plate and settled in to enjoy the junk food. 20 minutes or so later, my husband asked me where Jack was. "Oh in the back bedroom, listening to stories" I replied. "Nope" he said, "I just checked". I assured him that Jack was somewhere in the house and we split up to find him. A few minutes later my husband returned with our prodigal son with words I'll never forget. "Um...I found Jack.. naked in the bathtub." Yes, our son had meandered away from story hour to use the potty. While in the bathroom, he decided to remove all his clothes and get into the bathtub. I'm not sure if he was about to take a shower or was just trying out the facilities but he wasn't able to take the next step, because my husband had found him. I'd like to say that he found him just in time, but clearly just in time, would have been before the removal of clothes. He didn't have an answer as to why he took his clothes off and I don't think we'll ever know as its a distant memory now. Obviously, we asked him to keep his clothes on at all future parties but the memory of that moment will always make me laugh and provide plenty of ammunition in the future!

Sleep Update

It turns out, unfortunately for my tiny boy, that 4 days into sleep training, Nicky's first tooth pooped through and he caught his big brothers cold. He has been a miserable, hot mess and to make matters worse, we are continuing with the sleep training. I mean, what can you do? If you stop, you risk losing all the ground you have gained...however small. I go in, offer the paci and rub his back for a minute...and then he's on his own. I'm sure I seem creul, but what can I really do for him? He needs rest, tylenol and a constant pacifier in his mouth. I'm hoping that in a few days, he begins to feel better. There is nothing sadder than seeing your normally happy baby, so very unhappy.

Riding the sleep train

I did not sleep train my oldest son. I went through the first year of his life in a dream like state, subsisting on catnaps and coffee. I truly couldn't bear to hear him cry and so I ran to his every whimper. The truth is, he was probably annoyed. Like "why does this chick keep coming in when I roll over?" We would sometimes rise at 4:45 for the day and I would be totally on board. The truth is....enough coffee can make anything tolerable. And so, with my second son...I have fallen into the same pattern. Run to him at every cry...although in my defense, he and my oldest are sharing a room. So, it is more about keeping the oldest asleep then about setting some sleep boundary. It wasn't until my pilates instructor recently informed me that I would not lose the last 10 pounds of weight until I slept a consistent 6-8 hours a night, that I made the decision to sleep train. Call me selfish, call me vain..you'd be right. A sister can only wear maternity clothes for so long. So after juggling people around, in order to keep the night owl isolated, sleep training has begun. Night one, went as expected...lots of crying and wailing until exhausted, sleep came. And that was me. No really, there were long stretches of crying and I swear I could hear him say "mommy...please come to me". It literally killed me. My youngest son, is the only male in my house that loves to cuddle. Part of his sleep problem is that he wakes up, realizes he's alone and cries out until you come hold his hand. Once he can feel you, he falls immediately into a peaceful sleep. Knowing that he just wants to be near me, makes sleep training so much harder. I feel like I'm totally alienating him and I'm desperately afraid that this will turn him into a non cuddler. He will shut that part out, because sleep training will have taught him that no one cares to come to him when he's lonely. I try to remember what my best friend said. "Its better for them to get the rest." I know this is true and I deeply appreciate the extra hours of sleep I am getting, but the guilt that fills me when I turn off the monitor will haunt me in my dreams.
The second night of sleep training was better than the first. He only woke up three times. Twice he cried and I went in, gave him his pacifier and after a brief whimper, he went back to sleep. The last time he woke was to eat. This may not seem like sleep training, but if you knew what the last 7 months have been like, you would see this is a MAJOR improvement. Night three has been the worst yet. Not only night 3, but day 4. Its as if, he now knows the deal and he's not going down without a fight. Every time I set him in his crib to nap (which he has always done happily and willingly) he has cried and grabbed onto my hand. He settles down after a few minutes, but it isnt the gentle, peaceful lull into nap that he has previously enjoyed. Last night he woke up many times and when crying didn't bring me back, he decided to just stay up and jibber jabber to himself. While this was cute to hear, it made me so sad. Is he so lonely, that he is keeping himself company? Imagining he is jabbing to another baby perhaps? Needless to say, we were both exhausted today and neither of us is looking forward to tonights festivities. If its anything like last night, I may just need to suck it up, buy bigger pants and enjoy a life of co sleeping with my cuddle bug.

This crazy life belongs to me. Take my workaholic husband that can drive me batty, my 3 year old with enough energy to light a small village and my 7 month old who thinks night time is the right time to party, add in,4 people living crammed into a 2 bedroom condo and the 10 pounds of baby weight I cannot lose and you've got yourself a situation comedy. I feel at times that I am  going insane, but the truth is, these people and this life are my foundation. They keep me focused and loved and laughing and I wouldn't have it any other way. Ok...except for the 10 pounds and the condo ;)

Livin a paci free life

Yes, I was the mom that still let her 3 year old have a pacifier, but only at night...ok and for rest time and to calm him down during a tantrum. I am perfectly comfortable with the fact that people frown upon this, give me strange glances in public and that baby books and dentists alike proclaim this is bad for the child. I dont care. If my son needed a soother and the paci did this for him...then so be it. I'm positive he will still be a well adjusted child and that we would have needed braces anyway. If I'm wrong, then I'm happy to pay for his therapy later in life. This being said, I told him that at 31/2, big boys give away their pacifiers. We have been talking about this for some time in order to prepare him for the inevitable. I said that it was his choice, he could either drop the paci's at the dentist for a "prize" or stuff the paci's inside a bear at the Build-a-Bear store and sleep with them. He chose the former and then happily forgot everything I said until I brought it up again. This past week, my son turned 31/2. The night before the big day, I reminded him that it was his last night and prepared for a major melt down. Instead, he told me he would be giving them up that night and slid off into a peaceful slumber paci-free. Had I known this would be the way things would go, I would have done it sooner. I congratulated myself on being an amazing mom, patted myself on the back for knowing when the right time was and went off to bed. The next night, my son asked me for a paci and I gently reminded him that he was now 31/2 and living a paci free life. He seemed secure in the knowledge that this was his new life and went to sleep with no other questions. Once again, I smugly went on my merry way imagining the kudos I would be receiving when this tale went viral. The offers I would get to lecture and the advice columns I would inevitably write entitled "What YOU are doing wrong, that I did right".  Yes, I would be a legend, celebrated the world over by weary moms. Then last night happened. My overly tired, overly sugared son lost his bananas. Having spent the day at a birthday party and pizza party, his poor, exhausted little mind just could't fathom another night away from his beloved mouth candy. He begged for it, cried for it, yelled and screamed for it and I almost caved. But after remembering my new, fictitious life as supermom, I knew I needed to hold firm. I offered hugs, back patting, songs and finally to lie with him until he fell asleep. None of it worked. Nope, like a junkie jonsin for his next fix, he cried and begged until desperate he fell asleep while quietly whimpering the word "paci" over and over to himself. My husband, checking on him later, said that our son was moving his mouth, in his sleep, as though he was sucking on a pacifier. I am nervous for tonight. Not sure which way things will go. I truly believe we are in for more meltdowns, prepared for things to get worse before they get better. I am now thinking that the therapy I will pay for later in life will come as a result of taking the paci away instead of letting him have it for too long. Who knows, maybe he would have started a new trend? College guy sucking on a pacifier, the way rave kids suck on glow sticks. It could work!