I just have to share

The fur on my teeth is disgusting (sometimes I get so distracted with, uh, making sure the kids get to the babysitters so I can come home and spend some seriously quality time with the couch, that I forget to brush). Happy New Year to you all!!!

5, 4, 3, 2, ....1

Happy New Year!
Why is it so much easier to examine our lives at the turn of the new year? I guess it is easier to procrastinate until the end. Regardless of the reason, it is the perfect time of year to reflect on that you have done and that you have yet to do.

For 2008 I want to take action. I want to plan more and stick to the plan. I want to spend more time with my husband. I want to spend more time with my children, individually. I have found in the past that if I make a plan it has been to vague. This year I resolve to take baby steps and to live by the Four Agreements.

For 2008-
These are the projects we want to do around the house-
Stabilize the barn structure
replace the base board radiator covers
replace the front porch
purchase a new pool pump and filter
finish the trim in the living room
paint the kitchen

For our relationship-
Date night once a month
An overnight over February vacation and again at our anniversary

For our family-
Rent a house on the beach for 1 week this summer
Enroll Oldest in Pony School
Enroll Oldest and Middle in swim lessons before summer so they are confident when our pool opens

For our finances -
Plan a savings strategy - save for addition, general fund, King Daddy's course work and Disney
Pay off all credit cards
Purchase a truck for King Daddy

For me-
Take my medicine everyday - I was diagnosed with depression 10 years ago. As many people with depression when you feel good you forget to take your medicine. Well I am in trouble as a result. I must now take action to find a doctor and therapist to get back on track. And be very gentle with myself.
Get regular haircuts
Quite smoking, for good-I have smoked on and off for years and it is time.
Eat more vegetables

Whether or not you make resolutions and stick to them or not half the battle is examining your life and your habits. Nothing changes until you look long and hard and decide that it is worth the pain. For me, the pain of staying the same far out weighs the pain of change. And with that, Dear Reader, I wish you the happiest of New Year!!

Authors addition - I totally forgot - I will be OLD this December so we will be planning for an extravagant birthday celebration! So that would go under things for me and things to save for!!!

The 7th Day

On the 7th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Seven Swans A-swimmingThe seven gifts of the Holy Spirit: 1) prophecy, 2) ministry, 3) teaching, 4) exhortation, 5) giving, 6) leading, and 7) compassion (Romans 12:6-8; cf. 1 Corinthians 12:8-11)

A new year a new look...

And with that, I am done! Tomorrow I shall write my resolutions for your fodder.

'night now...

Good bye my old friend

In November I wrote about my 35 mm camera and our rotary phone. I am a traditionalist and was hesitant to give up my Cannon EOS 35 mm camera, it is an awesome camera. I have taken some pretty professional looking pictures with this camera. This is the camera I have used since my daughter was a couple of months old. This camera means a lot to me. True it is big and clunky, but the pictures, well, it has been very good to us.

King Daddy has a carpentry business and really needs a small compact digital camera. So Santa got him one this Christmas. Well really it is a present for the family and I am LOVING IT! Talk about instant gratification and the fact that I can post current pictures here, makes it all the more fun. Yesterday, the kids were at my in laws (they still are) and I was scrounging for something to take a picture of and then it hit me. I don't need them to take pictures of, I can take a picture of my old friend. See? Up there? That is a picture of my old friend. Isn't it GREAT???

I feel like I am now part of this new century. We do need to get a new phone and I guess I won't really be part of this new century until then, but for now...Isn't it GREAT!!???

The Sixth Day of Christmas

On the 6th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...

Six Geese A-laying

The six days of creation that confesses God as Creator and Sustainer of the world (Genesis 1).

Christmas in Cozy Town (In living color!)

Space Man!

Oldest and her new Belle Christmas gown! Thank you Santa!

Baby and his new truck

(see the Princess light up boots behind him? Hideously fantastic!)

Saturday

It is Saturday. I am work today, not begrudgingly at all. It is one of those things that you just have to do in order to take care of your family. So they are all at home, snotty nosed, whining and playing their Leapsters. Or should I say trying to play their Leapsters. It isn’t easy when you have a little brother who is interested in everything that you are doing and loves buttons and noises. I feel bad for Baby he is often just left in the dust. My children are all close in age, 3 years, 1 month and 1 day from the oldest to the youngest, to be exact. So it is not as if they are doing things that are so out of appropriateness for the others. But Baby is still little and doesn’t have the verbal skills yet nor the cognitive skills to be able to play for instance, Leapster. So he is a pest, he is like a mosquito buzzing your ear at night and they shoe him away constantly. And although 20 months is really not a baby, he is my baby. He loves to snuggle and be held and of course, because there wasn’t a baby right behind him, he still has a bottle.

They are all going to Nonnie and Papa’s house for a sleep over. King Daddy and I are going on a date, out to dinner to one of my favorite places, with a gift certificate from my birthday. They packed their Leapster’s and all of their blankies and friends, which will come home much cleaner than when they left, and will have a glorious time tonight. We will fetch them tomorrow afternoon after we sleep until we wake up.

It is funny how I long for the quietness of pre-kids and then they spend the night at their grandparent’s house and our home feels too quiet. Their room is so empty. Their toys and clothes are all strewn about the house from top to bottom. A bottle, a cup, a toothbrush, one slipper, one toy hammer, a wheel that has come off a toy and a hair bow, just laying about. It gives me comfort to see all their stuff around and it makes me realize just how lucky I am to have been chosen to be their momma.

Middle and I did some serious snuggling last night. Baby was in bed and Oldest was in the tub. He was cozied into his dinosaur feety jammies and we watched a little Mary Poppins together. He lay in the crook of my arm with his head on my chest. Usually he is wild, squirming all around, talking, poking all the stuff that 3 year old boys do, but not this night. Our breathing was out of synch but hypnotizing, or so I thought. “Was that a leg twitch?” The sure sign of a sleeping child, but alas he was not. He burrowed in farther until King Daddy and Oldest came down from the tub. We read books together and I carried each one of them up to their beds. We said our prayers. And threatened them if they got out of bed.

So tonight they will be at Nonnie and Papa’s and I know they will sleep well and have fun and all of that, but I will miss their voices filling up the house. Sleep well my darlings see you tomorrow.

Five Gold Rings

On the 5th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...


Five Gold Rings
The first Five Books of the Old Testament, known as the Torah or the Pentateuch: 1) Genesis, 2) Exodus, 3) Leviticus, 4) Numbers, and 5) Deuteronomy, which gives the history of humanity's sinful failure and God's response of grace in the creation of a people to be a light to the world.

I still love popcorn

And I still want to win the contest for a year's worth of popcorn and a subscription to NetFlix from Elizabeth at Table for Five.

I was still a kid when we had the air popper, but it isn't the real thing. Microwave popcorn, although the convenient way to prepare popcorn is not, to this purist, the best way to prepare popcorn. But there is no question that Orville's microwave popcorn is far superior than any microwave popcorn. I, however, prefer popcorn popped on the stove top with oil. Popcorn that is butterfly shaped has been popped under optimal conditions. The oil is not too hot, the steam has a chance to escape the cooking vessel, it really is the most exquisite way to eat popcorn. It is the mushroom shape that demonstrates a speedy preparation of the real thing. Spend some time learning of the ins and outs of popcorn popping and you will see, that there is no popcorn better than Orville's.

And with that, I am going to pop some glorious popcorn.

POP
POP
crunch
crunch
YUM

The 4th Day

On the 4th day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Four Calling Birds The Four Gospels: 1) Matthew, 2) Mark, 3) Luke, and 4) John, which proclaim the Good News of God's reconciliation of the world to Himself in Jesus Christ.

Sadly, I must admit, it is getting harder and harder to keep the Christmas Spirit. King Daddy is home from school this week, I am working, the Volvo was out of commission and, of course, the house is still a mess. The kids aren't nearly as well behaved as I would have liked, but they were super on Christmas Day. Really can't ask for more than that.

Baby fell down the stairs. Nice swollen eye that is looking MUCH better 2 days status post. Luckily I wasn't here for that one. I would have flipped OUT.

Merry Christmas, still!

For the love of popcorn

I have always been a lover of popcorn. Growing up we used to watch Creature Double Feature, pull down the shades and only eat one kernel at a time and never during commercials. When I was pregnant with Baby King Daddy went to the movie theatre, on three separate occasions, to procure movie theatre popcorn, butter layered.

So it was without hesitation that I should gain entry into a sweepstakes giving away a years supply of Orville Redenbacher popcorn (www.orville.com). Is there any other popcorn? I think not. And a year subscription to NetFlix. Oh yeah baby, I am a WINNER!!!

Elizabeth at Table for Five has been asked to sponsor this give away and I wanted to offer my support to my new found virtual friend so I am entering this sweepstakes, per the instructions as a resident of the good ol' U S of A!!

So bring it on people, bring it on!

2nd and 3rd day of Christmas

On the 2nd day of Christmas my true love gave to me...


Two Turtle Doves
The Old and New Testaments, which together bear witness to God's self-revelation in history and the creation of a people to tell the Story of God to the world.


On the 3rd day of Christmas my true love gave to me...


Three French Hens
The Three Theological Virtues: 1) Faith, 2) Hope, and 3) Love (1 Corinthians 13:13)

It is not over!

It is December 26th. To the world it is over. Radio Stations have stopped playing Christmas Carols. But to us it is just beginning. The Twelve Days of Christmas began yesterday and ends on January 6th.

On the 1st day of Christmas my true love gave to me...


A Partridge in a Pear Tree
The partridge in a pear tree is Jesus the Christ, the Son of God, whose birthday we celebrate on December 25, the first day of Christmas. In the song, Christ is symbolically presented as a mother partridge that feigns injury to decoy predators from her helpless nestlings, recalling the expression of Christ's sadness over the fate of Jerusalem: "Jerusalem! Jerusalem! How often would I have sheltered you under my wings, as a hen does her chicks, but you would not have it so . . . ." (Luke 13:34)

Inside the mind of a 4 year old

"What do you think Santa is having for breakfast?" She asked.
"Hmmmm, I don't know, maybe pancakes or french toast," I said.
"No, I think he is having toast with Nutella," she said. "
"Oh, I bet that is exactly what he is having," I replied.

Hours and hours later...
"What do you think Santa had for lunch?" She asked.
"I think he had steak with mashed potatoes and milk," I said.
"Ohhh, Santa loves milk," she says.

QA1 took her over to the children's service to the church across the street, not our regular church, but it is so close AND they have a children's service. They walked over.

Before they left QA1 said, "Come on let's go celebrate the Baby Jesus." And they were off. I peeked out the window to see if they were walking along the street or trudging through the snow. They were walking along the street, she in her red dress, silver bow and purple boots holding QA1's hand.

It is the most wonderful time of the year.

The eve of Christmas

It is the most magical day/night of the year. I am already whipping the kids up into a frenzy. "It's Christmas Eve, guess who is coming tonight?" "SANTA CLAUS," they yell.

There is much to do, but I relish in the activity. Wrapping and preparing food. Tomorrow we will get up, open presents, pretty much all day and then head down to brother's house for a Christmas feast. It is his first Christmas in New England in 19 years. He and his family just moved back here in August. It is an exciting time for our family.

Queen Auntie 2 took the Mother of us All to the Patriot's game yesterday and while some of you may not think anything about this you need to know what a huge fan the Mother of us All is. While in most families it is the dad that is interested in sports, but not so in our house. The Father of us All has never been particularly interested in sports. And so it was my mom who instilled in all of us the love of the game. Growing up, there was a poster of a Patriots quarter back in our back hall. Mother of us All has not been to a game since it was fashionable to wear fur and drink brandy from a brown medicine bottle. So these tickets were the perfect gift. But these tickets weren't any old tickets, the tickets were for a Club Box at the new stadium. These tickets came with a preferred parking pass. This Club Box had food and drinks and its own bathroom. And the Patriot's? Well they are 15-0 and Troy Brown played-a special gift for the Mother of us All.

I believe

I believe in Santa Claus. I cringe whenever I watch a Christmas special and they talk about not believing in Santa Claus. I encourage this belief in the Father of Christmas. Oldest is the perfect age for all of this, 4.5. Middle does everything that Oldest does so he is into it too. Baby just rips all the ornaments off the tree and unplugs the lights, incessantly.

We put out reindeer food and tomorrow night we will put out cookies and a glass of juice. After they go to bed we will wrap all of their presents and place them under the tree. It is a magical time. A short magical time in a child's life and I want my children to experience everything magical. Before I know it they won't believe any more. Oldest is running around with a Silver Bell around her neck, just like from the Polar Express. "It came from a reindeer's collar," she tells me. How could I not encourage this wonderfully delightful expression of innocence?

When we watch the Christmas classic, "The Year Without a Santa Claus" and the doctor tells Santa that no one cares about Christmas any more, Oldest and I look at each other and declare, "We care!" "Right Dad, we care!" "We do care, because it is Jesus's birthday," she yells.

The scene of all scenes

I am at the computer.

Christmas carols are playing.

Baby is up for his nap.

King Daddy is in the shower.

Middle and Oldest are playing a fishing game in the living room.

I hear Middle say, "I love you Old." "I love you Mid," she responds.

"Merry Christmas," she says. "Merry Christmas, Old." he says.

This is the kind of stuff that you hope and pray for. That through all your frustration over the whining and the fighting and the constant seemingly ineptness at your parenting skills. This is what makes it all worth while.

I love you all, so very much.

Ginerbread House

While the world sleeps, I am awake. Listening to whining. I love whining. King Daddy and I have taken to encouraging whining because they don't listen to us when we ask them not to whine. They think it is funny. ha ha ha. Real funny.

My fear this time of year is that my children will open presents, cast them aside and yell, "WHAT ELSE!" I have been coaching them and coaching them. It is futile on anyone but Oldest and I think it is working. As Middle does everything that she does, so I think we might be ok.

Work has been crazy and more to the point, I have been thinking about it while away from it. This is new to me. I love what I am doing and I love the people I work with, but I really don't want to think about it when I wake up in the middle of the night. That is something I never wanted to do.

Something else I never thought I would do. Clean before my cleaning people came. Growing up I remember the Mother of Queen Mommy telling us to clean before our cleaning person came. I never understood it. "Duh, the cleaning person is coming and I am cleaning?" Well, as the world sleeps, I am racing around picking up all of our crap before the cleaning people come. I have realized that if I don't do it, I won't ever find it again. The cleaning people are awesome and I am so thankful for them, but they make neat piles out of all my messy piles. They put toys in different baskets than I would. So to thwart this I must clean before they come. Now I get it. And thank God I have a SMALL house!

I had a run in with the law yesterday. My registration expired and I owed a fine to the Turnpike Authority that I repeatedly forgot to pay. Yesterday I locked myself out of the car at Oldest's school. The helpful staff at school called the police. I was freaking out, I knew what would happen. And it did. "You have a problem." "I know I have a problem. And I know it is not this problem," I replied. And then it all came undone. For a few hours I was an outlaw. I drove illegally. But all is well, I have everything straightened out. And it is a good thing. We are on our way to the Ginger Bread House decorating party for 10 a.m. at my brother's house. The kids will be wild.

Must go and get everyone dressed and warm up the car.

A Menagerie of Thoughts

I am sick. Middle was in and out of our bed last night.

I had a vivid dream of my grandparents. I woke missing them.

I came home early from work yesterday and went to bed.

Christmas is just 5 days away.

The kids were all sick on my birthday. I went to work and King Daddy stayed home. My coworkers gave me a cake, flowers and sang "Happy Birthday." A better celebration than at home.

My computer is making a seriously bad noise. I don't know anything about computers but I know it shouldn't make this noise.

A four day weekend is almost upon us.

I hope King Daddy likes his gifts.


Baby really likes to play with tooth brushes. He is a funny kid.

Oldest gets to wear pajamas to school on Friday.

My mom was in a car accident last night. THANK GOD she is OK. Annoyed more than anything, but OK.

I got two books for Hanukkah and have finished one and am 3/4 of the way through the other.

It is cold out there.

Boy oh boy

This morning was sheer torture. SHEER TORTURE. I don’t remember how it started but it involved Middle. Of course. He is three. Three and torture begin with the same letter. And that should not be a surprise. He was freaking out over nothing. Which is fine if I was talking about a human with the ability to reason and express himself fully. It would be fine if I was talking about a human with the capacity to understand the concept of time and consequences. It would be fine if I was talking about a human with the capacity to understand choices, but alas I am not. I am talking about a three year old BOY. A boy who needs time, who needs warnings, who clearly needs more sleep than he thinks he does. A boy who needs an extra hug, because he is so easily exasperated that sometimes I just can’t deal. He is so much different than Oldest, a girl. And of course I don’t manage him as I should. Instead I just start yelling and that doesn’t help.

This morning was not an atypical morning here in Cozy Town. It started off fine. I don’t recall when it happened but all of a sudden it was in full force. Oh now it has come back to me. He got a lovely building type thing for Hanukah. It is octagons that interlock with one another. He loves it. He has played with it non-stop since he received it. Well this morning he wanted to bring his “shoot gun” with him to our babysitters.

Me: “Uh, yeah, no. You are not bringing that with you to Aunt’s house.”
Middle: “But I will keep track of my shoot gun.” Begin slow whine
Me: “Middle, I said no. You cannot bring it with you.”
Middle: “Nooooo.” Hitting Baby. Throwing things.
Me: “Stop hitting your brother. I said you cannot bring that with you.”
Middle: Crying now… “wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeeee”
Me: thinking, “Someone PUHLEASE punch me in the face.”

The other kids are cooperating just fine. Coats and boots. I bring Baby out to the car with explicit instructions to the others to stay inside. It is freezing out and I do mean freezing out. “It is so cold outside that my boogies froze,” I say. I return to find the two of them in the breeze way scrounging around for mittens/gloves/hats/scarves/ anything to cover themselves in. I have NO idea where any of their mittens/gloves/hats/scarves are so good luck to them. But they each came up with something. Middle found a pair of my gloves. Oldest found one of her gloves and a hat. Of course Middle, whining, asked me for help with his gloves. All he does is whine I SWEAR. It is so tortuous! I help him with his gloves, then they are not right. Oldest has both of her hands in one glove, such a problem solver she is. I usher her out to the car as his second melt down begins. I just can’t figure him out.

He has one more melt down before we leave the driveway.

He is now safely strapped in his seat and the whining continues.

I dubbed him the Hostage Taker. He screams when we have music on that he doesn’t want the music on. There are four of us in the car. He. Is. A. hostage. Taker. And this morning is no different. Only this morning I don’t even bother turning on the music.

We make our way towards our destination and the whining continues, on and on. My stomach is in a knot, my back is tense. I can’t make out his words. I yell, again. “TELL ME WHAT IS THE MATTER.” “I CANNOT UNDERSTAND YOU WHEN YOU WHINE.” “Take a deep breath and tell me in your big boy voice what the problem is.” He takes a semi-deep breath and manages to get out that his hands are really really cold. I melt. “Rub your hands together Middle.” “It will warm them up a bit.”

I know that I am a good mother, but man oh man sometimes it is so hard. He, of course, was fine at our babysitters. Good as gold. Isn’t that the way?

Care free and freezing

On M, W and Fridays I pick up Oldest from Pre School and deposit her back to our babysitter’s house. Today we were right on schedule. She had her boots on, with her Princess Sneakers in her Dora Backpack, and her hood up. It was cold. I arrived a few minutes early and listened to Christmas Carols with the heat blowing on my feet. I see the little heads bobbing up and down through the glass. I emerge from the car and move quickly so she sees me. She comes out and with her furry purple boots starts jumping in the crunchy, ice coated snow. I pull her away. The crunch is irresistible. “No, mom I want to walk on this.” Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. “Please be careful, I don’t want you to slip.” “Ok.” Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. She keeps on stomping. We make it to the car and away we go.

It is universal. The crunching is universal in all kids. At first I was annoyed as I needed to get back to my office. But I realized she is only going to be 4.5 NOW. So I held her hand and she crunched along. She was sporting a black turtle neck, black leggings and a dress that is too small for her and now looks more like a shirt. It has horses all over it. And she loves it.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Momma Bear

Calm Momma over at the Calm Before the Stork is in the very first weeks of motherhood. The place that many of us have been and countless others after us will be. Reading the guest post today from Mixed Nuts, reminded me how unlike other new moms I was.

I did not do an excessive amount of research for items for our baby. In my typical non-conformist way I declared, rather early on in my pregnancy, that “All the baby needs is me and a clean pair of pants.” But I did have to have the Pottery Barn sheet set for the crib. King Daddy is Jewish and in the Jewish religion babies are not celebrated until they are born. So we didn’t get a lot of stuff. We did have a baby shower and got all the usual items, packages of diapers, unisex clothes, lotions and potions, books, diaper champ, bouncy seat, car seat and the like. That was at the beginning of February.

We had another shower at our apartment a few weeks later. More diapers, lotions and potions, baskets, toys and clothes. Then on Friday February 28th I nested. I went to Target and bought stuff for the house. I went to the grocery store and purchased a bunch of food for the freezer. I didn’t know it at the time that I was nesting only in hindsight did I realize it. When I got home I set up diaper changing stations in each of the three rooms in our apartment; one in our bed room, one in the nursery and one in the living room.

Our baby girl made her debut 9 days early and I had nowhere for her to sleep. We arrived home from the hospital on a Thursday. She was a peanut at just 6lbs 10oz. I emptied the basket we had used for recycling newspapers and lined it with what has become known as Regular Blankie. Our first night home she slept in her basket on top of the coffee table and I on the couch. The next day it was just the two of us. We got to know each other. She slept and I slept harder. One of our friends loaned us an old fashioned cradle. She graduated from the basket to the cradle.

Then she had reflux. She slept in her car seat until she squirmed out of it at 5 mos old. By then we had purchased her crib.

In the end they really don’t need all that stuff. What they do need is love. Through the crying and the sleep deprivation the love grows exponentially until you think you couldn’t possibly love any more. And then you take her for her shots and you realize that you can love deeper, harder and more fiercely than even a mother bear.

38 years, 364 days, 20 hours and 4.5 minutes

This is how old I am right now. While I am typing. Tomorrow, at approximately 3:20 in the afternoon, I will turn 39. I graduated high school when I was 17, so most of my former high school classmates are already 39 and some of them will be turning 40 very soon. I have a whole 'nother year before that happens.

Age has never really bothered me. Although I must admit that 31 was a lot harder to take than 30. Once I was 31 I was "in my thirties." Now that I have children age seems to matter. I think it is inherent in the mom competition. And if you are a mom you know exactly what I am talking about. As if how old you were when you got married or when you had children makes a friggin' difference. If I had had the opportunity to get married earlier, I would have. But I didn't. I got married when I was 32, I got pregnant by 33, had my first at 34, my second at 35 and my third at 37.

I don't feel old, I feel saggy. Everything sags. I become more of a morning person the older I get. I am asleep earlier and earlier every year, or so it seems.

But this is for sure, as an almost 39 year old wife and mother of three, I wouldn't change one darn thing about my life. It is truly that good.

Mhister Man

Middle had a protracted crying, whining episode this morning.

It all began, at 5:43 am, with “Mammy. Mammy. Bodtle. Bodtle.” Baby was calling. I was cozy in our bed. King Daddy’s alarm had already gone off three times. I nudged him again to turn it off. “Mommy. Mommy. Blankie. Mommy. Blankie” I swung my legs out of bed and padded across the floor. I opened the door and there he was. He looked up at me and then down, pointing to his blankie and bodtle, both on the floor where he threw them before sleep overcame his sweet body. Oldest and Middle were still in their beds. Oldest’s eyes were open; “Did you bring my purple blanket in from the car?” “Of course I did.” Then I proceed to gently suggest that they both stay cozy in their beds.

And then it hit.

“I don’t want to stay cozy in my bed. I don’t want to stay cozy in my bed. I don’t WANT to stay cozy in my BED.”

Oldest made her way downstairs and settled in on the couch with her cup of cocoa. Middle came down as angry has he had been upstairs. He was no longer chanting. He was whining for cocoa. “You need to have juice.” “NNNnnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.” Then he threw himself on the floor, on top of his blankie, for thirty five minutes.

I showered, King Daddy showered and still he was yelling and crying.

He finally pulled himself together enough to come and sit with me on the couch. I held him. Slowly he began to relax and giggle a little at the kid show playing on the tv. I extracted myself from him to finish getting all of us ready.

We left the driveway with minimal whining and only one hug kiss today, not a 100. They are happy to back with our babysitter. Chattering and playing.

It is good to be a kid who is loved by so many.

There are many kids who are loved my many. But sometimes they are loved by people who don’t know what love is. They don’t understand or have the capacity to give love selflessly. I went to school with a kid who was loved. He was loved by a man who beat him and degraded him. He was loved by a sister who looked up to him. He was loved by a man who gave him a job and he was loved by his friends.

For some reason this kid, whose name was Bobby Ludwig, has been on my mind lately. He died in 1995 and I just pray that he knew, even if it was for just a few moments, what real love felt like. His story is the stuff that horror stories are made of, only it was not a story, it was real. He was real. His situation was real. I didn’t know Bobby all that well during high school, but I remember he was gentle and polite.

When I heard of his suicide years after the incident I was stricken with despair. This kid was tortured in life by a man that was supposed to love him. This man ultimately died a horrific death. It was the final act of retaliation for the years of unspeakable torture.

After the incident the town rallied around him. They raised money for his defense. His employer was the champion of the cause. In the end he didn’t go to jail. But he was never really free. He was never really free from the horror inflicted on him. I don’t know what he did after graduation, or where he went, or if he went to school. All I know is that on a day in 1995 he jumped off a bridge, ending his life.

I don’t know why he has been on my mind or my heart as of late, perhaps it is so no one forgets his story or perhaps it is to remind me that love is the most powerful thing in the world. And not one of us can survive without it.

Daring Young Mom helps

While perusing my usual morning blogs I was directed to this one. It is a wonder how the human spirit soars in the midst of tragedy. The tragedy of the floods in Washington State.

Imagine if this was your house, your stuff. 3 weeks before Christmas. Your thoughts filled with the insignificance of the wrapping paper and the gifts as you plan to survive. Your wedding pictures, covered in mud. Baby's outfit that she came home from the hospital in, destroyed. Imagine it. I shudder to think.

I don't know what we would do if this had happened to our home, to our family. We are thankful that it has not and saddened that it has happened to others. This Daring Young Mom has stepped up. She has a Pay Pal donation button on her blog as well as having been helping these families. She is an inspiration. Be inspired, stop by and give.

Where are the ice scrapers?

Him: “Do you know where all of our ice scrapers are?”
Me: “No, I used my credit card last week.”
Him: “Oh so they are good for something.”
Me: “Our lives are in ruin. We are losers. We don’t even know where the ice scrapers are!”
Him: Chuckles as he leans in for a reassuring hug and kiss, “No we are not in ruins.”

He departs and I set about getting the kids ready. They are already dressed and we are having breakfast on the go so we just need to put coats and boots on. And of course, gather all of the blankies.

I glanced out the window to see his car in the driveway. “Oh no he is stuck.”
Him: “Don’t know what else to do here. I could back it up three feet and go back to bed.”
Me: “Get the floor mats out and put them under the tires, it will help.”
While he did that I went to get the dust pan and broom to sweep up the sand off the porch.
Him: “The tire is completely flat and you were right about the tail pipe.”
Me: “Here is some sand. This is horrible!”
Him: “It is so bad I saw the mice slipping around.”
Me: “REALLY?”
Him: “No.”

He makes it out of the driveway and over to the gas station next door. I hear the tink, tink, tink as the tail pipe bumps on the ground, soon to be completely dragging on the ground, without the delicate sound of tink, tink, tink, but rather a harsh grating sound.

Go Pats!

He wears a box on his head and parades around the living room, purposefully bumping into things and us. His giddiness is fueled by the hilarious giggle from his sister. He tries to climb onto my chair as I write, then he places one foot on the desk as I imagined the astronauts did on the moon. With one swift movement he is off the desk. He climbs on top of the Little Tikes tool bench to flip the light switch, the nonworking light switch. Now he is back in the living room. “Go Pat,” he says with an angelic O mouth. His words have exploded. She yells, “Go Pats!” He buries his face in his blankie for reassurance. He moves on to the Christmas tree, the top heavy Christmas tree. For obvious reasons our tree has the majority of ornaments on the top. This is not my first Christmas with a toddler it is my first Christmas with this toddler. He is unlike either of the other two. Perhaps it is because this is the first time I have had a 20 month old without an infant. Perhaps I had a tighter reign on the other two or perhaps it is his red hair.

King Daddy and I both have dark hair. I have blue eyes and he brown eyes. I prayed for blue eyed children. I also prayed for ten fingers and ten toes and the strength to accept whatever the outcome was of my pregnancies. It has been 4.5 years since I birthed my first and I am still asking for strength. Oldest is blond and green eyes, Middle is brown hair and blue eyes and Baby is red hair and blue eyes. They are so individual yet so genetically linked. Oldest has olive skin of her father’s heritage, Middle has ivory skin of his mother’s heritage and Baby has the hair of his maternal great grandparents and his fraternal great grandmother and the skin of his maternal grandmother. He is our only to have freckles sprayed across the bridge of his nose.

He woke up from his nap screaming. Not screaming for me, just screaming. Middle has always needed a little extra when he wakes. I think about the dinner I have to prepare, but he is not ready to be without me. So we will eat later. He needs me. Oldest asks why he was crying. "Because I wanted my mom," he says. We will eat late tonight. This time is fleeting, it will be over before it has even began.

S C A T O L O G Y

Bathroom humor. Potty talk. POOP talk. Whatever your vernacular, if you have children you know of what I speak. And this language is huge in our house these days. Middle just likes to say "Butt." He dissolves into giggles and says it at every opportunity. I think mostly because it makes Oldest laugh. But the problem is, it makes me laugh too. I prefer to refer to the passing of gas, as just that. I find the slang for that so offensive I can't even type it. Oh and this brings me a cum-pleet nonsequitur but was hilarious none the less.

I was instant messaging with one of my coworkers today. He and I have been working tirelessly on this seemingly unending project. I IM'ed just one word, "fuck." His response was, "Nice mouth". His follow up to that was "Do you kiss your Mother with those fingers?" I WAS DYING! It was h i l a r i o u s!

Anyway, sorry for that interruption. Where was I? Oh yes POOP. Growing up my siblings and I were totally into it. And sadly, some would say, we are still into it. When the five of us are together it is inevitable and the laughter cannot be stopped. So it is hard not to laugh.

King Daddy, however, is not as schooled in the ways of bathroom talk as I. And so it was 7 years ago when he began working with my brother that his initiation began. And today you ask? He is a champion. In fact he composed a little diddy for the kids. It is to the tune of the Tin Man's song from Wizard of Oz, you know the one, "If I only had a heart..." His version goes like this:

"I will poop away the hours

and wipe my bum with flowers

if I only had a bum..."

My my Dear Reader, how far the mighty have fallen.

p.s. It is the 4th night of Hanukkah and Oldest has recited the Pledge of Allegiance every night. Precious!

The Birth Plan

These three words make many people in the maternity ward cringe. It has been my experience that when you plan any event right down to minutia it will back fire. And I believe the birth plan to be one of the most excellent example of this. As you know Dear Reader, we cannot control anything in our lives least of all the birthing of a baby. I have never been a control freak so when I became pregnant with Oldest I just went along for the ride. I am a faithful sort so I would just pray that everything would be alright. I did what I could do to be a good host while my passenger rode with me for 9 months.

But that is really all I could do, isn't that really all any of us can do? So when my midwife asked me if I wanted a birth plan I laughed. Seriously, my body will tell me when the baby is ready to come out. My midwife will tell me what to do and when to do it. And we did attend the birthing classes. Although we were almost thrown out. We did a lot of inappropriate laughing. Particularly when they did the relaxation techniques. "You are a pebble on a beach. The surf is gently lapping over you." We were hysterical. Give me a marathon of Law and Order, now that is relaxing to me. And that is most of my unsolicited advice to a pregnant woman, "Whatever you do right now to relax, do that when you are in labor."

Being in labor is serious business. My labors were short, well not with Baby, but the third is often the wild card and ours sure was. But being in labor is a scary, vulnerable time and it seems to reason that you would do what is familiar to you. My first labor was really uneventful. But when you are new at it you aren't sure that you will recognize the signs. Which is why we called when I saw blood in the toilet, 10 days before the due date. We went in, only after King Daddy shaved my legs, and my examination showed nothing. "Call us when you can't talk through your contractions. This may be the beginning or you may do nothing for several days/weeks," we were told by our doctor. So with Bunny strapped into the infant car seat we were off to Wendy's. It really began at 5 a.m.. I tried to breathe through the contractions. I woke up King Daddy. Called the doctor and we were off. Being a novice, I would stiffen with each contraction. I would clutch his sweat shirt. It wasn't helping me or the contractions. So after my midwife broke my water, when the contractions were on top of each other and so intense, I started to hyperventilate and wanted to puke. My midwife grabbed my hand and sternly told me to breathe and relax. Two very important points. It made all the world of difference. After that I was able to, when my contractions were super intense, close my eyes and concentrate on the steadiness and constancy of my breaths. King Daddy would watch the monitor and would whisper to me "It's almost over."

I had asked for an epidural, but there was not time. I went from 3 to 10 cms in 45 minutes. I pushed for 20 minutes. I was not good at listening when she told me not to push. She had one glove on to catch our baby girl.

But more to my point of birth plans and control. In my experience every person, it seems, that has a birth plan has had to have an emergency c-section or a vacuum assisted delivery or some other sort of serious medical intervention. Nothing is as it seems and the human body with all of its imperfections is a divine invention. Let the Inventor do His thing. And sit back and enjoy the ride of your life.

Nothing much of note, but...

Dear Reader, I forgot to mention this about last night. Prior to the prayers that King Daddy says when lighting the menorah, Oldest stopped him and said that she had a prayer that she learned at school. We all looked at her and she was off. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America…” All the way through, with her hand on her heart, so tonight it was the same thing. Only tonight, she and Middle were in their underwear and pull up respectively, standing on the bench. I snapped a picture and then we proceeded with lighting the menorah. But what you miss by merely reading this is her emphasis, the nodding of her head and her absolute belief that this is a prayer. IT. IS. PRECIOUS.

This morning, my eyes opened before the alarm. Never a good thing. Everyone, sans Baby, comes into the bathroom and sits in the laundry baskets full of dirty laundry. “We just came into to see if dad was in the shower?” “Well, uh, no it is me. Why don’t you head down stairs and tell daddy that Baby is awake.” “No we want to stay here with yoooouuuuu.” And that, Dear Reader, is how it all began.

Nothing of note when getting everyone ready or me for that matter, but Baby did climb into the dryer, he was so very proud of himself. He sat there happily snuggling with his blankie, in his fort. I called Oldest and Middle to see him and snapped a picture. I know, I know that is dangerous. I am not new at motherhood, I KNOW it is dangerous. After I took the picture I removed Baby, shut the door and brought everyone back into the kitchen and closed the door.

Our babysitter had surgery last week and is still recuperating. Our friend, Nonnie and QA1 have been helping us with the kids. So it was only slightly disconcerting to me that my sister, QA1, was the one to watch the kids today with our toilet was clogged. So clogged in fact that I thought we might have to move. I briefly worked on it and upon her arrival said “Please use the bathroom upstairs, there is a plunger sticking out of the toilet in there.” And with that, I was on my way to work. I did not receive any phone calls about this issue at work. I was relieved. When I returned home from work this issue had not been resolved. King Daddy took care of it and then instructed Oldest on how to flush the toilet. Hilarious.

So do you want to hear about the small world factor that punctuated my day today? Here it is.

I work at a company very near my house, after working in Boston for many years, this was a very welcome change for me. At my former position in Boston, which was very close to my home town, I came across many people who I went to school with or were now living in my home town. Where I live and work is not near where I grew up, in the least. So when I was on a conference call today and the caller ID flashed a number from the town that I grew up in I assumed it was the Mother of Queen Mommy. It wasn’t. Only after I sent an email to the Mother of Queen Mommy inquiring if she had just called, did I received an email from my coworker saying that he just left a message for me. My coworker not only lives in my home town, he lives in my best friend's [since 2nd grades] old house. In the very neighborhood where I grew up. Not only is the guy who had his locker next to mine his next door neighbor, but he is good friends with a guy that I grew up with who lives in his parents house. Now that is a small world. Goose bumps small world.

And with that I must go punch myself in the face and get everyone ready for bed. They have done N O T H I N G but whine, fight, tattle and hit since the moment I walked in. Ugh.

Huh? Me? Noooooooooooo!

It may seem frivolous to you, but to me Dear Reader, I love when people stop by and check out my blog. I absolutely love writing and writing on the blog is a blast.

You may have noticed that I have a counter at the bottom of the page. This functionality provides me with referring URLs. Today I was astonished to see that one such referring URL(what exactly is a URL?) was, http://www.bloggerschoiceawards.com/. I was stunned. So I went to Bloggers Choice, and lo and behold there I am. Someone nominated me for a Bloggers Choice Award! Huh?! Who? Who could have done this? I have my suspicions but regardless, it is VERY exciting to me. People read me! People like me! Although only one of you has ever commented and it happens to be my friend who is also a blogger, http://www.sixexits.com/. Curious.

"What is the deal with blogging anyway?" Is a commonly asked question and frankly I don't know the answer. I know why I do it. Secretly, I hope to be discovered for my sheer talent and offered a gazillion dollar book deal. All pipe dreams aside, I do it because it is entertaining for me and for my readers. My readers are mostly people who are realted to me or who are friends that I have ORDERED to read/visit my blog. (With the exception of Bacon Man. Bacon Man has not been here to check me out. Rude.) Which means that my dream of the gazillion dollar book deal is as big a possibility that I will wake up tall and blond. Not likely.

In any event, go to http://www.bloggerschoiceawards.com/ and vote for From Talbots to Target as one of the Hottest Mommy Blogs!

I double dog dare you

Snipit

Baby is 20 months old today! I can't believe it!! That is him when he was tiny, not super duper tiny, but that outfit he is wearing is a 0-3.

My kids are all screaming and whining, I am going to go punch myself in the face.

Potato Latkes, YUM. One of the best parts of Hanukah. One of the other best things about Hanukah? King Daddy saying the prayers in Hebrew, now THAT is talent!

Read on, Dear Reader, read on...

I dare YOU!

Should you find yourself in the corporate jungle, give these a try. I find them to completely HILARIOUS! And have even done some of them, see highlighted ones below. But what I find the most hysterical is imagining someone doing them. EVERY TIME I see this, I am completely hysterical.

One point office dares...

1) Run one lap around the office at top speed.

2) Groan out loud in the toilet cubicle (at least one other 'non-player' must be in the toilet at the time).

3) Ignore the first five people who say 'good morning' to you.

4) Phone someone in the office you barely know, leave your name and say, "Just called to say I can't talk right now. Bye."

5) To signal the end of a conversation, clamp your hands over your ears and grimace.

6) When someone hands you a piece of paper, finger it, and whisper huskily, "Mmmmmmm, that feels soooooo good!".

7) Leave your zipper open for one hour. If anyone points it out, say, "I prefer it this way".

8) Walk sideways to the photocopier.

9) While riding in a elevator, gasp dramatically every time the doors open.
10) Every time someone asks you to do something, ask if they want fries with that.

Three point office dares...

1) Say to your boss, "I like your style" and shoot him/her with double-barrelled fingers.

2) Babble incoherently at a fellow employee then ask, "Did you get all that, I don't want to have to repeat it".

3) Page yourself over the intercom (do not disguise your voice).

4) Kneel in front of the water cooler and drink directly from the nozzle (there must be a 'non-player' within sight).

5) Shout random numbers while someone is counting.
6) Put your rubbish bin on your desk and label it"IN."

7) Put decaf in the coffee maker for 3 weeks. Once everyone has got over his or her caffeine addictions, switch to espresso.

8) Don't use any punctuation

9) As often as possible, skip rather than walk.

Five point office dares...

1) At the end of a meeting, suggest that, for once, it would be nice to conclude with the singing of the national anthem (extra points if you actually launch into it yourself).

2) Walk into a very busy person's office and while they watch you with growing irritation, turn the light switch on/off 10 times.

3) For an hour, refer to everyone you speak to as "Bob".

4) Announce to everyone in a meeting that you "really have to go do a number two".

5) After every sentence, say 'Mon' in a really bad Jamaican accent. As in "the report's on your desk, Mon". Keep this up for one hour.

6) While an office mate is out, move their chair into the elevator.

7) In a meeting or crowded situation, slap your forehead repeatedly and mutter, "Shut up, all of you just shut up!"

8) At lunchtime, get down on your knees and announce, "As God is my witness, I'll never go hungry again".

9) In a colleague's diary, write in 10am: "See how I look in tights".

10) Carry your keyboard over to your colleague and ask "You wanna trade?".

11) Repeat the following conversation 10 times to the same person: "Do you hear that?" "What?" "Never mind, it's gone now".

12) Come to work in army fatigues and when asked why, say, "I can't talk about it".

13) Posing as a maitre d', call a colleague and tell him he's won a lunch for four at a local restaurant. Let him go.

14) Speak with an accent (French, German, Porky Pig etc) during a very important conference call.

15) Find the vacuum and start vacuuming around your desk.

16) Hang a two-foot long piece of toilet roll from the back of your pants and act genuinely surprised when someone points it out.

17) Present meeting attendees with a cup of coffee and biscuit, smash each biscuit with your fist.

18) During the course of a meeting, slowly edge your chair towards the door.

19) Arrange toy figures on the table to represent each meeting attendee, move them according to the movements of their real-life counterparts.

Ramblings from Cozy Town

There are so many things that I want to write about tonight.

For example, that Baby goes from 60 to zero in one second flat. He was climbing on the corner cabinet and smiling so very proudly when I prepared his bottle, handed it to him and gathered his blankie. We all say good night and he is down for the count.

That the "C" key on my laptop is virtually destroyed. Baby likes to climb up on the computer and reach for tacks, cards, tape, the stapler.

That my Christmas card picture has been chosen and uploaded. No, we don't do a Christmas letter.

That Oldest puked this morning, right in front of the bathroom. King Daddy stayed home.

That when your size X jeans (too large for public consumption) are too tight, it is time to stop eating as if you have been deprived for life.

That there is a Barbie Wizard of Oz set.

That my slippers are at least 20 years old and have gray/metalic duct tape on the bottom.

That the giggle of Middle is the sweetest thing my ears have ever heard. How he enunciates his words. He elongates them. And it is so endearing. For example, we had tacos for dinner last night and they are his favorite. He pronounces taco like this "taakoo."

That Oldest couldn't wait for me to come home to show me how clean the living room was. And that she thinks I smell sooo good.

That I bought an electronic rodent eradicator. It produces electronic pulses or sound waves that are supposed to rid your house of said rodents. So far I think it is summoning all of the rodents in all of Cozy Town to seek refuge in our house. Back to the D-Con. Die rodents die.

That Oldest doesn't want to cheer for the Dolphins anymore because they stink.

That my bra is in the middle of the kitchen floor.

That I played with my children yesterday.

That my Jewish husband reads Advent Stories and decorates the Christmas tree.

Baby eats tacks

We have a 140 year old farmhouse. When we had our inspection we waived the lead issue. We know we have lead and therefore we discourage all who visit and habitate from eating any of the painted surfaces. You would think this would be easy.

All children are tested for lead at their 12 month and/or 18 month well baby visit, and then again at a later date. My children are no different. We moved into this house when Oldest was 9 months old. Her lead tests were within normal limits, every time. Middle's 12 month lead test came back so elevated I thought we would have to move before the department of health descended upon us. Our regular pediatrician was on maternity leave so we saw one of her partners. The partner called me to tell me the lead test results. She was "alarmed". [I was so calm as I listened to her tell me the results, the next time I saw her, she was said, "I was so freaked out about his results and you were so calm."] She went on to say that Middle was going to have to go to the hospital and have some sort of infusion to rid his body of the excess lead. The department of health was going to be called. Can you imagine have the department of health at your house? I don't care how good your cleaning people are, it is a scary, scary thought. Thankfully we retested him and he was within normal limits. Phew!

Baby likes to chew things, neither of the other two had a particular affinity for the oral fixation. But Baby likes to chew and chew he does. Today he ate a candle. Knawed on the dinning table, the mullions on the windows and the window sill. His FAVORITE thing to put into his mouth? THUMB TACKS. Not the flat kind but the kind that look like little hour glasses. He prefers the green over the other colors. He screamed his head off when I pinned him down to get two of them out of his mouth. You may be asking, Dear Reader, how did your baby get a hold of these thumb tacks? Well that is a good question and one I might have asked myself. I tried to put up colored Christmas lights on the ceiling in the office/den/play room, with thumb tacks. When Baby got up from his nap he promptly pulled down the lights, the tacks I did not gather up went into his mouth. And when they are not on the floor he climbs up on to the desk, stands on the laptop and helps himself to the box of tacks. I don't have to do any sweeping because he eats all the Cheerios off of the floor.

If he had been first he would have been an only. He pushes and yells at Oldest and Middle if they are sitting on my lap, he doesn't like to share his mother. Um, hello? Are you kidding me? He is the busiest of the three, never ever stops. He tries to do everything the other two do, excluding laying about watching the Wizard of Oz.

He is really good with words that begin with B. Bottle, blankie, baby. These three are the words that are most easily understood. His speech grows every day. His announciation too. Although, eating tacks will put an end to that.

The Dancing Elves

Happy Holidays!

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=1122387564

I have created a monster

My kids have never played on the computer. Admittedly, Oldest is probably behind her contemporaries on this skill. But I knew it would be Pandora's Box and I just couldn't deal. So it has happened. QA1 babysat on Thursday last and they were introduced to Microsoft Paint. I knew this day would come. My friend set up her old computer for her kids and I thought that would be a good idea for our kids. So we set up the old one, pull out the kid table and chairs. Oldest starts painting pictures, but soon she wants to do something else. Our old computer is old. So old, that I am not sure we could put games on it as our operating system is Windows 98. Then Baby climbed, repeatedly, on top of the table and proudly stood on the computer. [This is why the table was in the barn in the first place!] So I put the table and chairs back into the barn and put the computer back where it was.

That is when it happened. I got onto the Internet, something I had not planned on, but we have no computer games and I already pay for Internet access so, "Why not?" I went to PBSKids.org and headed straight for Super Why, our FAVORITE show on PBS this season. She played Super Why games for hours, or so it seemed, and loved it! She needs to work on her fine motor skills (mouse) and her letters (games), so regardless of the fact that Pandora's Box has been opened, she will be smarter and more dexterous.

Yesterday

Was a challenging day.
Middle was having a very hard time keeping his hands to himself.
Oldest was having a hard time keeping her tattles to herself.
Baby was having no trouble throwing all of his breakfast on the floor.

The ride to the babysitters was long, punctuated by moans, whines and groans from Middle. "I don't WANT to listen to music." Ok, so we didn't listen to music. Oldest and Baby sat happily in their seats as the ride progressed. My back hurt so bad from the tension.

My friend and I were out Christmas shopping last night and we wondered, why? Why do they hit and touch eachother? Why do they whine? Why are they not logical thinkers? WHY?

I think it is time to go back to my book, The Happiest Toddler on the Block, by Dr. Harvey Karp. After all, the why question is not their problem, it is mine.