One Step Forward, Two Steps Sideways

Twas the Night Before Christmas...Post-Midnight, With-a-Little-Wine Style

2011-12-25T00:38:00.001-06:00

Twas the night before Christmas as Isat in my home,

which was finally as quiet as any oldtomb.

The cookies were eaten, the milk fullygone,

the snoring from sleeping family afriendly buzz-saw.

The children were passed out, after ahuge sugar high

while images of iPods sat in their sleepyeye.

Hubby in bed already and I on thechair,

were settled in at long last, no longeraware.

When all of a sudden, there I thoughtfor a moment.

What better a night for love andatonement!

Away to my 'puter I raced that rightminute,

To see if I had the words and a way tospin it.

Then I realized no spin was needed, thetruth should be had.

The clarity of honesty would be thisday's badge.

The first item of business was how toforgive

the people whose words have hurt how Ilive.

With a deep breath and a really deepsigh,

I did relieve myself of that paininside.

The next words to ponder were how tolive right,

to show my children love's power andmight.

To lead by example, to show more thanwords,

to help, to live, to strive to be good.

To make every day end as well as itbegan,

and hold every moment in the palm of myhand,

As the winds break just before thestorm,

and the silence that comes is cause foralarm,

so I had a moment of stillness justthen

I realized so much had I to do, butwhen?

Each idea and desire to share with theworld

came gnawing and proving to just soundabsurd.

As I started to struggle with just whatto do

I realized that others probably feltthat way, too.

We all fear rejection, silence, and pain,

but without them their opposite wouldhave no name.

Family and friends cause both love andhurt,

and neither is wrong nor can bereturned.

Their laughter is catching, theirsadness so raw!

Their details so trying, theirbloodline yet law.

I try to show my children these folksare our world,

For better or worse, though they causeour toes to curl.

There is nothing an iPod has over afriend,

or anything a Beyblade has to offerbetter than

the love of a family member who haswatched you grow,

or the support of a friend that you'velearned to know.

They are the real gifts, the realpresents today,

despite what Hallmark and Toys R Us maysay.

There may be cries of pain overmis-sent gifts,

ones that are cheesy or simply don'tfit.

I will be the first one to remind themhow lucky we are

to have friends and family sendanything from afar.

We are truly privileged to live such alife

where we have so much over which tosmile or sigh.

But for my children whose toys will probably endup broken,

I save for them this one last smalltoken.

Be the best that you can for all thoseyou meet,

for it is them and their relationshipsthat make our lives sweet.

*****************************************************

Merry Christmas, happy holidays, happyHanukkah, happy Kwanzaa,

merry Santa Lucia Day, etc.

It is not so much WHAT you celebrate,but how...and I hope, for all, it's

with an open heart and an open hand.

How is Your Husband Like a Bikini?

2011-11-30T21:48:00.001-06:00

People shop for a bathing suit with more care than they do a husband or wife. The rules are the same. Look for something you'll feel comfortable wearing. Allow for room to grow.
~Erma Bombeck

Day Thirty: For the last twenty-nine days my husband has asked about, implied that, mentioned, noted, etc. that his poor little name was not posted somewhere on this blog. Little comments like, "Could be thankful for your husband!" have permeated my days. Part of me has wanted to dig in my heels, stick out my tongue, and tell him to go screw- if you have to ask for it, you probably don't deserve it! However, despite my aggravation, irritation, and frustration with him, he deserves some notice...even if only a paragraph or so.

I have a theory that marriage doesn't have to be perfect or even gloriously happy; it has to be a state where for at least four days out of every seven, you're good with it. If it goes the other way, say you're only good two or three days, then there's a problem. But really, anyone who says their marriage is perfect is either lying, drunk, or missing their frontal lobe (or any combination thereof). With that said, after 12 1/2 years of marriage and 16+ total years of partnership, Aaron is still ok four days out of every seven. Some weeks are better than others, but, overall, I am grateful to have him in my life...especially now that the last decade-plus worth of his training is finally paying off! He has given me a beautiful home, four incredible children, plenty of ammunition with which to make fun of him, a couple great pairs of earrings, an awesome wool coat, and, most of all, someone with whom I know that, for better or worse, I can share my world and everything in it for as long as I can see in the future. That has to be worth at least 30 days of thanks in and of itself.

Who are the people in your neighborhood?

2011-11-30T06:05:00.002-06:00

One day I will stay awake long enough to do these on the day they should be done instead of playing catch up every three days. Although, honestly, catching up is the story of my life- in laundry, work, etc. So really, why should this be any different? Fortunately, none of you expect too much from me- ha ha- so I am not feeling too terribly guilty about making you wait for my profound insights.

I am going to save today's thanks for this evening; I have been thinking about it for days and need to mull over some more just how I want to go about writing it. However, the other two days missing from my roster are fresh in mind and ready to go:

Day Twenty-Eight: As every good Italian should, I have a huge amount of family (beyond my immediate circle at home) spread out from sibling to parents to cousins, aunts and uncles, second cousins, step-cousins, great-aunts, great-uncles, first cousins once removed, etc. There are some I speak with frequently, some that I don't, some I don't really ever want to speak with, and some who I miss terribly. Regardless of how I feel about them or they about me, though, I am thankful to have them in my life. They have helped to shape my view of the world, of myself, and of my future. Without them, for better or worse, I wouldn't have the values that I hold and the belief system that I hold dear. Everyone should have the opportunity to see so many ideas and perspectives in the people in their life; these differences and the gaps between are what allow us to see who we really are and what we really want to be. I am grateful to have had these people in my life over the years and now; they are family.

Day Twenty-Nine: My boys, oh, my boys. They really each should have gotten their own day, but it didn't work out. So you will have to suffer through a longer thanks today for the boys in my world.

I must start with Uilleam, my littlest man. He came into the world on his own terms and has lived every minute since in the same way. I told my mother after he was born that he is in my life to show me that I cannot continue to think that everything will go as planned- the way I planned. He has proven that to me over and over again. He is a love, my monkey, and is the happiest child I know. He has brought to all of us more smiles than we could imagine possible. He is doted on by his brothers and sister and loves them unconditionally in return, with wide arms and an even wider grin. I could not imagine my life without this little monster in it; he is a miracle, truly, of science and will, and I am eternally thankful for his existence.

Connlaodh is a tough nut. He wears his world on his sleeve, for better or worse. He doesn't play games, doesn't try to hide anything, doesn't care what the world thinks- he is who he is. He is stubborn (can't imagine where that comes from) and this drives me nuts! But what he also does is show the most unabashed love and concern and affection than almost anyone I know. He is the one who, in the midst of the chaos that is our ride home from school, will call out, "Mom!" To which I will answer, exasperated, "What, Connlaodh?" And the response I get, sincere in its glee and passion is, "'I LOVE YOU SOOOOOOO MUCH." He makes me laugh, brings me to tears with his innocence, and makes me feel like a kid again, watching him see everything anew and in a different way than his brother and sister did before him. My brother bear, my big guy. My Connlaodh. Totally open, totally unafraid, totally love.

My oldest child, my first born. Taidhgin. I have spoken of him before, but he deserves another set of remarks. He is such an old man in there, so pensive and thoughtful. On so many levels he is an 8 year old boy (and a dork at that), but beyond the DSi, past the TV, far above the coolmath.com entertainment, he is a man beyond his years. Thoughtful, sensitive, concerned about the world around him, he is always the one of the four who wonders how the other person feels and how he would feel in the same position. He forgives without a second thought the people who hurt him; he doesn't ask for people to make it up to him, he always assumes people are doing the best that they can with what they can. It pains me sometimes because I can see how he could be hurt in the future by people who will take advantage of his good nature, but then I hope that he continues to hold onto it, because people as good as him are few and far between.

Clark! I don't want to spend the holidays dead!

2011-11-27T21:37:00.004-06:00

Clark: Our holidays were always such a mess.
Clark Sr.: Oh, yeah.
Clark: How'd you get through it?
Clark Sr.: I had a lot of help from Jack Daniels.

(National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, 1989)

Day Twenty-Seven: And we're off and running, folks. The turkey leftovers are picked over, the cranberry sauce has been discarded, the stuffing is nothing but bread crumbs and raisin bits, and the kids are clamoring for snow, tinsel, trees, and candy canes. We were barely off the plane last night before Eibhlin was asking if we could decorate today, downstairs tree and all. As if we didn't have enough to do, right?! But what is a parent to do when, every year that her children have been alive, the Sunday after Thanksgiving has transformed our home from la-di-dah to a winter wonderland? That parent says sure, hon, we'll start right after breakfast...and that is what they do.

We spent the entire day today decorating the house, replacing old/broken bulbs, and buying new goodies for the outside light display. We carefully placed glass balls and candles on the tree, contemplated the proper placement of each and every candy-cane covered piece of house decor that has spent the last 11 months trapped in a box beneath the stairs. We discussed the impact of placing the glitter ornaments near the lights on their overall aesthetic appeal, we hung lights and garland on the staircase, placed stockings on the mantel, and draped lights on the bushes and trees out front. Dead tired from travel and decorating, we finally finished. The house was done. Nothing else got done today, but the Christmas decorations are perfectly hung and we are ready for four weeks of "Jingle Bells" and "Rudolph".

The best part of my day was not the decorating, despite what I may have lead you to believe (with my narrative above heavily coated with sarcasm and molasses). On the contrary, the decorating gives me a migraine and makes me wish I could justify drinking at lunch. However, I love that the kids all got into it- where to move the furniture, hang the Christmas card holder, etc- and that for them, this IS what the Sunday after Thanksgiving is about. For them, this tradition, it helps define when what the season is in their minds- it is NOW and it is family. And so even if this only lasts until they have flown (or escaped!) from the nest and go out to make memories and traditions of their own, I am thankful to have this for as long as we can- headache and all.

There is no place like home.

2011-11-26T20:38:00.005-06:00

No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home. - L. Frank Baum, The Wizard of Oz

Happy freaking holidays, my friends! After a whirlwind Friday and a day of flying today, I am finally able to sit down and think for a moment. I am not saying I am going to get anywhere with it, by any means. But it's nice to sip a glass of wine in a relatively silent home and actually let some thoughts solidify instead of maintaining their typically ethereal quality in my mind. With that being said, I am done- after several days of travel, family, and friends, I am ready to tuck myself in for the night. So quickly, but just as meaningfully as always, I'd like to share my thanks with you.

Day Twenty-Five: Every year, on the Friday after Thanksgiving, we get together with Aaron's friends from Franklin and their families. Every year since 2003, the number of people has increased by an exponential amount. What began as a group of 12-13 couples (depending on the year), has turned into 12-13 couples with nearly 40 children among them! Every year we force the kids into groups of mixed ages and genders and not necessarily filled with kids they already know...and yet, every year, I am amazed at how easily they all work together and play together and enjoy each other's company. Not an argument, not a complaint, lots of sharing and playing- it's as if the friendship of their parents is so entrenched in their genes that they have no option other than to like each other. I think of all the possible outcomes of this mixed group and am so thankful for the fact that we were all given these children who are so fun and filled with life and love and who are continuing on a legacy of good people and solid, sound friendship.

Day Twenty-Six: Home. Home is what I am thankful for today. Not my house, my address, my couch or my bed, but the feeling of driving down the interstate, heading south from the airport, and knowing that every minute is a minute closer to your zone of comfort, of your own belongings and own space, your own time and your own world. Traveling is wonderful, and we are so grateful to have the chance and money available to travel as much as we do to see family, see friends, go on vacation, etc. However, no matter how much fun we have, no matter how much love is given and received, no matter how many sights we see, beaches we roam, dinners out we eat, nothing beats coming home. Home is not where your house is, home is not where you park your car. Home is not where your mail is delivered and where your pets run free. Home is where you can lay on the couch, in front of the fire, and feel whole and at peace. Good night, my friends. I am home.

Let the Festivities Begin!

2011-11-24T08:14:00.004-06:00

Between work and traveling and generally being upside and inside out (i.e. being a working of mom with more children and pets than she can count), I have once again become delayed in posting my thanks. However, on the morn of this day of thanks, I find myself with a few brief moments in which I can share my thanks and provide you with some words to ponder on this fine, fine day. Working from the first missed day...

Day Twenty-Two: From the time we left our house to the time we arrived in Franklin, MA, the kids had endured almost 12 hours of travel time. While they've done that before, it's never fun. However, my children- my wonderful, amazing children- are such seasoned travelers that they made the trip more than bearable. They buckled each other in, worked on worksheets, read books, listened to music, followed maps, and generally just traveled as well as- if not better than- the adults I know. Were my children more of the type Bill Cosby made famous ("Jeffrey, Jeffrey, Jeffrey!"), I am fairly certain that none of our family up north would ever see my children. Love my jet-setting babies!

Day Twenty-Three: We spent the morning with my old friend and her husband who drove all the way up from Bristol, RI to pay us a short visit. Wow. We had a wonderful time, a lot of laughs, a few dismissed tears, and, in general, picked up where we left off last time...and from where we began in 1983. This visit started off a day of peace, fun, and relaxation- something that does not often happen when traveling over the holidays. For all of this, I am truly thankful...and lucky...and I promise I am not drinking as I write this.

Day Twenty-Four: This morning I am feeling a little more pensive, a little more quiet, and a little more reflective. I keep thinking that there is something that should mark today a more significant day of thanks, one that makes the others look like thumbtacks in a box full of railroad spikes. I have been wracking my brain, searching for the ultimate "thanks". There is none, my friends. Every day is a day of thanks and every day deserves equal time and thought. But for today, in the spirit of the "Day of Thanks", I will say this. I am thankful for the opportunity to forgive, for the chance to be forgiven, for the privilege of having family and friends - whether they like me or not- with which to share my life. There are people waking up today- everyday- literally alone. Not a true friend or blood relative in sight, near or far, who will be there to break bread, drink wine or water or Mountain Dew with them. Unless it is by choice, I cannot imagine a more painful existence- one in which I am by myself in a world of relationships. So this is for you- those I love, for those I don't, for those I like, and for those who piss me off. Without you and our relationship- for better or for worse- I would be not be who I am today, where I am today, and what I feel today. Thank you.

She's Alive!

2011-11-21T22:56:00.004-06:00

"We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures." ~Thornton Wilder

Day Twenty-One: It has become more and more difficult each day to come up with one thing for which to be thankful; the problem lies not in that there too few things worth being grateful to have in my life, but rather that the more I think about it, the more I realize the list of gifts in my life for which I am thankful are damn near endless. I have sat here most nights and spent more time thinking about what one idea/item I will write about than I have actually writing; most nights I have jotted some ideas on a second list about what to write about being thankful for on subsequent days. These items range from the simple (my warm, fuzzy Crocs) to the profound (the tug at my heart when a student thanks me) to the comical (my awesome hair which, combed or not, looks exactly the same and so can be left alone!) to the somber (the time I had with my grandfather before he died wherein we were able to make amends and learn to love each other again). Now that I think of it, that's what I am thankful for today- not for any one of those thoughts listed, but for having the privilege to have so much in my life to be thankful for each day, so much that it's nearly impossible to choose just one gift to make noteworthy to the world.

Three is a Magic Number

2011-11-19T16:33:00.005-06:00

I am a little delayed in writing these...Friday night and last night both found me thankful for sleep, so that's what I did instead of write. I know you are devastated at the loss of two days' worth of wonderful words, so I shall indulge you tonight with a lengthy description of each days' thanks for the last three. Riiiight. I am so tired you'll be lucky to get a line or two for each (again, I know you're just beside yourself right now). Working backwards:

Day Twenty: Tonight I am so thankful for my children's love of books, both constant and newly found. Eibhlin has loved reading since before she was born and tonight she shared her zeal with her two younger brothers, reading to them two of the books from her assigned book list. I could her from down the hall, using the voices and emphasizing the words. I could also hear the giggles and laughter from Uilleam and Connlaodh as they just soaked up her excitement. Taidhgin, on the other hand, has finally found two series of books that he thoroughly enjoys. While the English teacher in me blanches at the thought of them (graphic novels- hell, COMIC BOOKS- for crying out loud!), the mother in me wells up at the sight of her oldest finally being engrossed in a story and enjoying himself so much that he doesn't ask if he his time is up yet!

Day Nineteen: I haven't been big on telephone chit chat since some time in the early 90's, but nothing beats a conversation- be it by phone, chat, or text- with someone whose story you've known for almost three decades. Whether the news is good or bad, the conversation short or long, none of it matters. There's a feeling of coming home when you can fill in the blanks, understand the pause, know what that other person really means when they say, "Ummm..." There are so few folks with whom I share that time, that relationship, and so thankful I am for the few people in my life crazy enough to keep sharing their lives with me.

Day Eighteen: There is a little girl in the Ditto Dashers track club who is about three feet tall and just the cutest thing. She runs her laps as best she can, but since her legs are so little she only does about half as many laps as the other kids. Every Friday I leave my job ready to rid the world of children...then I see this little girl, and the other 75+ kids in the club, and I see their futures and their smiles and remind myself that they all start off small, hopeful, and giggling. The thought of this little girl and her infectious grin makes me smile even now. Thank you, my awesome little first graders!

"Fred, she's gotten her boobies." - Grandma Helen, Sixteen Candles

2011-11-17T20:47:00.007-06:00

Day Seventeen: I am so freaking glad that I am not in high school anymore. Thank you, old age, for creeping out from my eyelids, up through my hair, and down across my backside. I used to think I never wanted to be 30- that anything over 30 was just a ridiculous waste of time- but how I was wrong, oh, how I was wrong. I may miss the ability to drop a dress size in a week simply by cutting back on what I eat, but I never want to relive the feeling that my life is both so now and so far ahead all at the same time. There's something very comforting in knowing that what you are is where you are and that you're there (mainly) by your own choice or choices. So, my dear crow's feet and cottage cheese, thank you for reminding me that a life lived well and the experiences you have living that life far outweigh the loss of the ability to go bra-less without inflicting pain on others.

"Never eat more than you can lift." ~Miss Piggy

2011-11-16T23:13:00.004-06:00

Day Sixteen: There is a moment in your day, week, life, etc. where the world is calm, quiet, and at peace. For some, that moment may be found in the last few minutes before your eyes shut for the rest of the night, for other it may be in that split second before you turn off your car after arriving home from a long day. For me, that moment is found at about 5:30 in the morning, Monday through Friday. The sensation of leaving the gym (or ending a good beach run while on vacation), warm and with my heart amped and my adrenaline pumping, and walking into the silence and emptiness of the pre-dawn is a feeling that I crave whenever my world is spinning uncontrollably. It is a moment of contentment, pride, serenity, bliss. It is a moment in which I know I am unstoppable. It feels as if the whole world has stopped in order to let you be. Don't get me wrong...by the time I get to my car and have started planning my day I have become well aware that I am altogether fallible, human, and overwhelmed. But in that one moment, life is so clear that even the most daunting frustrations appear tiny and insignificant. I am so thankful to have moments like that to hold onto, especially when the rest of my day ends up in the john before sun-up.

Only 39 More Shopping Days!

2011-11-15T22:20:00.002-06:00

Day Fifteen: I am damn near done with my Christmas shopping. Yeah, you heard right. Ok, so I still have all of the teachers still to buy for, but the kids- my own and my niece and nephew- are done. Let's be real, folks, they are the ones I sweat every year anyway! I know there are folks out there who eyeball the paper, the ads, the TV looking for the sweet deal. They are the same ones who balk at my 4:30 am gym time ("My word! That's too early to get up for ANYTHING! However do you manage?!") but who will be ON LINE in front of (insert store name here) at 2 am on Black Friday, ready to save $10. Courtesy of mailing lists, promo codes, retailmenot.com, and timing, I have already saved more than ever and have gotten some real winners this year. So thank you to my favorite stores for making this year's e-shopping extravaganza nearly painless and absolutely successful!

Short and Sweet

2011-11-14T20:23:00.005-06:00

Day Fourteen: The kids went to bed without an argument, the baby's fever broke, enough of my papers are graded, and it's not even 9:30. Need I say more? Thank you, cabernet and Tempur-pedic, for helping me wrap up this wonderful day.

Girl Power

2011-11-13T19:58:00.006-06:00

Day Twelve: I would like to send a love-filled thank you to my amazing daughter, Eibhlin, for showing me what it means to be a whole woman. She played a 9 am baseball game where she fielded better than ever,

she spent the afternoon playing mom to baby brother and slave to her mother, and she spent the evening accessorizing and living it up with her gal pal, Hannah.

From red clay to putting clothes away to spending the evening at play, the girl knows how to work it. Smart, beautiful, proud, confident, athletic, disgusting and a pig, loud, and involved; Eibhlin is more complete at 6 than I am at 30 + that. I look at her and thank her for being her and nobody else. She drives me the craziest of them all- I love it, am grateful for it, and wouldn't change it for the world.

And for those who are thinking it already, I know. I am in for one hell of a teenage girl's life. I am shining up the locks for the doors and windows. :-)

Day Thirteen: Tasha at Walmart on South Cooper is the best checker I have ever had the opportunity to work with. Thank you, Tasha, for making the what could have been an endless coupon parade hosted by the crazy woman in front of me move faster than it would have had someone else been ringing her up AND also for thanking me for my patience! I know it sounds silly, but it's a hell of a lot easier to be nice to the person behind the register when they acknowledge the pain of those in front of the register. As for the lady in front of me: 1) you didn't save all that much, so really, what the hell was the point? and 2) you should have heard what the couple behind me was saying about you!!! Was almost worth sitting through your paper b.s. just to hear it said aloud!

"(They're) out (there) on the front lines, sleep in peace tonight"

2011-11-11T21:26:00.003-06:00

Day Eleven: The obvious thanks today is for those who have served in our armed forces and have taken it upon themselves to, without thought of the consequences, protect the rest of us and allow the rest of us the peace of mind to continue our day to day lives. I don't think one has to be a overly patriotic to be awed by the courage it takes to be willing to die, be injured, etc. in the line of duty. In fact, I think anyone not in awe of someone willing to travel thousands of miles to possibly die for the rest of us back home is someone who needs a very serious wake up call. Many of us go to work every day and our biggest concern is whether or not 5 o'clock can come quickly enough to suit our needs; how different our society would be if we all went to work every day not knowing if we would even live to see 5 o'clock. Regardless of how one feels about the wars and battles America has fought and about the reasons for each, we must all recognize the fact that these men and women do what they do with or without our support- and so therefore deserve it all the more. So thank you, veterans and those on active duty, for being who you are, what you were, and what so many others only dream they could be.

(Lyrics courtesy of Toby Keith/Chuck Cannon, "American Soldier")

Excuse the Mess, but We Live Here

2011-11-10T21:02:00.004-06:00

Day Ten: You said, it Roseanne Barr! I am thankful for the mess in my home, for it reminds me of all the things in my world that are far more important than clean floors and an empty sink.

I don't remember anything about the cleanliness of my parents' house other than Saturday mornings were cleaning days and mom hated when we dusted around (as opposed to under) the tchotchke that overwhelmed her shelves. Was their house dirty? No. Then again, would I remember if it was? Absolutely not. I try to remind myself of this when I scan the disarray ever-present in my home and wonder how much therapy it will cause my children to need later on.

I kept a tight ship once upon a time. It was easy, with only two of us, to keep our house clean, neat, organized, etc. After we had Taidhgin, the house remained spotless, more or less. After Eibhlin came along, the house was clean. After Connlaodh was born, we moved into tolerable. Now, with the addition of Uilleam, I am lucky if I can see the kitchen island, let alone wipe it down. I used to do it all, but now I contract out my work: the four year old vacuums the living room, the eight year old wipes down sinks, and the six year old cleans all of the glass. They work very hard, they aim to please, but without fail there are streaks, crumbs, and more left behind. We do what we can, when we can, and that's all we can. What does this mean? It means that my floors and counters, as with the rest of my life, are a practice in organized chaos. Four kids, three dogs, one cat, and a husband all amount to endless sweeping, wiping, vacuuming, etc....if that's how I would choose to spend my time. Instead, I have given up the impossible dream and resigned myself to a house that is by no means clean- especially by the standards of some folks in my world- but is more of a home than I ever imagined I would be fortunate enough to have.

Don't get me wrong- I am in awe of anyone who has four kids, three dogs, one cat, a husband, a full time job, AND a spotless house....obviously she is amazing at time management and I wonder how much she would charge to come take care of my home. Until I meet Wonder Woman, however, I will be content to be grateful for the fact that I have learned to function in the clutter and that I know that one day I will miss the insanity that causes it. If keeping spotless floors and counters means I can't cuddle on the couch or hit the playground with the kids, then so be the dirty floors and counters- they'll still be there for me to clean long after the kids are gone.So, dear tile, we can rekindle our love affair then. And, let's be honest, Dr. Seuss nailed it when he said, "And this mess is so big ... And so deep and so tall, We cannot pick it up. There is no way at all!” (Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat).

Many eThanks

2011-11-09T19:00:00.004-06:00

Day Nine: I love the fact that modern technology allows me to take the pause necessary to collect myself after reading a b.s. email, text, etc. In the old days I would have to just lose it on the phone or in person and deal with the consequences. Thanks to electronic communication, I can bite my electronic tongue and proceed down the path toward a more gentle discourse without fear of reprisal. Now if only I could master the act of pause, breathe, relax in real life. Baby steps, baby steps.

A Tribute to Emerson and to My Gal Pals

2011-11-08T21:52:00.005-06:00

Day Eight: Ralph Waldo Emerson said, " I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and new." Today this sentiment meant that much more to me, as today was the day of our November Girls' Night Out. Once a month, every month for the last three years, I have had the honor of meeting up with some of my brilliant, funny, beautiful girl friends for drinks, food, laughter, and tears. The restaurant changes every month, but the faces, for the most part, are constant. Emerson also said, "The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it." My monthly "home", then - be it BJ's, Gloria's, Babe's, or any one of the dozens of restaurants in the Metroplex -is among the most finely decorated homes in the world. I am indebted to these women for what they have given me over the years- love, belly laughs, support, rounds of drinks, food samples, encouragement, and the opportunity to wear my own hat for a while, play my own role, be something other than a placeholder for someone else. For these few short hours every month (though it used to be long hours back we when first started and closed the bars down!), I am truly thankful.

So I'm Late....and You Know What THAT Means

2011-11-07T19:41:00.009-06:00

How many of you are right now saying, "You are kidding me? She's knocked up AGAIN!?" (Yes, I see all hands are now in the air). Okay, so no, I am not pregnant. But I am late- in action, in will, in thought, etc.

I have been reading my friends' blog and Facebook posts for the last week and have seen a pattern among them: many of their posts start with "Day Number" and are followed by a note about something for which they are thankful. Some of the items for which they are thankful are deep, profound, touching...others are small, trivial, and important in their simplicity. What has struck me most, though, is how each day these friends sound more, well, thankful. Happy. Content. Secure. Gracious. HERE.

I will be the first to admit that I don't spend a lot of time acknowledging the gifts in my life as much as I should; how many of us really do have that kind of time to spare? Hmm. Given the fact that most people walk around ready to lash out, be a victim, take advantage, be hurt, give hurt, cry, scream, sigh, etc. I guess the real question is how many of us should be making that kind of time. So I looked into what could be the catalyst for this thanks-giving being done by my friends and I came across 30 Days of Thanks. This is where I realized I was coming into the game a little late...apparently this project began on 1 Nov. Well, better late than never (especially in the case of my period, for those of you interested in knowing where I stand on that subject these days!).

I don't think giving thanks is merely a religious thing (or only a Pilgrim thing, either). I think it's a human thing. So, in an effort to allow myself the opportunity to be human for a moment, I decided to go ahead and back up, run through some quickies (no pun intended), and get myself caught up. I am sure points will be deducted for this being turned in late; hopefully I complete my assignment well enough to at least pass.

Day One: I am thankful for having finally gotten a phone plan (and phone!) that allows me access to Pandora (yet again, better late than never). For an hour every morning while at the gym, I can relive the music of my youth- yes, my angry youth- and work out harder, smile a little at some memories (cringe at quite a few more), and simultaneously be 16 again AND be okay with my 36 year old gray hair and wrinkles. Thank you, Pandora, for being on my phone.

Day Two: I owe a world of thanks to Children's University for making Connlaodh feel smart, big, wonderful, proud, and HAPPY to be going to school. Connlaodh spent last year fighting us tooth and nail, every morning. He cried, he threw things (including himself), he BEGGED to stay home. This year, thanks to Children's University and Ms. Jackson (his teacher), he is a totally different child. He is excited to learn, to share what he's learned, and to be a part of a school. Just writing this brings tears to my eyes because I can, right this moment, hear him say proudly, "Mom, open up my folder. Look what I did today!"

Day Three: Being thankful for one's family is a given- and I will get back to them later- but for today I have to remark on a family other than the one with whom I share genes...

I have the best not-related-by-blood families in the world. Whether it's at the dojo, school, work, or play, I am so fortunate that we have fallen in with some of the best people. Everywhere we go in our lives, there are people with whom I would trust my children, my heart, my world. These are people who, for no reason other than because they rock, come to bat for me, us, etc. These are people who, without having to be asked, fill the gaps where they see them. These are people who know when to step aside, know when to step up, and know when I need some help to stand. They ask for nothing in return other than the same...and that I gladly give. I think of all the folks in our world who helped us in the last year especially, even if their help was simply the phone call that kept me from losing it, and I am so thankful, so thankful.

Day Four: Mrs. Jennifer Nations and the Ditto Dashers track club are day four's recipients of great thanks. Mrs. Nations reinstated the track club and, with the help of some Ditto moms who are lucky to be able to volunteer their time the way they do, also reinstated the Ditto Dash. Taidhgin and Eibhlin took to the club- and running!- and we started something as a family that has been fun and terribly rewarding. Thanks to Mrs. Nations and the track club, we ran a number of fun runs last year as a family of five- and then six!- and are planning on doing the same this year. I also have the good fortune to be able to volunteer with the track club this year and that is unbelievably uplifting! Who would have thought that by spending my time with 100 elementary school students I would come home feeling something other than a need for a stiff drink? Ha! But I do- I come home happy, both with my kids and with myself. I see more family runs, post-run trips to IHOP, and laps on the Ditto track in our future...and for that, I am truly grateful.

Day Five: I am thankful that Pre-K/K football is over. I know that sounds terrible, but holy crap is 8 am on Saturday morning a beating! Don't get me wrong, I am so glad that Connlaodh found a sport that he actually wants to do again, "Mom, I cannot wait for next year when I get to play REAL football.....TACKLE football!", but getting all six of us out of the house by 7:30 has been damn near impossible. So, thank you, Arlington Optimist, for providing Connlaodh with a niche...and for letting me sleep in next Saturday.

Day Six: My neighborhood is pretty freaking awesome. There are very few places left where a mother can send her four year old, six year old, and eight year old out to play for hours on end and know that they will not only come back safe and sound, but that someone will call the minute they go astray. When we bought our house eight years ago, we bought it for the size, the location, and the loft. Little did we know that, eight short years later, we would be in a position where those aspects of our home could be easily replaced elsewhere, but the neighborhood- the people, the kids, the safety, etc.- could not. I am so fortunate to be able to say, "Go out and play and don't come home until I call you!" without fearing for my children's well-being. My only fear is for our neighbors' sanity; one day with all of my kids is enough to drive anyone insane!

Day Seven: Thank you to my son, Taidhgin, for reminding me that there is still a shred of decency and compassion in the inherited hearts of the world. Taidhgin knows there is no Santa Claus (sorry, I didn't ruin that for anyone, did I?) and has done an amazing job of keeping the secret and sharing in the fun of watching the other kids believe. So tonight, when he handed me a letter he had written after Art Class, I was blown away how, in the midst of what was apparently a complicated and difficult Christmas list to write, he took the time to remember his siblings and remind ME to remember them, too:

Controlling for the obvious spelling issues, let's look at what is so amazing here that is brought me to tears: 1) he knows how to properly use the post-post-script abbreviation and 2) he says, "Don't show the kids!". I don't know what tugs at me more- the mere fact that he remembered them and asked me not to show them his letter or the fact that he refers to them as "the kids"; how old does that young soul feel some times? I love this boy for so many reasons; for today, I love him most for reminding me that while we often spend so much time thinking about what WE want, we need to spend just as much time remembering what others NEED.

We Saw Turtle!

2010-11-01T21:17:00.009-05:00

Picture it:

Mom is standing by the kitchen island, talking on the phone. Daughter (age 5) is standing next to her, crying, eating her chicken nuggets from McD's, and rubbing her eyes. Out of nowhere, daughter grabs Mom's stomach, gets down nose to bellybutton, and screams, "I don't even like you!" and then bursts into awful, deep, uncontrollable sobs.

What you have just witnessed is the peak of Eibhlin's reaction to today's news. She will remain, forever, the only diva in the house. Yes, my friends, my intuition was off. I still have a 75% success rate, though, so I am not too upset. The same cannot be said for my daughter.

We went to the ultrasound appointment this afternoon as a family unit: all three kids, Mom, and Dad. The ultrasound started off beautifully; Tadpole is growing well and is measuring dead on for height, weight, etc at this age. Then Tricia the sonographer checked for gender...oh, boy? Really? After begging her to go back two, three, four times, there was no denying it! It didn't help that Tadpole reached down and tweaked himself a couple of times to let us know it was there.

After we all (sonographer included) nearly fell out over the fact that he has already learned how to use his joystick, the realization sunk in for all of us and then Eibhlin's face fell...all the way to China. The poor thing lost it in the office and spent the next three hours sobbing.

How did everyone else react? The boys are thrilled! They cannot wait for a little brother and they hope that he shares the same birth "day" as they do: the 22nd of the month. It would be kind of neat, actually, as then we'd have all but the summer solstice represented. Aaron could barely contain his pride in his swimmers...he was grinning so hard, he looked like the Canadians in South Park. As for me? No joke, no lies...I was surprised (sort of), but was in tears just knowing that baby is doing well and growing as he should. However, I couldn't help but feel my heart break a little for my little girl who was so sure that she would have a little sister with whom to share girlie secrets.

After several hours of tears, Eibhlin climbed up in my lap tonight, Happy Meal toy in hand, and placed her hand and the toy on my belly. She told me that the toy was for her baby brother. I asked if she was okay and, with a small sigh and a smile, she told me that she was. With that, she hugged me, hugged her little brother in my little belly, and snuggled in to watch the game.

I don't think I could be any luckier than I am. Unless, of course, someone knows of the perfect 4+ bedroom house out by the lake that will fit me, Eibhlin, and the BOYS?

2010-10-18T21:16:00.002-05:00

The new question (aside from "are you pregnant or just getting fat?") is whether or not we know what flavor little Tadpole is... blue? pink? purple? green? rainbow? There will be a pool going shortly, I am sure...if not for gender, then definitely for how big my ass will get this time.

On a more serious note, in two weeks time we will know whether or not we have two pair or three of a kind. I have to admit, I am a little nervous. I am three for three so far in terms of knowing well in advance the gender of the little one inside; I have a feeling about number four and, despite the fact that I am practically perfect in every way (thank you, Mary Poppins), there is always the ever-so-slight chance that I am wrong. I have been so sure, though, that I even bought gender specific clothes for Tadpole back when we were in Cozumel last July! Again, doesn't mean I can't be wrong, but I will be very surprised if Tadpole is not what I think Tadpole is. And, let's be honest, I don't handle surprises well, so I am sure the ultrasound tech will not be happy, either, if the gender isn't what I suspect it will be...something about watching a pregnant woman shake her fist at a computer screen filled with her child is sure to be a little a disconcerting.

Please don't think I will be upset either way. I truly mean it when I say that, boy or girl, this child is so wanted and loved already that gender is irrelevant. The same cannot be said for hair color, though. If we end up with a blonde one this time, I am going to have to look into Arlington Memorial's return policy. But with respect to gender, what does it mean either way?

What it means is this...if the kids have their way and they get the little sister that they want, we can stay in our house a few years more and the girls can share a room. However, if it's a boy...we're outta here! Just no room in this here home for another little boy child to come in and find a place to sleep. I suppose he could sleep in the dog crate for a while, but really, how long can that last before he outgrows it, the dogs pee on him, or someone calls CPS on us? We will have a year or so at the most before we would need to find us a new pad, one with enough rooms to house our basketball team comfortably.

Hmmm. Maybe I should just stick to worrying about whether or not the dress I bought in Cozumel would be too much if Tadpole IS a boy. The dress is green...that's gender neutral, right?

It is Time

2010-09-27T21:35:00.006-05:00

So, obviously I broke New Year's Resolution #1 from last year. No weekly blog entries here! No way, no how, no sirree. With that out of the way, I can move on to what I really came here to do, which is lay it all out there for you, friends and family. No more secrets, thinly veiled innuendos, nope. Time to throw it all out in the open and hope for the best...or at the very least that you will keep your smarta** comments to yourself. Wishful thinking, I know. :-)

Three and a half years ago, Aaron and I made a very big decision. We decided to stop our family from growing- permanently. Aaron, ever the chivalrous husband, volunteered himself to go under the knife (for all of 5 seconds) and render himself forever fruitless. I cried the day he had it done...and for many days after. However, it wasn't until February of 2010 that I realized why.

Why, why, why, you ask, did 1) we make that decision and 2) I cry about it? Well, we made it for reasons unbeknownst to me. Apparently I was all for it; I do not feel my opinions at the time should have been trusted and given much merit. I was three months into baby number three, hadn't slept in over three years, etc. I cannot place full blame on Aaron, though. Allegedly I made reference to us living a platonic life from there on out if he did NOT have it done. I suppose most married men would have made the same choice. I think, in retrospect, I would have agreed to removing my innards by hand if it meant I could stop talking and just go to sleep. Who knows...I sure don't remember the conversations, though it seems I was an integral player in them! As for the crying, surely by now you have figured that out. I cried, cried, cried because the decision had been made in haste and was a poor one to boot. As it turns out, I was not the only one who felt that way.

Last winter marked a time when Aaron and I sat down and finally realized that neither of us had wanted to stop at three; we had both wanted another child. What to do? There weren't many options out there; the most obvious one, a reversal, was terribly expensive and far more invasive than the original procedure. After much consideration, though, we decided to at least investigate this option further. Aaron found a fantastic doctor in Arlington who, over the course of the next six weeks, helped us walk this path.

In March of 2010, Aaron went under the knife for a second time. This time, however, I will actually allow him some shine time, as this procedure was more than anything I have had to tolerate (aside from, you know, hours and hours of terrible labor pains). After nearly four hours in surgery, he came into recovery very out of it but, hopefully, "whole". The recovery process was terrible for him and he made himself a new home in the TV room downstairs so that he wouldn't have far to go. After a weekend of rest and repair, he was back on the front lines, sore and ice-packed, but ready to go.

So now what? I won't bore you with the details (though, and this is disturbing, I am sure some of you wouldn't be bored), but suffice it to say we got the green light from the doc and ran. The odds were very much against us. With as long as it had been, the doctor told us that, if it worked at all, it wouldn't be for about a year. He told us that, given how long it had been since the original surgery, it might not work at all. He told us that, given how long it had been, he hoped for the best for us.

But it DID work...and right away! I cried over the "+" sign I saw in April. Holy hell, that doctor worked magic! Even at that moment, though, I knew...I just knew. I spent the next five weeks in tears, poked and prodded twice a week as they drew blood, hoping beyond hope that my gut instinct was not right, that this baby would make it. As a mom with four pregnancies under her belt already, though, I should not have second-guessed myself: I was right. On 11 June 2010, we said goodbye to that little miracle.

Over the next few weeks I struggled with what to do. The doctor's nurse said to wait to try again, but we knew that there was always a chance that reversal would reverse, if you will. Was I ready? Was my body ready? We weighed the decision through July, only to realize that the decision had been made for us. On 16 July I had to congratulate Aaron on the persistence of his little army- we were pregnant again! Thank goodness we found out then, though, otherwise I would have spent my entire cruise vacation the following week, boozing it up and making baby a alcoholic at birth. Just kidding....sort of.

It couldn't be easy, though, not for this child, not for this mom, not for this dad. Two weeks after I patted Aaron on the back, I was in the ER in Galveston, hoping for yet another miracle. Blood, and lots of it, had been my friend all afternoon. Eibhlin had seen and said, "Mom, are you still pregnant?" WHAT?!?! She had no idea at this point that I was- or, at least, we hadn't told her. But there I was, trying to explain to her that I wasn't (just for her sake), all the while dying because I was. So much, so much...and too much for me to relive. Just know that 10 hours later, I was only slightly less distraught than I had been going in, but at least I had gotten to see the little, itty bitty sac inside.

Fast forward 8 weeks and here we are, 13 weeks and 6 days into this wonderful pregnancy. The first 10 weeks were rough, what with the ER trip and then other issues, but we made it. My trademark surgery (the cerclage) was done this last week by my incredibly skilled and wonderful OB and I can now breathe (more or less) for the next 23 weeks (then the cerclage comes out). And now I sit here, listening to the wonderful sound of Tadpole's heart beat-beat-beating away inside me at nearly 180 bpm. Whew.

So, friends and family, do with this what you will. I am sure there are some who are aghast at the thought of us adding another child to the insanity we call our world. I am sure there are some who are smiling right now, thinking of his or her own brood. Then there are some who are probably sitting here asking why in the hell I thought it necessary to spread this much information across on the e-table. Why have I done this? Because I am so incredibly happy and amazed that I have been given the honor and privilege to do this again that I think it is unfair to keep it to myself any longer.

And so, It is Time. We are having another baby and not one of us, not me, not Aaron, not the kids, could be any happier or thrilled than we are already.

Why We Have Friends

2010-01-09T16:33:00.004-06:00

Taidhgin, Connlaodh, and I were talking about friends today: why it was important to have them in our lives and what they mean to us and what kinds of friends we have.

Taidhgin
* They are nice and they never have their folder signed.
i.e., they never get in deep enough trouble at school for the teacher to tell their folks!
* They are special.
* (Blane) is very quiet and never gets called to sign the book.
i.e. they did something wrong at school and have to sign a book that tracks "bad choices".
* Friends are special. If you are lonely and want someone to play with you, you can ask a (new kid) their name and if they're nice they can play with you.
* If I never had friends, I would be just left alone...I would be sad.

Connlaodh
* (About Emma and Rhianna and Lauren, his "girlfriends"): They are my best friends because I want to play with them...cause I can read books with them.
* They are really nice.
* Her loves to paint!
This is about Emma, his #1 girlfriend.

So, why do we have friends?
* So we're not lonely.
* To help keep us on the right path, so that we don't have to "sign the book".
* So we can share our common interests.

And what kinds of friends should be choose?
* Ones who are nice.
* Ones who stay out of trouble and make good decisions.
* Ones who are creative.
* Ones who are smart.

I wish I had this list when I was in high school!

"Nasty, but So Cool"

2010-01-02T20:24:00.003-06:00

The kids and I were all laying on the bed, trying to find something on TV to watch before bedtime. Despite the idiotic number of channels we have accessible to use, we were having a hard time finding anything worth wasting 30 minutes of our lives on. However, as we were flipping through the channels, trying to find something that all of us would enjoy, we came across In the Womb, on the National Geographic Channel. The best of all worlds! Babies, science, animals, and only 30 minutes left in the episode.

In the Womb, for those who do not know, is a series that explores animal growth and development in utero, using even better 4D technology that many of us have seen in 4D ultrasounds of our own children! Tonight's show focused on four animals, though we only saw two- the sharks and the kangaroos.

Just as an aside, this is truly what the kids chose to watch. At least it was once they realized that iCarly was not an option- ha! So, as we're sitting there watching, we're talking about the embryonic kangaroo and how it grows. We noted it has feet nearly 1/2 the length of its body at 20 weeks gestation; Taidhgin's theory makes sense, "Well, they do HOP all their lives. Their feet need to grow the most." We talked about how the joey nurses while inside its mother, as opposed to human babies who nurse outside, after they've been born.

We discussed pretty much every aspect of it development, including how funky a 20 week old joey looks without any hair and with skin so thin that you can see all of the veins underneath. It was during this discussion that Eibhlin winced a bit and turned her head. On the screen at this point was a closeup of the joey's head; you could see the eyes underneath the transparent lids and you could make out nearly all of the muscles through the pink skin. I asked Eibhlin why she kept looking back at the TV if she didn't like what was on there...Because, Mom, "it's nasty, but so cool."

Dr. Steele in the making? A mother can only hope...if nothing else, at least I know that my kids won't argue with me when I put on Discovery instead of Spongebob!

A Resolution

2010-01-01T13:27:00.002-06:00

New Year's Day, 2010.

Research has shown that 78% of the people who make New Year's resolutions fail at keeping them. I try to avoid making resolutions each year as 1) I am one of the 78% and 2) really, does any other reason matter after reason number one? This year I decided again against making a resolution and instead opted to set some goals for living. Nothing specific like "I will keep my sink spotless" (though this was a goal once and worked for a while...), but rather goals regarding how I will approach the world and the people in it.

The bigger question for me was HOW to approach the world in a manner different than my usual M.O. I am not necessarily looking to do a total overhaul of mindset and personality; I would, however, like to improve upon where I am in the context of the world as well as internally.

Few things in my life have caused me to look inward with such a critical eye; however, their presence has already helped to make some improvements. So, for inspiration in designing my goal, I turn to these few "things": my children.

We chose their first and middle names for two reasons: 1) a connection to our ethnic past and 2) the meaning of the names themselves. I have spent some time today thinking about the meanings of their names and realized that my muse is no further from me than are my children's birth certificates. One look at their names and the memory of the passion that went into choosing each one has helped me to see what I need to work on this coming year and in the years to come:

Taidhgin: Poet
Words are the key to relationships and existence. As a poet would, I need to remember to choose my words well and wisely. I need to remind myself that often times it is what is said that is remembered; each statement should be one worthy of that memory.
Eibhlin: Pleasant, beautiful, radiant
There is little in life that doesn't have at least one beautiful aspect or feature. Once found, it can make any ugliness seem microscopic. This is probably the most difficult goal to pursue, as it is easier to see the dark and heavy and ugly than it is to search for the one gossamer thread of beauty that lies beneath. But it is there, somewhere, and is always worth searching for.
Connlaodh: Fire
I have to remember my passions. Not just in love and in friendship, but in thought and in heart. Those embers that used to burn for politics and love and adventure can become muted and watered down over time...but those are the same embers we will need to keep us warm when our bodies are growing colder.

Dante: Enduring, obstinate
I don't typically have a problem in this area, but I will remind myself as much as necessary that I will last longer than any problem or dilemma or hurt I come across.
Gioia: Joy; happiness
Few memories contain such sweetness as those of being called "my gioia" as a little girl. This kind of joy should not be limited to what we can recall, but should be allowed- and EMBRACED- each and every day of our lives.
Ettore: Holding fast
It is easier, as we get older, to let things go because we feel we do not have the strength to weather the storm. However, the need to hold on to what's important and true and good does not shrivel as we age; indeed, it probably grows. So I must remember that no amount of weariness is worth sacrificing what I need for a few moments of rest.

As always, it is my children that are leading the way. And, as always, their path is probably the most difficult...and the most rewarding. Hopefully I will be able to follow their lead as far as it goes...and that we will all learn something from the trip.

And with that being said, I solemnly resolve to write on the blog at least once a week, mostly about the children; you are welcome to read, delete, comment, ignore, etc...anything to keep me from being in that 78%!

Happy New Year's.

That What Grandparents Are For...

2009-08-01T18:19:00.004-05:00

Here is a snippet of tonight's dinner conversation for your reading pleasure:

We were talking about how Nonna and Grandpa are coming to visit next week and Taidhgin said:

Taidhgin: Nonna is never mean.
Mom: She isn't?
Taidhgin: Nope. Not even when kids are bad.
Mom: How about Meema?
Taidhgin: She's not mean either.
Mom: So all of the grandparents are nice?
Taidhgin: Yup. All of them are nice. Only parents are mean...except for Meema.
Mom: Meema is mean? I thought you said she was nice?
Taidhgin: She IS nice. Just not to Bill.
Eibhlin: You mean JEANETTE is not nice to Bill.
Taidhgin: Yeah, Jeanette.
Mom: Is she mean to anyone else?
Taidhgin: No, just Bill.

Mom and Dad, thought you'd like that one the most. :-)

Night, all. I promise to catch up sooner rather than later.

Highpointe Kindergarten Graduation- Let Them Be Little

2009-06-05T16:15:00.003-05:00

The closing song at graduation was quite the tear jerker. I am fairly certain that there wasn't a dry eye in the house!

Highpointe Kindergarten Graduation - Diplomas

2009-06-05T16:15:00.001-05:00

The kids have made it! They all received their diplomas and made their folks proud!

Eibhlin's Recital 3- Aaron and Eibhlin Get Down

2009-05-31T22:20:00.001-05:00

And here is where daddy and daughter strutted their stuff onstage...

Eibhlin's Recital 2- Aaron's Onstage Debut

2009-05-31T22:18:00.001-05:00

Here is Aaron's part of the "Daddy/Daughter Dance" a today's recital--- gotta love the Back Street Boys!

Eibhlin's Recital

2009-05-31T22:15:00.001-05:00

Here is a video of Eibhlin's recital. The song she danced to is "Once Upon a December". She was gorgeous. Thank you, Alma, for getting such a nice video of her! Nice job, Eibhlin!

Eibhlin's "Creative Dance" Winter Showcase

2008-12-16T21:47:00.002-06:00

Here is one of the videos of Eibhlin at her dance showcase last week (on 10 December 2008)...this fantastic performance will bring all sorts of tears to your eyes- tears of pain, joy, pride, laughter....
Enjoy!

Here is another clip of the diva in action, this time performing her recently learned ballet moves to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas".

And finally, a foot stomping edition of "Bippity Boppity Boo"....

Taidhgin-san

2008-11-14T20:52:00.007-06:00

Taidhgin competed in his first Inner Dojo Tournament tonight. The students compete against each other as practice for regular tournaments and also as a chance to earn "credits" with the dojo that are entered in a raffle. Anyway, you may not know that Taidhgin is the youngest in his class. He is enrolled in the 6-12 class, not the 3-5 class, and the next youngest kids are at least a year older than him. In tonight's competition, he was up against kids who were almost two years older than him. He held his own, did the best he could do, and came in second place for his "age" group (of which he was the ONLY five year old). Here is a video of one of his rounds....

I know it may not seem like much or appear all that impressive, but he has made huge gains since August- both physically and mentally- and tonight he proved it. He sat up there in front of over 20 classmates, in front of three senpais and a shihan, in front of easily two dozen parents and siblings....and never even once broke a sweat. Even when he forgot the next move of his kata, he paused to remember- held his position in the meantime- then moved on when he remembered what came next.

As much as I miss the little baby he was and I couldn't be more proud of the little boy that he is now, I watched the little man in him tonight and know that we are doing right by him so far. My job now is to make sure that the confidence and determination that I saw tonight remains an integral part of who he is and who he becomes. There are adults out there that would have broken in front of that crowd, but my little peanut kept right on going...not a tear, not a cry, nothing but grit. That's my boy...

And that silver medal for his work on his Kia Ni Ju Go? Well, it's hanging right next to the Principal's Medal he earned for being such a nerd. Who says you can't be well rounded at five?

Atticus Finch Would Be Proud

2008-10-23T21:08:00.005-05:00

So I had one of my first "Holy Shit, What Did My Child Just Say?" moments tonight. Eibhlin and I were in line at Wal-Mart, waiting patiently as our checker scanned our goods. Slowly. Oh so slowly.

Eibhlin was sitting in the cart, handing me items to put on the belt, when all of a sudden she leaned in and (loudly) whispered, "She's fat!"...she, of course, would be our SO SLOW checker.
I shushed her as subtly as possible; I put my finger to my mouth in the universal symbol for "SHUT UP!" and "Shhhhhhhh"-ed her as quietly as I could. Our checker, fortunately, didn't hear- at least I don't think she did. At least I HOPE she didn't.
And that was the end of that, I thought.

On the way home, Eibhlin asked me why she wasn't allowed to say that someone was fat. Hmmmm....how DOES one explain that to a three year old girl without 1) talking over her head or 2) giving her the beginning of her own weight complex?

Here's how our conversation went from there:

ME: You shouldn't tell someone that they are fat because it makes people feel bad when you say that.
EIBHLIN: Why?
ME: Well, because for some people, being fat is not a good thing. And if they are unhappy about being that way, then having someone say something about it makes them even more unhappy.
EIBHLIN: Hmmm. Can I ever say it?
ME: No, Eibhlin. You really shouldn't. Just because someone is bigger than you, or mom, or dad, or anyone else doesn't mean you can say that to them. It's just not very nice.
EIBHLIN: What does it do if I say that?
ME: It hurts their feelings, honey.
EIBHLIN: (crying) Oh, you mean it hurts her heart.
ME: Yes, baby, that's exactly what I mean...
EIBHLIN: (crying even more now) Oh, I am so sorry I said that, Mommy. I didn't want her to feel bad...I am so sorry I said it.

Of course I consoled her and let her know that it was okay, that she hadn't made anyone's heart hurt, and that she is, hands down, the best damn three year old in the world.

Who says pre-schoolers can't figure out how to try on someone else's shoes and walk around in them for a bit?

Tag, I'm It

2008-10-05T21:22:00.004-05:00

This is not at all related to what I normally post, but I am a good sport (despite the fact that there are several people out there who would vehemently beg to differ), so here it goes...

I was "tagged" by Misty; the following post is done out of friendship (you SOOO owe me, Misty!-ha ha):

1. Misty is the super cool mom of one of Taidhgin's school chums...we met a couple years ago and got along well immediately. Sadly, we never get to see each other because she works crazy overnight hours and is now spending her off time getting ready to move -TRAITOR! Anyway :-)

2.Fact 1: Beard and mustache hair left in the sink makes me nauseous.
Fact 2: I won a pie eating contest once upon a time; I ate what felt like a thousand cherry pies...and I have never been able to muster the courage to eat even a slice of one since.
Fact 3: I miss the mountains in UT more than I miss almost anything.
Fact 4: I want more gray hair.
Fact 5: My parents once made me wait at the school bus stop for what seemed like hours because they refused to turn on the radio and hear what everyone else in the free world had heard that day....that school had been cancelled because of the SNOW and the COLD.
Fact 6: I was a vegetarian (and sometimes vegan) for a long time...until one St Patty's Day I had far too much to drink and decided that what I was really in the mood for was a burger from Wendy's...and that's all she wrote. Those damned square patties get me every time!
Fact 7: I am a big nerd.

3. Tag, YOU'RE it!
Pam
Chelsea
Sylvia
Kera
Annette
Micky
Jeanette :-)

4. Done.

They Are So Much Smarter Than Me

2008-10-05T20:36:00.007-05:00

Taidhgin is smart, but he is also one of the laziest and most apathetic kids that I have ever met. I know this is very much thanks to me, so I am doing my best to get him to hold his own, especially when it comes to being responsible for his own actions and for paying attention when people are talking to him. However, he is ever ingenious despite his lethargy; the following is the kind of dialogue that occurs when he has no interest in what I am saying but knows he is supposed to be listening anyway.

As we were driving home from Target late this afternoon, I asked Taidhgin what he thought about my plans for the rest of the evening:
"How about we go home, I will make dinner while you guys draw and play, then after dinner we can think about going to the park...what do you think?"

*SILENCE*

"Taidhgin, did you hear me? Are you listening?"

"Oh, sorry, Mom, but I didn't hear you. It wasn't me, though."

"What do you mean it wasn't you?"

"I was listening, but my ears weren't."

Absolute genius. He has taken responsibility, agreed that he was at fault, and has still managed to provide an airtight alibi for appears to be HIS crime. Damn, he's good.

***********************************************************************************
Anyone who knows Eibhlin knows that there is a little mom in there; not in the coddling, play-baby-dolls way, but in the FT Mom/FT CEO "I Can Manage/Research/Defend Your Case While I am at My Child's Dance Recital" kind of way. This side of her has been right on top this week, and so I have gotten to see a lot of my "Little Mommy".

One night last week, Eibhlin and I went out to run some errands together. She brought her purse (filled with a Princess flashlight, an old cell phone, and a pen- all the basic necessities!) and her baby (I believe it was either Mariposa or Miss Gloria). Our first stop was Steve & Barry's where I proceeded to buy some pants that fit and some clothes for the kids...and where Eibhlin spent nearly 45 minutes pacing, humming, and patting in the hopes of "putting the baby to sleep". I was flipping through the racks of clothes looking for my size (it would be so much easier if I was a size 12 and TALL!) and out of the corner of my eye I was watching "Mommy" take care of her child...
The baby was up on her left shoulder, she had her clutch purse draped over her left forearm, and she was patting the baby's bum with her right hand. She never stopped moving, she never stopped humming, but she was able to do all this AND look for the 4T's on the hangers at the same time. I joked with her all night about how her crying baby was driving me nuts and how I was one "MiMi" glad to be done with infancy...

So this afternoon, another baby (Miss Stephanie this time- have I mentioned that many of her dolls are named after the women in her life?) was crying endlessly. Poor Eibhlin was walking and patting and pacing to no avail. She finally turned to me and told me that she was done, that is was time to bring her baby into her room to try to put her to bed..."So she doesn't drive you nuts anymore, Mom, okay?"

That girl is the best.Does she look out for her mom or what?

***********************************************************************************
No overview of life with my children would be complete without some horror story, I mean, tale of love and fun involving my youngest child.

I have made no bones about his language "skills", but he is getting better and he is pretty game to learn how to pronounce words and say new things. But oooh is he a ball buster! As with many young children, especially those at the front side of their language development, he has learned far more animal "sounds" than he has names of animals. Slowly but surely, though, he is learning to refer to the animals by their names, not by their sounds. There is one animal, however, that I honestly believe he refuses to name not because he can't, but rather because he knows it has become a hot button with me and he just loves to push and push.

"Nay." A rather benign word/ sound. And oh-so-cute when your child first uses it to refer to those big, beautiful, amazing creatures known to the rest of us as "horses". For months now I have been trying to get Connlaodh to say "horse" instead of "nay". For a long time the problem was truly his inability to come up with the right sounds; he would get the mouth shape correct but nothing would come out even vaguely similar to "horse". Now, however, the sounds are accessible and so I have been working diligently to get him to use them. Here is a typical conversation between me and the little turkey:

(Imagine us looking at a book filled with animal pictures...after running through several, I point at the horse)
"Connlaodh, what is this one?"
"Nay."
"That's what it SAYS...but it is a horse. Can you say horse?"
"Oss."
"Good try. Can you look at me while I say it? Horse. Can you say it now?"
"Hoss."
"Very good...(pointing back at the picture) now this is a horse, Connlaodh. What is this animal?"
"A Nay."

The bastard.

:-)

Three Words Can Change the World

2008-09-28T22:12:00.003-05:00

"Oook. Ouch. Eeez."

I am sure the above means nothing to any of you. In fact, I am sure you are wondering how it was that I let the obvious misspellings go unnoticed by Blogger's spellcheck. However, the above is not a case of mistyping; it is, in fact, Connlaodh's latest move to communicating like a child and not like an infant.

For those of you who don't know, Connlaodh had tubes put it in his ears when he was 13 months old because he had been more or less deaf for the 8 months prior. His language acquisition has been terribly delayed because of this; he understands everything, but his speaking ability is hindered. He has made great gains over the last few months, but really, to everyone else, his words sound like grunts. To those of us who have been listening, though, the difference is there. Tonight's "Oook. Ouch. Eeez" was said through tears. He was bawling in my arms, pointing out the door. What could he possibly have been looking for?

"Oook" = book. Connlaodh has a few books that he will read endlessly now, and he was holding one of them in his arms...
"Ouch" = the couch, of course, as it is our favorite place to read!
"Eeez" = please!

He so badly wanted to stall bedtime by reading just one more book. And while it was incredibly sad to watch, it was such a relief to actually be able to understand what he wanted! Aaron read him a book (on his bed, not the couch, though), and little man was calmed and snuggled shortly thereafter.

Actions may speak LOUDER than words, but it is amazing how infrequently you need to be loud when you have the right words to use.

On the Eve of "Big Kid"-dom...

2008-09-21T20:57:00.008-05:00

A few weeks ago I was talking to my dad about how amazed I was that Taidhgin was starting kindergarten this year..."Where has all the time gone? He is so old! It seems like only yesterday I was changing his diapers," I cried. My dad, who pulls no punches, turned around and said, "Yeah, someone just told me that MY baby would be turning 33 soon. How the hell did THAT happen?"

How the hell DOES that happen? Seriously, the idea of Taidhgin, Eibhlin, or Connlaodh turning ten makes my stomach churn- how does 33 happen to one's kids? Don't get me wrong, I want my children to grow up, become productive citizens and be happy adults, but isn't it supposed to take one year at a time? Why does the life of a child feel like dog years to their parents? I swear it has been a year since I brought him home but the loose tooth and fixation on Ben 10 and video games proves me wrong...

Tomorrow Taidhgin turns five. He was born on a Monday and tomorrow will be the first time since then that his birthday has fallen on a Monday Five years ago this moment we were packing up the dogs to bring them to the I-20 Medical Center since we were heading off to the hospital soon and didn't know when we would be back. I was wearing a pink sleeveless maternity shirt, black maternity yoga pants, and pink/ black/ white flip-flops. My hair was almost as short as it is now, I was very tan, I had just turned 28. Every detail is permanently etched into the ever so fragile gossamer of memory that I have left...from the way my rose of sharon's were in bloom to the music that was playing on the radio to the fact that I remember being on the phone with my cousin, tracking my contractions while she prattled on and one, dying to tell her what I was doing but not wanting to just in case it wasn't the real thing.

We waited until my contractions were "close"- they were right at about 5 minutes apart (and, as mothers of more than one know, five minutes apart is nothing with babies 2 and then some...hell, at five minutes apart with Eibhlin I was putting on make up and with Connlaodh I was still sleeping!) so I was anxious and nervous and fidgety and ready to go- and the excitement I felt as we headed up Matlock Road toward Arlington Memorial was overwhelming. What would this baby be like? Who would he look like? What color would his hair be? Would he like to read? Would he like broccoli? Would he play sports? Would he sing bass? Would he be tall or short? Would he be a scrawny little chicken or a big ol' moose? WHO would he be?

By 11:45 the next morning (given time for a weigh-in and a wipe down post delivery), we had a few of those questions answered. Taidhgin Dante Fitch Steele was just over 7 lbs, just over 20" long- no big winner there...and not much has changed- ha ha. He had dark hair then, light hair now. He does like broccoli. He probably will not sing bass- tenor, if anyone will take him in their choir, that is. He will probably play a sport that doesn't involve a team effort, though more than likely he will play on the chess team instead of the soccer team. He likes to read as long as he can take a break after a page or two. After just short of five years, as you can see, we have managed to answer most of our initial questions. That last one, the all important one, remains to be seen....and, if I am lucky, I will be around long enough to see him come closer and closer to the real truth of who he is.

We celebrated Taidhgin's fifth birthday today at the Y with a great group of 20+ kids and a handful of adults. The pool at the Y was a hit among all age groups and the kids just had a great time hanging out with each other. Other than one lone whine about an "unshared" pair of goggles, there was nary a complaint from the under 10 or over 20 crowd (the ones in the middle are at that age where they will whine about anything, so I ignored them altogether).

There are lots of pics of the party on our Kodak site (check out the link on the left), but I will post some here, as well...only after I once again use this forum to reflect on just how much we need to appreciate what we are given in our children.

I began by talking about five years ago, let me end by talking about today. Today I watched one of Taidhgin's best friends lose his first tooth. I know, I know...you are saying, "So what? Every kid loses their teeth?" But I am retarded and thought it so poignant that I got all emotional and acted like an idiot. Why oh why would the sight of a space where a tooth once stood set me off? Because I can remember losing my own teeth, and in my head I was so old- such a BIG kid- and while I know that I am not every person now, surely in that sense back then I was every child. And if my baby loses his tooth, does not a part of his innocence and childhood fall out with it? With every millimeter that new adult tooth creeps upward, isn't it also my son creeping that much closer to being an adult? So maybe my reaction to poor Quincy's tooth loss was less a mourning for the tooth (and Quincy's obvious discomfort with the subsequent hole in his gum) and more a mourning of the hole that will one day be in his mother's heart, the day Quincy walks out the door, bags in hand, and sets off to be who HE is. Far-fetched, perhaps, but if you have read this far in and have read even one other post, then you probably already assumed I would make a leap such as this one. But I digress...my point is that maybe this means that we as parents should stop thinking about that future for our own child- who he/she WILL be- and start spending that much more time on who he/she IS now. And maybe that means that when Taidhgin's front tooth (oh, yes- the one that is wiggling as we speak) makes its journey out of his mouth and into his tooth pillow, I will place a quarter in the pocket of the pillow, remove the tooth,wipe a tear from my eye, and remember that he still has 19 of those suckers yet to come out before he can call himself grown.

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Now for a couple of pics...feel free to hit up our Kodak site to check out the other ones from today and the rest from yesterday, too!

Sorry. No words for this one. :-)

What kind of a wish does a 5 year old make?

The Highpointe Boys.

The September Babies

2008-09-21T00:56:00.002-05:00

More tomorrow, but for now...happy birthday(s) to us.

Babysitting and Fishing

2008-09-14T20:18:00.004-05:00

Before I go into the lesson of the day- ha ha- let me just brag on baby boy for a bit. My little "Re Re" (if you don't know what this means, please don't ask- it is just too mean to share) has been mumbling his way through life for 20 months now. The poor kid couldn't hear for more than half of the first year of his life, so his ability to gauge sound is definitely developmentally behind. However, in the last two weeks his vocabulary has exploded, as has his ability to enunciate and speak clear enough for even a stranger to be able to make out what he is saying. Don't get me wrong, we're not talking sentences here, but he has absolutely surpassed "Re Re" in terms of language, is well on his way past "Mushmouth", and is creeping up to being on target for his age. Go, Connlaodh!

Lessons of the day...
As always, I am amazed both by my children in and of themselves and also by just how much of the world they allow me to see through their eyes and actions. Just when I feel myself safely cocooned inside my bubble of automaton adulthood, one of them does something so mundane, so trivial, yet so new when done by them that I am given cause to pause, review, and either shudder because they have hit so close to a sad or bitter truth or laugh because their actions are so clean and so innocent, and so FULL of truth.

Today we were at the Museum of Nature and Science in Dallas (by the way, for you Fort Worth snobs out there- the Fair Park complex blows Fort Worth away...as much as I love Cowtown - and you know I do- I just don't get the need to blow off South Dallas in favor of the Stockyards and cobblestone streets...anyway...). Damn, again I digress. Have I mentioned yet that I have this terrible habit of starting three conversations at once and never finishing any of them? As always, I blame the children. Okay, where was I....? Oh, yes. The Museum in Fair Park.

So we ramble through the exhibits upstairs, unearthing fossils and making giant bubbles, and finally reach the stairs to head down to the Children's Museum (which is, in fact, the entire bottom floor of the Museum of Nature and Science)...this is always the highlight of the trip, as the Children's Museum has everything from fire trucks to farms to baby dolls to bugs- fun for the whole family! We spent several hours down there, playing in the water, climbing the rock wall, etc. Anyway, Eibhlin and I spent some time with the baby dolls in the house area- we fed them, patted them, swaddled them, and had a grand ole time reliving the last five years of my life- ha ha. I decided to put my "baby" down and head on into the next room- the living room- for a few minutes of "me" time, complete with little plastic couch and little board books. We're talking serious R & R. Eibhlin said she would follow soon, so I went into the next room and sat down.

I was there, alone, for quite some time. I peeked through the "window" between rooms and could see Eibhlin- she was sitting on the floor. Now, I want you to visualize the scene as I saw it. Eibhlin was on the floor, in front of a cradle, sitting with her legs up to her chest and with her left arm resting on her knees. Her right arm was off to the side and behind her, her right hand inside the cradle, patting the "baby" inside. She was not looking at the baby or at me; Eibhlin was staring at the ceiling, quietly singing a lullaby.
I said, "Eibhlin, are you okay?"
She sighed and shushed me, "Shh, she is not asleep yet. I will be in there when she's asleep, okay?"
I, being the moron that I am asked, "WHO is not asleep?" Really, could I be any dumber? Duhh...
"The BABY is still awake and if I leave she will cry. I need to pat her. SHHHH," and Eibhlin turned her eyes back to the ceiling and continued to sing.

Now this was not a little girl playing "dolls", nor was this a little girl playing "Mommy". What I saw, sitting on that floor, was me and every other woman who has ever been exasperated by a baby who would not settle down. I saw me at 2 am with Eibhlin as an infant, when she was screaming bloody murder until she would pass out...I saw my sister-in-law and brother passing off their squeaky three month old when she wouldn't stop squealing unless she was moving...I saw woman after woman do what they needed to, and often unconsciously, in order to make sure their baby was tended to, no matter how hard it was. I saw my little girl as a mother, in those few moments, and realized (yet again) that the teacher in her life who will have the most impact on who she becomes is the one with whom she spends the most time, sees in context the most often. And again, I have been reminded that no matter what I feel, how tired I am, how frustrated I may be, no matter how much I have to do, etc., etc., she is dependent upon me- us- to show her what is right and what is wrong. In a very weird way I was proud of what I saw today, because though it reminded me of those moments of sheer exhaustion that I am not exactly sad to never relive, I saw in her the persistence and love necessary as a mother to make it through those moments well enough to be able to do them all over again and again.

(A few hours later)

The kids napped for a while after the Museum and finally woke up in time for dinner. Taidhgin was so upset when he woke up because we had decided to go fishing before dinner, and here it was dinner time and we wouldn't be able to go. He was so upset, in fact, that I broke down and told him we could go for just a little bit right AFTER dinner. So that is what we did...

We packed up the rod and tackle box, hopped in the truck, and headed down to the duck pond. Eibhlin came along for the ride and the three of us were ready and raring to go. Personally, I was absolutely terrified of actually catching something- I had no wire cutter, no pliers, no gloves- just me, two kids, and some power bait. Some of you are laughing, I am sure, about how I don't actually need those other items. However, I have serious issues with fish hook removal (and holding a fish without a glove) courtesy of the sunny who cut up the inside of my dad's hand one day when I was barely 8 or 9. So I have this deep and grave concern over little tiny fish causing me to gush rivers of blood- you will just have to forgive my one terribly silly fear. If I have gloves, I am golden. Without, I can only hope that there is nothing in that pond besides turtles and algae. Moving on...

So, the duck pond isn't exactly known for its huge fish population and I felt fairly certain that I wouldn't have to worry until this man tells us that he just let go a 7" fish and there were at least 10 more in the water below when he dropped in back in. Damn it! I congratulated him, bit my cheek, and put some bait on the line...

There really was no need to worry, as I was soon to find out, because neither kid had any interest in letting the bait sit still long enough to land anything at all. They were all about watching the bobber get dragged from one end to the other and then reeling it in as fast as their little hands could handle. I breathed a sigh of relief and opted to spend our time there teaching them how to cast as opposed to how to de-hook. Ha ha.

Let me tell you how I now see why my dad DID drag us out to catch those dumb ass sunnies. I never understood how a man who fished the ocean, fished in Alaska, etc. could possibly find fishing for sunnies in a little watering hole a worthwhile way to spend a few hours. I truly understand now...wow...my son is incredible. After a few demonstrations and a couple of guided releases, he nailed it. He could get that bait out damn near to the center of the pond without much effort at all. He would press the release button with his right thumb, grab the pole from under with the rest of his right hand, grasp the end of the pole with his left hand for leverage, swing back slow and steady, and then cast his line like he had been doing it his whole life. It was fantastic! He had control, he was steady, he was responsible and checked to make sure there was no one behind him, and he was focused. He did such a beautiful job casting, checking for slack, pulling up on the line, etc., that we are heading back on Wednesday--- and this time I am bringing my gloves.

I Am SO Not Your Friend Anymore!

2008-09-07T20:19:00.004-05:00

It is 8:19 and we have finished putting the kids to bed (Connlaodh had to be put to bed twice- ha ha). I am sitting in the loft, right outside the kids' rooms, listening to Angry Eibhlin tell me how much she doesn't like me ... and, for now, I am laughing my ass off.

Eibhlin did NOT want to go to bed. She must have told me 100 times between 7:50 and 8 o'clock that she had no intention of going to bed.

"Mommy, I do not want to go to bed now."
"I do not need to go to bed right now, Mom."
"Mimi, noooo, please don't make me go to bed."

Despite her nearly-convincing arguments, I persisted and, finally, put her to bed.

For fifteen solid minutes after I shut her door, this is what I heard...(as you read this, imagine a high pitched shriek, my guess would be similar to a Siren...and be sure to emphasize the words in all caps with an increase in level of at least 100 decibels):

"You are NOT my friend anymore."
"YOU are not my friend anymore."
"I am GLAD you are NOT my friend."
"I am SO not YOUR friend anymore."
"I do not want YOU to be my friend."
"I don't like you; you are not my FRIEND."
(sound of jumping on the bed)
"YOU are not my FRIIIIIIEEEEENNNND."
(sound of stuffed animals being thrown at the fan)
"I do not LIIIIIIKE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUU."
"I am NOT your friend."

So, why am I laughing my ass off? Because while I am sure this will not be the only time I hear this sentiment from my daughter's lips, I am fairly certain it will be one of the only times in which I will be more likely to get a hug and a kiss from her if I went in right now than I would get a smack in the head. My guess is that shift will take place in a little less than 10 years. So, for now, I am laughing because it really is funny. I wouldn't let her see me laughing- I am not that cold- but I can't help but slap my hand over my mouth to stifle a guffaw every time I hear a new variation of the same theme.

Okay, and now 24 minutes after bedtime, she is simply screaming in 1 minute intervals.

Damn...if this is the reaction I get over bedtime, what in the world will I get when I tell her she can't have a boyfriend or wear make up until she is 20. Ha ha.

( a few moments later)

So I broke down and went in and informed her very politely of the fact that she was keeping her brothers awake and that she needed to stop screaming...

Okay, so what really came out of my mouth was something along the lines of, "You need to stop this now otherwise you will be given something to scream about. Get a book, get a doll, get a pillow, whatever it takes, but stop screaming now or else there will be consequences."

She asked for a book. And I got my hug and kiss without even having to ask. All is well. And, wait....yes, I hear it--- silence from the pink and yellow room down the hall.

Good night!

Wow. I am so LAZY.

2008-09-03T22:18:00.003-05:00

Seems like my last post was only yesterday....though I guess it is closer to 24 yesterdays. What in the world sucks up my time like a Bounty? Hmmm...

Could it be working with adolescent students who are needier and more enabled than any child in any of my own children's classes? Nah.

Could it be running from work to tennis to home for dinner to the grocery store to baths and bedtime stories? Nah.

Could it be checking and rechecking and re-rechecking fares to NY in Oct, NY and MA in Mar, HI in July? Nah....ok, that's a lie. A lot of my time DOES go to that. I really should have been a travel agent; nothing gets me going more than a good deal on a flight that is non-stop and on the days I need!

What it boils down to is that 24 hours in a day and 7 days in a week is nowhere near enough time to live my life, love my family, and share with you the highlights. Unfortunately, I only have time for two of the three (if that), so you, dear reader, will always get the short end of that stick. However, it is after 10 pm, I am the only one awake, and I have had at least one glass of wine - i.e. I am in perfect form to reflect and regale.

Taidhgin--- started kindergarten on 25 Aug. He is officially a big kid now. There is homework and classwork and sight-word tests starting next week and an actual 3 ring binder filled (already!) with things to sign, papers that have been graded, and forms to fill out. What is more amazing than anything to me is that the start of kindergarten seems to have triggered in him this jump from baby to boy. He rolls his eyes, knows how to be a smartass (okay, so given his DNA perhaps this part isn't so shocking), and has begun to favor his friends over me. WTF is up with that, by the way!? Seriously, though, I sit back and watch the new Taidhgin with awe- he has a sense of humor, an overabundant sense of compassion and concern, a love of jokes and sarcasm, and more confidence than I ever remember having. His drawing...wow. He used to draw oval-shaped "circles" that were people without eyes...now he draws pirate ships with masts and cannons. He asks what words mean if he doesn't understand them and then he uses them in conversations later on that day/week. He desperately wants to tie his shoes and gets so frustrated when his fingers don't work the way he wants them to. He is so excited about trying to ride his bike without training wheels, but has decided he won't be ready to make the attempt until he is 5. HE JUST ASKED FOR A NINTENDO DS FOR HIS BIRTHDAY!?! My bug-boy is gone and left in his wake is the beginnings of the young man who will crush my heart by dating some girl who I hate and then will fix it by reminding me that I will always be his M O M (with a heart next to it for love).

Eibhlin--- my bestest gal is now in Pre-K. She is in the Turtles class and, according to her teacher, is about the most polite and helpful child ever to have gone through Highpointe. Come again? She is so damn intuitive and smart and manipulative. *Sigh* Everything I could have ever asked for in a daughter! :-) What comes out of her mouth sometimes is so insightful...for example, on our last day in San Antonio, Meema was saying how much "(she) loved spending time with (Eibhlin), Taidhgin, Connlaodh, your mom and dad..." What was Eibhlin's response? "What about Gramps?" Ha ha, especially if you know my folks *wink wink*. She has mastered the art of getting what she wants by "trading" to someone else something that she claims is better. She directs the events of the day..."First, Mom, we are going to the zoo, okay? And then, maybe, if we're good, we can go and get a treat at Target. And then, can we have salad for dinner? That sounds like a great idea, doesn't it? Then we can do a puzzle and read and watch TV. Okay? Okay, Mom?" And imagine all of this said with her three year old hands placed on her mini-teen hips with her sun-streaked hair swinging as she nods her head in exaggerated approval. How could one do anything other than what she suggests? It is hard to argue with the logic of one who includes a behavior clause in her agenda. It amazes me that she is so grown up inside that 38" body. And it blows my mind that she is no longer the colicky newborn of my nightmares and instead is the preschooler of my dreams.

Connlaodh--- Mongo began the summer with a vocabulary made up mainly of grunts and screams and has ended it with a number of words that can actually be understood by strangers. Every day I look at him and realize that he is no longer a baby- while not a preschooler, barely even a toddler, really, he is truly NOT a baby. He thinks, he decides, he teases, he plays games, he gets mad, he gets sad, he fakes tears for effect- he does all of these things that a baby can't do and yet I have such a hard time accepting it. Why? Because for as much as I am anxious to embark on a new era in our lives, it hurts to hear the squeak of the hinge of the door that is quickly slamming shut behind us. Connlaodh was our last doorstop, if you will; he was my last tie to the world of stretch marks and preggo pops, of new life to come, of teeny tiny diapers and bottles and highchairs. And yet, for as much as it hurts to let go of that world, I look at the little boy I have now and couldn't imagine reliving it. Who he is, this not-quite-2-year-old, more than makes up for the little loss I feel. He is 100% CHILD- fun loving and active. He is 100% SIBLING- he follows his brother and sister and desperately wants them in his life. He is 100% INVOLVED- he participates in every aspect of the world that is shown to him. He is 100% BULL IN CHINA SHOP- he breaks nearly everything. He is 100% MINE...and I couldn't ask for anything other than that. I melt with each sloppy kiss and every time he says "Tarry (sorry)" and hugs my neck I forget about the breakfast he threw on the floor and the water bowl he spilled....

Okay, so maybe I don't forget about them altogether, but I do find them easier to forgive :-).

I wish I had the wherewithal to remember the "moments" of each day of the last month...hell, of the last five years. I am going to make a concerted effort from now on to make this more of a slice of life page as opposed to a lexical collage of random thought. I am sure to bore you either way, but at least I can pretend to be more entertaining if I am more anecdote and less soapbox.

Bear in mind that I make no guarantees as to the success of this new drive; I promised myself I would do laundry every weekend, too, but I am fairly sure that at least two people in the family have recently run out of clean underwear. And on that note, it is way past my bedtime and the hours between now and my morning alarm are growing shorter and thinner with each passing moment. Good night, friends.

Everything I Needed to Know...Part II

2008-08-10T22:06:00.003-05:00

So now that I have had the opportunity to share the vents heard throughout the last 9 weeks, let me take some time to also share with you what I have learned about the little people in my life. It has been a very interesting experience, having them home with with me all day, every day. It has given me a lot of time and contexts in which to see my children as they truly are, not as they seem to be in the sound-bytes that constitute our normal "school year" lives:

Taidhgin has QUITE a temper. I know I shouldn't be surprised, considering who his momma and daddy are, but I am amazed at its passion nonetheless. He is quick to flare, quick to fizzle, and it almost always involves his lack of control over the situation. He grinds his teeth together, clenches his jaw, and his eyes just fire up when he gets that angry.
On a more positive note, he is innately one of the softest, most gentle children I have ever met. Whether it is a new baby or a baby animal, he, without prompting, speaks softly and quietly, touches like a feather, and is totally focused on comforting and soothing.
Yinyang.

Eibhlin, for as much as I believed her to be the one with the truly bipolar personality, is probably the most consistent of the three. In every aspect of her life-whether it is play, fighting, sorrow, sleeping, walking, talking, it doesn't matter- she is "on" 100%. She puts every molecule of her being into whatever she is doing or feeling...she half-asses nothing. While this makes for a very frustrating scene when she has decided that she wants to be the uncooperative b-i-t-c-h she is known to be at times, it also allows for the incredible emotion that I feel every time she throws herself full-speed into a hug or takes it upon herself to direct the day's activities or when she uses her outstanding capacity for emotion to try to console her baby brother when he is upset.

Connlaodh has spent the last 2 1/2 months becoming a very cool little boy. He, of the three, is by far the most even-tempered and good-natured. Don't get me wrong, it is not that he doesn't ever get angry or upset or hurt or loud---he is Italian and Irish, there is no way he could escape those traits--- but he is genuinely happy. Now that he has sound and has enough words in his vocabulary to get most of his needs across, he is nothing but smiles and hugs and big toothy grins. He so badly wants to be like his big brother and big sister, he cannot stand to sit back and watch them do things that he cannot do....but he takes it in stride, tries when he can and sucks it up when he can't.

It never ceases to amaze me how these little bodies can contain all of the same feelings, strengths, and weaknesses as their adult counterparts. You can see it, though...when Connlaodh gets angry and does not know how to say what he wants, he bites or cries or throws things. Seconds after being given some words to use, he uses them and is miraculously transformed from a wailing demon into a smiling child. Imagine that. As soon as you are given the right tools to use, your job becomes easier. I am certain this applies to the over 2 crowd, too. (Or it should, anyway).

Anyway, contrary to popular belief (and to the comments I have made in the last week or so), I am actually quite glad I had this summer. I have joked about how I won't ever do this again - "this" meaning keeping my kids home full time over the summer- but I am sure I will. For whatever reason, despite my irritation as of late and my frustrations throughout, I am actually a little teary-eyed at the fact that my summer with my children is officially over. They head back to Highpointe tomorrow (and I will spend the week doing those things I couldn't figure out how to do while they were home- ha ha) and that's all she wrote. So I am sure that time will dull the edge of this summer's mishaps (much like it blurs the pain of a drug-free labor and delivery) and I will sign up for this circus again next June. And until then, I will have to try to remember what it felt like those days when the four of us had it better than anyone else in the world. While those days were not as frequent as I would have liked them to be, there were enough of them there this summer for me to know that there are many more to come if only I grab them when I see them.

Everything I Needed to Know, I Have Learned This Summer

2008-08-10T21:43:00.002-05:00

I am nearing the end of my summer break and have spent the last week or so losing my mind…partially because of the thought of going back to work, a little because I accomplished nearly nothing of what I had planned on getting done this summer, but mainly because I have had the privilege of spending my summer in the company of other women- my friends and family- and have realized that no matter what the details of our lives may be, we are all truly screwed in the same way. How could this be? Surely the life of the stay at home mom who has a maid is not in any way similar to the mom of two, one of whom is often sick. And surely the life of a mother of three (who has a home zoo on top) is not at all parallel to the life of the mother of one whose home is impeccably clean….

I know it sounds implausible, nay, it sounds CRAZY to think such a way…but, my friends, it is true. All of these women share so many common issues, concerns, angers, tears, that when I actually realized the truth of our lives, I was dumbfounded. I must thank all of them- those who I have seen, those to whom I have spoken on the phone, those to whom I have only heard from via e-mail…all of them. Every last one of these incredible women has shaped my current insanity…but I feel it is my current state that will lead to the clarity necessary to continue living with my hair still attached to my head.

Let me preface the following with a statement of fact: this is not a direct attack on anyone (so many dads are just so sensitive...). What follows is, instead, feelings and thoughts that I saw common among nearly all the mothers I had contact with this summer. For better or for worse, whether shooting straight or embellishing on their own plights, these mothers shared stories and had discussions that seemed to hit the nail on the head in the lives of so many others. I feel it is my duty to share what I have learned this summer from these honest women, for, as unproductive as it was around my house, it was truly productive in terms of my bonds to and relationships with the women in my life. So thank you all…and here are the top ten nuggets of insight with which you have helped to enlighten me:

1. WHO SAID I NEEDED SAVING?

Not every woman wants to be saved by their husband/partner; most just want enough alone time to be able to save themselves. In other words, find some other way to boost your own ego.

2.ALONE TIME MEANS TIME FOR ME, NOT MORE TIME FOR CHORES.

Getting a break is more than being able to go to the grocery store alone; getting a break is more than having the children watched in another room whilst one folds clothes in the bedroom….getting a break means being given the chance to put one’s self (and one’s “other life”- work, etc) first.

3. NOT TONIGHT, DEAR.

Sex is not the magic salve for a broken daytime relationship; in fact, pushed too far and it may be catalyst for a permanent break.

4. WATCH THE KIDS WITH YOUR EYES, NOT THE REMOTE.

Watching the kids does not mean playing on the computer/watching the TV/eating/scratching your ass until one of the kids breaks something which allows you to scream and “discipline” them; watching the kids means being an active and PROACTIVE participant in their world.

5. AND WHAT ABOUT YOUR FAT ASS?

If going to the gym is not a lot of fun for someone to begin with, then going to the gym with one, two, three children in tow is an unprecedented misery. So no, honey- I am not going to the gym to lose my baby weight. YOU take the kids along and lose the inner tube you currently sport (and for which you have no excuse). I will stay home, clean the house, and relish the productive minutes of my life in silence. Wait, what? It would be a pain in the ass for you to bring the kids to your man-sanctuary of sweat and dumbbells? Aww, shucks, honey. That’s too bad.

6. SUCK IT UP, SUPERMAN.

Women don’t like it when their partners portray themselves as super-dads and then proceed to hand the baby/child directly back to “mom” as soon as the baby/child becomes an inconvenience to the eating, sleeping, or whatever other activity the dad would like to embark upon. Stop blowing smoke up the ass of whomever it is you are trying to impress and just hold the damn kid so I can finish a meal while it’s still warm. Thank you.

7. SO YOU MAKE MORE MONEY THAN ME, SO WHAT.

Please don’t use the excuse that your paycheck is bigger than ours (and therefore more necessary) to justify your increasingly longer hours and your inability to carry your own child-rearing weight once you get home. If you really feel that money is the problem, then believe me, we can do without- I’d rather have you home with me and the kid(s) than have a nicer couch in the living room. However, if you just don’t want to have to take responsibility for your kid(s), then we have bigger problems than how much money is coming in every week.

8. BE PROACTIVE.

No one likes to have to give orders all day long. Take a look around the house and see if there’s anything that you can help with…take out the garbage, put the clothes away, water the plants, anything. These are all responsibilities of all adults who have a home and family, not just the women who live in these homes. And if you really want to know why we’re pissed, it’s because you left your garbage on the table for three days and only cleaned it up because the three year old commented on it, and because you walked by your nasty underwear (which are laying in the sink in the guest bathroom) no less than 15 times and STILL did not put them in the wash. Get a grip, my friend…your mother is no longer here to clean up behind you and I sure as hell am not picking up where she left off.

9. YOU KNOW, MY PLANS CAN CHANGE, TOO.

We all know that life in the business world can change quickly and that meetings are scheduled, cancelled, etc on a whim sometimes. However, how is it that this happens so rarely to the moms and so often to the dads? Dads, let me tell you what it says when you call home at your normal arrival time only to say that, oops, your plans have changed and now you will be two hours late. It says that you have not at all considered the dinner mom has made, the activities planned already for that afternoon, that mom may have work to do, as well, etc. In fact, this phenomenon is a symptomatic manifestation of problem #7, because if MOM did the same thing, there would be hell to pay. Try to realize, dad, that just because you are oh-so-needed at work does not mean that you are NOT needed at home. You might want to check that list of priorities and make sure that the right ones are marked URGENT.

10. IF YOU CALL ME AGAIN, I WILL CANCEL MY DAMN CELL PHONE NUMBER.

When you DO finally let me get out of the house without much argument and fuss and actually DO allow me to have some adult time with friends and colleagues, DO NOT call me every 5 minutes to try to guilt me into coming home. GROW UP. Deal with your kid(s) on your own--- I do it EVERY day.

There were many more topics of conversation that shared space in the minds and hearts of my friends and family, but the above ten were the ones that repeated again and again. They came up so often that I have to wonder just how far from the truth they are in the lives of these women. I know there are people who will read this and truly believe that I and the women of whom I speak are nothing but a bunch of man-bashers who can't be happy with anything. I can assure you that this is not the case...for so often these topics came up amidst tears and those tears were streaming from the eyes of women who had a much different vision in their heads of what it would be like to bring a child into the world with the men they love.

Cojones

2008-07-15T07:21:00.004-05:00

I feel terrible that it has been over a week since I last wrote. I am sure that it has been painful for you not to be regaled with the trials and tribulations of the pseudo-stay at home mom that I am until 11 August. Ha ha.

It has been a difficult week, I won't lie. To say that every moment of the summer has been wonderful would be untrue, but it seems the majority of the bad moments have been in the last 10 days. I have decided that it is entirely possible for a mother to get on her children's nerves and vise versa. And so here is the conundrum....how much can a mother admit to being aggravated by her children before she earns herself the right to be gossiped about behind her back?

You all know what I am talking about...there are women out there who complain about their children and their lives as mothers about whom YOU gossip. They don't love their children, they obviously don't appreciate the "gift" of their children, etc., etc. Nothing is ever said TO the mother in question about the concern or distaste others feel toward them; instead, mom in the spotlight is greeted with uber-pleasant smiles up front, and stabbed in the back with attacks on her motherly character as soon as she turns away.

How many women refuse to admit that their newborn baby is not what they expected, just because they KNOW what people will say about them? How many women deny their toddler's anger-inducing fits because they know that someone will comment on how badly they must be parenting? How many gloss over the potentially dangerous and destructive attitudes of their preschooler because they are afraid someone will remind them how much they will "miss" this time of their child's life?

I would be willing to bet that there isn't a single mother out there who hasn't, at some point, been so angry, frustrated, upset, hurt, stifled, etc by their children that they haven't wished to have just 15 minutes of their life back to the ease and relative pain-free existence it was BEFORE they had children. I am not saying that they want their children gone forever, but for 15 minutes....just 15 minutes to regroup, restructure, restore. And if any mother denies that, then she is either lying or has yet to have their child take a hockey stick to her newly painted walls.

I will stand up for all of those women and then some, then. I will have the cojones to say, " I love my children with all my heart, but for about 2 hours yesterday I would have been equally as happy to have them anywhere but with me". Of course, I would have been aching for them terribly at the end of those two hours, as it is the ache that leads us to becoming mothers in the first place. But two hours without the juggling act would have been very nice...

They did, however, make it up to me by cuddling very nicely last night while we watched "Mulan". I even got a kiss and a "You're my best friend" from my best girl. And with that, the rest of the day was washed away and I was able to go to bed happy.

If Only I Could Carry the 4th Everyday

2008-07-05T14:02:00.004-05:00

Happy belated 4th of July! I would have written last night, but we got in late from the fireworks and I chose bed over blog...

With all the recent talk of why kids, when kids, how kids, etc., I feel it necessary to share a slice of last night with you. We traveled down to a ballpark in Mansfield to share the 4th with some dear friends of ours and their kids- we had a fantastic time. We spent hours playing, goofing, and running around on the fields, and then we sat down on our blankets and fold up chairs in order to watch the fireworks.

I had the privilege of having , for just a few brief moments during the show, every child in group seated by me, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the lights and sounds. I was able to see it all through their eyes, the pinks-greens-whites-blues, and well, nothing is more amazing than having two 3 year olds leaning against your arms, two five year olds sitting close by, and an 18 month old on your lap, all vying for your attention, your hugs, your comments while they sit in awe of the sky above.

Imagine the baby touching your face and looking at you with each "wow", the 3 year olds patting your arm and asking you, non-stop, if you saw this one or that one, the 5 year olds telling you "how cool" each display was....and now contemplate how overwhelming it is to know that, for those few brief moments, you are their touchstone, their line between the earth and the sky. You are their answers, their sounding board, their comfort, their pillow...Imagine no other sound but the children and the fireworks, no other moment but the one you are in; picture yourself completely immersed in the knowledge that you are a part of their memory, their experience.

If only it was possible to carry that moment with you...for those times when you want to do or say those things to your children, the ones you know you regret the second after they occur. If only you could take out that moment, look at it as a reminder of just how important you are to them ALL the time. If only, if only...

Posted by Request

2008-07-02T22:26:00.002-05:00

This has nothing to do with the Three Musketeers; this fact is one that is sure to delight some of you and I would imagine you are aching for a commercial break in the pro-children soapbox. Ha!

Here is an e-mail I sent out yesterday, posted by request. Do with it what you will (but don't send it back to me, please! I am liable to comment on it again and I am not sure I can keep my responses PG next time).

*********************************************************************************
I actually received this e-mail at least a dozen times over the course of a week or so…it is funny, but in dire need of a response J. If anything makes you laugh, just remember it’s because you know what I am talking about- ha ha. If you haven’t seen the “rules” yet, they are what’s written in gray.

THERE'S A NEW SET OF RULES NOW!!
Now it's time for the man's rules. We always hear "the rules" for the feminine side. Ok - we are now going to hear the rules from the man's side. These are our rules! Please note these are all numbered "1" on purpose.

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down.
Do women actually get mad about this? I don't know of any who do. I know many, however, who get mad at the drippage on the lid and/or inside the rim after the man in their house has visited his “throne”.

1. Sometimes, we are not thinking about you. Live with it.
Hell, I am hardly ever thinking of you. What do I care?

1. Shopping is NOT a sport, and no, we are never going to think of it that way.
Whew! I hate it, too...especially when it's shopping for something that has no bearing on reality....computer parts, big screen TV's, stereo components necessary for the loud parties we never have, etc.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine. Really.
Wish I could say the same in return.

1. Crying is blackmail.
Well, so stop doing it then! No one likes to see a grown man asking for Kleenex.

1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one:
Subtle hints do not work
Strong hints do not work
Obvious hints do not work
Just say it!
Then the next logical question is...if I say it, provide you with explicit directions on how to do it, and also provide you with a reasonable deadline in which it needs to be done, why is it still screwed up?

1. We don't remember dates. Mark birthdays and anniversaries on a calendar. Remind us frequently beforehand.
We don't remember either, so please refrain from getting mad the next time we forget that your poker night is this week and have made other plans for us that will prevent you from attending.

1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.
Yup. I.e., "Honey, want to fool around?" NO. “Is it me?” YES.

1. Come to us with a problem only if you want help solving it. That's what we do. Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
Nobody asked you for either. I didn't come to you with a problem, you harassed me into telling you one. I just didn't want to talk to you.

1. A headache that lasts for 17 months is a problem. See a doctor.
In this case, perhaps lawyer is more appropriate.

1. Check your oil! Please.
I did. I changed it, too...not like you would know since you haven't left the couch since yesterday.

1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.
This rule applies to me, too, right? Because though I said ok to boy's night out last week, I am changing my mind now. According to your rule, last week's response never even existed.

1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.
Ewww...who wanted that? How about simply acting like someone who follows the larger of their two brains...or are you already? Because that would explain SO much.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways, and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.
I have yet to hear anything uttered from your mouth for which multiple interpretations were possible; I will worry about that particular dilemma when we reach the complex sentence structure stage of our conversations.

1. Let us ogle. We are going to look anyway; it's genetic.
It sure is. So no, I didn't see you make that basket/touchdown/hole in one/whatever, dear...I was busy following my genetic pre-disposition to “ogle”…and damn, he’s hot.

1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done, not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
I am pretty sure I do already...then you come along and jack it all up.

1. The relationship is never going to be like it was the first two months we were going out. Get over it.
Believe me, I did. Can you?

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.
Well, now that explains what you wore to work today.

1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.
Feel free...just please refrain from using my kitchen utensils as aids in this endeavor unless YOU are going to clean them.

1. We are not mind readers and we never will be. Our lack of mind-reading ability is not proof of how little we care about you.
Fortunately for you, I am really not all that concerned about how much you care. I figure if you didn't at all, I would be being served papers.

1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like nothing's wrong. We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
Duly noted. Rest assured that you can often apply the same theory (know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.) to “Was it good for you, honey?” “Yes, dear”.

1. I'm in shape. -ROUND is a shape.
I believe the term you’re looking for here is sphere. You did pass 10th grade math, right?

Does Making Blue and Green Food for the Kids Count as a Hobby?

2008-06-30T21:53:00.009-05:00

I recently got in touch with an old friend from high school who asked me, "Do you have any hobbies, or are the kids all-consuming?"

Reaction #1: Hmmm...am I being completely roasted for having no life outside of my children?
Reaction #2: Poor, poor thing...hasn't quite realized the utter joy of giving your body, heart, and soul to your offspring?
Reaction #3: What ARE hobbies, anyway?

So I started thinking about my hobbies. You know, I don't recall ever having any. I read (and still do) and wrote (still do), but I never really looked at those as hobbies; those activities were more along the lines of necessities. I liked to travel (still do, though not as extensively as maybe I would otherwise), I loved working on projects around the house (see note re: travel)...but again, never really thought of these things as hobbies. Hobbies always seemed to be things like trains, painting, model airplanes...things that cost more money than I care to spend on things that do nothing other than sit and look nice.

Aaron's idea is that anything you spend a significant amount of time on, outside of work, is a hobby. Hmm...guess for me that would be balancing the checkbook and paying bills.

Merriam-Webster defines hobby as "a pursuit outside one's regular occupation engaged in especially for relaxation ".
Collins Essential English Dictionary defines hobby as "an activity pursued in one's spare time for pleasure or relaxation".
Wikipedia states that a hobby is a "a spare-time recreational pursuit".
Dictionary.com concurs that a hobby is "an activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation".

So, based on the idea that a hobby is something done for fun OUTSIDE of one's job, and I often have fun outside of my job- ha ha- I have to have a hobby somewhere...

1) On the weekends, when we have nothing we HAVE to do around the house, what do I choose to do to have fun?
Go to the zoo or some other random location with Aaron and the kids.
2) During the week, after work and if I had no other obligations to concern myself with, what would I most like to do?
Play outside with the kids.
3) Is there anything that I plan around, for, etc?
Traveling with the family, etc.

I am noticing a pattern here. So I guess I DO have a hobby. It just doesn't sound quite as exotic as traveling through foreign lands or as intellectual as collecting numbered prints or as "productive" as decorating my home and yard.

The answer to the original question posed is then, "Yes...and yes".
I can live with that.

All's Quiet on the Upstairs Front

2008-06-29T06:53:00.002-05:00

Everyone is still asleep. It is amazing how quiet the house is when no one is moving. As much as I am enjoying it, I couldn't imagine my house sounding like this all the time.
Here is what will happen soon...I will hear the gate creak open. I will look up and see one of the boys, swinging the gate open and closed. If it's Connlaodh, I will go up to get him. If it's Taidhgin, I will ask him to come down. Either way, within minutes I will hear the footsteps of the second brother. Both boys will come down, start breakfast, and quietly play at the table. About ten minutes later, Eibhlin will be at the gate- having closed it already, which means I will need to go up and open it- and she will say, "Good morning!". By the time she gets downstairs, the boys' volume will have gone from 2 to 10 and my day will have begun in earnest- functioning at top volume until bedtime.

I can remember entire Sunday mornings that would sound like this...Aaron would be sleeping and I would be working on assignments for class or on my own classwork. The house would lie dormant, except for whatever limited movements I made in the office. That was a long time ago...and long before I welcomed these amazing creatures into my life.

So for right now, right this moment, I will quietly sip my coffee and appreciate the silence there is for now.

But wait, I hear the gate now...it is big brother. Guess I couldn't expect it to last forever- and definitely wouldn't want it to...

Out of the Mouths of Babes...

2008-06-27T14:52:00.000-05:00

So Eibhlin and I were cleaning the junk drawer out yesterday and came across a picture of me from a LONG time ago. I would say that the pic is circa early '95...scary. I was about 30 lbs heavier than I am now, hadn't yet been introduced to tweezers, and was wearing my father's sweats and a too-small white t-shirt. Ouch!
I asked Eibhlin if she knew who the person in the picture was...she shook her head at first and then I could see the light bulb turn on. She stopped shaking her head, scrunched up her nose in absolute distaste and disgust and said, "You was yucky then, Mommy?"

Just a Side Note

2008-06-22T22:31:00.003-05:00

Wow. I just reread all my posts and I sound like the worst mother in the world. Hmmm...seems I have been at a loss to do anything besides bitch and moan! So, let's take a break from the norm and show the rosier side of the day...

While at Medieval Times last night, I found myself getting misty-eyed when I was watching the three kids play around with each other. The boys pair up, Eibhlin is the glue that holds them together...it is amazing to watch them play, rough-house, and be concerned about each other.

And, truth be told, I am taking them out to any place of their choice tomorrow as payback for having been MIA all day today...as much as I appreciated the time to work, I missed playing with my babies...

And, as a reminder, bitch is my comfort zone, not my only zone. See ya soon.

Escaping in My Own Home

2008-06-22T22:12:00.003-05:00

I found the perfect way to get a break today- no questions asked. I painted- for 9 hours. One wall in the living room and both entries. I was covered in brown paint ("sauteed mushrooms") and surrounded by tape, ladders, and paintbrushes- it left everyone else no choice but to leave me alone for the day. The kids could walk by and applaud my painting job- "Nice work, Mom", "Oooh, it looks brand new!"- but no one could come too close and Aaron had to watch them all day without my help. Needless to say, I will painting every weekend for the next 16 1/2 years.

On a more playful note, we went to Medieval Times last night to celebrate a belated Happy Father's Day for Aaron...

What Happened to Vacation Meaning Getting a Break?

2008-06-18T11:13:00.004-05:00

The kids and I just got back from Myrtle Beach where we spent three days in the sand and sun with my folks and also with Uncle Louie and Aunt Rose. We played in the sand, floated in the lazy river, ate out, played mini golf...and now I need a break from my vacation! Ha!

It is amazing, though, how much fun - and how freaking exhausting- it is to take the kids on vacation. They just wanted to go, go, go no matter how exhausted they were, which meant no naps (and no down time for Mom, Meema, and Gramps- ha ha) for three days.

I do wonder how my parents- my aunt and uncle, too- did it back in the day...I remember the adults being the ones who could go forever and it was me and the rest of the kids who were spent- I guess it is all a matter of perception. And it really must be, too, because I sure do remember those condo rooms being quite a bit bigger than what they felt like with the Three Musketeers running around in them! Ha!

Anyway, you can see all the pics from the trip on the Kodak site, but here are a couple that I can't resist posting...

And what blog would be complete without a little dancing?

The First Week

2008-06-14T07:29:00.003-05:00

There is a reason I couldn't be a stay-at-home mom full time-

Ok, so I have mastered the art of taking all three kids to run errands, to the water park, to the store, to the gym, etc. What I haven't quite figured out yet is how to get my floors mopped and my lawn mowed while all three are home and awake...because did I mention that NO ONE takes naps anymore? Ok, that is an exaggeration...Connlaodh takes one every other day, but the other two are damn near nap-free. Which means that my floors will never get cleaned....

I did manage to keep the kitchen sink clean this week. Ha ha. No dishes, white was sparkling- the whole shebang. Next week's goal is to keep the laundry piles below waist high. Ha!

Though I wasn't terribly "productive" this week, I did get some pics of the kids playing in the (long) grass in the backyard...

First Day of Summer Vacation...

2008-06-09T19:00:00.003-05:00

Eibhlin spelled her name with confidence:

and Connlaodh made his first attempt at "I Love You":

and Taidhgin...well, I don't have any video of what Taidhgin did today, but let's just say that I couldn't have gotten through the day without his help... :-)

Scottish Festival 2008

2008-06-08T22:03:00.004-05:00

We took the kids to the Scottish Festival this past Friday...we go every year and the kids always have a good time. We made it around to the Glengarry (?) Tent to listen to Seamus Stout (one of the regulars at the fest)- the kids all had a great time letting the music move them... ha ha...

Here are Taidhgin and Eibhlin letting loose...

And here is brother bear with a pirouette of his own- ha!

Well, tomorrow is the first official day of summer break...and the start of the first summer home with all three kiddos. Wish me luck!

Trace Adkins - Then They Do

2008-06-03T22:28:00.001-05:00

Not much to say about this one...just listen.

Some Moments from the Past Week

2008-06-03T21:24:00.005-05:00

Eibhlin had her first Elite Dance Prep Class tonight. She had a new teacher, was the youngest in her class of 8 (the girl older than her was a YEAR older and there were several who were almost 2 years older), was in a different classroom, etc., etc. I thoroughly expected her to stand there in her famous "civil disobedience" pose- arms close in, nails in mouth, grimace on her face. However, she watched and listened, did everything her instructor asked (as much as that little 3 year old body could, anyway) and did it all with a look of determination. She hugged me hard during a break in class, looked me in the eye- with those huge brown eyes- and said, "I am listening real good for you, Mommy. Am I making you happy?" OF COURSE YOU ARE, KITTEN.

Connlaodh, more apt to bite you than kiss you, leaned in to me today, grabbed both my cheeks with those big ol' bear paws, and kissed my nose. Of course he then managed to ruin the moment by throwing his head back, smacking into the wall, and then screaming "DOWN!".....but at least I had that ONE moment with my little grizzly bear. :-)

(Speaking of the younger two, here they are cleaning the house this past Sunday- ha ha)

And Taidhgin...on Sunday I got a glimpse of what life will be like for him in not too many years, i.e. being the "big kid" surrounded by a bunch of babies. We went to a birthday party and he was among the older kids there...and there was a moment when- among the insanity of the toddlers and pre-schoolers throwing water balloons haphazardly and running around like loons- he looked around at the younger kids, looked at me, and then shrugged his shoulders and sighed with a smile. It was like he had sneaked a peek into that big kid world- a world where the kids just a few years younger than you are no longer playmates and have instead become pests.

Introductions are in Order

2008-05-27T22:24:00.013-05:00

So what it boils down to is that I have become very lazy. I have grown so accustomed to being able to fly around and see everyone that I have forgotten what it means to be able to put pen to paper (or, in this case, fingertips to keys) and let everyone see from their pages (computers) what is going on in my life. So, given the current price of gas and airline tickets, I have chosen to unpack my adjectives (courtesy of some School House Rock inspiration) and invite you all in via word and picture.

I must forewarn you, though...I am far less succinct in word than I am on the phone. Feel free to skim through here as I tend to digress quite frequently...

So. The first entry into the real blog versus the practice blogs. I have attempted several of these in the past, but have yet to make it past the first entry. In fact, rarely have I finished that first one! So, my goal for this week is TWO blogs- today and maybe sometime over this coming weekend. And if I can do that, then perhaps three next week? ...

Well, here they are...the reason for the travel (and now for the blog):

Taidhgin, Connlaodh, and Eibhlin

Hands down, they are the coolest kids in the world.

There will be plenty more to come (and you can see plenty of pics at http://www.kodakgallery.com/fitch_steele), but here are a few more - because I know no one can resist-ha ha!

Have a good night.