I Accept This Award on Behalf of All Women

I know award season has come to an end, but for the last 10-15 years I have been perfecting my award acceptance speech. This exercise has kept me sane on the treadmill, on long drives in the car and on those nights when the worry creeps in and the sleep is hard to come by.

I decided that today, on International Women's Day, that I would share that speech with a few modifications.

Oh my goodness! Thank you, thank you so much. First of all I would like to thank the Academy. I want to thank all of my readers who read this book and let me know how much they loved it. I want to thank the amazing cast and crew--Jen, Ben, thank you for believing in this project and thank you for coming together to truly capture the inner lives of these characters.

Oops, should probably start a little later on. . .


I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for an incredible support system of women in my life. I would like to thank my grandmothers, one who is still with us and one who is not. These two women raised 15 children between them, they lived through war, they buried children, they worked full-time jobs, they prayed for me, they let me live with them, they showed up at my 4th grade field trip, and passed down a shirt that read "A Woman's Place is in the House and the Senate" that I wore, sans pants, to a local diner the day my sister fell off the loft bed and split open her chin.

I would like to thank my mother. (This is the part where I envision fanning myself a bit and holding back tears.) Thank you for your sacrifices, your selflessness and your unending support. Thank you for showing up when I needed you and knowing when to let me figure it out on my own. Thank you for continuing to show up whenever and where ever needed, for not only me and my children, but for anyone you can help.

Thank you to my mother-in-law for raising a boy who became a man who became an incredible father.

Thank you to my sisters. One led the way my entire life. Thank you for taking those first steps into the unknown so I didn't have to brave it alone. Thank you for treating my children as your own and stepping in to help me whenever I need it.

Thank you to my younger sister who taught me what it means to love unconditionally and who to this day continues to do nothing but amaze me.

Thank you to my best friend, who I have known since we were 18 months old. There are really no words to describe your influence on my life. I love you. Thank you. I'm calling you in 10 minutes to talk about all of the celebrities I have seen in the bathroom.  (I am hoping that one day I can use that line.)

Thank you to the mass group of amazing aunts, my sisters-in-law, nieces, and all my cousins--especially my DePeter girls, who make me laugh louder than anyone and let me bitch about anything I want.

To my Loyola Ladies--who would have thought that a random room selection would influence our lives in so many ways? Thank you all for your fierce friendship.

To all my mom group friends, PTO moms and the moms at school. We may not all do it the same way, we may be mothers who work, mothers who don't, mothers who volunteer or just write a check, we may be mothers who are navigating our first kids through school or our third, but we all show up and we all do what we can and I am thankful we aren't doing it alone.

Finally, to my daughters, my smart, funny, creative ladies who made me a mother. Use your voices. Don't be afraid and always dream big.


I think the music is probably playing at this point, the celebrities are wondering who I am, and I am being escorted away by who I hope is Tina Fey and Amy Poehler towards that mysterious back room where the press probably isn't so interested in the "Best Adapted Screenplay" winner. Hoping my makeup is looking good and my feet don't kill me in these heels. . .


*****

Please note: I would be nowhere without plenty of men in my life. Wait, I should rephrase that.

Motherhood in the Sweet Spot

My children are no longer babies. While they will always be my 3 Beans, we have reached what I like to call the sweet spot in parenting.

That's right. It can happen. Everyone can get dressed by themselves, feed themselves, respond to and follow simple demands (although this might take some repetition), and for the most part function normally in society, with the exception of them running through hotel hallways and Target aisles like gazelles being pursued on an African plain.

The transition from newborns to toddlers to tweens did not take long. And while I miss the sweet, smelling newborns against my skin, the inquisitive toddlers exploring their world and the toothless smiles of kindergarten and first grade, I am grateful for this time that I find myself in.

This is the best I got of all 3 of them!

The Lady is 11. While she is a full on tween who is navigating middle school, social media and the expectations and changes associated with her age, she hasn't quite reached the point where she has sequestered herself in her room. She still allows me to hug her, tell her how much I love her, and dance terribly in front of her without too much embarrassment or rolling of her eyes. She is the most introverted yet independent of my children and demands the least attention from me, for now.

The Little Lady is 9 going on 19. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, is quick to lash out, but loves, loves so freely. She is social and funny and wants more than anything to spend time with her family (when she isn't staring at a screen of course!) playing games, watching movies, baking and creating. She does roll her eyes--frequently, but what she wants most is my attention and time, for now.

QT is 7. How did my baby get so old? He asks the most random questions that I can tell he has been thinking about and then just kind of starts to speak as if we all have been part of the conversation going on in his head. He loves video games and hanging out with his friends. He is always coming really close to the proverbial "line" and can still for the most part get away with it by batting his long eyelashes and smiling, for now.

For now, what I want is to recognize this time, take advantage of it before the doors close and the eyes really roll. For now, I want my children to see our family as a safe space, to be themselves wholly and without fear or doubt before the outside influences, the peer pressure, the impact on their self-confidence continues to creep its way in. Life is coming for them but for now, in this sweet spot of time, I want them to know that their terrible dancing, Grateful Dead loving, lapsed runner and blogger of a mom is here and loving each of them for who they are right now.

Motherhood: A Timeline

Monday, February 1, 2016

8:35 a.m.: I go down into my home office to check some work emails before the final push to get everyone out the door. 

I found this note from the Little Lady on my desk. The photo is one of my grandfather I keep there. He died when I was in third grade. GG is my grandma who died this summer at almost 91. We talk about her a lot in our house.

Had to cut this off for a few reasons: 1. my grandpa is dressed as Baby New Year and while I love this photo the Internet doesn't need to see that. 2. The Little Lady signed her name. 3. The black blob is covering our home address, apparently she felt the need to use our address stamp as part of this.

So, clearly there are tears.

I go upstairs give the Little Lady a huge hug and tell her how much I love her and think "I must be doing something right."

***

8:55 a.m.: I pull the Little Lady off of the bottom bunk into a small package and carry her, yelling about how she doesn't want to brush her hair or go to school, through the hallway, down the stairs and out of the garage before depositing her in the booster seat in Minnie-Ru where her brother and sister are waiting. She isn't wearing any shoes.

I run back inside, grab her boots, a jacket and a hat, throw them at her, throw the car into the reverse and peel out of the driveway. Late to school again and all the while thinking "what am I doing wrong?"

Birds of a Feather. . . Freak Me Out

I think it is safe to assume that most of us have done something for our kids that places us a bit outside of our comfort zone.

In all honesty, just showing up at kids birthday parties and talking to parents I don't know gives me a little bit (more) anxiety. I can't wait until they are all drop offs.

Anyway, I also think it is safe to assume that most of you know that I hate birds. I have mentioned it here a few times. I just don't like them. At all.There really isn't anything I find redeeming about them and the fact that people keep them in their homes as pets weirds me out.

So on Saturday when we met up with a girlfriend of mine and her family at the local Aquarium, I wasn't really expecting a full-on bird exhibit.

I paid $3 for a cup of nectar and for birds to land on me. On my arms and my shoulders and my head. My head! Although, I did tell the girl in there with the stick that maybe it would be in her best interest to remove the one off the top of my head before I had a literal freak out.

Granted, the birds were very colorful and vibrant up close, non-withstanding their creepy claws in my skin and hair. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh.  But it was way outside the comfort zone.

Not sure how I ended up in there with the Little Lady and QT in there by myself, but I tried to show them that I wasn't afraid/freaked out/totally skeeved by winged creatures and tried to even say things like "Look at the beautiful feathers, see how they are drinking the nectar. . ." all in what was probably a voice in a much higher pitch than my regular speaking voice and probably conveyed not one lick of confidence.

Then of course someone got pooped on. There were signs that warned of this. The really chipper guy at the front of the exhibit also warned us about it as he told us to Purell before we got in there. Like, the birds should be worried about getting something from me?

I have to admit I was super psyched it wasn't me and it wasn't in my hair. Poor QT though!

Thank goodness the poo consisted of what I can only assume was mostly nectar and was obviously being drunk in high quantities by these birds. It also only got him on the foot, but it was reason enough for us to leave that bird enclosure and I am 100% sure I won't ever be going back.

Waiting for his feet to be de-poopified

Not sure what was worse for QT the bird poo or the sand he got on his foot when he briefly stepped into a sandbox area. I was having flashbacks of last summer, luckily, we spent some serious time in another sandbox yesterday afternoon and we have found that as long as he isn't wearing any shoes he can handle it.

I for one am looking forward to an amazing summer, that hopefully is pretty bird-free. Hope everyone enjoyed the long weekend!

Kindergarten, Crazy Hair and QT's Cuteness!

The Little Lady and her dad.

The Lady and her crazy hair.

Wednesday the Little Lady had kindergarten orientation. While, I realize that this is my second time through now, it is equally as emotional. Is it possible that I will have two kids in elementary school next year?

Now, the Little Lady was a little hesitant to join her other future Class of 2020 cohorts when they left the cafeteria with the "specials" teachers. After a few tears and about five minutes of the kindergarten teacher's PowerPoint presentation she changed her mind. I dropped her off in the art room and hoped for the best. She returned about a half hour later with a lovely little drawing ready to take the tour of the school. The tour was given by a group of 5th grade girls decked out in their Wacky Wednesday apparel (it is Spirit Week at the school) and we got a chance to peek in on the Lady in her classroom.

Speaking of Spirit Week and the Lady, we are on day 4. Today is Crazy Hair/Hat Day. Luckily, I still have purple sparkle hairspray and purple and pink hair chalk from last year to run through the Lady's hair. She was excited to get ready this morning, although not as excited as she was on Monday when it was pajama day. Looks like we will be joining the Ninja Turtles in the tub tonight. Tomorrow wraps up the week and it is Gator Green day. Let's hope she wears the green school hoodie I ordered!

Finally, here is just a cute picture of QT from last night. He should have been in bed at this point, but decided he needed to stay up a bit with his parents to watch the Yankees and try on sunglasses. Yes, we are still rocking Halloween glow in the dark skeleton pjs.

Cutie.

The One With the Ninja Turtle in the Sewer

This weekend was glorious. Glorious!

Finally, two days where the kids could get out and run. I tried to take advantage of the nice weather and we had a great day on Saturday running at the park and hanging out with the cutest little cousin in the world.

Sunday was even nicer and after bribing the Lady with two donuts from Dunkies, I got her complain-free to CCD and took the other two on a quick Walgreen's run. QT was owed a few things for his exemplary potty work over the past few days. (More on the pants-less Friday night diner dinner later. I am still recovering.)

So the Little Lady, QT and I headed into the drugstore and purchased the remaining three Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Water Squirters for the tub. Raphael made it to our house last week, but he was lonely in the tub for his buddies. The Little Lady decided that QT could have Leonardo, Michelangelo would belong to her and the Lady could have Donatello. We left there feeling pretty good.

After picking up the Lady and spending some time painting the bucket of rocks the Ladies collected at the park on Saturday, we all headed outside. QT wanted to bring the Ninja Turtles. Fine. Why not? I mean they are bath toys, why shouldn't we bring them outside to play?

Rock painting. QT had so much water on his brush that they basically dried devoid of paint!

So we spent the next hour or so riding bikes, drawing with chalk, finding all the things my husband and I had banished to the garage in an attempt to declutter the house, and tossing around Ninja Turtle heads.

QT has quite an arm and took great pleasure in chucking those things around. Of course it landed in the storm drain. Immediate tears from the Little Lady as she drove by on her bike, immediate panic by me when I realized that I might not be able to recover poor Michelangelo from the depths of the drain.

Now the irony is not lost on me that we lost a TMNT in a storm drain. Perhaps Mikey just wanted to go home? Maybe he was just being his typical jokster self? Regardless, we were a man down and I was going to do everything I could to recover that turtle from the sewer.

After I calmed down the Little Lady, I had a supermommy/McGuyver moment. I am going to get that turtle head out of the drain. I don't know how, I don't know when, but I am going to do it. 

Now the storm drain in the driveway is pretty typical with the grate and the open area QT clearly didn't miss.

We could see Michelangelo grinning up at us, nestled in a pile of wet leaves. So I headed to the garage to see what I could do. I found a long pole that I think someone might have used at one point for painting. It wasn't me, not sure where it came from but it seemed long enough to reach the bottom. My other thought was to attach a bucket to some rope and then try to scoop it up. While I was looking for some rope, I came across a roll of duct tape. We all know how versatile that is so I unrolled some, stuck it to the bottom of the pole and shoved it through the grate until it hit Mikey on the head. To my great relief, he stuck to it and I started the slow and careful climb to the top of the grate. The kids were gathered around and the Lady kept saying that we could buy a new one if we couldn't recover this one.

I wanted to give her a teachable moment in this toss away society that we live in. I wanted to show her that everything isn't just replaceable. I also didn't want to have to go back to the drug store with the three of them and attempt to navigate the Easter aisle.

So there was Mikey, his little green head affixed to some serious duct tape as I carefully tried to raise him from the underground. We were pretty close to the top before he fell off. Ugh.

Now what? I tried another piece of tape, but Michelangelo was now wet and the tape didn't stick to him. I thought about trying to lower down a towel to dry him off (I know that sounds really stupid, but I was now desperate!). So we headed back into the garage, where I came back to my original idea of scooping this thing up in some sort of bucket. All the beach buckets were too big to fit through the opening, but the blue Solo cup looked like it might do.

I duct taped that Solo cup to the end of that pole and stuck it in the opening of the grate. I then took a broom and stuck it through the grate and was able to push Mikey into the cup and once again start that slow and steady climb up. This time we were ready and I had the Lady reach her hand into the grate to grab the cup as it made its way to the top.

Success. Mother of the year. Heroes in a half shell! Turtle Power!

After the rescue.

Needless to say Mikey got a thorough bath before he joined anyone in the bath later last night. 

Shredder be warned, this mama isn't going to let anything get in the way of some TMNT tub time.

On Eating Paint and Wiping Out

So, my hubby left on Friday for 10 days in Florida. To be fair, he is working most of the time and stuck in a conference room for the majority of the day.

Still. . .

I feel like I either see my kids for 2 hours a day or 24. There doesn't seem to be a middle ground.

Being the mobile, on the move group that we are, we always have plans for the weekends and my parents were very gracious to let us come to their house to sleep over.

Packing for the four of us at this point is usually no problem. This time the Lady did have her own separate bag because we were trading kids with my sister and the Wild Woman was going to come with us while the Lady slept at her cousin's.

We piled up the ridiculous amount of blankets, stuffed animals and pillows that my children travel with, I told everyone to get their shoes on and I went out to move the cars around in the driveway and throw some stuff in the trunk.

As I was walking into the house from outside I heard QT talking to me.

QT: I mixed the paint and eated it.
Me: What?
QT: I eated the paint.
The Little Lady: He mixed up all the paint and ate it.
Me: WHAT!!!!!!!!! (Frenzied running into the room to remove the green paint from his mouth that he had eaten off the paint brush like it was some sort of snack. He had also mixed it into his cereal bowl and now we had green Raisin Bran.)

The paint was non-toxic. I had also asked the Ladies to put it away about 15 times. QT, never liking to be too dirty, insisted on changing his clothes.

This is why things take forever to do. After throwing on another outfit we all piled into the car and headed out.

*******

Really the next thing of note that happened is that I totally pulled my vag on the corner of 77th and Lex.

These things happen. The streets of New York can be mean.

They can also be covered in black ice and coupling that with a pair of traction-less Uggs and two bags filled with bottles of Snapple, I mean you are really asking for a split-style wipe out.

I'd like to think I fell gracefully, like one of these Olympic ice skaters who just rolls right into the next move. I am pretty sure it was as ugly as it felt. Two people did stop to help me, which was very nice.

Luckily, I was able to walk limp away with a few scrapes on my hand, a bumped knee and an appreciation for all the stretching I have been doing in hot yoga.

Also, none of the Snapples broke, which was also good news since I was delivering the majority of them to my girl who had some major back surgery and second only to the painkillers there is nothing better than Diet Peach Snapple.

Dear Jo Frost

Dear Jo,

Can I call you Jo? I don't have to call you Supernanny do I?

Jo, have you forsaken me?

I remember those days, watching you on TV as I judged those other families.

What is so difficult about putting your kids in their own beds? Just don't give them anything else to drink. Close the door and walk out of the room.

Oh, Jo. I wish I had known that it wasn't that easy. I wish that I had known that the colorful chore charts only work for so long, that the tough love can take its toll when you've only seen your kids for two hours and all they want is you.

What is the harm of a 2-year-old eating Kix in your bed at 9:30 while watching a DVR'd Top Chef episode?

I need you back Jo, we need a little order in this household. Momma needs some quality time with the kids that doesn't include barking orders and trying to do laundry in the background.

We need more dance parties, more yoga moves in the living room, more reading for pleasure and less for reading log, we need more veggies and less Fruit by the Foot.

We need a little structure, a little support and a little more room in the house!

I know we can do it Jo, but it would be nice if you could just stop by, gaze at me with your piercing blue eyes, invite me into a warm hug against your ample bosom and whisper in your British accent that I am super too.

Cheerio,

Bean

15 Things. . .

Clearly, I am scraping the bottom of the barrel here.

I found this on Pinterest. Yes, it has come to that.

I think I come across, on average, about 12 of these situations on a daily basis. While no one (to my knowledge) has licked the toilet seat, there is plenty of unauthorized eating in there, which shouldn't surprise anyone who read Holy Guacamole.

Since we don't have a cat (and hopefully never will) I can't comment on the kitty litter, but there was a point in time that the Lady once took a bath in a cat's water dish. 

The Little Lady is notorious for whining and barging into the bathroom.

The Lady loves some sugar and sitting on her brother.

QT is way into Dora (and can I say after a time of being away from her, I am sometimes happy to see her enormous football-shaped head, teaching him some Spanish and showing him how to use a map).

So, I am posting this here as a fairly accurate representation of the things that go on in our house.

Which ones happen in your house?

"Is it Awake Time?"

So it's after ten.

I thought all the kids were sleeping but I heard a voice calling out.

QT was standing at the top of the stairs telling me he was "told."

His room is pretty hot, but I picked him up and held him on my lap where he proceeded to tell me about his favorite part of Dispicable Me 2, how he and the Ladies played with their stuffed animals, and "I want you momma."

I know it's late and he should be sleeping, but that was the best five minutes of my day.

Also, I am pretty sure that me standing up and holding him wasn't going to make him any less "told" but he seemed to think that might be the case. 

So I stood and rocked my baby boy.

I'd like to say he is sleeping, but he isn't.

He is wrapped in his blankets in my bed with two stuffed pandas watching inappropriate television for a two year old.

On Discovering the Three Bean

Last night as I pecked out a few words for my Monday post, the Lady happened to be sitting beside me and asked "What is the three bean?"

I have been blogging about her for 5 years and she didn't even know it.

I like to think I am not taking advantage of her childhood, her moods, her actions. I like to think I am not exploiting my kids just because I happen to like to write and this is an outlet as well as a way to capture all those moments that you can easily forget.

I don't know though. In ten years when she reads some of these things will she be embarrassed or angry?

In twenty five years will she be grateful she can look back and see what a new mom goes through? A mom of two? Of three? Will she relate? Will she be happy to hear my voice on these pages?


I write about my children because they are such a huge part of my life, and life isn't just photos on facebook and parenting doesn't always equate to joy. They will remember the big things, Disney trips and vacations, but it is those small moments of crazy, it is random afternoons at the beach, getting stuck in rainstorms, changing diapers in the trunk of a car, its puking kids and dance parties that I want them to know about as well.

The Lady and I took a few minutes to look back at some old posts. Her first birthday, Halloween, Christmas when she was 3. I am amazed always at how much she has grown. How much of a big girl she seems these days.

I am forever grateful to her as well. She changed my life. Changed the way I write and why I write and who I write for.

I hope that when my kids eventually do read these pages that even though they may not remember all the details, that even though they might be a little embarrassed or put out that they can hear through all these words how much they are loved.

The Best Laid Plans

I don't thrive in the mornings.

Each night I think how nice it would be to get up and be totally ready, dressed, lunch made, coffee in hand, before the kids get up.

I have visions of a set table filled with fruit and orange juice and conversation. Visions of the three of them coming down fully dressed (well maybe not QT, but at least the Ladies) and not draped in blankets, only having to eat, brush teeth and hair before I kiss them all lightly on the head and make my way out the door.

Obviously that is some sort of pipe dream. I have set my alarm to get up early for the last week. Snooze. Snooze. Snooze.

So last night I decided that if I could prep as much as I could the night before I would be way ahead of the game.

I know this seems very simple and probably second nature for most people out there, but in all honesty there are nights where as soon as the kids are in the vicinity of their room. I turn out all the lights and get in my bed. I like being comfy cozy, what can I say?

Yesterday, I could have curled up to six hours of pre-Golden Globe coverage if I wanted to. I could have just made it harder on myself. Instead, I decided to take action, stop the frenzied mornings where I am doing a thousand things at once and probably causing more chaos than there needs to be.

Bags with goggles, extra undies, towels and pjs for swim. Packed.

Clothes laid out for the kids. Done.

Clothes laid out for me. Done.

The Lady's lunch 90% packed and in the lunchbox. You know it.

Cantaloupe, strawberries, pineapple, kiwi. Peeled, cut, and prepped to go.

Coffee in the coffee maker. Set and ready.

Feeling of accomplishment. Oh yeah.

I think it should come as no shock that when the alarm went off two things happened.

1. Snooze.
2. Snooze.

The worst part is that I am not even sleeping, I am just laying there thinking about how much I don't want to get up.

But I did and in all honesty things were moving along nicely until I realized it was 15 minutes later than when I should have left.

Then it hit me. I could get up at 5 a.m. and still be late getting out the door because I don't want to get out the door. Is that a little passive aggressive? Sure, but it is also the truth. Do the mornings go much smoother when I am at least a little prepped? Of course, and in all honesty so does the rest of my day, but until I am moving from one place I want to be to another I think I'll take the extra sleep.

Ready for our Close Up

I am volunteering with Komen Connecticut to help with their second walk in Fairfield County. Last year an amazing group came out and supported me and I feel like I have the opportunity to give something back.

I also consented to being one of the "faces" of the walk, meaning I would take part in a photo shoot for some promotional pieces. We were supposed to bring our family to be a part of it. We were to arrive at 12:30 so I could get made up and the photo shoot was to start at 1.

Here is a little rundown of the day.

9:30: I remind the kids about the photo shoot. The Lady doth protest.

10:15: I finally get in the shower.

10:30: I, (for the first time, even though I have known about this for weeks) look in the kids closet for clothes. I mean the Ladies have a ton of pink. QT, not so much, but he can wear black. The only problem is he has no black. Not a super popular color in the toddler set.

11:00: The Little Lady is fully dressed, the Lady is refusing to go. I put on my one pink tank top and throw over a basic black cardigan. My husband has a closet of perfectly pink shirts and looks totally put together as usual.

11:30: The Lady gets dressed. Some hair gets brushed. I cry a little because nobody is listening.

11:50: We leave the house for the photo shoot that is about 20 minutes away.

12:05: We stop for a pink and black shirt for QT. I also pick up two pink shirts for the Ladies. 

12:30: We are right on time.

1:00: I get in the makeup chair. The kids keep themselves occupied with bagels and iPads.

1:15: The Ladies come over to check out the face paint.

1:30: The Little Lady gets in the makeup chair. The makeup artist (who was wonderful and did a great job) put some lipstick on her.

1:32: The Little Lady pouts because all she got was lipstick.

1:35: The very nice makeup artist brushes the Little Lady's hair (with a brush with actual bristles and not from the maternity ward at the hospital), and then gives her a little hairspray and brushes a makeup brush across her face. The Little Lady is ecstatic.

1:52: I check my phone and let my husband know what time it is. It is a fine line people before things start to quickly crumble. He and I are acutely aware of it.

2:05: I get my lipstick on. We dust the dirt of QT's new black shirt (you can't expect a 2-year-old NOT to roll around a little in an empty storefront/temporary photo studio).

2:15: We are smiling, well four out of five of us are. 

2:25: The kids are done. I hope there is at least one good shot of all of us. I am ready for my close up.

2:30: The photographer calls me out on my fake smile. I know. I know.

2:45: That's a wrap people. 

The kids are looking for fruit snacks in the diaper bag and as usual we have to pack up a ton of stuff that seemed to multiply once we walked into the door, but the kids had yet to meltdown.

I could see them from where I stood in front of the backdrop, sweating under the lighting, the three of them tracing raindrops with their fingers down the large, storefront glass and at that moment, I wished my kids weren't in that room.

Not because they behaved badly, not because they filled me with a ton of anxiety about how they might behave, but because three kids under seven shouldn't have a mom with cancer. 

But here we were and I am proud of them, proud of their pouts and frowns, their dirty shirts and messy hair. Proud that I get to be a part of their lives and proud that they stood with me today.

I also know that I will wait another year before I hire a professional photographer to take any family photos of my kids. I am not paying a ton of money for one kid pouting, one kid over posing and one kid looking away. Looks like candids on next years Christmas cards! 

Blog Worthy

Today was a good day. 

Granted, I had to go to treatment, but that meant I didn't have to go to work. It also meant I had some uninterrupted time to finish my book. 

It meant 15 minutes in the car alone with the Lady, no radio, no DVD, on the way to school. Just chatting. 

It meant an extra hour with QT discussing all things Team Umi Zoomi. 

It meant picking up at the bus stop, getting to gymnastics on time and watching the Little Lady land a cartwheel then look up at me and wave. 

Sure, we got McDonalds for dinner (it was easy and on the way home) sure getting the kids in the bath is always a struggle (and yes, I will admit that 90% of the time my husband gives the tubs) and of course there were some stragglers to bed. 

But today was a good day. No rushing, time to be present. Totally blog worthy. 

Some Sticky Seasonal Situations

The Little Lady glued three, colored 8.5x11 pieces of paper to the wood floor in her room.

Oh Elmer, you are lucky it was your glue and not super glue or glitter glue. I guess I was lucky she wasn't playing on the rug.

These types of things seem to be happening with greater frequency in my house if that gives you any indication of how things have been going this fine holiday season.

QT wrote with permanent markers on my refrigerator (thank goodness for the magic eraser), he also upended a huge container of Rainbow Loom rubber bands that we have almost gotten back into the bin (on a side note, I do kind of find the sorting and organizing of the bands quite soothing, especially after trying to subdue the copious amounts of rage-a-hol pulsing through my bloodstream after finding paper glued to the floor).

The Lady insists that none of the messes have been made by her (although she is the one who was using the permanent markers for an art project and then left them out).

The one positive outcome of all this mess is that it has given me the impetuous to just get rid of stuff.

You can't play with it and put it away? Gone.

And I am talking garbage gone.

As much as I am trying to remember the meaning of this season, be grateful for the imagination and creativity of my glue and permanent marker-bearing children, I am wondering why I am even working myself up about bringing more stuff into our house, especially if it isn't going to be taken care of by the kids.

We need nothing else and clearly I am having trouble trying to get them to take care of the things that they have. I am trying to find a way to teach them about the spirit and magic of Christmas and about caring for people other than themselves in this world. It sometimes gets lost between Christmas lists, 50% off sales, and that freaking Elf.

The Elf, who the Ladies left a strawberry out for because they were concerned he didn't have enough time to eat during his nightly excursion to the North Pole, "found" a dry erase board and a marker and compiled a Naughty List with the names of the Three Beans listed. Not my proudest moment as a mother.

The Ladies came down to find the Elf holding the pen, sitting next to a half-eaten strawberry and on top of a dry erase board that listed them as naughty.

The Lady couldn't tolerate that for a second and found a way to remove the pen, without touching the Elf, and change naughty to nice. Not sure if that lesson sunk in.

I love that my kids are at the age that they can all play together relatively unsupervised and that they enjoy each others company. Granted, we have a few minor incidents but overall they have fun together. I just wonder why it is at always at bedtime when I am at my lowest and just ready to crash that things seem to go so astray. Maybe I throw away a few more plastic things I find on the floor, maybe I just let them turn their room into one big art installation, but in the spirit of the season, why can't they just be good for goodness sake?

Find a Penny, Pick it up, All Day Long You'll Have Good Luck. . .

. . .Unless of course you have spent the last three days sifting through the poo in your 2-year-old's diaper trying to find the penny he swallowed on Sunday night.

I guess it was good luck that I actually found it, clearly we tried to drive home the message of not putting anything in your mouth, and Lord knows this mamma needs a little luck in her life, but this wasn't quite the way I was looking to find it.

***********

It is full on holiday time and this year I wanted to be organized and ready to go. I had my Christmas cards ordered and delivered by mid-November, I made lists for gifts for the kids, cousins (and even myself) prior to Thanksgiving and had an Amazon cart full and ready for purchase come Cyber Monday.

Not wanting to dive right into the Christmas season and bypass Thanksgiving, I decided that we would get all the decorations down post-Turkey day.

We had a busy four days. We were all over the place and we had a great time seeing family and friends. However, by the time we got back to our place on Sunday around 2:30 we were all done. I tried to ignore the list of things that needed to be done.

Number 1 on that list? The Elf on the Shelf.

Here is where the mommy mind melt kicks in. I have a vivid recollection of talking to my husband about the fact that we had to put the Elf on the Shelf away last year. He was still hanging around post-holiday tree take down and I wanted to make sure the kids didn't discover him on my husband's dresser.

I also kind of remember putting it in a bin.

Fast forward to 8:30 Sunday night, we were about 2 hours post-penny swallow and the kids were in their beds but not quite sleeping.

I sent my husband out to bring down the decorations from the attic of the garage as I tried to decide the best place to put the Elf. He called me from the garage to let me know he couldn't find it and he had looked in "a lot of bins."

I love my husband. He does a ton for our family, but less than 24-hours earlier this conversation happened while he was looking through our diaper bag in order to change QT.

Sweet Husband: Where are the wipes?
Me: They are in the bag.
Sweet Husband: I don't see them, are you sure you put them in here? (Add some tone to this.)
Me: Yes. They are in the bag.
Sweet Husband: They aren't in the bag.
Me: Ok. I am sure there are some wipes here. (We were at his sister's house and there were like 10 kids there)

One minute later I look in the bag and there are the wipes. I am not saying he didn't look for them, I am just saying maybe he should have looked a little harder. So, I was a bit skeptical that he couldn't find the Elf on the Shelf.

The next morning the Lady came down looking for the Elf. I did some quick thinking and said that he didn't come because we didn't read the book first. She bought this as an excuse and I told her he would come that night.

I got home from work and headed straight to the garage. I looked in the Christmas bins that my husband brought down. No Elf. I looked in a lot of bins in the attic of the garage and guess what? That's right we have a ton of stuff that we don't need and don't use up there. There is also a ton of stuff that I would love to use if we just had a little more room! Also, no Elf.

We put the kids to bed, I pulled on a heavy sweatshirt and headed out again. 40 minutes later. . .no luck. WTF? Where was this Elf? Was I going to have to go out to Target at 9:30 p.m. and spend another 30 bucks on this thing? Ugh.

My husband said he would go pick up a new one, but first maybe we should look under our bed. Lo and behold, there he was in his box, hanging out for a year or so, just waiting for us to remember that we never even took him out of the house.

Victory was mine that night and the kids couldn't have been more excited to see him the next morning. Please remind me to move him tonight though!

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

This is an actual conversation that took place last night as the Little Lady was once again on our bed a full hour and a half after bedtime. My husband was watching some sports talk show on HBO about the documentary "Trophy Kids." They showed a clip of the doc with a little girl golfing. Here is what followed:

Little Lady: Do you remember when Tiger Woods cheated on his wife?
Husband and Me: Um. . .yes
Little Lady: That wasn't very nice of him and now she doesn't even want to be around him anymore.
Husband: Yeah, he wasn't very nice.
Little Lady: I think she went and moved in with her dad.

Actually Little Lady, I am pretty sure she knocked down and rebuilt some huge palatial home in Florida and is dating her neighbor, but I am sure her parents wouldn't have minded if she moved back in. 

No Nanny? No Problem?

Our nanny is away for three weeks.

She came to the U.S. as an Au pair three years ago and hasn't been home since.

She got her Green card at the beginning of November and flew back to Brazil to surprise her mom.

Every time we talked about her plan to go home without anyone knowing she was coming, I started to cry because everyone should have a surprise like that in their lives and I was so happy for her and for her family. She told her mom she was sending a package and then had a friend get a giant box that she could jump out of when her mom opened the door. Tears.

The problem of course is that I am without a nanny for three weeks.

In typical Three Bean style we are winging it.

It would have been nice if work had granted my request to work from home a few days a week, but they didn't and they continue to be less than accommodating to a mom of three who just so happens to have Stage IV cancer. Oh well, more on that another day.

What I am grateful for is the fact that my mom will cover two days a week and one of my little sister's good friends will cover the rest. My husband is stepping it up in the morning routine and is also responsible for pre-school pick up and my sister took QT one morning to help out. I am grateful that she will be away over Thanksgiving and that next week is a short week. But as usual things are usually always easier said than done.

Between pick ups, swim, gymnastics, the bus stop and trying to balance not taking advantage of my mom, explaining the logistics of our lives to someone new, and still trying to get to work on time, I realize how lucky I am to have our nanny, someone who cares about my kids, someone who knows our schedule, knows the crazy that is our lives and who still shows up in the morning even if the kids were rotten the day before.

But you know what? I still wish it was me. I wish I didn't have to leave QT crying "I want you momma." I wish I wasn't stopped by the Lady's teacher in the hallway one morning this week--as I attempted to pick up the Holiday Wish Stars in the office for families who need a little help this holiday season, drop off the bag of food for the food drive and leave the plates and napkins for the Lady's Thanksgiving feast--and have her tell me that the Lady is fine once she gets into the classroom and that she knows the mornings are hard and that "she just wants you."

I'd like to think that the Little Lady also wants me, but every time I have the opportunity to drop her off or pick her up she likes to tell me that she prefers it be her dad (and she would prefer to only be picked up in Minnie-Ru, I guess the old "green car" as we call it isn't good enough for her!). However, I would love to spend a little more time with her, even if it is only for when she tries to correct my pronunciation of "Jared" a boy in her class and "Ratatouille." I think I say Jared with a bit of a NY accent, while she prefers a softer first syllable pronunciation. Her faux French accent on Ratatouille is amazing though.

I think this last year has taught me the lesson of time. It has taught me that things will not always go according to plan and that you can do one of two things--give in or take control. I am trying very hard to do the second. I am trying very hard to put the focus on what is important to me and what I can do to make sure that I use as much of my time to make sure that my needs are met and those of my family are as well.

My nanny will be back two days after my husband leaves for his annual two week work event in California. (Panic! We might get a Christmas tree before he leaves--do I want a living Balsam Fir in my house for a full month? More on this later) I am hoping she had an amazing time. I am hoping her mom realizes what an amazing daughter she has raised and that even though she hadn't been home in three years that what she is doing here is unbelievably important to me.

I am also hoping that sometime soon I can say that I have figured out a way to make things work for me that I have taken control and that the needs of my family come first. I hope to be blogging from my kitchen table, dodging QT's baseball bat that he shouldn't be playing with in the house and making my own pre-school pick up run (in Minnie-Ru of course).

I hope that I can answer that "I want you" with "I am here."

Mom Moment of the Day: The Ladies Get Their Hair Did

In her 4.5 years of life, the Lady has never had a haircut. Granted, one time she took a scissor to her head and cut a bit off the top, but that was only once.

Every time I brought it up she would say that she was scared of going. Quite honestly, I didn't want to have to calm a crying child in a car chair or worse yet, leave a salon with half cut hair. If the Lady doesn't want to do something, she really doesn't want to do something.

So I avoided it. Once she finally started to allow me to put her hair up, it really wasn't that big of deal. Did her hair fall so low down her back it touched the top of her butt? Yes. But she didn't care. Besides those little blond wisps at the very end had been on her head since the day she was born and part of me didn't really want to sever that last connection, especially now that I see her growing into such a big girl.

In the chair waiting for the first cut.

The hair in the toilet incident kind of changed my perspective on getting haircuts. That, and the fact that all my children sweat profusely from the head. It is kind of gross. So when I mentioned getting a haircut to the Lady and she said yes without any issue or backlash. I decided we should go for it.

Now, I had thought about bringing her to an actual salon where she could feel like a real Lady and maybe get her nails done too. But I thought that might be a little extreme and probably kind of expensive. I looked into those hair studios for kids, but they too were a bit expensive too and let's be honest it wasn't like I was bringing an 18-month-old in for its first haircut, I didn't need her to sit in a festive chair or get a certificate that would never even see the inside of her baby book and would probably be covered with stickers in a matter of days and I would have to throw out in the cover of darkness to cut down on the clutter in the house.

First cut

So, I took her and the Little Lady to Supercuts. It was anything but "super."

Granted the haircut looked great and even the Little Lady ended up getting a trim so tiny it was barely worth it (but hey---she was happy and still wearing her full on ballet recital costume), but I did kind of second guess my decision not to take them to some "Kids Kuts" or "Silly Snips" or some other equally ridiculous named hair salon that I just made up.

The Little Lady wasn't quite sure what to make of it

Maybe it was the hairdressers lack of enthusiasm that this was the Lady's first haircut. She is 4.5 years old! I mean would it have killed her to try and make it special? OK, OK, I know I was only paying 15 bucks for the haircut but did she have to complain about me taking flash photography? These are memories people! Memories! Gosh, and a lollipop at the end would have been nice. Do they still do lollipops in salons? I have gotten my haircut a grand total of two times since I got pregnant with QT. Once was at a local hairdresser training school for $11 and the other time was at a 5-star hotel spa. Neither place had lollies.

The finished project

Much healthier and much shorter

I guess at the end of the day the Lady was happy. Her hair looks much healthier and even the Little Lady's had some extra bounce. I probably won't wait another 4.5 years to get it cut again but I pretty sure we won't be going back to "Supercuts." "Silly Snips" here we come. . .

Toddlers and Tutus

Sunday was photo day at the Ladies ballet studio. They are gearing up for their big performance and not only got their pictures taken, but got their new outfits for the recital as well.

Here is the pic my hubby sent of the Little Lady in her puffy, pink poof of a dress. I immediately texted him back to make sure he addressed the hair situation and then waited patiently for them to return so that we could repeat the process two hours later with the Lady.

The Little Lady in her frilliest finest.

The Little Lady returned in full regalia and the Lady was so excited that they brought home her outfit as well.

The Lady was super psyched to have so many sequins. I made her take off the tattoo because I didn't think that it was appropriate for an "official" dance portrait, but when I got to the studio I noticed that two other girls in her class had tattoos, both in a state worse off than the Lady's.

The thing I love about their dance studio is that it is super laid back. The teacher is amazing and is able to control and choreograph these girls without having to go the more "disciplined" route of other dance studios. Having said that, sometimes things don't always run super smoothly and in the words of another mom who was having her girls photographed at the same time as the Little Lady things were pretty much a "shit show."

So when I walked into a packed entry way with the Ladies and there were girls everywhere in tulle and lace, I started to itch.

The Lady basically stripped down in a doorway and put on her outfit. As I started to fix her hair, I looked into the studio and saw girls in full on makeup wearing tiaras. Then a little girl in the Lady's class asked her mom for makeup.

Her mother replied with a resounding "No." Which is the same sentiment I echoed to the Lady when she asked me. Now, I barely own makeup let along carry it around with me, but in a moment of panic that I wasn't presenting my daughter as the best she could be, I ignored myself and started rummaging around in my bag until I came up with a tube of lip gloss that I am pretty sure I used at my cousin's wedding last year, six days before QT was born, and I am 100% belongs to my sister.

I then slapped some gloss on the Lady and herded her into the studio to wait her turn. Within three minutes she was complaining about wanting the lip gloss off, but I couldn't even find a napkin in my bag to remove it and it was so thick and old that I wasn't going to use my shirt. The Little Lady, however, found the gloss much to her liking and reapplied it about three times before I had to take it out of her hands. 

So we are standing around waiting to take the group shot and the Lady is insisting that she be able to swing from my arms like some rag doll in a prom dress and there is paperwork to be signed and a lot of anticipation and one of the other mothers comments to me that she is glad that she isn't a pageant mom because it is a lot of prep work.

The Lady takes the photo shoot into her own hands.

And then I started to think that there was a real possibility that I could morph into one of those "Toddler and Tiara" moms. I mean how quick was I to whip out the gloss? Had there been mascara in that bag the Lady might have been sporting Kardashian-style lashes and a glossy pout. There is a fine line between debating whether or not I should use my saliva and fingers to pat down errant hairs and pumping my kids full of pixie sticks and energy drinks as I mime their dance routines as they perform, and get a contact high after spraying layer upon layer of hair spray in their jewel-encrusted-tiara-topped hair, in order to make sure that everything in their lives just goes perfectly, and by no means try to make up for any inadequacies in my own. 

Finally it was the Lady's turn to get photographed and I will admit I hovered a little bit and put on a weird giant grin so she could tell that I wanted her to smile more. The Little Lady decided that she did indeed want to have her picture taken with her big sis and we stepped back into the pink poof and the two of them put on some fake smiles (and in the Little Lady's case her "cheese face") and contorted their bodies in what they believed were model-like-poses.

The "Cheese Face"

Sorry for the lack of photos of the Ladies in their various poses. There would have been some had the photographer not scolded myself and the other moms for using a flash. Oops.

Only a few more weeks until the recital, which can only be better than last year when I showed up three days postpartum with people asking if I had had the baby yet.

Much Momma Love

I just want to thank all of you for all the positive responses I got about the "Mom Enough" post. All of your comments were totally appreciated.

I think this was my most read post and I want to thank those of you who reposted the link. I am happy to say I got many new "likes" and hopefully some new readers.

I even had people tweet about it! Still working out how that whole Twitter thing works.

I started this blog in an attempt to not only chronicle the lives of my children, but as a tool for me to try and navigate motherhood. I mean who knew that QT would basically choose to attachment child himself to me? I was an attachment parent by default because that is what worked for him. I will say it was a glorious day once he found his way into his own crib and started sleeping through the night though!

I know that each of us does things differently. And I am all for doing what gets you through the day. I am just glad that there are other moms out there who recognize that supporting one another is better than trying to tear each other down.

After that post went up, I started thinking about more moms that I know and that I didn't include on my list, moms with kids with special needs or medical issues, moms who work two jobs, and those who are so crafty it pains me to compare my paltry Pinterest projects to theirs.

I hope all my readers can recognize a little bit of themselves in this blog and know that they are not alone out there.

Having said that, I will still use this as a forum to call out any crazy celebrity parenting choices from baby name choice to infant mohawks. I know we shouldn't judge, but they have personal trainers and put their kids in like $45 onesies, and I am just grateful for ten minutes of me time and a 40% off sale at Carters.