Happy! Happy! Mamas!

Happy Mother's Day to all my lovely mamas out there. I hope you enjoyed your day.

Perhaps you had breakfast in bed, got to sleep in a little, were able to escape for a spa day or a nice brunch or perhaps you were woken up a full 30-60 minutes earlier than usual by your children, one of whom carried a tea party basket full of homemade cards that she had worked on for over a week and kept hidden under her bed, cards that she signed from each child and my husband ("form, Tory").

They were super sweet and very detailed.

However nice they were it didn't quite erase the fact that my husband was out of town and that I was going to have to get to the grocery store with all three kids in order to pick up a few things for the barbecue we were going to later in the day at my sisters.

First stop, coffee.

Initially, I thought we would all go into Dunkies, sit down for a few minutes, eat a couple of donuts and then make our way to the supermarket.

This idea was quickly squashed. As we pulled into the Dunkies we passed a makeshift flower/balloon tent.

These are the tents with a spray painted "Roses" sign and giant carnival-sized pink stuffed animals hanging in plastic bags from the sides of the tent that pop up on Valentine's Day or Mother's Day as a last ditch stop for those who have zero foresight and are in pure desperation mode.

Guess what tent guys? Moms don't want giant, pink stuffed animals. Do you know who does want a giant pink stuffed animal? Five-year-old girls.

Know who wasn't going to buy her five-year-old girl a giant, pink stuffed animal from the side of the road? Me.

Thanks for ruining Mother's Day. To say the Lady was upset by this, would be an understatement. There were many tears. There was also no way we were all going to go sit inside and enjoy a pink frosted donut together, so I shifted Minnie-Ru into drive and we headed to the store.

There is nothing like having a Mother's Day brunch in the parking lot of a Fairway supermarket while listening to a Team Umizoomi movie. Umi! Zoomi! Umizoomi! Umizoomi!

Once the kids finished off their donuts, we headed in. I put a glazed-covered, still-in-pajamas-wearing QT into the front of the cart and tried to make it clear that the Ladies shouldn't be riding on the side of the cart. That lasted for about two minutes.

The Ladies were very helpful in picking out some hanging plants for my mom and for the Wild One's Omi, but like most trips to the store the need to leap and run and stop in front of moving carts overwhelmed them.

Good thing we only had a few things on the list to get. By the time we made it to the pasta aisle, QT had had enough. I relented, took him out of the cart and allowed him to dance in the aisle with his sisters to Mumford and Sons.

What can I say? The kid likes to move.

I was able to corral them to the check-out line and quickly pay. The Lady insisted on pushing the cart with no help. Just so we are clear, the basket was full of groceries, two hanging plants were hanging off the handle bar, QT was riding in the front and the Little Lady was holding onto the side. The cart was heavy, lopsided and she couldn't see over the top. We might have hit a few walls and doors, but we eventually made it back to the van.

Once there we revisited how unfair it was to not buy giant, pink stuffed animals.

I was eventually able to wrangle QT back into his donut-covered car seat and in an attempt to keep them all in one place for just a bit more time, we took a small detour to find two of the horses from last summer's "Horsin' Around" exhibit that had been bought by a family and were now just hanging out on their lawn.

Things were looking up.

Once home, it took another 20 minutes to get the kids inside. The puddles from the rain on Saturday were much too much of a distraction and I was just as happy to let them run around outside for a while.

In all honesty, it was actually a pretty good morning. It was a true reflection of Mother's Day to me. While it would have been great to have had a nice breakfast or to sleep for just a few minutes longer, I got to spend the day with my kids. That is something that I haven't been able to do for a long time and something I miss more than anything after going back to work full-time.

They may be too energetic in aisles, a little sticky, terribly put-out by stuffed animal injustices, and moved to dance at inconvenient times, but they are mine and I love them and I have become a better person because of them.

On Books and Brats

I have terrible children.

They also may become those irritating tweens who swoon over boy-bands and follow Justin Bieber-like androgynous man-children with an intensity and fervor that is on one hand enviable (who doesn't need a little passion in their lives?), while at the same time, very, very sad.

All I wanted to do was bring the Ladies to Barnes and Noble and buy them some Shel Silverstein books.

All they wanted to do was run around the store at full-speed and perform "Call Me Maybe" on the stage that is set up in the children's section for story time.

I just wanted to introduce them to some poetry, read to them from actual children's literature rather than condensed novelizations of Disney movies or television shows.

I told them we were going for poetry. I told them they could pick out one additional book on their own.

They wanted 2-3 books each with titles such as--I kid you not--Barbie Loves Weddings, Barbie and the Fashion Fairytale, and Cherry Jam (A Strawberry Shortcake book).

Bringing the Ladies to a store releases some sort of inner antelope in them. It is like they are running for their lives on some African grassland, but in reality they are galloping down the aisles of the bookstore like they have just been released from a cage.

I don't know if it is just the excitement of being out of the house or if they are just trying to prove to the world that my parenting abilities are crap.

No one listens. Well, my kids don't listen. I am pretty sure everyone else in the store heard them singing "Call Me Maybe" and me in a half whisper/half scream trying to tell them to tone it down.

When I was finally able to corral those long-legged antelope-children and move towards the register with a copy of Where the Sidewalk Ends, a Pinkalicious compilation book, Cherry Jam, and the novelization of Barbie and the Mermaid,  a movie we have seen 8 jamillion times, I was ready to go.

The Ladies, however, were running the length of the checkout line, trying on reading glasses and informing me that even though we all went to the bathroom before we left that once again, I would have to brave the not-so-clean Barnes and Noble bathroom.

Before we could even make it to the bathroom though, we would have to get on the escalator. The Lady is afraid of escalators. I can't even begin to describe the escalator incidents/screaming/crying I have experienced in my life. I am thinking of penning a children's book about our adventures. Barbie and the Escalator Incident has a nice ring to it.

And finally, after drinking from the water fountain, touching entirely too many things in a public bathroom, singing top-40 hits, running like the wind and picking out dumbed-down versions of already dumb movies and TV shows that make me cringe and fear my daughters' tween/teen years will be filled with me having to attend pop concerts at sold-out venues while trying to suppress the urge to stab myself in the ear with a pair of scissors, we ventured out of the Barnes and Noble to find the last horse on our "Horsin' Around" adventure.

Oh Night Mare, in your pink nightgown and curlers in your hair, why didn't they make it clear that you were inside the mall and not outside of it like it looks on the map? We have been looking for you for weeks.

After we hugged you and the Little Lady said "I love you. You are so pink." We took the elevator down to the street, piled in the car, passed out our terrible books and went home.

When we got home the Ladies crawled into bed with me and snuggled as we read a little Shel Silverstein, a little Barbie and a little Cherry Jam.

Dear Stamford Downtown: Or Please Light Up That Solar Horse

Dear Stamford Downtown,

The Three Beans and I were very excited to see that the annual Art in Public Places exhibition was up and running. And while I am no friend of real horses, I don't mind giant, decorated, metal ones that are up all over town and that the Lady, in particular, is super excited about.

The Lady and I have seen every exhibit since she was not quite 2 (although I will say last year's sculptures were too abstract-y for us and since QT was just born, we only drove past them a couple of times). We do still talk about the It's Reigning Cats and Dogs exhibit and are always glad to drive by the dog in front of the Library. 

The Lady at the It's Reigning Cats and Dogs Exhibit, 2010

Since we were up super early on Saturday morning we decided to head towards Lucky's for some breakfast and then walk around and see the horses around Bedford Street. We got to see quite a few horses before the rain started and we had to head towards the car. The rain, however, did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of the Ladies about these horses. We drove around a little bit and saw a few more before we made our way home.

QT on "The Freedom Horse"

The Lady and I then booted up the computer and checked out the Exhibit Booklet and Map. This little booklet was a godsend. We got to find out the names of the horses we did see. Are you sure that one by the Library with the Stamford skyline on it, that had the movie theater that was playing--I kid you not--"Dark Shadows" with Johnny Depp painted on it, and the sparkle wings is NOT called Princess Sparkle? Oh, it's Soaring Over Stamford? That is a super good name too.

"Princess Sparkle," the Ladies, the Wild Woman and QT

We also got to see photos of horses we didn't see. A mermaid horse? A seahorse horse? A horse that is lit by solar energy? This is the stuff of little girl's dreams. We were hooked.

So at 7:15 pm, I strapped the Ladies in Minnie-Ru and headed out. First stop: gas. We had to fuel up if we were going to drive around the streets of Stamford for our equine evening. By the time I was done filling up the van the Little Lady was passed out in her car seat. This did not deter the Lady and I one bit.

Seahorse Horse? Saw it. Mermaid Horse? After figuring out that you actually have to drive into the Marriott entrance we saw that too. Solar Energy Horse? Well, we drove by it at 7:45 and it wasn't lit up.

What is a mom with a very interested and engaged 4.5 year old to do? That is right Stamford Downtown, we drove around some more. We went back by Polka dot Pegasus, we found the ones we were calling "Knight Horse" and Fire horse" on Spring Street. We drove by the Mermaid Horse again, and then headed down towards the train station.

"Polka dot Pegasus"

It was after 8 pm, well into what I would consider past-dusk. There was a low gray haze in the air and with the windows open we could smell the Sound. There was a pulse about the city at night, people moving towards their individual destinations, the clank of plates at the outdoor cafes, the frenzied rush of the trains, a smatter of conversation, a woman's laugh, an energy that we were a part of.

Know where there wasn't any energy? In the solar-powered horse that was supposed to light up at night.

Seriously, what time were these Christmas lights-slapped-on-black-horse going to start to glow? I am not an expert in solar power, but the solar-powered lights my parents have on their walkway start to give off a little glow as the sun starts to set, and don't solar powered houses still heat up even in the dead of night?

Where then was this magic glow? When we consulted the booklet there was a clear photo of that horse alight. What the eff time do these lights come on? I contemplated just parking the car and waiting. We even got out and stood next to it for a few minutes and I was hoping beyond hope that it would magically just turn on. Could you imagine the pure joy that would have brought the Lady? I could have been mother of the year! By now it was 8:45. No, it wasn't pitch black, but really, you would have to agree that it is considered nighttime.

So I ask you again Stamford Downtown, what the eff time do these lights go on? I had both Ladies last night try to convince me to leave QT sleeping so that we could go out and see this light-up horse. What were they doing up well past 9 pm last night? Well they had both fallen asleep in the car on the way home from--yes, you guessed it--looking at the horses again with the Wild Woman. We spent another 2+ hours roaming the streets of Stamford, frequenting your shops and running in your parks.

The Little Lady dancing in front of "Mechanical Horse Power"

I wrangled four kids around the streets of Stamford all in the name of art. All the Lady wants to see is that one horse aglow in the summer night. I guess if I was a late night reviler returning to the Hilton in the wee hours of the morn, then perhaps I would see "Solar Horse Power" (very clever name) in its full glory, but alas, I am just a hardworking mom trying to introduce art into the lives of my children without having to disregard not-so-strict bedtimes or wait for a full-on solar eclipse.

Yours in all things horses (except pony play--google it--it is way weird) and solar-powered,

Bean