Some stories must be shared...

Thanks Fairly Odd Mother - this is a good one!!!

Ode to St. Monica's School

My son is obsessed with jail. I'm hoping I've painted a scary enough picture of what it could be like that he doesn't think it's someplace he'd like to hang out, but this morning he was, once again, throwing his mother in jail.

I thought I'd do a little educating so I showed him a picture in our morning paper of 3 men facing charges for stealing and told him they were all going to jail for taking things that didn't belong to them. From there, we began the "what did that person do?" game for every picture in the paper.

We came across a picture of a man of the cloth and Abby says,

"What did he do?"

I said, "Nothing. He's a Pastor."

Her response,

"What did he pass?"

Dear Lord forgive me but I don't think this Catholic school thing is going to be easy...

Ordinary People

My husband won't believe this when he reads it, but I don't think I'm going to renew my subscription to People magazine - I can hear him GASP.

I've been addicted to celebrity gossip for a while now, but I'm realizing that the gossip, well, isn't that gossipy any more. Miley Cyrus posed for a picture - so what? Shania Twain is getting a divorce - my Dad told me that marriage wouldn't last years ago when he used to sell her albums. Angelina's pregnant again - I should have been so lucky to conceive on the drop of a hat.

And the photos in the magazine are no longer of celebrities at benefits or concerts or la-tee-da events but of them walking. Walking through airports. Walking down the street in NYC. Walking down the street in LA. Walking out of the grocery store. Walking into and out of restaurants. Who cares? So they can walk - what's the big deal?

I guess it's time to grow out of my teenage obsession with celebrity gossip and start spending more time with my neglected magazines like Cooking Light and Woman's Day - and I can always read those while Access Hollywood is on in the background.

I'm sorry, have we met?

Hi. I'm Abby's Mom. Oh wait, no, I'm Alex's Mom. Oh, geez, I'm actually Ralph's wife.

That's how I'm known in our neighborhood. When we first moved in, my husband was working his odd hours so he was around during the day to get to know everyone. I was stuck in an office all day and would only appear briefly at night before running in the house to start dinner and then never reappear again.

Now, when we are out and about in town our neighbors will shout,

"Hi Ralph! Abby, Alex, good to see you."

Hello?? Remember me - the Wife/Mom? I'm going to get a whole bunch of those blue Hello My Name Is... stickers and start wearing them out food shopping.

Do it again!

There are very few things that can put a smile on my face as quickly as hearing my son's laugh. It's simply contagious. This morning as I huddled in my office working on non-life changing work, I suddenly heard his full fledged belly laugh coming from the living room. My husband was tickling my *very* ticklish son!

"Do it again, Daddy! Do it again!"

Yes, please do it again because I'm laughing just listening to his laugh.

I love working from home.

Time to blow up the donuts...

I'm sorry - I can't keep this locked inside. People need to find better things to do with their time! This was on the front page of Boston.com today:

Does Dunkin' Donuts really think its customers could mistake Rachael Ray for a terrorist sympathizer? The Canton-based company has abruptly canceled an ad in which the domestic diva wears a scarf that looks like a keffiyeh, a traditional headdress worn by Arab men.

Some observers, including ultra-conservative Fox News commentator Michelle Malkin, were so incensed by the ad that there was even talk of a Dunkin' Donuts boycott.

"The keffiyeh, for the clueless, is the traditional scarf of Arab men that has come to symbolize murderous Palestinian jihad," Malkin yowls in her syndicated column. "Popularized by Yasser Arafat and a regular adornment of Muslim terrorists appearing in beheading and hostage-taking videos, the apparel has been mainstreamed by both ignorant and not-so-ignorant fashion designers, celebrities, and left-wing icons."

The company at first pooh-poohed the complaints, claiming the black-and-white wrap was not a keffiyeh. But the right-wing drumbeat on the blogosphere continued and by yesterday, Dunkin' Donuts decided it'd be easier just to yank the ad.

Said the suits in a statement: "In a recent online ad, Rachael Ray is wearing a black-and-white silk scarf with a paisley design. It was selected by her stylist for the advertising shoot. Absolutely no symbolism was intended. However, given the possibility of misperception, we are no longer using the commercial." (In case you're wondering, the stylist who selected the offending scarf was not Gretta Enterprises boss Gretchen Monahan, who appears on Ray's TV show as a style consultant.)

For her part, Malkin was pleased with Dunkin's response: "It's refreshing to see an American company show sensitivity to the concerns of Americans opposed to Islamic jihad and its apologists."

A Wise Man Once Said...

After a fabulous holiday weekend complete with a trip to the local amusement park:



a graduation party and some quality time at the beach:





It's time to get back to work. A wise man once said (that man being my Dad) "You always spend what you make."

I remember thinking, no way! If I could only make $35,000, then $40,000, then $50, $60, $80 - you get the picture. Now, as we contemplate our summer plans, I have to take into account the everyday things that have really put a pinch in our pocket. I came across this interesting article today about making a good living, but still feeling strapped, and thought "Hey, that's us!" (only with kids in private school instead of college!)

I hear a lot on the news about the prices of gas, wheat, rice, milk, ice cream, watermelon, eggs, Kleenex all rising (yes, Kleenex's increase made it on the news!) but not much on what it all means to my little family unit of 4. Should we be stock piling canned goods for the times when I won't be able to afford fresh veggies? Will be eating tomatoes all summer since that is the only plant I was able to focus on this year in my container garden? Will I be hunting on Craiglist for size 8 rollerblades to get around town??

It's true that I'm a worrier and panicker, but up to this point I've gone about the daily routine trying to remain optimistic that gas wouldn't really reach $4/gallon and that sooner, rather than later, things would adjust.

I'm not so sure any more. Good thing my kids aren't old enough to realize we cut our vacation short by a few days this year to save money. There's always the beach - thanks Mom and Dad for not actually spending all you made so you could open up your beach house to your poor children and grandchildren :)

Two ships in the night

Tonight was one of THOSE nights for me and my dinner. I was so looking forward to a fresh salad after indulging in a fat-fest on a lunchdate with my two men. All it was going to take to satisfy my tummy was a little chopping, dicing and mixing, right?

As I opened the vegetable drawer I noticed my prepackaged salad mix resembled the color of the dirt on my kid's feet and not the crisp green I was hoping - luckily there was a back-up head of iceburg lettuce on hand.

Next, I juggled a cucumber, tomatoes, carrots, celery, zucchini and baby spinach to the counter. Mmmmmm...this was going to be good.

Rip apart lettuce: check
Dice carrots: check
Slice cukes: check
Slice zucchini: check
Cut tomato: check
Dice celery: check

I'm exhausted. All the while I'm serving the ever popular mini-pancakes to the kids because hubby is out at a going away party for a former colleague. No big deal, they love those things! I have made the mistake of dressing them up with whip cream and cherries for so long that it's expected each time they appear so the masterpiece takes a little longer than normal. Mini-pancakes are plated. I'm back to finish my creation...

"Mommy, I need a drink."

Don't worry salad, I'll be right with you.

"Mommy, I need a drink, too."

OK, we're almost on our way. Wait, I need something to drink, too. Check.

"Mommy, I want more."

What?? You finished 10 mini-pancakes in 60 seconds? How can this be? Hang tight my healthy, lowfat creation, you'll be mine soon.

OK, second round on the table for the kids, salad in hand, I'm off to the dinner table.

"Honey, why is your face red?" I ask.

Son replies: "I'm putting on lotion."

"Huh? Smells like maple syrup." Off we go to the sink to wipe his face because his eyelids are sticking to his brow. I'll just steal a celery piece to keep me going.

All washed up - back to my seat. Yum!!

"Mommy, can I be excused?", my daughter asks. Great, she has sticky fingers for sure and even with her best efforts she'll leave most of it on her hands, so up I go with her to the sink to do a quick, yet efficient, rinse of the sticky fingers.

Finally, everyone has been excused...they are up in their rooms playing. So much for eating together tonight. At least we were in the same room most of the time. I take a few bites - nice and refreshing and exactly how I imagined.

Wait. Why are they back? What is going on?

"Mommy, we're bored. Can we watch this movie?" Off to the DVD player...

Next time, I'll just heat up a Lean Cuisine.

Stop for donut - leave with cash

This morning my husband had a job interview. Yeah. Even if nothing pans out, I think it's great for him to get into the swing of it again because it can be hard and intimidating out there.

This meant I was on babysitting duty for our son. He's pretty easy to hang with, plus I had to renew my car registration and he loves to run errands with me when it's just the two of us - honestly.

In my normal routine, I will hit the local donut shop for my large Diet Coke fix, but the drive thru lane was so long that we decided we'd run inside today. As we were standing in line, my son was chatting it up with 2 policemen, a priest and this large, grandfather figure. Before I knew it, the grandfather man was shoving a dollar in my son's hand and saying

"Buy a donut. Buy a donut, little man."

How sweet was he?? It was a true reminder of the "way back when" days when the older generation would hand out quarters and tell you to buy some candy at the local candy shop. I think I was smiling more than Alex, thinking back to the little store near my grandmother's old house that had bowls of penny candy.

I told Alex he could save his dollar for our trip to the amusement park tomorrow and I bought him a donut. As we were leaving, the priest was sitting with the local retirement crowd (all of whom I adore) and asked him for another high-five. Alex obliged and before I knew it, the priest was handing him a dollar as well! Alex was overwhelmed - two dollars - one in each hand!!! All he did was come in with me for a Diet Coke and now he has a donut and 2 dollars.

Boy, his sister is going to be pissed she missed this trip to the donut shop.

There are his eyes!

Ahh! Success. My son got his hair cut - really cut. I can see his adorable face, his big brown eyes and his funny little ears. My husband said the secret was some fluffy brush that he rubbed over his face while the lady buzzed away with #4 clippers.

Fairly Odd Mother is doing a great series on her hair evolution, some of which is at:
Fairly Odd Mother: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow, Part IV

I feel like this is my hair evolution with my son since my own hair has been curly, frizzy, brownish/red most of my life.

So, I present to you - his face!!

Before and After

What will I do next?

A good friend forwarded me this article about "my generation" titled Ten Reasons Gen Xers are Unhappy at Work.

Ironically, I'm quite happy at work, but I attribute that to being one of the lucky ones that works at a small, entrepreneurial company and not at the large corporate "institution". When this ride ends, I'm not sure how I'll move forward to the next role. Cube walls and florescent lights give me the hives.

Back to work - time management is the key to it all!

Rewind Sunday

"Hold my hand, we're in a parking lot."

"Don't put that in your mouth."

"Stop yelling at your brother."

"Get off the floor, we're in the store."

"That's it! We're going home."

"Take off your shoes before you come in the house."

"Go to your room."

"It's just a small splinter, stop squirming so I can get it out."

"You don't get up from the table until you eat your dinner."

"Work it out you two; I'm not going to help."

"10 minutes and then I shut the hall light off."

"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite. I love you."

I think that just about covers the day. Getting ready to do it all over again tomorrow.

Freaky Friday

9:30 p.m. on a rainy Friday night and just minutes before we had left our friend's house after a fun afternoon of snacks, laughs and kids screeching through their house. The morning started off on a bad note as my husband spent 4 hours in the local ER because it sounded like a flute was stuck in his chest. After 3 Albuterol treatments, some prescriptions for extra-strength allergy medicine and steroids, he was on his way and so were we.

Now, at 9:30 p.m. on that same day, we are sitting on the side of Rt 495 somewhere north of our friend's house, but south of the Mass Pike. That's about all we know. And we've got a flat tire. And it's raining - no pouring out. Oh, and our 3 and 5 year old are sound asleep in the back. Not a fun time.

My husband and I decide it's not a good idea for him to be crouched down in the breakdown lane of a busy highway changing a flat tire on the front left side of the car. And, even though we have Honda's "road side assistance" because it's a new car, my husband would rather use my service. So, I whip out the cell phone, find my AAA card in my wallet, dial the number and explain to the woman on the other end that we aren't sure where we are, but we think it's about Exit 21A and that we have a flat and two little ones asleep in the car. She's now on the other end asking me if I want a state trooper to come sit with us while we wait for the tow truck. I say,

"Yes, that would be nice"

and I'm trying desperately to suppress the news stories flashing through my mind of those poor, helpless people in the breakdown lane that don't get home to take their next Albuterol treatment...so she says she'll try to send one out to us. And we hang up. And then hubby and I sit and stare at the headlights whipping past us on the highway and try to talk about things that don't mean much but keep us from noticing how our little SUV shakes every time a tractor trailer whips by.

And suddenly we see flashing lights - it's 9:41 p.m. - but they aren't blue lights, they are from our tow truck. 11 minutes. It only took AAA 11 minutes to get someone to us. He beat the trooper. I was in love - I'm still in love - with them and the idea that this only costs me $90 a year. It's hard to find piece of mind and security for $90 a year.

The tow truck is HUGE and blocks us from all the motorists and he assures us that things will be fine and he knows we have two kids in the car. He says that we will need to step out but we can keep the back open in case the kids wake up and they'll know we're back there. They can stay asleep. So, in the pouring rain, this nice man changes our flat, keeps us calm, sternly tells my husband to get the tire fixed and not to ride on the spare for too long and we are back in the SUV - the kids didn't even move their heads. My son will be so disappointed he missed a real tow truck in action. 9:52 p.m. and we're heading home.

I work in the "social media industry" and have learned that the power of the consumer is great. We are experiencing a time when positive or negative comments posted on the Internet can have a true effect on a company. So in this blog post, it is all about the positive. Positive about the lovely lady who took my information and actually made me laugh at one point on the phone. Positive about the tow truck driver and the way he just made us feel at ease. And positive about a company that has been around for years, and that I just recently subscribed to, and I wanted to let you all know about our great experience in case you ever wonder if it's worth the 90 bucks - because it is.

Looking back, it was just a flat tire on a rainy night, but at the time it was pretty unnerving on the side of that dark highway with our kids sound asleep. Good bye Freaky Friday.

I had my first playdate

I know it may sound odd that a Mom of two is writing about her first playdate, but we are not the normal dual-income family. I work full-time from home and my hubby works off hours so he can be home with our kids 3 days a week.

Today was a little different. Hubby met with a recruiter about a job that might turn our lives upside down. For over 2 years we've gotten used to our odd schedule and as much as I have prayed for more of a normal "routine" in our routine, it would be weird if it all changed. But at the same time there could be some huge benefits to this new opportunity...time will tell because hubby has to actually go on the job interview and be offered the job. I tend to think WAY ahead. I also see tragedy but that's a different blog post.

So, today while he met with the recruiter I was in charge of the kids for their playdate down the street with the other stay-at-home Dad and his two kids. I had a stomach ache this morning.

My worst fear, in fact, was not that my kids would misbehave but that I wouldn't be able to think of anything to say and playdate Dad and I would sit in silence. Crickets. Birds chirping. Trash truck from 6 streets away could be heard. I thought I was going to throw up as we made our way down the street. My kids were so excited I was on playdate duty that they couldn't wait to show me off. I feared there was going to be some playdate ritual where I had to recite all the Disney Princesses to the girls and correctly identify all the toy trucks to the boys...I was going to fail my first playdate. I wanted to run in the other direction. Ok, here we go. Boy, was I surprised when I wasn't forced to dress up as Cinderella when we arrived. We made our way to their back yard and the kids ran off together to play on the swing set and quickly forgot Mom was a virgin playdater. Hey, kids, remember me? Help!

After the kids took off like lightening, playdate Dad and I sat down on their patio furniture and I could feel the beads of sweat on my neck. Here goes:

"So, where's hubby?"

"Oh, he had a meeting with a recruiter in Burlington so you're stuck with me today."

Was that going to be it? Would there be no more conversation to be had? Much to my surprise - playdate Dad didn't think I was a complete moron and we actually started what became a very relaxing and fun conversation.

We talked about our home projects for the summer, comiserated on our 5 year olds finding their "voice" (also known as talking back), chatted a bit about gardening struggles and creatures in the night eating our flowers, and did a little referee-ing with our kids. Before I knew it, 90 minutes had past and it was time to head home for lunch. This was a piece of cake. No awkward moments or weird grins and nods. We were just two parents on a sunny day, hanging out with our two kids, and enjoying the conversation.

Oh God. I should have talked about sports and cars, right???

Hold on tight

There are days like today when I ache to see my kids. I'm not sure what it is - partly a mixture of Mother's Love and Mother's Guilt. The sun is shining, the sneezing has almost subsided, and it's warm enough to run around without a coat on.

I know they are having fun at "school" as we call it - when in fact it's daycare. They had story time this morning, ran around the playground, did some arts and craps (again, their translation on an innocent word), and then rested after lunch. But since they are there, that means I can't give them a squeeze when I want or have them run into my office to let me know that the blackbird (a.k.a. Robin) is trying to build a nest again in our patio umbrella. Their teachers take great care of them, and it's only a few days a week, but I still miss them today.

And as I met a friend for lunch, I began to think of those Moms who have had to begin to truly cut the cord already. This particular girlfriend has a son graduating high school in 12 days. He's decided to join the ROTC for a full scholarship to college in the fall. She's terrified and proud of him all at the same time. She's only a few years old than me, but a world away when it comes to these things. We laugh and have a lot in common, but I am teary thinking of my first born starting full-time kindergarten in Sept, let alone leaving the nest to venture out into that amazing, confusing world. We also have a local soldier, Alex Jimenez, who has been missing in Iraq for 366 days. I know this because our local paper has had a count going since the day he disappeared to support his family who lives in the next town over. There is no word on his condition or his location but they pray and hold vigils for his safe return.

So, while I especially miss my kids today, I know where they are right now and I will be scooping them up in an hour to head back home where we'll argue, laugh, cuddle, cry, and hold each other to say good night. When I see Alex Jimenez's picture in the paper with the number 366 under it, or think of my girlfriend who smiled bravely when I asked where her son decided to go for college, I ache for them today, too. And I remember that time flies by, things can change in an instant and the love we have for our kids is more powerful than anything you could ever imagine.

Ah-choooooo

I refuse to get sick. For a week now my throat has been itchy, I have been sneezing, my ears are blocked and I seem to get very congested at night.

I can't be sick. It must be allergies. It looks like it's snowing outside my window because of all the pollen floating through the air and my car is no longer gray but green. I don't have time to be sick this week. I have meetings, a trip to my office in Amherst, MA, a play date with friends we haven't seen in a while and a birthday party to attend. Plus, all the Mother's in the neighborhood corroborated my story because they said the weather man on TV said it has been the worst allergy season in years - so it must be true! Mother's never lie!

Maybe if I sing like my children do when they want something to change, it will happen:

Pollen, pollen, go away
Come again some other day

Ugh. Time to open another box of tissue.

Happy Mudder's Day

All day long my daughter called out to me, my mother and my grandmother with a "Happy Mudder's Day".

Occasionally I'd correct her and she'd smile and say "MoTHer's Day" but most of the time we were Mudder's. But it didn't matter what she called us, because today 4 generations of girls hung out in the yard in the sun, enjoying some good food, good laughs and great family moments.

Happy Mudder's Day to all the Mudders out there and may all your children be tucked in bed asleep at 7:30 like mine, exhausted from a day filled with family fun.

Go get your socks

My kids are crazy this morning. I'm waiting to have a conference call for work and they are screaming and running through the house, like kids should do. But since the rain hasn't started yet I emerged from my office and suggested they go outside to play before the drops start.

My daughter would live in flip flops all year round if we let her. She wants to wear them again and I explained that it's chilly today and maybe she should put her sneakers on. After some random grumblings she asks me to go get her socks,

"I am not going to get you socks. You can use your two legs and walk to your room to get socks."

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh. It's too far to my room. I wish we had stairs AND an elevator in our house."

She's kidding, right?

Anti-office neighborhood

I am a Diet Coke addict. It's okay because I can say it outloud. But I'm not just a Diet Coke addict, but an addict of the fountain drink Diet Coke. The kind you can get King Size at Wendy's. And since I've rarely ever sipped a cup o' Joe from any of the local coffee shops, I tend to head out around 10:30 for my morning fix of DC. Refills for $1.04 at the local Sunoco station - please don't stage an intervention.

As I was returning to my home office with my bubbly friend I was reminded of a conversation my husband had with our local dog walker (not ours, mind you, but someone else's dog walker). I noticed Mr. Mike at the front of the neighborhood sitting on his front stairs. Mr. Jeff was checking out his lawn with Mr. Frank. I rounded the corner towards my house and the new police officer that moved in down the street was walking with his 9 month old twins and my husband was playing with our kids and their playdate friends that meet every Wed with their Dad. Our new neighbor across the street was pulling into her driveway and our next door neighbor was doing the same in his driveway.

So, back to the comment from the dog walker to my husband:

"You know what I noticed about this neighborhood? No one works."

What's he talking about? I'm working right now loading up files onto little USB drives that flash all red when they are done! We're just all anti-office and that's why I love living here!

Oh, "Hi Mr. retired State Trooper Ed! Nice to see you this fine day"....now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work!

Tight squeeze

I had to do a demo today for work. It really wasn't a big deal since it was only for 3 people and I've come to know them fairly well over 5 months since they are my PR firm, but I found myself in an awkward situation for a few moments.

I had flashbacks to my first professional job at Thomson Financial. I always discount my time at Pyramid Entertainment and CBS Radio in NYC because that was really just an extension of my college education. And then my days answering phones for Thomson and distributing mail was truly a joy, but I'm talking about my days traveling the country installing First Call terminals at brokerage firms. As I began my demo today I noticed the battery in my laptop wasn't quite doing its job so I whipped out my power cord...and spent 10 mins trying to untangle it. My husband would have been horrified since all the cords in his life are neatly wrapped and then secured with tie-wraps. Mine resemble a bird's nest. Mission accomplished after a few witty comments to the crowd and finally a straight line.

After getting myself in order with the power cord I soon found myself crawling under a conference table to plug it in - this is where the memories come into play. I didn't fit under that table quite as nicely as I remember doing at the age of 23. I remember flying in and out of small cubicles, phone closets, and corporate offices with the speed of light. I could squeeze between a leather chair and a file cabinet like no one's business. Today, I kind of slowly crept on my knees to the outlet, tried not to break my nail taking the cover off, slowly backed my "wide load" (as it's known on trucks) back out from under the table and barely made it out from under the mahogany table without whacking the top of my head. Then it took a few more seconds for me to catch my balance to slide back onto my chair and I am pretty sure I let out a huge sigh like I had just finished an hour on the treadmill.

My conclusion, when the nice young man across the table from you offers to plug something in...say Yes.

5 things I love

These are five things I've come to love in the past few months that have nothing to do with inner strength or self-worth. They are just some "things":

1. Oil of Olay Quench Body Lotion - it actually puts a little sparkle on your skin and who doesn't love a little sparkle.

2. OPI Nail Polish color "Two Tickets to Paradise" - of course there are rumors they've discontinued it.

3. BJ's gas at 10 cents below other gas stations, and BJ's deli that sells Land O Lakes American Cheese at $1.50/pound less than my Stop & Shop (Ok that's sort of two things).

4. L'Oreal Revitalift Face Cream - who says you need to spend $100/ounce for the fancy stuff - not that I'd ever know?

5. Peep toe shoes - as a girl with toe issues it's fun to wear shoes that don't expose the whole foot but give a glimpse of a splurge-induced pedicure.

Happy Spring!!

Play it and they will come

It makes no difference if it's a random warm day in April, May or June - as soon as the doo, doo, doo, dee, doo, dee, doo starts making its way down the street for the first time my kids jump out of their seats, and their skin, with excitement for the ice cream truck. We relived that moment again tonight at 5:50 p.m. - bad timing! It truly is something out of a comedy movie...except the memories I have of the ice cream truck goods are slightly different.

Ice cream sandwiches. Pushups. Canon Balls (or screw balls depending on where you're from but it's the sherbert with the gum ball at the bottom). Strawberry Shortcake.

Tonight my son SCREAMED as he was running across our front lawn,

"SpiderMan! SpiderMan! SpiderMan!"

His sister was behind him,

"The Bunny! The Bunny! The Bunny!"

What?? Over the winter I removed from my mind the fact that the ice cream truck doesn't actually sell ice cream but food colored, super sugar, super sticky, super sloppy cartoon characters on a stick. AND I forgot that these drip down my children's arms and hands and the dye doesn't come off no matter how hard you scrub!
So, I dished out $6 (ouch) to see the smile on my kid's faces. I also played "Mom" and put the ice cream treats in the freezer and reminded them they were mid-bite at dinner and would have to wait. The anticipation was killing them as they forced down the healthy tidbits on their plates, so I took advantage of the moment and told them that they should not expect that every time the magical sound comes around the corner that I will be running behind them with my wallet because we have plenty of treats in our house and that an ice cream from the ice cream truck is a special treat and today was okay because it was the first time - *sigh*

My husband was standing at the sink with a huge grin - as if to silently say "you sound just like your mother" but instead he said,

"Womp, womp, womp, womp, ice cream. Womp, womp, ice cream. Womp, womp"

He's right. I'll be scrubbing off red dye #40 from their hands all summer.

Good oral hygiene

I've never liked the dentist - no particular reason other than the memories of cavities being drilled, spitting in a mini-toilet bowl and the dreaded "We are going to recommend an orthodontist" moment. I think that was the first time my heart stopped - but now that I have children it stops much more often as I see a head heading for direct impact with the corner of a coffee table.


But my kids don't seem to mind engaging in good oral hygiene at home - they will brush and brush and brush until they resemble rabid dogs with the foam flowing from their mouth. My son declared it was time for him to "flops". Befuddled, I asked him to repeat his request and he said,


"I want to flops. Flops. Flops." He was getting angry now.


Ah...floss. To me, that is one of those issues along with "Do I use Q-tips in my 3 year old's ears?" I took a small piece and gently put it between a couple of his teeth. He has never smiled a bigger smile than when I was done. I think I'm going to bribe him with "flops" the next time he has a dentist appointment since neither of my kids can remember how to open their mouths when we get to the dentist.

Sit still please. Sit still please. SIT STILL.

Why do I feel the need to enforce a rule so ridiculous that every time the words leave my mouth I want to duck tape my lips shut?? "Sit still please."

We had a wonderful evening a the Big Apple Circus last night in Boston. My daughter LOVES the city and anything about it, so wandering around Fanueil Hall was like a dream for her and the noises, smells and rushing people fed into her excitement. We just don't make it in town enough so it was a great treat.

My son, on the other hand, is phased by nothing...except retractable chairs, apparently. At the circus they had those lovely seats that flip up when you don't sit on them and are all attached to each other, so say if a 3 year old were to repeatedly flip his chair up and down, it would shake the whole row. You see what I'm getting at?

Well, in my obsessed, control-freak sort of way, I just envisioned an evening where my two children would sit at the circus mesmorized by the acrobats, clowns and dancing dogs and not move off their seat. I must remember, those evenings only happen on the commercials that promote the circus. In real life, chair flipping is far more exciting to a 3 year old boy!