My wishes

2012

For Anthony, my sensitive, smart, energetic boy: That you may develop your sense of self and know always that who you are is exactly who you are supposed to be. You are by far the most intelligent child I have ever met. I worry that it will be too much pressure for you at such a young age. I worry that in school you will not always be just like everyone else. Of course, nobody is just like anyone else. I hope you can cultivate long, lasting friendships. I wish I wasn't so much a loner myself that I don't know how to approach the other mother's and find ways for you to play with your friends outside of school. I am sure as you get a little older and a little more independent that you will be able to go meet up with friends and play, right now I feel like you are missing having playmates your own age.

It is an incredible joy to me watching you grow and learn. Your love of learning is something I hope you will always hold on to. Never stop learning, and never stop teaching. I love watching and hearing you help your sister write words. I hope you learn your Daddy's patience because when you do, you will be such a great teacher. You already love helping others and I really think you always will.

For Caitlin, my all in girl who loves blue, dirt, bugs and ballerina's: That you will always give everything you've got to your task or idea at hand. Never stop playing in the dirt, while wearing your best dress. If you take your individual style and apply it to everything you do you will always be doing something amazing. Your creativity and imagination are so beautiful. Continue to love and laugh with reckless abandon. I hope you will always find such joy in your life as you do now, wether it's petting the kitty or playing in the sand box you do it your own way, and that will take you places my love. Keep wearing your patent leather, yellow Doc's!

For Alex, my comedian and sweet, kind boy who does everything with all of his heart. From whole body Alex hugs to single minded obsessions. Don't ever forget the things you love. Explore all of your world. Always make people laugh, and never use your incredible sense of humor to hurt. I know that you will always laugh with people. You do not have a mean bone in your little body, yet you do know that you make an impact on everyone with everything you say and do. The smile on your face and joy in your words are incredible gifts to those around you.

These things and so much more are what I wish for my 3 babies. I don't know how to say all the things that I can feel deep inside my soul for you.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot like Christmas

When I first started thinking about Christmas creeping up on us it caused panic. Absolute panic. I want my kids to have the magic they deserve. A very materialistic perspective. The little people are very excited for Santa. They know the reason we celebrate Christmas. It is heartwarming hearing Caitlin singing Happy Birthday Baby Jesus, at the top of her lungs, or having her turn off the lights to watch the Christmas tree lights blink and say " it's so beautiful." They have gathered and donated an entire 30 gallon trash bag full of stuffed animal to the Bear Fair. They are the best kids.

This isn't the worst Christmas by far. The scariest Christmas was when my husband was diagnosed with Hodgkins disease. We weren't the Pinto's yet. There were no little monsters running around. But I already knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to be his wife. I didn't want to miss the opportunity to be his partner for life, even if it was shortened. God has blessed me in many ways. My husband has been in remission for 10 years. My 3 little monsters were not supposed to happen naturally, thanks to chemo. We beat that. We beat the big "C".

I know we can weather unemployment. We will make it through. We can, and will make this Christmas just as magical as any before. My 3 little monsters guarantee that!

A Little Smile Goes A Long Way

Blogging is slipping again, from the list of things to do. My husband doesn't have a job. We don't have health insurance. I am lucky to have my own job, one that can give me extra hours, because there are always people calling for help. But, I am tired. So, so tired. I know his job loss isn't his fault. Really, I do. But I find myself being so angry and resentful. It seems that only my life has changed. I am working 16 and 24 hour shifts. I am finding that my age is creeping up on me. My knees are sore, my back is sore and I am weary. I want to cry. I know that I am not the only person, mother, wife to feel like this. But sometimes it feels like I am so alone. I miss my babies so badly yet I get short tempered and snap at them. I want to halt time so they can stay little for just a moment longer and yet I want them to get older so I can come in from work at 7am and go to sleep. Depression sucks. Even if all were right in my little world it would still be there creeping in like a serpent trying to suck me down into it's deep, dark, vacuum. My babies are happy, they are healthy, we do have a roof over our heads, heat comes from our furnace, water runs cool or warm. We have enough to eat. I know it could be so much worse.

We splurged big time last Friday and took the kids to see Arthur Christmas. They all got a box of candy (from 5 Below) and we shared a large soda and popcorn. They all loved it and wore their 3D glasses and it almost made me feel completely better for having missed Thanksgiving with them because I worked.

Alex is totally our comedian. He has made me want to strangle him and laugh out loud in the exact same moment from his antics. As I scolded my oldest for inappropriate behavior at the dining room table, Alex says " hey Mommy, you be nice to Anthony." So, I sternly tell my Alex, " you are being fresh, you do not talk to Mommy or Daddy like that, do not talk back." To which Alex slaps his forehead while saying " wooont woont woont!" " I am a secret agent." "Yes, Alex you are a secret agent!" And a Mimja Mommy, a mimja fireman.

At least he made me smile again :o)

My secret agent, ninja fireman wearing his 3D glasses at his first movie!

A Little of this and that

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They are Worth Every Minute

It's 4 am, I am on hour 21 of a straight 24 hour shift on the ambulance. It's a sort of tucked away part of me that I don't really share about. To have this job is unlike many others. There is some reward, when helping those truly in need. Often though it thankless and grueling. People call, we go. It doesn't matter why they call we have to go. We have to take them to a hospital no matter the reason. Many take advantage of the system and don't have true medical need for calling us. It is this part of the job, it is a large part, it is the ingratitude and misuse of a system of help me and do what I want that makes this a torturous job. Selfishness is ripe in this world. Too many people think only of themselves and not of others. What if family, neighbors and friends truly cared for each other and truly supported each other? Children would not be left in cold, dirty basements to fend for themselves. Children would not gnaw on their pizza crust sitting next to trash with roaches crawling across their dirty, tiny, chubby little feet while momma screams and tantrums because the babydaddy called the police because she went crazy when he showed up after months of not being there. These people would know how to treat each other with respect, they would care for their children because they have self respect and pride. There would be no dead baby that ate the "oxy" that he found when he was crawling across the filthy floor. Teenage girls, babies themselves would not be having babies that they do not know how to care for. Someone would help these girls learn how to parent through the stress.

A 16 year old shot an 18 year old, over drugs. He was lying in the gutter, nearly dead, in a nice part of town. The neighbors are horrified because things like that don't happen around here. Yet the lady with her bags, her dirty hair, her mumblings and stumblings are ignored by these people daily until she plops down on their front lawn in her blank, numb, confused I can no longer walk straight today or tell you who I am or where I am binge. She has no money and no support system and the system fails again.

She is an old woman, he is an old man. They are very sick and love each other very much. He can not take care of her but refuses to give in to the need to have her placed in a minimally staffed, over crowded, not enough of anything to go around nursing home, because really noone is nursing her or adequately caring for her or ministering to he basic needs as he so selflessly does here in their tiny basement apartment and when she slips and falls we come and help her back up because he can not and they refuse any other offer of care because at least here they have each other and that love is worth more to them than a system that will fail because they will not be able to stay together, no one will help her to the bathroom as soon as she needs to go, she will sit and wait and soil herself and feel shame and helplessness and he will be unable to to bear that sight. So they sit night after night and wait until the aide comes in the morning, for the few hours the medicare will cover, and then he will nap and try to rest assured that for a few hours they are both ok.

And soon I will finally get to go home and see their smiling faces and bright eyes and grumpy morning faces and that makes it all worth it.

Little Things

So many thoughts and needs and wants have poured through my brain over the past week. The stress and fear have left me ragged, depleted. I feel like I can't process any more. There are many details to try and see to before the insurance coverage runs out. The little man has gone to the dentist. In true Alex form, he was a riot. " Hey dentist lady, you gonna look at me teeth, aaahhh?!" No cavities, hooray. But, his beloved " ni-night" that he stuffs into his mouth and is so comforted by is causing his teeth to disfigure. As soon as the dentist, a nice lady younger than I asked if Alex was still using a pacifier and I answered, "it's not a pacifier" Alex joined in with - " it's my finga's - see" and popped two in his mouth and started sucking. He has never, no once sucked on his fingers, nor a pacifier. Always his blanket. I don't know how he knew that we were headed into that awful territory of you can't have your blankie anymore, but my man lied boldly through hi damn fingers without batting an eye. Sigh, he loves his stinky ass " ni-night."

Pediatrician's appointments for well visits have been made. Cait and Alex went yesterday. Vision, hearing, an vaccination updates were on the menu. They did fabulouslly until they realized that " shotses" were intended. The doctor hadn't even come in for the exam and they were both crying and screaming, " no shots, I don't want shots Mommy." Breaks my heart, but I do believe vaccinations are necessary. Catie bearly cooperated for her wellness exam. Alex performed for his. " I am a turtle, I am a monkey, I can stand on my head with one foot in the air, no shotses ok?" Poor kids. 5 for Catie because the 4 year old well visit is just brutal, she shrieked and cried and good God it was awful. Alex cried for her " why you do that, no hurting Catie." And then it was his turn. For 1 flu shot. He was all revved up by previewing his sister. But it got done. The afternoon at home was nothing short of sweet and pathetic. Caitlin proclaimed, " I feel like I am going to die." Then qualified that statement with " like not die for real, just like I am going to die of shots." She also required pictures of her band aids and boo boo's. She also declared she was unable to clean up her markers and paper because " my arms hurt too much to move" and gave a display of letting them hang limply by her side as she meweled pittifully. The drama. Alex was full of hugs and " I love you Mommy and Daddy." It is these moments that bolster my spirit and give me courage. He was being a nose honker as well, and really thinks that he is hysterical. Anthony get's his turn at the doctor next week, hopefully the little one can keep the secret...

Before bed, I asked Alex for "big hugs". In Alex world big hugs are an entire little body that wraps himself as tightly as he can around the other person. It is a fabulous hug. He solemnly held up his fingers and said " only two big hugs Mommy then I go night-night."

These little moments and these little laughs and smiles are what I am learning to appreciate more and more each day. Every single person has worries. I have huge worries but all of these little things now seem so much more important the big worries. Hopefully as we work our way through this mess of unemployment and insurance loss and money worries the little things will shine through more and more. I love my 3 little things more than I can describe.

Alex is comfortably cocooned in bed with the offending "ni-night" firmly grasped in his teeth

3 of Catie's 5 boo-boo's

" take my pitya Mommy!"

A little critter comfort after a long day

Then What?

The horrible thing about depression is even that I know I have suffered from depression, at times horribly, when it comes crashing back in an unexpected time or moment it blindsides me. I guess my depression is more anxiety. An overpowering, heavy brick that sits on me and won't let me come up for air. I shake and it will not stop. I get really agitated with the kids, and their normal kid stuff. The paperwork I am trying to gather in order to get insurance coverage for the kids when Joe's benefits expire on October 31 is daunting.

Trying to make phone calls to plead with utilities and other bill people is horrifying and embarassing and it doesn't fail that a child comes and starts hollering in my face while I am trying to make progress. And the pressure builds inside and I feel like I will explode. I walk away because there is no other option. I don't feel like I can properly and fairly instruct and discipline them when I am feeling so out of control with myself. How will I get this stuff done and protect my children and provide for them? I feel alone. My husband doesn't seem overly concerned. He thinks he will quickly find another job. I worry about what is going to happen after his last check comes. Then what?

0.88

Deep down, I know that we have very supportive families. Both of our sets of parents have pledged their help and support in any way possible. My husbands parents may be able to help financially if we need them to. And, I really do know that it could be so much worse. No one has died or been struck seriously ill.

My chest squeezes so tight I can barely breathe when I think about the phone call that came on Friday. My husband was " terminated." After 13 years of dedication and hard work for a corporate giant. He often gave more to the giant than to me, to his kids, to his family. Panick attacks grip me at the unexpected times of day these last few days. It is horrifying and humiliating. I know that at this very moment, we are ok. We are under a roof which doesn't leak, with windows that aren't cracked or broken. We have food in our fridge and pantry, and a tomato plant that hasn't realized it is mid-October and just sprouted 6 tiny new tomato's. The shoes still feet on their feet at this moment, we have enough clothing that fits on their bodies. We aren't behind on our bills now, so maybe if we start falling behind we can work something out. The feed bins for our furries are mostly full. Hopefully the preschool that Catie and Alex go to will be willing to work with us. It is a wonderful school, they love it, Catie especially is thriving. Fear. I know it could be worse. How do I decide where the money goes when there is none. Will we lose the house before long, or should I hope that they don't foreclose and pay utilities so we are warm and clean and able to cook and clean. How do I negotiate a lower car insurance premium? The fear closes around me and makes it feel like I am being sucked down into a pit with the air holding me under.

I am hoping that with this, he will become more involved. We will do more as a family together. I hope that he will start being a husband and daddy again. I hope that this is the message for our family, because if it isn't than I don't know what THE HELL YOU ARE TELLING US GOD. 0.88 is the number in our account. Please don't let anyone get sick, or hurt, after October 31 because I will not know what to do God. Really, I will not know what to do.

Scrambled Eggs

It is thin, fragile, white, brown, shimmery, dull. Inside is mush, slippery or firm, hard, bending or a fragile form developing, precious and tiny. Outside, a strong barrier, a protective shield until dropped or kicked or banged, or nudged or tapped wrong.

It can bear tremendous weight when distributed correctly but shatter when carelessly moved. You can not tell what it's state is using only sight or a simple touch. Deeper inspection, holding it to the light, cradling it in your hand to feel it's warmth or it's chill. What is inside and how it has been cared for. Is it spoiled, never given a chance? Is is fertile, nurtured, warmed, protected? Will it sustain others? Will it become or is it already gone?

Do not assume to know. Do not assume the outside reveals what is inside. Each is a mystery waiting to be discovered. Aren't we all just as fragile and varied? Inside we are so many things. Soft and hard, fragile, bold. Take time and care to find out what is inside before cracking the shell.

I Am From

I am from wiffle balls and bats, kool aid and powdered iced tea mix. I am from the large house that looks forlorn and lacking in basic upkeep, with faded, peeling white-ish asbestos shingles, with the fire engine red front steps. I am from the green yard with patches worn to dirt where home plate and the pitcher's mound are. Where the pussy willow bush is a great climbing tree. I am from the muppet show on primetime and Saturday afternoon horror theater, snuggled on the couch beside my dad so I could hide my eyes! From trips to the Pocono's once a summer when we knew that we would have some fun, we"d go as a whole family and she would not reign with as much terror. I am from Martha and Tim and Grandmom. Grandmom who let me have the last teeny sip of her beer, and always gave me a dollar. I am from people who hold no extended family close and who envy, judge and rival each other. From a man who went to war in Vietnam because his country needed him to and it was his duty. A woman who met this man and married him and moved across the country because she didn't want to be near her family. I am from a strongly Roman Catholic father, who insisted we receive sacraments, go to catholic school and believe the catholic doctrine. There was no room for questioning this religion. I am from an Irish man, and a german, dutch mother. We love lasagna and tacos with hand made shells that taste so much better than the store bought kind. I am from the Philadelphia suburbs where we hold dear our Irish heritage and really don't give a damn about the rest of it. Because we are Irish. And stubborn. I am from the car ride to Indiana with the station wagon seats folded out and 3 kids crammed into the back with sleeping bags and luggage. The Irish Uncles and my dad who would get drunk and go home to their mother and march through her house singing "Yellow Submarine", wearing lamp shades on their heads and continuing their march across the dining room table, much to my grandmother's delight. I am from a father who consistently said we could have one dog, and one cat - only, who helped me try to save baby squirrels and baby pigeons and hand made critter keepers for my newts and garter snakes and caterpillars, who also now has 4 cats at his house none of which were suposed to be living there. I am from old envelopes of developed 35mm film kept in a dusty box under a dusty bed. The box was rarely brought out, my mother would get mad. There were no family photos adorning the mantle or walls, no obvious pride as we turned from babies to toddler to school ages and graduates. Although there was a picture frame my mother bought at a yard sale because she really liked the frame, it really is a lovely frame, but she never removed the picture of the strangers.

2 dollar Goldfish

Anthony the Fish has resided dutifully in a tank, in Anthony the boy's room for over 3 years. He is a symbol of Anthony the boy growing up, becoming a big boy. You see, my Anthony was a real binky addict, this was enabled by his mother ( me ), of course it was. I know. I slowly started " weaning" him from it when he was about 2. I had him cut down to just at bedtime when his baby sister was born. She came in the door with a binky in her mouth, Anthony looked pitifully around the room and pleaded for his binky. My husband was ready to tow the line and I said, give him his binky (enabler). 2 days later the newborn wanted nothing to do with her bink and my binky addict was a very satisfied little man!

Flash forward to his 3 year old check up at the dentists office where talk of " permanent mouth disfigurement" and " orthodontics" arose. Oh Lord, why didn't I just stick to my guns. At 3 my Anthony was a very smart boy. He heard the discussion and flatly said no, I will not give up my binky. I resolved to do the deed got all hormonal and wanted to let him be a binky addict as long as he wanted. But I realized it was time. It was time to be a big boy. I needed to get ahold of myself and get the damn binky away... (Thank GOD the baby rejected the bink at day #2!)

I did what any good mother does and went to the internet in search of ideas. None appealed to me. Cutting holes in a latex pacifier seemed a very unnecessary choking risk. He already had a new baby to give the binkies to and he knew damn well that wasn't going to happen. Binky fairy, he didn't blink. Cold turkey with no reward wasn't happening from this angle. I couldn't handle the though of it. Somehow, I came up with the idea of replacing the binky with something he would really like to have. . Darned if I could come up with something to give him that he thought was a good idea. Until one afternoon we wandered around the petsmart store because he LOVED to look at the fish did it dawn on me to ask him if he wanted a fish! Hello! He said yes, he wants a fish. I told him all he had to do to get a fish was give the binky to the people at the store to pay for his fish. He didn't bite. But that afternoon when we went home he asked and asked for a fish. So, I finally gathered some mother sense and told him that on Friday, we would go back to the store and get a fish. But, he had to give his binky to the people at the store so he could have the fish. I told him that this means he would not have his binky anymore. He thought about it and said, " but I can have a fishy?" I said yes, you can have a fish but no more binky. He said ok. So every day, I told him how many more sleeps until Friday ( you know, like you have to go to sleep at night time 4 more times, that's how we count down our days here on the ark - it works don't knock it.) Back to the fish and binky. He was getting excited as the days went by. He could tell me that he would be getting a fish because he is a big boy and he will give the binky to the store and he will not have a binky anymore. Friday morning, we got up and I told him it was Friday, no more sleeps! He was very excited for his very own fish.

So, we get to the store where I have to corner the fish kid and explain the deal, she looked at me like I had 12 eyes but I gave her that don't screw this up sort of desperate look and she went along with the plan. My boy was looking at all the fish, I showed him which tanks he could choose from. When he decided, I knelt down and asked him what he had to do to get his fishy, he told me in a very quiet voice, " give the lady my binky, no more binky for big boys." I melted away and snatched him and his fish and his binky out of there. I handed him his binky inside a baggie and said ok buddy, let go ahead and get you your fish. He very shyly walked up to the still very skeptical fish kid and slowly raised him hand out and looked up at me with excitement and fear, but he did it. He handed the girl the bag and asked if he could have a fish. He then ran to the tank and pointed crazily at the fish he wanted! The fish girl at this moment rose to the occasion and let my boy help her get the fishy into the net and into the bag! He really was so proud! We spent about $40 on a bowl, rocks and food and water conditioner a net and a smaller catch bowl for water cleaning day, and 2 dollars for the fish who Anthony immediately named, Anthony. My big boy! We got the bowl and fish all situated and he called Daddy and Mom Mom and Uncle Rich on the phone to tell them all that he is a big boy and his very own fish! It was awesome. Until, bedtime. He cried and cried for his binky, he told me to take Anthony the fish back he doesn't want the fish he wants his binky. I think I cried too, but I did the smart thing and got rid of all the extra binkies before this could happen so I really didn't have any to fall back on. It only took a few nights and he stopped crying, he occasionally asked for the binky back, but was always so proud of his fish. He still to this day can tell you how he got Anthony the fish.

This morning, my daughter came running into the room telling me there was an emergency with Anthony the fish. Oh no. My heart sunk. You see, 2 days ago my youngest son earned his very own goldfish too and since I had no intention of have a 3rd fish tank for all of 3 gold fish ( yep, Catie the fish lives in Caitlin's room in a tank because she pooped in the potty) I told the boys that the fish would share their tank just like they shared their bedroom. They both bought it and proclaimed Anthony the fish, and Goldie Train Whistle ( yes, Alex is a way more creative fish namer than the other 2 are) were " bestest friends!" But it seems the shock of sharing his tank with the new fish was not one Anthony the fish was prepared for. He was on the bottom of the tank amongst the rocks barely moving. This is worse than a dead fish. Because how can I just let Anthony the fish die. I have to do something to save him. My husband looked at me like I had again lost my mind. But I could not just let the fish die without trying something, my Anthony had done the bravest thing possible and GAVE UP his BINKY for this fish (ok, this is actually AF #2 because the cat ate AF #1 but Anthony the child DOES NOT KNOW THAT.) I googled. I salt bathed the fish. I googled some more. I changed filter cartridges, the old one wasn't very dirty and only a few days old since we put a new one in the day we brought the interloper into the tank. Finally I scooped up the fish and some tank water into a bowl and drove to the pet store and said please help. My son's heart will break if he finds his fish dead 2 days after adding a fish to the tank. He will blame the new fish and his brother. I can't let this happen. Again, kids at the fish store. They sold me $14 worth of remedies to try. They don't appear to be working. Anthony the fish was still lingering on the bottom of the tank.

After Anthony and I got in from school pick up, my husband and I told him that we had to talk about Anthony the fish. His face just drooped and he asked did he die. I explained that he was very sick and he probably will die, that we got medicine and we hope that it will make Anthony the fish better but it might not. He said, "ok, can I get another fish?" Seriously kid? I was like a nut all day trying to mend this stinking fish because he was your first rite of passage! My father said," next time think with your head not your heart. It's cheaper." Seriously, this fish is a symbol of my very first baby boy growing up. It's not just a fish. To me it's so much more than a 2 dollar fish.

Anthony the fish is just below Goldie the killer fishon their first day as "bestest friends."

How

There is so much emotion swirling around inside my head. I don't know what to do with it, or where to put it. The scars on my arm are still visible, though barely. The scars on my heart are invisible and so heavy. She did not have kind words. She did not have a soft voice. She did not have patience. She did not show love. She was never proud of me. She did not teach me self respect, generosity, kindness or love. She taught me that I was not acceptable, unworthy, unloved. I did not start trying to hurt myself until I was about 13, maybe 14. I thought if I was bleeding, she would help, fix, care. Instead, she yelled what the hell did you do to yourself? Stop crying like a baby, it can't hurt that bad they are only scratches. I cried from pain inside my heart, not from the blood trickling down my arm. Even blood did not make her care. I slammed my hand in the door as hard as I could trying to break it, mother's are tender and make things feel better when they are broken, she said God damn it, how the hell did you do that. I'm not taking you to the hospital. She didn't offer ice or a hug. The man (yes man who was 8 years older than the teenage girl who only wanted to someone to love her and care) I started dating when I was only a teenager was mean, he pushed me around and put me down and made me think I was wrong when I didn't want to do something he wanted me to do. He said I didn't love him when I said I wasn't ready. I gave him my heart, my innocence and still felt worthless, but I held onto the hope that someone was loving me. She did not ever, not once say you are worth more than this, better than this- never once. There is still a huge hollow void where all of the love, encouragement, pride and acceptance should be. If the one who gave me life could not fill this up, I fear I never will be able to do it myself. I struggle every day to find hope and love within myself. I am so very afraid that I am not doing it right for my own children. I want them to be strong, confident, generous, kind and caring little people. I hug them and kiss them every day. I tell them every day that I love You, you are my favorite Alex, you are my favorite Caitlin, and you are my favorite Anthony. But every once in awhile the things that haunt me come through and I lash out when they are misbehaving. I have cried myself sick for slapping one of my children while holding and trying to tell my child how sorry and how wrong Mommy is. How am I ever going to do this right when NOBODY every taught me how?

They are the only hope I have of ever filling my heart with love and joy and acceptance. Please God don't let me get it wrong.

Sunday Musings

Since I brought the idea on all myself, my Mommy bliss tally is now: Mommy Bliss: 0 Chaos: 4 Thursday September 15th had no promise whatsoever. At the schools end of the day, we were headed to Lancaster to get ready for my little brother's wedding! It was a hectic day for me. Cleaning, packing, etc. Husband home (again). Not that my husband couldn't be a good thing, but my goal here is A DAY TO MYSELF. Haven't had one in 6 years. Tuesday coming up is out as well. I have small hopes for Thursday of next week. Very small. . . . I mentioned a wedding in there so I must say that my baby brother is finally married! He picked a great girl, and the wedding was beautiful and a ton of fun. All of my children were in the wedding and they put on a hell of a show! The ring bearers marched like soldiers, and thenk GOD I found out that they put the actual ring on the pillows and made them take them off and place them safely in the best man's pockets because the pillows were handled like footballs and finding rings in the grass would have SUCKED!

See my ring bearer's, and the pillows - those rings would have been toast! . . . . The girls were cute too!

I thought it would mean a day to myself, a day of resting or reading or walking dogs, or doing nothing about anything. That is what I thought I would get when all three of my children were in school for a full day at the same time. I held that image in my head and told myself how glorious it would be. What's that sound? Who wants juice? Nobody. Because there is nobody here!!!! Insert reality. Alex and Caitlin did start full day preschool, for 2 glorious days a week, ON THE SAME DAY! Meaning that since Anthony is a big old first grader that on Tuesday's and Thursdays they are in school, husband is at work and I would FINALLY, FINALLY get some me time. Some quiet. Not. 1st Thursday drop off at 9am went fairly well, Alex was not a happy camper, he decided he was not going to school. Caitlin was fine with going to school, but with any pictures associated with the process thereof. Hubs and I take both children in, I take Alex to his class room, get all excited about his cubby, put his stuff away - he has a minor snit about his "WeQueen" (Lightning McQueen) lunch bag being left on the cart with, every other sub-form lunch bag. I wrestle the bag away and throw him into the circle on the carpet calmly explain that he will get his lunch bag back at lunch time and SEE, Miss Kelly has a balloon for you!!! (squeaky voice and all). And then, he sits and completely ignores my presence at which time Miss Kelly suggests it's a good time for Mom to, psst psst you should go now... Insert hot burny tears welling in eyes here. Because this veteran preschool dropper offer cried big old alligator tears for her baby. Who was going to stay at preschool all day, because she wanted him to.

WeQueen Bliss

99 green balloons

Leave me alone mother

4 year old baby girl, 3 year old baby boy.

He is a handsome thing! Where did I leave off???Oh, the restful, relaxing, happy, quiet, Mommy part. Day Number 1 of mommy Bliss: The Lord laughed at me OUT LOUD. Lulu the wonder kitty had to go to the vet. It was pouring rain. The husband decided to work from home. And then I had to go to work myself at 3. Day Number 2 of mommy Bliss: The Lord laughed out loud and snorted through his nose. I was subpoenaed 6 days before hand to report to courtroom 3 as a witness for the Commomweath of I. DON'T. GIVE. A. SHIT. I am not going, no no no no no. I am not going to waste my second chance at Mommy Bliss inside a boring old courthouse waiting to be called as a witness to something I don't remember. What's that you say Madam Assistant District Attorney, a bench warrant? No need to get all high and mighty, I'll be at your damn court room thank you very much. And ya know WHAT? I was the only person on time. EVERYONE ELSE was 2 1/2 hours late so I got to sit from 9AM to 3PM and watch dust grow. When I got home they were all there. I may have to keep a Mommy Bliss record. Tally so far - the shove it up your ass Force is 2, Mommy 0.

School Woes

Anthony is an old-pro at this thing called going to school. He had daycare when I was working full time as a paramedic. Then when I started staying home because daycare outpriced my salary he went to preschool. For 2 years. Then full day kindergarten, Praise God! Somehow though, the switch to the public school system for elementary school has been really difficult for me. Aside from the fact that I am catholic and baptised my children catholic and fully intended them to go to catholic school, aside from feeling like I am letting down my dad for not sending him to catholic school, aside from the fact that I know, I really do know, the public school system has more to offer than catholic school ( even with the funding cuts), I still feel anxious sending him off for the day. I suddenly feel like my baby is alone in an unending sea of other kids. He was one of 33 kindergartners last year. He is one of 20 1st graders this year, but the school is SO BIG. It's a huge mass of people swarming the building every morning and afternoon. It's my fear though. He, has had no trouble with this change.

goodbye mom sigh

He did not cooperate with 1st day of school, 1st day of FIRST GRADE ANTH--- pictures. Seriously, the only thing he is bugged about is lunch. I pack his lunch.

3

In my thirtieth year, I gave birth to my third child. Lots of 3's right there. And in my thirty third year, he turned -------- 3!.

My third child, my baby boy was the biggest, best, scariest surprise I ever received. Biggest, because the only bigger surprise I can think of is well, I can't. Best, because I wouldn't trade him for anything. Scariest, well, I wasn't planning on a third. His sister was only six months old. We were BROKE. Broke. I already had postpartum depression, how the hell could this be happening again??? Well, I know how it happened, but really God, do you really think this is a good idea? Me, as a mother of 2 is kind of pathetic, you are going to add a THIRD to this mix, and what? You'll hope for the best for the child, for the mother? I was so scared. I was so angry. And then scared again. I already doubted my ability to mother the children I had. I felt overwhelmed and anxious and I worried all the time. I didn't have fun with this thing called motherhood, and here we go again. That was three years ago.

I still have PPD. I still have fear. We are still broke. I still don't know how to have fun with this thing called motherhood on many days. But oh how they make me melt. Especially this third child, my baby boy who is not a baby anymore. He is 3 now. He will start preschool, and I will cry when I let him. Because he is my "last" baby. Happy Birthday Alex! You are such a funny boy. You are strong willed and you really know that people see you. You know you leave a mark! You add hilarity to everything you do even when I am restraining my self from locking you in a closet! The way you tell me " shhh mommy, you need to use nice words to me!" makes me want to laugh my ass off and swat your behind at the same time. You still LOVE your " NIE-NITE!" I do too kiddo. Love you my little man.

The last night as a 2 year old!

I'm not listening to you people sing Happy Birthday to me!

Tuckered out after a long birthday, Mommy's heart melted!

Arts and Crafts

They suck. Period.

I hate letting them have glitter, glue, glitter glue, scissors and anything that will make a mess that I will have to be cleaned off of them, the floor, the table, etc. I let them do crafts once or twice a year - not kidding. Today was one of those days. They were so happy. They were not fighting. They were gluing, glittering, glitter gluing and foam shaping to their hearts content and it was then I realized, it is so quiet in here, they are playing together! They are having fun! They really aren't being too messy! And oh, the google eyes are really cute :o)

So I stole away to the basement to do some secret clandestine LAUNDRY. It was almost enjoyable. Then I came back up the stairs and noticed a horrible amount of what I wrongly assumed was shedded dog hair. Shed?!?! Oh, so silly of you to think that Mommy... Plastic. Round. Safety. Scissors. THEY CUT THEIR HAIR, THE DOGS HAIR AND THE CAT'S HAIR. Holy what the F people. No more crafts. No pictures either, I was busy throwing craft supplies away. HRUMPH.

Rain and Soccer

Yesterday I took the kiddo's to get their new soccer equipment, This will be Anthony's third year playing soccer and he really loves it. He is fast, nimble and seems to have endless energy. His cleats and shin guards from last year were too small for him, and too big for Caitlin, how's that for luck. So, off we go. Alex is in tow and at the store is remanded to the custody of his stroller. He has a train in hand as is fine at first but then begins to ask to play soccer too. Try explaining to the almost 3 year old that he only has one more year to wait. C and AJ were getting really excited looking at cleats, I want those, I want those ( orange, purple, yellow ) they had it all. I wanted cheap. As in will be worn for about 3 months and never again cheap. The shoe guy pointed to a sign that said 14.99 - that was my sign! It took entirely too long getting both kids into cleats that fit their feet properly with guards and socks on, so I finally tell them to do a jog back and forth and something is not quite right... I bring them both back over and am checking fit, checking socks, Alex is STILL whining I wanna pway soccer... Finally I said to the shoe guy, I'm not sure if it's me but I think I have their sizes wrong for the cleats, somethings looking wrong. He said, oh that's because they are baseball cleats. JACK - I asked for cheap soccer cleats... Round 2 of picking out and trying on and picking out new shin guards and Caitlin HAS to have pink soccer socks to match her pick " check shoes" (nike brand). 2 pairs of the cheapest soccer cleats I could get on their feet. Clearance rack " pee wee" size shin guards for the Bug and not clearance rack but still cheapish shin guards for Anth, we pay I cringe because holy hell over $80 and we didn't even get a damn soccer ball...
Then the monsoon hits. Seriously, thunder, lightning, sheets of rain. I figure we will wait it out in the store, my Dad calls there is a tornado watch what am I doing? Trying to get 3 kids to the car in the deluge that just opened on us. ( Should have brought the ark, haha.) He said stay where we are, kids are begging to please go home Mommy, Mommy doesn't want to get wet guys, lets just wait a few more minutes. My Dad seconds that plan but all 3 kids veto with tears and fear and so I say ok, let's make a run for it. Cate and Anth grab a stroller handle and we will RUN. We got soaked to the skin. Alex cried because he is wet. Catie laughed and laughed. Anthony was pissed, just pissed. We get all buckled in and head home, and they were cracking up everytime we hit water and it made that big spray off the side of the car. Now that was funny.
Later on when the sun comes out, we head off to soccer clinic where Caitlin gets her first chance ever to play soccer and is wearing her new cleats and the storm clouds from hell roll over and we repeated getting soaked to the skin and running to the car. This time Anthony cried because he didn't get to play soccer yet, Caitlin beamed because the 2 drills she did were the icing on her cake. Poor Alex was just pissed!

That teenie tiny little dot in the middle there, with her foot on the ball, yep that one! That's my girl. ( Note the ominous clouds gathering to the left)

She is so happy! Literally 3 seconds later it started to pour.

POCONOOOOO, TAKE ME HOME!!!!!

Day 3 of another week away from home. We have traveled to the far reaches of SEPA and landed in the Pocono's! (again) We spend a lot of time here in the Pocono's. I like the relative quiet of the Pocono's. It's 9pm and I am listening to cicada's chirruping all around in the tree's announcing how hot tomorrow will be. I can also hear the roar of car engines, not sure if it's from the raceway or the turnpike.

But, alas - we have deer in our woods.

And we have in no particular order: caterpillar's, moths, tree frogs and spiders. I HATE SPIDERS.

MOTHRA ATTACKS

Caitlin and Alex torture admire a little caterpiller

Butterfly Sanctuary! Really? 100's of butterflies trapped in a TINY room where children are given poking sticks and sun ray magnification devices. And those are the PROTECTED butterflies people. Ok, so they were " feeding sticks", and magnifying glasses. But still. I counted at least 3 wounded and 5 dead.

And we still have 5 days left. I am exhausted.

But at least the dogs are having fun!

Inspired by another

I remember when my oldest son was an only child and I would hold his foot in my hand while I drove and he screamed because it was what I could reach. Now, with 3 toddler's I haven't found a way to soothe all 3 and resort to screaming, rolling down all the windows and turning the radio up. I just want to remember to take it moment by moment and hopefully the calm will take over. Reading that another mother has learned leads me to realized we all are learning as we go. I will always keep trying to be a better mother and one day I will realize that I have learned along the way.

My problem is in getting there, to the point where I have learned. I don't really have a good role model to fall back on. Children learn what they live has never been a truer statement. I did not learn patience from my mother. I did not learn to use a soft voice from my mother. I did not learn how to stop a tantrum before it starts from my mother. I did not learn how to teach by example. I learned to be afraid. I learned that yelling and hitting were what mother's do. I want to unlearn it all so I can teach my children patience, kindness, tenderness, hugs and kisses and generosity and humility. They deserve it.

Home of the brave

My father arrived at my house to pick up my kids for the afternoon, clearly there was something wrong. His eyes we red and watery. He begins to tell me, "there was a house on fire, it was my friend Hank's. " I asked a firefighter if Hank got out, he told me no. " My dad is the strong force in my life, isn't that usually the way it is? His voice quivered, his eyes watered and my kids were clamoring for Pop pop. I told them to go upstairs and find their shoes, which usually takes a half hour, but of course took less than 3 minutes today. My heart was breaking for my dad as he was telling me this. I was a firefighter in times past, I knew from details my dad had learned that the outcome was grim for his friend. I knew I could find out more details, I still have "connections" to the fire service and work as a paramedic in the same area. My Dad said he didn't need to know, he already did. He also said that he was told because the homeowner was a "hoarder" the firefighters had a difficult time getting in, and didn't want to take unnecessary risks. I understand this, very clearly. But the risks and service Hank gave his fellow men exceeded any expectation.

The thing that makes this all the more heart wrenching is how my dad and Hank became friends. They both were at a memorial day parade wearing their Vietnam veteran hats. Hank was by himself, he was disheveled and appeared homeless. My dad found out that Hank did have a home, but he was basically a recluse. Hank had the kind of scars from his service in Vietnam that can't be seen with the naked eye. He was a medic. His specific job was to be with any man waking up from a surgery/injury when a limb or limbs were lost. Hank had to tell these boys that they we missing an arm or leg, or multiple arms and legs. He stayed with them until they were "ok." He stayed with so many young men for hours trying to help them grasp that they were severely injured. He never faltered in his job.

When Hank came home from Vietnam, scarred and weary and adrift, society did not help him. He became the " freak", " weird guy". The person mothers told their children to stay away from because he was a "loner" that still lived with his mother. After all, what decent young man chooses to live with his mother? For years Hank suffered with his internal pain and no one helped. When a nurse in Hank's unit became afflicted with leukemia and was dying, Hank took care of his friend until she died. Hank died in a fire today, because the community he lives in cast him aside, wrote him off. In the United States of America, a veteran should never be left to suffer with any type of wounds. Internal or external. Where is community when one who gave so much to insure our freedom is suffering?

My dad gave Hank a ride home from the parade, he saw that the home he lived in was in bad shape. There were notices from the "authorities" about fines if things weren't cleaned up, made right. Hank could not run his lawn mower without seeing countless faces of injured boys. So, he didn't run the lawn mower and he hid in his house. My dad mowed his lawn. My dad reached out to a fellow vet and today my dad grieves in a way that I may not quite ever understand. I have not lived through what my dad and Hank lived through.

I feel so much pain and heartache for my dad though. I hope he knows that when everyone else failed Hank, he did not. Nothing he could have done would have prevented today's tragedy. Hank needed more help than one person could give. Hank needed his community to help, to respect, to appreciate, to thank a veteran. Hank is now at the right hand of God, resting in the peace he so deserves.

In this day, there are many war seasoned vets, young guys and girls, older men and women who suffer the suffering of all that they witness and laid eyes to. Thank our veterans, they provide our land of the free because they are the brave ones. Please don't let a veteran suffer alone.

*** Hank is not my dad's friend's real name.

Sand and water tame the herd!

Seven gorgeous days in the Outer Banks. 150 magic feet from the beach. My kids were in heaven. I was at ease, peaceful almost, calmer definitely. I think I should relocate to a beach front property on an always warm coastline. Pipe dream over.

We went to the beach every day. The first "day" was really night time and the high tide was so high we couldn't walk off the deck that allowed us to cross the dunes. It was awesome seeing those waves that first night. It was a preview to the next few days though. Sunday and Monday had really strong undertow and rip currents from TS Brett being out there somewhere, I swear the ocean wanted to eat my children as snacks. Very strong waves and currents. The rest of the week was calmer and the ocean took on a freezer like temperature that did not deter my budding little surfers'.

There was also kite flying, ice cream and the North Carolina Aquarium.

We shared our vacation home in the Outer Banks, " Hour Binks" if you ask Alex, with my sister in law and her husband. Actually they shared with us. I am so glad we did, and so glad they are Aunt and Uncle to my children. They have more patience and energy than I do and my kids basked in it. It is so nice to know that others, really do love the kids as much as I do.

I could add picture after picture. But I won't.