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!