Beach in Review

We are back from the beach...and dang, reality in Ohio is not half as much fun as vacation in Surfside Beach with a MaiTai in my hand.

I am inexcusably tired and considering heading to bed right now. But, as to not be scolded, here's the quick overview:

• My family is ridiculous and fun. We laughed a lot, ate a lot, sucked up a lot of sun and, perhaps, drank a bit too.
• Being on vacation with two toddlers is actually a darn good time. The caveat being that the toddlers are in different houses and have their own parents. Don't think for a minute that I brought an extra kiddo with me. Nope, we had my cousin's kiddo Jackson there to keep Addison entertained ~ and they kept all of us entertained.
• Flying with a tired toddler on your lap, and without anyone else to help, sucks. It is uncomfortable. It is hot. You get covered in peanuts. A cabin full of strangers alternate looking at you with pity and with disdain. Joke's on them though...we saved $200 by shoving her on my lap and when she is screaming I hold her by my deaf ear.
• According to a 22 month old the pool is a scary and the great, big ocean is awesome
• Sand rocks. So do seashells, watering cans, stickers, bubbles, Ian, Jeaf and Jackson
• A day and a half with Gramma isn't enough.
• My cousin Liz makes a killer mojito.
• My cousin Ian cheats at drinking games. Yes, you read that right. I am a 30-something mother, my cousins and brother are in the same age bracket, and we decided that Circle of Death and Asshole were necessary games to play. No worries, we cleaned up after our selves and my little human alarm clock didn't let me sleep it off all day.
• Vacation, as always, was too short.
  

**Why oh why can't I work captions? Anyway, in order it is: Jackson, Colin, Addie and Ian. Addie and Mommy in the pool.

The Flahertys (minuse a few). Splashing in the surf with Jeaf and Gramma.

CONGRATULATIONS AUNT NIKKI

Next Stop: BGSU

Today is Aunt Nikki's high school graduation. I know, seriously, WHAT?

I am not sure how it is possible that she is old enough to graduate. It seems like just moments ago when I came with Andy to Cincinnati for the first time.

Nikki was about 5 and was already asleep when we arrived. However, to make me feel welcome, she left an envelope taped to the banister for me with 6 pennies, a bunch of stickers and an anklet made of orange yarn and beads.

Smart girl, knew the best way to earn my affection was through gifts...still works to this day.
Nikki often stops by with SnoBug or UDF shakes, which makes me love her that much more. It also makes my spare tire inflate a bit, but I can't hold her singularly responsible for that.



That same weekend I first came to Cincinnati, we watched Nik play in one of her soccer games. I say play loosely, as she mostly picked flowers and waved to her fan section. Last Thursday, after her Senior Tea Reception, she and I drove past those same soccer fields.

I glanced over at my passenger seat and couldn't believe that the poised, beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman sitting next to me was the same silly, sweet, thoughtful muppet of a little girl who I first met.

I can't even start to imagine, nor do I want to think about, what our lives will be like, come August, when she heads off to college. Luckily she'll only be 3 hours away...but that's too far for our daily dose of sweet treats.


I think all of this, and realize how quickly my baby girl is growing up and I wonder if I can hit a pause button or put life in slo-mo. If Aunt Nikki can grow up so fast, then it's a safe bet that Addie will too.

BGSU BABY...

Hello Summer

I wait all year for summer to arrive, and I swear, two days in I say to my self: "I can't wait for Fall to arrive."

It's a pathetic cycle of chasing sunshine and warmth, and then remembering that I don't like to sweat or squint. I don't like the stickiness of sunblock, I loathe being unable to sleep in the oppressive heat, and I hate the chilly, iciness of air conditioning.

Nonetheless, it appears that summer has pretty much arrived in the land of 'Nati.

In Chicago the arrival of summer was always marked with trips to O'Donovan's beer garden - slushie lemonades, yum. Or nights at Resi's beer garden - Hoegaarden, yum. Or wandering to the beer gardens of The Long Room or Village Tap or Montrose Saloon. Or beers at Riverview, or martinis at Bowmans or reuben rolls at Brownstone - YUM YUM YUM.

We haven't found that niche here yet, but we have discovered the beauty of margaritas on the patio. I'm not talking about wussy premixed Cuervo in a bottle margaritas. I am talking fresh limes, tequila and triple sec...and to avoid a horrific headache, a splash of beer and a splash of 7-UP (like those make all the difference).

Rock glasses rimmed with salt. The sun setting. Meat on the grill. Addie giggling and playing in the yard.
Ahhh, for right now, welcome summer. Please don't make me long for fall.

Too young to learn the beauty of a well-made margarita?

I think not.

**Her face is the color of mine after a few margaritas, or a few martinis, or too many glasses of wine, or a good work out. Poor kid got the Irish skin. For the record, she didn't have any of the above beverages. She simply had a wrestling/tickling match with her Daddy.

I think she won.

Small moments

In between teaching her how to share and trying to figure out how I will ever get our landscaping mulched, I have had a few moments of perfection.

One of those was this morning, she climbed up on my lap and snuggled in to watch the news. She stayed there for an hour. She nuzzled and snuggled and giggled. My heart grew about 12 sizes.

Another moment of perfection, was in the late afternoon sunshine yesterday:

Share and share alike?

Sharing is hard.

It is a relatively well known fact that I am not an A+ sharer.

I mean I'll loan you a shirt, but you better not stain it. You can borrow my books, but don't return them with a broken spine or dog-eared pages. Of course you can use my car, but it'd be nice if you returned it with a full tank of gas.

I'll always share a glass of wine and my couch with you, but you better not sit in my spot.

You get the point.

It looks like I have, sadly, passed this trait on to my darling cherub. She understands what it means to share. She always wants me to share my juice, breakfast, treat. On Mother's Day she gave me a balloon, and quickly said "Share, Mama".

She gets the concept, she just doesn't embrace it - particularly (dudududum) with Rylan.

Rylan will be happily at home with his mommy and daddy (who, according to Addie are Mimmie and Dic) and Addison, out of the blue, will say "No, Ryry, MINE".
She and I were driving home from Lowe's today and she was holding empty makeup bag of mine (okay, maybe it's called Total Bitch Bag, and maybe I find it a little inappropriately funny when she plays with it) and repeatedly hugging the bag to her chest and saying not loudly, but emphatically, saying "Mine. Mine. No Ryry, MINE". Poor Rylan wasn't even there to defend himself.

I always remind her that it's nice to share and that Rylan is allowed to play with her toys. Yes, I even do this when Rylan is not around. But even with my endless reminding, she is quite adamant about sharing on her terms only - particularly (dudududum) with Rylan.

In the one hour that Ry was at our house this afternoon I heard "No, Ryry, MINE" at least 25 times. Sometimes it was in regard to her books, or chair, or juice cup, or the cat. Some times it was over one of her 78 cell phones, her play houses, her tunnel. Once it was over me.

I caught her not sharing, emulating one of my less than quality traits, a bunch today. And luckily for you, I even caught a moment or two with the camera.

The *GIMME THAT! THAT'S MINE* face.

Rylan touched her toy. OOPS.

No Ryry. MINE. MY ball. NO.

Downs and Ups

A recap of the last several days:

I am a little grouchy.
I am super tired.
My house is a mess - a real, awful, contract-a-disease mess.
My daughter went on an extreme sugar high and bounced off every wall in the house.

My husband doesn't feel well.

My tongue is randomly swollen and ouchy.

I still haven't figured out how to really use my fancy camera.

I have eight flowerbeds that need to be mulched.

I ran a 5K for the first time in since being 5 months pregnant.

I ran it in a relatively decent time and I felt good after it.

My husband cooked me a delicious breakfast and poured me a perfect cup of coffee.

My daughter has been showering me with kisses and snuggles.

My rose bushes are blooming and my fence is boarded by purple irises.

My bed has clean sheets on it and my laundry is put away.

I went to IKEA and only spent $23.

I will be at the beach in less than a week.

Superhero in disguise

Andy has been working an insane amount lately. To put it in perspective, he told me Thursday night that when we went to call me (at 9:30) he accidentally dialed his boss' desk line instead of our house. That is a problem.

While he slaves away for the man, I sit at home theorizing that perhaps instead of being a techie, banking, geek he actually is a superhero or the ruler of the universe.

Does he wear a cape?

Does he have a mask?

Is there a red phone that rings when the world is in peril?

He assures me that the answer to all my questions is no. He is not a superhero, he is not ruling the universe.

But I'll tell you this, when he makes it home before bedtime he is a superhero to one little person.

Rylan

Over the past several weeks Addie and I have had the good fortune to spend some quality time with Rylan. I can freely admit, at first I was a bit worried, errr terrified, about keeping two kids under the age of two alive all by myself.

So far I have been relatively successful. They are both alive. Alive, but not unscathed.

There is a lot of pushing, shoving, and shrieking. There has been a lot of *NO* and *MINE* and snatching of toys. There has been a fair amount of spilled milk and food thrown on the floor.

Addie has sustained a pretty decent bite and Rylan has survived a spill down the back patio stairs. Heads have been bumped on table corners and knees have been scraped on the sidewalk.

We have braved outings to Strollerfit, Meijer, Costco and Ikea. We have utilized the swing set fully, played with sidewalk chalk, and blown a trillion bubbles.

But all in all, but both darlings are just fine. And when they decide to share and play nice and take naps at the same time they are downright delightful.

Because we just don't have enough pictures of her

Did I tell you that I got spoiled rotten for Mother's Day?

Well I did.

Andy woke up with Addie at 6:30, she cuddled in bed with me for an hour and then they went off in search of breakfast. I must have dozed back off, as I woke up to the sounds of giggles from a bubble bath, the smell of coffee (which was sitting on my bedside table along with oj, munchkins and a toasted bagel) and the alarm clock said 9:00.

Awesome.

When I finally plodded downstairs I was given a card that had been professionally colored in, a balloon that I got to share with my daughter, and a print out of my gift.

Spoiled rotten me was given a digital SLR Canon camera. WHAT?

Awesome.

I have been wanting a fancy-pancy camera for a very long time and am so excited to figure how to use all the bells and whistles on this puppy. Addie better learn how to patiently smile for the camera.

We ordered the camera on-line Sunday and it was delivered today. I have a lot of learning to do, but here is the magic it has performed so far.

I am going to LOVE this . . .

Sometimes I wonder how I fill my days.

I don't get up and go to work. I don't sit in an office and counsel students. I don't navigate the halls of an elementary school breaking up fights. I don't meet with parents to explain why their child isn't succeeding in the third grade. I don't worry about meeting deadlines or adhering to state standards. I don't make calls to DCFS because of suspicious bruises. I don't wake up and fall asleep worrying about 400 children that aren't mine.
That is what used to fill most of my waking hours.

So what do I do all day that leaves me so exhausted by 8 p.m.?

I don't scrub floors.
I occasionally get the laundry done.
I rarely clean the bathrooms.
I do keep the kitchen the kitchen in relative order.
Once in a while I weed the garden.

But mostly this is how my days are filled:

Shouldn't I have it figured out by now?

Last week my mom was in town. It was my chance to sleep in, to avoid poopy diapers, to drink more wine than I should, since I knew my mommy would take care of me and that tiny little person I am responsible for.

But I didn't sleep in.

I still changed diapers.

I did drink wine - but not that much.



I blew the perfect opportunity to recharge.
It's not that I didn't want to sleep in. It's not that I love wiping poopy butts. It's just that I apparently do not know how to take my mom hat off. I think it may be stapled to my scalp.



Is it just my issue, or do Mom's ever really take a day off?

It's not that I can't, it's that I don't know how.

Even when I have left town with Addie being cared for by Daddy or Grandma or Papa or Gramma or GG, I still find myself checking in a bit more than frequently.
A night out while she's being baby sat? I call to make sure everything is okay.
A night in? I still take a glimpse in her room before bed to reassure myself that she is breathing.

It seems an inability to not "mother" is hardwired in me.
Even when I think that I am not thinking of her, I am.
Wondering and hoping and worrying and thinking about her is like breathing to me ~ it's part of my daily routine.
It is totally unconscious, but completely necessary.

There are days when I find myself terrified by the gravity of being someone's mother.
It is my job to teach her to be a good and kind person.
It is my job to fill her confidence and curiosity and courage.
It is my job to make sure she knows how to put on her shoes, how to use a fork, how to walk down stairs and how to play nice.
It is my job to make sure she pays attention to the world and learn the lessons it is teaching.

How in god's name will I get this all done?

How will I teach her all of that and how to do a cartwheel?
Or throw a ball?
Or ride a bike?
Will I have time to teach her how to braid hair?
Or hold her breath under water?
Or how to whistle?

In all this teaching will I remember to let her play?
And makes mistakes?
And fall down and get hurt?
Will I be patient enough to not yell at her when I trip over her blocks for the fourteenth time in one day?
Will I be able to give her the freedom to mess up and disappoint me?
Will I be able to step back and watch her make a bad decision?

Ahhh, will I? Will I? Will I? Can I? Can I? Can I?

And then it occurred to me...my Mom let me navigate the world.
She held my hand tightly when I needed it, and she she gently pushed me forward when I needed it.
Because of her I know how to make a bed, read a recipe, problem solve, act silly, be kind, muster up some patience.
She put thousands of band aids on all my scrapes.
She survived dozens of emergency room visits due to my lack of coordination.
She let me climb higher than I should have in the trees, all the while hold her breath.

I survived it all. And so did she.

Addison will survive it all. And so will I.

Maybe I should not get so mired down in the checklist of things I have to teach her.
Maybe I should marvel at the fact that she can run. And jump. And climb the ladder to her playset.
Maybe I should be amazed that she knows how to share, and self-soothe, and ask for what she wants.
Maybe I should enjoy that fact that she likes to snuggle, and that she thinks books are cool, and is convinced that all animals want to be her best friend.

Instead of letting my "hardwiring" take over, I think I'll attempt to sit back and breathe and watch the wonder of this motherhood thing unfold.
Lord knows there are thousands of lessons coming my way...and I won't always be the teacher.

On occasion it will be my purple-loving, cat-kissing, puddle-jumping, mustard-obsessed, silly, goofy, loving little girl.


So Happy Mother's Day to me...to my Mom...to all the Mom's who have and are surviving the gravity of Motherhood...particularly to those of us who have taken a breath, remembered to laugh, and know that we have the most demanding, most exhausting, most incredible, most rewarding job in the world.

The fable of why daddy shouldn't be left alone with Addie when he's tired

Last Wednesday I went to see Avenue Q with my mom, my aunt and my mother-in-law. It was a bit crude, a bit lewd, and laugh out loud, be embarrassed to be sitting next your mother-in-law, funny.

Us ladies headed out on the town, and left Andy in charge of his little lady. He had just arrived home from a business trip from Chicago, and was beat, but ready for a little daddy-daughter time.

When we arrived home from the theater, the lights were out and the house was quiet. Most of the toys were picked up and the dishes were done. I peeled off my hooker boots (Yep, I wore my hooker boots so I could feel sassy and grown up. By the end of night I just felt uncomfortable and sore. No matter how hard I try, the sweats and flip flops always win.) and prepared to pour a few glasses of wine for the ladies.

Out of the corner of my eye I caught my aunt motioning to my mom and mouthing something.

I quickly looked up.

I gasped.

I ran up the stairs to see if my sweet, loving, watchful husband was awake.

He was, barely. Our conversation went something like this:

Me: Did you have a good night?
Him: Hmmmm? Yeah. She was great.

Me: Did you see what she did to the backdoor?

Him: Uh..What?

Me: The backdoor. The one that is now multicolored and decorated?

Him: I'm getting up.

When my sweet, loving, watchful husband saw our backdoor he was a bit chagrined. He then, very unwisely said:

"She was being so good and playing so quietly. I only napped for about 15 minutes."

The next morning, after a very early wake up call and quick doze on the couch I said to Little Miss Bug:

"Addie? What happened to mommy's back door?"

Which was met with a shocked and horrified WHOA and an confused look on her face while pointing to the door.

That was promptly followed by her scrambling off my lap, crouching over the kitty, shaking her finger and saying:

"KI.TTY! No, Kitty. NO."

The rest of the morning was spent with her cleaning the door (with Gramma and Aunt Janet's help) and lecturing the kitty.

I sat on the couch, sipping coffee, not helping clean, and contemplating how a 21 month old has already learned the necessary art of blame.

As the day went on we found more crayon: on the carpet, on a baseboard, on the back of her rocking chair. In a few of her books, on the window sill, on the arm of the chair. That caused me to contemplate :

1. Was that nap really on 15 minutes long?

2. How freaky sneaky and mischievous is my angel?

3. How lucky I am that crayons are washable?

The Legend of Mommy's Boobies (it's up to you on whether you really want to read this entry)

Once upon the time, in the early 1990s, there was relatively nice, young girl who dreamed of having a chest. Nothing large or extravagant, but enough that her friends would stop referring to her anatomy as "ant hills".

Too much information already??

I'll go on anyway.

In the great words of Bill Cosby, the breast fairy had arrived as the nice young girl headed off to college.
And the girl was happy.
Her shirts looked better and she could still sleep comfortably on her stomach, the best of both worlds.

Fast forward to 2007. The nice, not-as-young-anymore, girl is pregnant. She can't sleep on her stomach and her chest is a pure nuisance. But she endures the nuisance, knowing her annoying boobs were there for a reason.

Her lovely baby was born, after three months of nursing was weaned off the ever utilitarian chest, and the haggard, sleepy, not-so-young-anymore girl could properly enjoy a few martinis with minimal guilt.
Sweet baby turned to the bottle and didn't give mommy's boobs a second glance.

Fast forward 18 months.

Sweet baby has turned to toddler. A curious toddler. A toddler who is now endlessly fascinated with mommy's boobies. She tries on mommy's bras and waltzes through the bed room. She watches wide eyed if mommy has to change her shirt or (god forbid) get undressed to get the shower.
While sitting on mommy's lap she she wants to put her hand inside mommy's shirt. During story time she fluffs them up and uses them as pillows.
It's not the using them as pillows part that concerns mommy, it's the fluffing them up.
Several times while mommy has been carrying her or holding her she has groped mommy and said emphatically "Ball".
[Starting the anatomy conversation about the difference between ball and boob is definitly not high on mommy's list, and her dad is totally unwilling to take that topic on].

Mommy and Daddy correct her when she is showing an over abundance of interest in mommy's chest. She is told those are a private part of mommy's body (particularly when she is pulling the neck of mommys shirt down while checking out at Target, having dinner at Grandma's, or chit-chatting with the neighbors).

But what should be said when she plants her faces squarely in mommy's cleavage and gives a motor boat - like she did oh-so loudly and oh-so proudly last week?

That not-so-young anymore girl doesn't know whether to feel annoyed and alarmed by her daughter's behavior or triumphant that she so obviously no longer has ant hills.

And that is the legend of mommy's boobies.

Stories of Gorillas

It's no secret that Addie and I LOVE the zoo. This year, bringing her to the zoo is even more fun that last. Now she really sees the animals in front of her and points and giggles and claps and LOVES turning each corner.

So, of course, we dragged Gramma and Aunt Janet across town to Gibbon Island and the Polar Bear Pool. We saw the tigers, the lions, the manatees, the flamingos, the bonobos, the rhinos, the giraffes, the storks, the blah blah, the blah blah, the blah blah AND the gorillas.

Gorillas are suddenly an animal that Addie is enamoured with. We read Little Gorilla over and over. In From Head to Toes, she loves the gorilla. When we read The Grouchy Ladybug, she wants to skip to the page where the ladybug challenges the gorilla.

If you ask her what a gorilla says she enthusiastically pounds her chest. (And every now and then, she pounds her chest saying BraBraBra over and over. That's her name for Uncle Brian - fitting don't you think??).

So, of course we went to go see the gorillas. She was awestruck. There were mommy gorillas, baby gorillas, daddy gorillas, small gorillas, medium gorillas and huge gorillas. The gorillas were eating lettuce, playing with vines and lounging in the sun. But most exciting to Addie was when the baby gorilla clung to the mommy gorilla and went for a ride.

She looked at me kind of quizzically, as if to say "Where's my ride?" and I quickly pointed to the stroller. I just don't think I have enough back hair for her to cling to...back fat, maybe.

We ended the zoo excursion with the obligatory (and always exciting) choo-choo train ride and a quick trip to feed the giraffes. (I thought feeding them was awesome and a bit creepy ~ Addie was really unsure and a bit nervous, but either way, it was worth the stop).

Gramma and Aunt Janet were in agreement with me and Parents magazine....the Cinci Zoo rocks.

Tales of Rain Puddles

We haven't been in hiding over the past week....we've been hanging out with Gramma and Aunt Janet.

Gramma and Janet took a road trip from the east coast to the great state of Ohio. After a stop in Akron to see Uncle Jeaf, they headed here to do all our yard work. We did get some yard work done, but the weather wasn't very cooperative.

So, instead of sipping margaritas on the patio over the next few weekends enjoying fruits of my mother's labor, Andy and I are going to have sweat a little in the sun (then we'll gulp the margaritas).

My mom isn't one to let a little rain get in the way. First she taught Addie "Rain, rain, go away..." and then she bundled her up in a slicker and her rain boots and went out to explore the neighborhood.

Gramma and Addie found every puddle they could and did some quality puddle stomping and splish-splashing. It was definitely a highlight of Addison's week. She was soaked, exhausted and happy when she came in from gallivanting.

Aunt Janet and I weren't soaked or exhausted but we were happy when mom informed us that it wasn't until she got inside from their rain soaked adventure that she realized she'd been gallivanting around the neighborhood with her pants unzipped.

For those of you wondering how I became so classy, I think you just found your answer.

Coming soon to a computer screen near you

Oh my god, where have we been??

I am too tired, a little too sunburned and slightly too brain dead to do anymore than a "What's to come" teaser.

Prepare yourselves for:

• tales of rain puddles,
• stories of gorillas,
• the legend of mommy's boobies,
• and the fable of why daddy shouldn't be left alone with Addie when he's tired.

They all will come...sooner or later. For now, I am going to pour a glass of wine, dive into the tub and engross myself in the latest Entertainment Weekly.

Happy Derby Day.