Isn't it Ironic?

I recently spent the weekend in Newport, Rhode Island with my good friend, Elena—a standing trip for the past seven years. We love our annual girl's trip because it affords us an escape from the everyday; the ability to refresh and renew our spirits as woman who work hard (me in the office and her at home); the chance to reconnect as friends; and because we value many of the same things in life.  So, isn't it ironic that our great escape included nonstop talk of those we were escaping from?

As we lay on the beach, one after another, we marveled at our children.  Elena (the mother of three) and I (the mother of two) joyfully shared stories and quips about the five amazing kids we left at home with their [equally amazing] Dads.  The whining protests, sibling rivalry and all-around chaos of family life washed out to sea with every crashing wave.  The little rascals of yesterday were suddenly the angels of today—for the life of me, I couldn't remember a single unhappy moment.

I guess that's why we all need breaks; it gives us the opportunity to count our blessings and recharge our souls. I always return to my life a better person after being in Newport with Elena (for whom I also consider a blessing), even if 10-minutes in I'm dreaming of next year's getaway.  Ironic isn't it?

[This is a photo of Ty and Wil showing off their souvenirs from Mommy's trip.]

I Remember That Day Like It Was Yesterday

Maybe it's my artistic eye or that I'm just a sentimental sap, but every time I see a photo like this one, I feel instantly nostalgic.  Although it was only taken a few weeks ago, I can't help but imagine Ty and his buddy, Brendan coming across this photo as adults and having it reignite the flame of a happy childhood.

They probably won't remember that little brother, Wil kept spilling the lemonade (purposely) or that they only had two customers or that the humidity was raging that day, but hopefully they'll remember how the day made them feel.  Two boys against the world...adventurous entrepreneurs!

As parents, we can only hope that when life gets complicated (which it inevitably will), the pictures of their childhood will offer our children the sweet reminder of simpler days.

What Does It Mean To Be Free?

I recently discovered that having kids makes you smarter! They make you think (and often times: rethink) everything! My boys' endless litany of who, what, why, when, where and how inquiries leave me stumped on a daily basis. Not necessarily because I don't know the answer (although that's happened a time or two!), but mainly because the answer I give is molding their first impressions of life. So, with such an important building block at stake, I take seriously every little question. 

This weekend's questions were of course about the Fourth of July celebrations going on all around us. The barrage of inquiries started with "Why are people making fireworks?" and became increasingly more difficult. Finally, Wil asked, "What does it mean to be a free?"

Oh, boy! A concept question—a level 10 on the parent difficulty scale. I needed help, so after checking in with my pal Google, I did my best to explain freedom and why we were celebrating the birthday of our incredible nation. Wil seemed satisfied enough for the time being, so we moved on to ice cream.  After one bite, he asked, "Why is ice cream cold?" 

Hmm...a science question—let's go find Daddy!

Object of His Affection

If you know and love Ty, you know Bobby—his object of affection for the past 4-years. Like most "blankies," Bobby has been put through a lot during Ty's infant and toddler years. Aside from traveling extensively around the tri-state area, he has made every one of our trips to the Outer Banks of North Carolina and he even joined us on our maiden voyage to Disney World this past spring.  He's been peed on, puked on, run over by a car, slobbered on by our dogs, bathed against his will and left outside in the rain overnight. He was even lost a time or two, but I assure you—this really is the original Bobby. No one-two-switcheroo here!

When I think back, it makes me laugh that this odd little blanket won the bid for Ty's unending love. I was given several of these small animal-headed, silk blankets for my baby shower and I thought to myself, what child in their right mind would want this half-doll, half blanket hybrid creature?  So, with little regard I exchanged the five or so I had received to Babies R Us for more practical items (...like a wipes warmer and baby work boots—LOL!).

When Ty was around 3-months, we noticed that he loved the feel of silk. Responding to his every whim, Mema showed up shortly thereafter with this dog blanket. Although I appreciated the sentiment, I was secretly hoping Ty would hate it as much as I did. Much to my chagrin, it was love at first sight!

Now, over 4-years later, when I look at Bobby, I smile. He symbolizes the innocence of childhood. Someday I hope to make a quilt of Ty's most beloved boyhood memories. After all he's been through, Bobby has most certainly earned his place as the center square.  After all, it wouldn't be near as meaningful without his odd little dog head poking through the middle of Ty's childhood quilt.

P.S. The football that Bobby is holding is Bobby Junior, Bobby's Bobby, if you will.  A story for another time...

School Day, Home Day or Gym Day?

Before Ty's eyes are even open each morning he mutters from a sleepy fog, "School day, home day or gym day?.  Although he's not sure which days of the week each activity falls on he knows exactly what that day will bring and more importantly how he feels about it! 

A "home day" is his favorite kind of day.  It means that the weekend is here and that we'll be together as a family.  Home days vary, but generally they are less scheduled and more fun.

A "gym day" falls on Tuesdays and Thursdays—the two days that Daddy is home all day with him and Wil.  The reason Ty calls it a "gym day" is because they start those two days with a quick trip to the gym,  so Daddy can workout.  The remainder of the day is anyone's guess, but usually includes some combination of the park, Dunkin Donuts or McDonalds, yard work, Home Depot, sports, hide n' seek, laundry, visiting and the most important activity of the day: pulling the house back together before Mommy walks in the door from work! 

The third kind of day is a "school day."  And, much to Ty's chagrin, that's exactly what it means; he's off to school.  Although he loves school (especially his teachers), he's already learned that school (even preschool) is something he's supposed to complain about.  So, we let him moan about it as he slips out of bed and drags himself down the hallway.  We know that by the time he hits the couch in the living room for some "wake-up" cartoons, he's over it.  And, reminding him that Mema or Grandma will be picking him up afterwards is our ace in the hole if all else fails!

These photos are from a recent "home day" where the four of us headed off to the Hopewell Rec Park for a picnic (A.K.A. McDonalds Happy Meals) and some jungle gym climbing.  Like Ty, "home days" are my favorite too, but I have to admit: I love that each day during our week brings something different.  It makes our children well-rounded spending their days with different people; doing different things; in different places.  Our schedule allows for the boys to have time away from us, one-on-one time with both John and I, as well as their grandparents, and then of course, time for us to come together as a family, and lots of times, as an extended family.  Our schedule is a well-oiled machine that seems to be working, so full-steam ahead!

The Compassionists

Naturally, everywhere you turn this summer the upcoming presidential election is being discussed.  You read a candidate's name and immediately following you see a list of their “key issues” — a social, economical or environmental passion that they wish to affect. I recently noticed that John and I too (without much campaigning), have each chosen a “key issue” of our own on which to build our parenting platform.  

For John it's all about manners.  He is mostly responsible for our sons being such courteous young men (…at least in public; notice this entry follows “potty talk”!).  And for me, it starts and ends with compassion—compassion for each other; for us; for their family and friends; for people they don't know; and of course for animals—especially our own. Which is why when I caught the boys caring for Jake after his recent hospital stay, it warmed my heart.

Every day, their overflowing love for the world around them grows.  And, although shortly after this photo was taken they had a wrestling match worthy of the WWF, I know they are beginning to understand why compassion is important.  So, if I carry through on my platform promises, I imagine that compassion will become as natural as breathing for my two little constituents.  For now we are blessed that Ty an Wil truly do love each other, and learn by example from the compassion they are shown by those who love them back.  

"Compassion is the ultimate and most meaningful embodiment of emotional maturity.
It is through compassion that a person achieves the highest peak and deepest reach in
his or her search for self-fulfillment."
—Arthur Jersild

Potty Talk

Nothing illicits laughter from my sons like good ol' potty talk.  Which is exactly why it is so hard for me to get mad at them when they get going.  I try to do as Miss Ann Marie and Miss Christa (Ty's preschool teachers) have taught me and ask them to go to the bathroom if they want to talk about potty things, but as you can see from this photo they don't take me all that seriously.  Right now "poopy" is their main expletive, but I'm sure as the begin to network at school they'll find new and more creative ways to express themselves.  I suppose at that point I'll need to get serious about how I react  to their choice of expression, but for now I can't imagine not hearing Wil sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star with every other word replaced by poopy.  Go ahead, try it—betcha laugh!

I should write that down!

For four years now, I've said to myself almost daily "I should write that down!". This is usually after one of my boys says something that melts my heart or makes me laugh or just plain amazes me. But, I rarely do. I did try scrap booking for a while, in fact I created six pages highlighting most of Ty's first year, but my scrapping career ended abruptly the day Wil was born. I tried to prove-wrong all of the more experienced moms by continuing to archive my children's lives, but eventually like the women-warriors that came before me, I had to lay down my sword and admit defeat.

But as promised (by those more experienced moms), I've noticed that in recent months I occasionally find a few minutes here and there to do something I enjoy. And, since nothing give me greater joy than talking (i.e. bragging, boasting, screaming from the roof tops, etc.) about how wild I am about these boys of mine, I am going to spend that time journaling those heart-melting, crack-me-up, sometimes ordinary, but usually extraordinary moments that stop me in my tracks.

It's not until you have children that you realize that time really does fly!  In an instant, the milestones of their lives come and go like sand slipping through our fingers. Try as we might, it is simply impossible to hold on to the million little moments that bring us joy every day. For me, this truth is heartbreaking. For I know, that in the end, all I'll have is what my mind keeps.  So, today, I will begin to tell myself the story of my children’s lives; the way they make me feel, the things they say, the way they look and the lives they change along the way.

Be warned: I plan on writing in excruciating detail about the most ordinary of happenings!  It is my intent to capture the little things, the nuances that make my boys who they are.  Only folks who adore my children will be interested in these pages.  If that's you,  I invite you to read, remember and remark till your heart's content! 

My hope is that in some small way, journaling will allow me to truly breathe in each amazing moment, rather than focus on the fear that I might someday forget. And, when Ty and Wil are older, perhaps they will read these words and know without a doubt how deeply they were loved and desired.