Happy Birthday To Me

Yes, today is my birthday and my husband remembered. He gave me a card from the boys, a little red notebook to help me become organized (????), and a card from him of Dorothy, the Tin Man, Scarecrow, and Lion. Not sure which character I'm supposed to be.

Oh, and the card had $50 worth of cash in it.

Isn't it romantic...

I'm the Next "Food Network" Star

Yes, I am the next "Food Network" star. It started yesterday while Little John was napping. Joseph was awake (this is a photo of him when he was 1 day old. I couldn't resist showing him this way), it was a snowy, rainy, grey afternoon. We had been inside all day, since neither boy was feeling well. I had cabin fever and was hungry and wanted to fix a tasty dinner.



I had all the ingredients for my mom's homemade potato soup recipe, so I carried Joey in his little bouncy seat into the kitchen and started cutting up the bacon. Unaware of what I was doing, I started talking to Joey, explaining everything I was doing. I described the bacon, how I was chopping it, with what kind of knife. I described and showed him how to peel and chop an onion. I let him smell the onion and the look on his face was priceless. I showed him how to peel and dice the potatoes and put a cube into his chubby little hand (for a minute, before it headed toward his smiling mouth). I told him about the broth and boiling the potatoes in it instead of in water and how tasty they would be. I talked about the benefits of using half-n-half instead of the heavy cream the recipe called for. I became Rachel Ray (without, hopefully, being obnoxious and mouthy). I was the Barefoot Contessa (hopefully a bit smaller in size). I was Giada (with a more-proportionate head-body ratio. Her head is huge). I was Sandra Lee (not as sickeningly sweet and perfect. Wanted one of her cocktails, though). I was Tyler's Ultimate (shorter & didn't slur my words). I was Jamie Oliver minus the irritating lisp & I don't substitute "f" for "th" as in "I fink it'th a bit thalty."

I strive to be Alton Brown (who doesn't??). He's smart, logical, interesting, funny, and has great recipes. Next time I enter the kitchen, I'll wear a button-down shirt, levis, Dr. Martens (I actually still have my Doc Martens I bought on Grafton St. in Dublin, back in 1989), and horn-rimmed glasses. Maybe I'll teach Joey how to make corned beef & cabbage & mashed potatoes. Or pigs feet. Something authentic and old-fashioned and interesting. Maybe even worth eating???

The Olympics and My Boys

We've been watching the Olympics all week long. As soon as John goes to sleep, I clean the kitchen, get the laundry going, bring up clothes to fold, and get all ready to watch tv for a few hours.

I get teary when people win, when they lose, when they fall, when they get hurt, when they receive a medal, when the country's song is played. The Olympics really make me weep and I love them. I don't want them to be over this weekend. I really enjoy the outdoor events the most. The speed skating and the figure skating are good, are fine, I'm just not that into them. I LOVE watching the skiing (downhill, slalom, free-style, super G, cross-country), and the snowboarding. Part of me thinks it could have been me going down (and up?) those snowy hills "back in the day." I was never very good at skiing, have never tried boarding, but I love going up to the mountain and pretending I'm good at skiing down the hills.

I wonder what the parents of all the competitors are going through. Now that I have my little munchkins, my whole perspective is different. The parents (I imagine) are worried sick that their children will be hurt or even die like the young man on the luge this past friday. They worry about their child failing, about their child's spirit breaking and feelings getting hurt beyond repair. They worry about things I cannot even guess. I also wonder now what sports John and Joseph will be involved in. Will they choose the sports Terry and I love or will they create their own passions? Will they ski or board? Will they play baseball or soccer? Will they run cross-country or play football? Will they play basketball or wrestle? How will I handle the stress? I want to be the kind of mom that my boys will be proud of. I want them to not be embarrased by me and I don't want to cry in front of their peers or their peers' parents. I want them to bring their friends to our home to hang out. Do I want my boys to be such great athletes at one sport that they become Olympic material? Do I want them to be so focused that they are not well-rounded? I want them to be healthy and fit and happy. They don't have to be the best or to be famous. They could be good at many sports or just one. And if they don't want to play sports, then I want them to be active and healthy and exercising every day. I want so much for my little boys. I want them to be good sports like Shaun White, the snowboarder. I want them to be hard-working and driven and fun-loving like Shaun White and Bode Miller. I want...I want...I want.... I need to let it be. To live and let live. To let my boys be whatever they are called to be. How do I let go of the control? Do I know better? I don't think so.

Baby Joey

My sweet Baby Joey is sick. He has a bad cold. His first, thankfully. His little button nose is stuffy and draining and he can't breathe very well. I've been doing the aspirator and saline and he must hate me. He has a loose phlegme cough, which is good, but it wakes him up and causes his little pacifier to fly. Then he cries. He must have a sore throat, but he can't tell me that. I'm assuming by the way he cries when he nurses, his breathing is loud and scratchy. Poor little lamb. I wish he could just put all of his aches & pains & discomforts right into me, so he would be free from such misery. He doesn't deserve to be so miserable. He's too cute and too smiley and too nice and too patient. He is everything good and perfect. I don't want him to be sick.

Watching Make-Believe Grow

Tonight John & Joseph and I were reading "Goodnight Moon." John knows the book by heart. We've been reading it together for over 2 years. One of his favorite toys in the room is the dollhouse. He points it out each time we read it.

Tonight was different, though. After reading the story, John opened the book to the last page of the great green room. It was dark in the room and the lights in the dollhouse were on. He said, "I want to go in there." "In the dollhouse?" I asked. "Yeah," he whispered. "Okay," I said, "Close your eyes and jump in." He looked at me quizzically. He wasn't really sure Mommy knew what she was talking about. I said, "You can go anywhere you want John. You close your eyes and pretend. Jump into the house and what do you see?" He closed his eyes for a moment then smiled. He then said, "I want to go into the big room...right there." He pointed to the big round rug in front of the fireplace. Again I told him to close his eyes and jump in. He did and I did. A moment later John opened his eyes. We both smiled.

Hundreds of Rocks

We like to take John and Joseph to the River in our town. I put Joseph in the Baby Bjorn and he falls asleep, so I can climb and hike and play with John. John LOVES going to the river because he gets to throw rocks into it. That's his favorite thing to do - throw rocks into the water. He has become quite the thrower: overhand, underhand, side-arm, even backward. He picks up rocks and throws them non-stop for hours. Literally. He is addicted. He is starting (at his ripe old age) to even hit targets. He loves the sound of the rock hitting the water. The sound differs according to all sorts of variables: size of rock, shape of rock, how it is thrown (overhand, underhand, etc.), how high or how low it is thrown, how close John stands to the water. All sorts of things to look and listen for. John is trying to keep up with his hero - his dad. Daddy can throw rocks of any size into the water and the noise is so loud. Daddy can throw lots of rocks at one time, with one hand, into the water, so it looks and sounds as if it is raining rocks. John tries and tries to do that, and is pretty close to doing it! My husband and I are betting he could throw at least a thousand rocks in one trip to the river. Next time we go for a rock throwing expedition, we will not be limited or stunted by the clock or by Joseph and the bitter cold weather. No, John will get to throw rocks to his heart's content, for as long as he wants. It'll be interesting to see exactly how obsessed he is.

A Collection of Random Thoughts

I'm sitting on our living room floor, surrounded by blocks, gears, musical instruments, puzzles, cars, balls, stuffed animals. My 3 month old Joseph (Joey, Joe, Jo-Jo) is asleep on his little bed right next to me. John (almost 3 years old) is napping in his bed. All is right with the world. I reach up to Joey every time he wimpers or cries (I just started the dishwasher and I think the noise of that 40-year-old appliance scares him) and I hold his hand. His other tiny hand holds mine and I melt. It is hard to type one-handed, but worth it.

Joseph was born at the end of October, on the 23rd to be exact, so he is on the cusp of his birth sign. And I don't know what his birth sign is. Twenty years ago I would have known it, known the symbol for it, known the characteristics of it. Now I have other interests. Other pressing issues to spend time on. Like: "Is it possible my 3 month old baby is teething?" and "How do I (legally) keep the binky in his mouth so he doesn't suck his thumb?" and "How do I handle my almost-3-year-old's temper tantrums, which happen when I least expect it?" and "How do I NOT give in to my almost-3-year-old when he wants what he wants when he wants it, and I want him to be quiet to let the baby sleep?" and "Why am I not producing more milk? I'm taking Fenugreek and Blessed Thistle faithfully..." and "Why do I not have the energy or motivation to exercise or at least take the kids on a daily walk?" and "Why do I keep eating, all day, every day? I'm not even hungry. I'm not EVER hungry. I don't wait long enough to get hungry, I just put food into the hole." and "How can I get motivated to clean the house, the bathroom, the basement, our bedrooms, the kitchen floor, the patio, the living room, the mantle, the piano, the counters, the car?" and "Is it wrong for me to want to talk to someone other than my almost-3-year-old and my 3-month-old? Is it wrong for me to feel lonely for adult interaction after spending ALL DAY with an infant and a toddler?" And the guilt sets in....

I've been looking at Pre-schools for John and decided, after visiting some and talking to other moms about it, to send him to the Montessori school that comes HIGHLY recommended by many random people in my life: my neighbor, the family I tutor (no reflection on the montessori school, just on the child and her confidence in math), their nanny who taught there, my sister's montessori teacher whose grand-daughter attends this school, my friend at co-op who attended the montessori school and will soon teach there. It is 5 days a week though, and I'm afraid to let John leave me 5 days a week. I want him with me. He will be in school full-time until he is almost 30 (he's going to be a doctor, of course). But I can"t offer all of the wonderful experiences the school can. I don't have lots of peers for him to play with and learn from and teach. I don't have lots of centers that offer educational and creative and stimulating and challenging experiences. I don't have the ability (patience) to teach a 3 year old how to read and sew and write and count and peel carrots and slice hard-boiled eggs and form words with cursive letters and play the auto-harp and paint and make things out of clay and play dress-up and put things away and do puzzles and act in plays. And that's just one day at montessori (: He will learn some of those things, of course, with me. He will learn to share and negotiate and take turns and fight and defend and protect - he has a little brother. Best friends for life (I pray).

But this whole pre-school issue has been big for me, because of the 5-day-a-week thing. He's only a toddler, he'll be three in April, he's little. Who will protect him? Who will keep people from hurting his feelings? I can't be there for 5 mornings a week. Who will encourage him? Who will watch his every move and expression and fill with love and pride? Who will melt every time he shares with someone or says "thank you" and "please" without reminding? Who will wink at him across the room, just to let him know he's noticed? Who will appreciate the cute way he runs, with a skip and a hop mixed in? Who will love his hands that still have dimples in them? Who will notice the clever things he says, the insight he has, the wisdom that pours from him? Am I being a bit TOO MUCH? No, he's my baby John. He's my first-born, my sweet angel. I want to be there for him, to be all of what I just mentioned and more. I want so much to protect him. I actually cry when I think of people hurting his feelings. He is so sensitive and loving and sweet. He would not hurt a fly (he would smash baby Joey on the head while I'm nursing, but he would not hurt a fly nor any other creature). My little John is growing up too fast and I'm sending him to a 5-day-a-week preschool? What am I thinking?