An Unwelcome Guest

What would you do should a rather irritating person keep showing up on your doorstep uninvited? This person turns up again and again on my doorstep unannounced and stays for a week at a time. (Sometimes MUCH longer without my approval.) They put me in a terrible mood, and aren't Jeff's favorite person either. I have asked them to leave and only come to visit when invited, but they just ignore my request. The person I am referring to is Aunt Flo.

The women reading this know who I am referring to. For the men... it is code for period. Menstruation. I will not go into too much detail about my run-ins with the feisty lady for fear of losing the faint of heart. I don't worry about the married men, however, since I know they have found themselves wandering and perplexed in the "feminine hygiene" aisle on an errand or two for the wife, and I extend my sincere sympathies to you. I have a hard enough time finding what I need when I need it.
Let me just say, that the uterus is certainly an interesting organ, for which I am truly grateful. Without it, I would not have my two beautiful children. And should we want more, it will definitely come in handy. At this very moment however, I would like my uterus to take Aunt Flo on a long, very far away vacation. I could use a rest. She could send postcards if she liked, and I would send her a telegram when we were ready to have her back. It could really be a nice arrangement.

During my recent month long menstruation adventure,(I had my period for over a month) I was poked, prodded, had every test possible (most of which I can't remember or even spell for that matter) and finally, much to my chagrin, the Gynecologist prescribed "the pill" to try and regulate things a bit for me. I was on the pill once before, right after Jeff and I were married. Jeff would describe that few months as "not fun". I was moody to probably say the least. So, needless to say, I was not excited about taking it again. After the first day on the Ortho Tricyclen, Aunt Flo went on her merry way. This could have been a coincidence, since her bags were already packed and sitting at the door- I think she just needed a final boot in the pants.

Day two on the pill brought on a whirlwind of dull headaches, and I never get headaches. They were much like the sensation after you stub your toe - only imagine stubbing your head. Again and again. In the same spot. On day ten, after having been seasoned with stubbings, a giant house landed on my head. Or so it seemed. Out of nowhere WHAM! Migraine. All I could do was sit on the bathroom floor, a weepy shell of myself that couldn't open her eyes. Every once in a while Oliver or Emma would wander in and see if I was still sitting there. I could only tell which one it was by the sound of their voices (Oliver speaks, Emma kind of grunts.) After a few mumbled texts to hubby, he (literally) ran home to save the day. At that moment, I swore off the pill. I have a hubby in law school, and two children at home. I don't have time for pill induced migraines! At the sight of my incapacitated state, Jeff heroically announced that there would be no more "pill". I had just barely vowed to never even look at it again, so I agreed. Two days later... there's a "knock, knock, knock" at the door. Aunt Flo showed up again. Darn it. And she brought her friends Crampy, Bloated and Backache. What a party. I suppose it had to come down to choosing the lesser of two evils. Aunt Flo won over Migraines. That doesn't say much for Aunt Flo, does it?


*Over the next several months I will be attending mediation with Aunt Flo in order to come to an agreement over visitation rights with the uterus. I will keep you posted on the outcome*

Time to Brush Up...

I think Jeff and I are going to need to brush up on our soccer skills. By the looks of it, both Oliver and Emma are going to be quite athletic. That means... by my calculations, Jeff and I have approximately 2 years to perfect our (currently hibernating) sporty selves again.

Mission to Mars

Recently, we went on an adventure to see a "real" rocket ship. I've been telling Oliver for a while now that Sam and Eliza have a rocket ship in their backyard, and finally, a couple of days ago we went to see it in person. Oliver was totally beside himself, and Emma was chattering with excitement. They weren't quite sure what to do with themselves! Oliver was pleased to inform me right away that "it's a real rocket ship Mamma." They cracked open the door and climbed on in for their very first voyage on such a vessel. Oliver checked out every nook and cranny, while Emma was just happy to be along for the ride. As Oliver looked about, he focused on the window for a moment, and proclaimed with complete certainty, "look guys! There's Mars!" My response to such an appropriate observation on his part? "Yep Buddy, there it is!"

I never cease to be amazed.

Zamboni

Oliver: "Are you a Zamboni Mamma? heehee!"

Me: "No Hun, I'm not. But do you know what a Zamboni is?"

Oliver: "Uh huh. It cleans the hockey ice"

Me: "Oh! Really? Do you know how it cleans the ice?"

Oliver: "Yep. It squirts water on the ice and makes it shiny."

Me: (dumbfounded) "That's right Bud."


*this conversation occurred about a week after Oliver watched his first hockey game, and saw the Zamboni cleaning the ice afterward. I'm guessing Auntie Jessie told him what it was, since I've never had the conversation with him.*

The Mountain

The other day, the kids and I spent a couple of hours at Raymond Park enjoying the wonderful sunshine, the playground, and the sandbox. Oliver and Emma don't have hours worth of stamina for anything but a sandbox. It's amazing how long they can be entertained with a shovel, bucket, truck and a little patch of sand.
While at the playground, Oliver made friends with a boy named Felix (a friendly 5 1/2 year old.) He was playing by himslef near them in the sand, and as Oliver went over to him, touched his back and said "Hi I'm Oliver" I truly almost cried. The tears welled up. I have been a tiny bit worried that Oliver might have a hard time making friends because he hasn't shown much interest in playing with other children in our Gymboree class. My heart leapt out of my chest and shouted hooray as I sat and watched him play with his newest acquaintance. Felix had been building a "mountain" in the sand and Oliver was intrigued. He leaned over to Felix and asked him "are you going to teach me to build a mountain?" Again, I melted completely.
No sooner did they start building, then Emma came over to join in. I noticed Emma mimicking everything that Oliver did, and was even nodding her head pretending to speak full sentences. Unfortunately, it became pretty clear that Emma was knocking down the mountain. Oliver and Felix announced that she was "ruining the mountain" and Emma was banished to the other side of the sand pit. She was quite content with a bucket and the sand, but it made me a little bit sad that she has already filled the role of the little sister who the boys don't want to play with.
As we got ready to go, Oliver thanked Felix for playing and said goodbye. I was so pround.

The Stick

The weather in Boston has been nothing short of magical the last week or so. With unseasonably warm weather, (in the low 70's) Oliver, Emma and I have found ourselves outside as much as possible. A few days ago we had an "adventure" (as Oliver likes to call our outings) to Drumlin Farm with my friend Jessica W. and her two girls Naomi and Annika. Oliver and Emma have been very interested in farm animals recently and this seemed like the most perfect place to spend a lovely spring afternoon.
As soon as we arrived inside the farm gates, Oliver found a stick and started waving it about. I asked him to be careful, and he waved it more softly, this time at people passing by accompanied by the word "abracadabra!" I watched him for a few moments before saying anything else, just to see what he was up to. He continued to wave his stick at people saying "abracadabra". I knelt down and asked him why he was using magic words and waving his stick. He quickly corrected me. His stick was a "magic wand" and he was saying "abracadabra" to "get people out of my way!"
A few minutes later, after many conversations about not chasing people with his magic wand and YELLING magic words at them, Oliver's stick quietly transformed into a "digger." There we were, surrounded by the farm animals that Oliver had been dying to see in person, and he had his head to the ground digging. "Hey Oliver!! Look at this Owl!" His response? "No Mamma. I'm digging." Later..."Hey Oliver! Come and look at the cow!" Again he replied "No Mamma. I'm digging." After missing most of the animals and not seeming to really care, I asked him why he was digging everywhere we went instead of looking at the animals. He told me that he was "a farmer" and he "needed to dig holes for the animals". How can you argue with that? When a boy needs to dig, let him dig.
As you enter the farm, there is a generous downward slope that turns into a "giant mountain" as you leave. Oliver started up the "mountain" enthusiastically, until about the halfway point where he had to abandon his stick to make it to the summit. He told me that his stick was "too heavy" and he would leave it at the farm until next time. It was not the fate I had expected the stick to face, but probably the most wise.

My little Gymbugs

Today the kids and I had "Gymboree" class. It's a teacher supervised, parent participatory play and music class and is my attempt at having the kids get their wiggles out. I am also hoping that it gives Oliver a little taste of a semi-structured class before preschool rolls around this fall. Otherwise, I fear that my little guy would be in complete and total shock that someone is telling him when he can play, when he can eat snack, when he can read books etc... With me by his side all day long, we make it all up as we go along.
It turns out so far, that Emma is the superstar in Gymboree. She runs and plays, dances, slides and jumps without a second glance at me. Oliver on the other hand, is fairly shy for the first little bit, and likes me to do most everything with him. When it's time for the big parachute to come out, an activity that I would think Ollie would LOVE, he disappears with a few other kids to try out other things. He's the master of the balancing board, and a pro at shooting hoops into the 2 foot high basket.
Well, even if this particular play class is over priced, too far away, and not quite long enough... we're having a blast!

Spring has sprung

"Be like the flower, turn your face to the sun."

— Kahlil Gibran

That is exactly what I have been doing for the last several days! The sun (and the accuweather.com 15 day forecast) would say that Spring has finally arrived! It has been a long, cold winter here in Beantown, and my soul has been starving for a little sunshine. The last few days have been glorious! I almost don't want to acknowledge the wonderful weather for fear that it will be jinxed. It seems Oliver and Emma have totally forgotten how much fun walks to Harvard Square can be, what chirping birds sound like, and how delightful the newly risen daffodils are.
Spring is definitely my favorite season in Boston (although it's a near tie for Fall.)The whole world around us awakens, and I begin to remember why I love this city so much. The cherry blossoms emerge, the children run and play, and the spirits of every neighbor softens a little. Everyone seems relieved to bid farewell to winter - for a few months anyway. I certainly wouldn't miss Winter one bit if he decided to take an extended vacation.

The Blues

I hired myself a new dishwasher, and he has offered to work for Cheetos. Oliver is totally obsessed with cleaning lately, especially washing dishes at the sink. Today he was washing dishes, and I heard a crash. Uh oh. I forgot to take one of the breakable dishes out of the sink! Sometimes I forget that he isn't a teenager, since he acts like one most of the time. I told him he had to get down since there were sharp pieces everywhere. He cried, and begged to stay. I told him no, and his reply was: "I need my guitar to go sing a song about it Mamma!" I gave him his Backyardigans play guitar, and he began to sing "ohhhh a bowl that crashed and broke...."

I think his calling in life is to sing the blues. He's been doing it a lot lately. Most of the time it sounds more like whining though :)

A little slice of Home

A few days ago, I was delivered a little slice of hometown pie. Even if I was only able to enjoy it for a few short days, it was still sweet! Of course, I'm talking about my bestest bud in the whole world, Jess, coming to visit. Well, she was actually here for Chris's hockey tournament at Harvard, but I'm telling myself that was just an excuse to reunite herself with Cambridge and Boston. (And to see me of course!) We visited our old stomping grounds in Harvard Square - Urban Outfitters, Berks, The Coop... and even had a brief moment of silence for our dearly departed Jasmine Sola. We shopped, we laughed, we were able to catch the last 20 minutes of Chris's first hockey game (although to her credit, she did watch more than one game.)We survived torrential down pour, snuck into the Harvard Law Library, braved the rude Boston Cabbies, and ventured into the mouth of the White Horse. Our prize?? Matching Harvard hoodies.

Next time I want more than just a small slice - I want the whole pie! Next time you have to stay for a week or two J.J. Or maybe three. Or... how about you just move to Cambridge?? Oliver said you could sleep in his bed. We miss you Jess!

One smart bear

Was anyone aware that Pooh Bear lives on the Harvard Law School campus? That is some seriously prime real estate! He must be one very smart bear. Or at least really lucky.

Supermodel Mommy

This may sound a tiny bit brash, but I see lots of things being done and think "I could do that!" Some things come quite easily to me. Why deny it? (Let's just note that Math is not one of those things. Math makes me cry. Literally.) Photography, sewing, and jewelry-making are things I kind of have a knack for, I guess. The one thing that I see being done again and again that I definitely know I could do is that supermodel thing. Sure, I have a couple of minor obstacles to overcome... but there were obstacles in teaching myself to sew and knit too. I know I need to be realistic though since it's a tough biz. I would have to lose a few pounds, and grow like 6 inches or so. But, I figure with the growth in height, the bit of baby pudge around my middle will just stretch out anyway.
I've been practicing "the walk" quite a bit lately. I've become pretty brilliant. The turn and pose at the end of our runway has been a bit of a challenge, but Emma likes to hold my hand at that part to help keep me steady in my 4" Jimmy Choo's. (Ok, they're actually 1" Isaac Mizrahi's from Target - but who's keeping track anyway??)
Emma has expressed some interest in being my manager when I go big-time, and Oliver has already signed up to be my make-up artist. (Sorry Beck. You snooze, you lose sis.) Since things seem to be coming together pretty quickly, I figure the most sensible route is to follow in the footsteps of the great and wise Hannah Montana. You know, Mommy by day/Supermodel by night. That will probably be the best way to start out.

"To Do"

My kids are finally sitting having a few seconds of quiet time, and so am I. I've been making a mental "to do" list of stuff I've got to get done after bedtime:

-unload/load the dishwasher for the hundredth time today. I swear it laughs at me every time I turn my back.

-make a dent in our Mt. Everest of a laundry pile. Maybe I could hire a Sherpa.

-using a spoon, pry some of the petrified play-dough from random areas of the kitchen floor. It's been so long now that I've actually convinced myself the black play-dough bits are the natural grain of the wood flooring.

-clean the tub. It is just so wrong and unfair that something which is constantly covered in soap and hot water needs to be cleaned! And our tub is especially cruel. You scrub and scrub until your hands are weeping from the bleachy acid peel and the tub still looks like coffee stained teeth!

-exercise! Let's be perfectly honest though... Jeff won't get home til some time after 9pm tonight. I'm POOPED! I feel like I have run a marathon just from moving my fingers to type this. I might have to just watch Turbo Jam, and pretend that I'm doing it. At the end of a crazy day, it really does make me tired to watch them jumping around with such insane energy. I just tell myself that one day they'll have kids too.

-shower. Nice. I have had to add basic personal hygiene to my "to do" list. And it made the bottom slot. I'm sure that is too much information for the ten people that read this blog.

Funny kid

Oliver was just playing a little rough with Emma and this was our exchange:

Me : "Please be a bit more careful with Emma. She is still a little girl and you are a big boy."

Oliver: "Well... I am a big girl Mamma."

Me: "No. You're a big BOY."

Oliver : "haha. I'm a big GIRL." (thinking this is funny now.)

Me: (pulling out the anatomy lessons)"Well, what part do you have that girls DON'T have?"

Oliver: "Girls don't have any heads Mamma."


It doesn't get better than that!

Pavlov's Dogs

There is one sure way to make my children RUN to you. You might imagine it would be by enticing them with a deliciously iced cupcake, blowing the largest bubble ever witnessed by human eyes, or perhaps by making the announcement that it is playground time. All are certainly reasons for Oliver and Emma to quicken their step a little, but not enough to make their earth quake.
If you want my kids to stop, drop everything and run to you... simply turn on the vacuum! I would swear that they think it's a toddler party bus pulling up for them. I pretty much have to go into stealth mode every time I want to clean up some crumbs or else there is a fight for who gets to push the vacuum (and then nothing gets done.) I know somewhere in the back of my mind that this obsession with cleaning will not last. I don't imagine Ollie and Em will be begging to vacuum in 5 or 10 more years. How unfair.

Baby Check

By now you have come to realize that this blog is more about my kids than our time here in Beantown. No apologies though. My offspring consume my whole life these days, and I love it. Oliver and Emma are the most charming, funny and most beautiful children that have ever existed. (Something tells me that all parents say this.) They are especially beautiful, charming and funny when they are sleeping! They get a little crazy while they're awake, and make up for it during slumber. I have more love than I ever thought was humanly possible for my babies during the moments that I peek in while they are resting.

Every night Jeff and I do "baby check" before heading to bed ourselves. We tip-toe into Ollie's room first, scooch him back into a reasonable sleeping position, cover him back up, and give him a kiss on the head followed by a final "Night-night buddy. Love you." Next we navigate our way through Emma's dark room over to her crib, lean over and look for a minute, both whispering "where is she?" When our eyes finally adjust to the light and we spot our youngest sleeping child, we both sigh "ahhh" as if patting ourselves on the back for being able to produce two children with such perfection.

I fear that we may not be able to do "baby check" forever. I'm sure there will come a time, far too soon for my liking, when Oliver and Emma no longer appreciate their Mom and Dad creeping into their rooms late at night to steal hugs and kisses.

PS: Ollie is actually snoozing behind those shades. Sneaky little guy.

The Vortex

Right now life as a mother of two small children is totally wonderful, fulfilling, and overwhelming at the same time. Oliver and Emma make me laugh, smile, they make my heart full, and sometimes they also make me want to collapse in defeat. Jeff is content with our little family just as it is, and I imagine having one more baby DOWN THE ROAD. After law school, after Oliver and Emma are a little easier (does that actually happen, or is everyone just lying to me?)and after we have a home and a tad more financial stability.

Let's just imagine for a nanosecond that we don't have any more children... what then?? What on earth happens when you pass through the vortex of diaper changing, sleepless nights, learning to walk, talk, eat, go on the potty etc...? I will be wondering what to do with myself! You have to remember that my life has been all about taking care of children. I was a Nanny for a very long time, and then had children of my own. Not having small children around me would be like not having a limb or two. I am not suggesting that I will want to keep having more and more children - 3 sounds great. I certainly don't want to transition directly from having small kids to having grandkids without a break. That would be weird. I just don't know what I am going to do with myself when Oliver no longer needs his snuggles first thing every morning, and Emma no longer thinks it's the greatest thing to give Mommy hugs and kisses.

I feel so lucky to have such a wonderful family. Jeff, Ollie and Emma totally complete me. Until #3 comes along anyway. Then we'll be for sure, one hundred percent, totally complete. Right?

My Purple Heart is silver

Last night, as Jeff was out late for a law firm shin-dig, I braved the "meltdown hour" alone. It seems that most evenings around 6 pm, both Oliver and Emma transform into their own personal Mr. Hyde and our house begins to resemble no-mans land. Food shrapnel covers the kitchen floor, a days worth of Lego lay about like dormant grenades just waiting to explode under your bare foot, and the ricochet of high-pitched whining deafens your ears and numbs all senses. Trying to clutch onto an ounce of sanity as both children scramble for the prime spot on Mamma's lap, 8pm (bedtime) seems to actually be getting farther away, not closer! Suddenly, with no warning the clouds part, and there is peace and sunshine on the battle field. It is 7pm. Oliver and Emma's cantankerous alter egos have faded back to the place from which they came. I soak-in the hour of mellow moods, hugs and kisses before helping my babies settle in for their slumber.

I could barely keep my eyes open as I cleaned off my war wounds of ketchup, boogies, spilled milk etc... I noticed from the corner of my eye something particularly alarming to me. Someone had presented me an award that I certainly did not anticipate. A whole patch of silvery gray hairs were sprouting up like a crown on my head! I was completely bummed out upon seeing them. I am only 28. Too young for gray hairs to be popping up in such large numbers! I thought for a moment, and decided that they were a hard earned reward for doing my best at raising a 1 year old and 2 year old. They are a badge of honor, and I will wear them as such.

That is... until Miss Clairol washes them away tonight.

Pre-school or Grad school?

I have found myself incredibly frustrated this last week as I have been researching, and looking for a preschool for Oliver to attend this fall. One wouldn't think it would prove to be such a challenge, but alas, we are in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I have been scouring the internet, visiting the sites of all the preschool programs in our area, only to be left with the feeling like I might barf. I think it's fair to say that about 90% of the schools that have a pre-K program have been reviewing applications since September 2007 for Fall admission 2008, and therefore, the classes are full. That's not the barfy part though. What makes me want to throw up (or maybe just laugh really hard out loud) is that they are charging more to teach 3 years olds than BYU would require for your WHOLE ENTIRE education there. (BYU graduate tuition is $4,860/year - and that's after a tuition raise this last year) For example, The Cambridge Montessori School tuition is (taken directly from their site):

"For 2008-2009
Toddler-
Half Day $17,040
Full Day $21,170
Tuition amounts include fees for field trips"

**You could go to BYU grad school for 4.35 years for the cost of ONE YEAR at a Cambridge PRESCHOOL!!! What is wrong with this picture?**

Ummm... where are they going on these "field trips". I hope it's Disneyland, and I hope they are taking me. Reality Check: it is not as if CMS has a huge lavish campus for pre-k kids. It's a pink box on the corner of Walden and Garden. I pass it 3 or 4 times every day. In all fairness, it is not only the tuition that compares to that of many grad schools. The application process does too. (not a good thing in my eyes) I have known several extremely bright 3 years olds to be rejected from various Cambridge preschools after applying and being interviewed. It is strange, and a little concerning to me that parents of a 3 year old have to hear "sorry man, your kid is just not good enough" for the not-so-posh pink box across from "Paddy's" green shamrock pub.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel! I called several pre-schools this morning, all of which told me there wasn't much chance of there being a spot for Oliver in a preschool class SIX MONTHS down the road. That was until Steve (Eliza and Sam's Dad) called to say Hi. We started chatting about preschools and he told me that I HAD to check out the preschool that Sam is currently going to. I looked it up online, saw that it more than exceeded my idea of reasonable monthly tuition in our area ($350/month compared to $1,704/month) and immediately called the director of the school. I did not imagine there would spots available for fall, especially at that price. (To me it was comparable to the most amazing clearance sale you can imagine - but by the time you hear about it, and get there... you fear everything in your size is gone.) I was left gasping for air as the director said that they actually still had space for this fall! Jeff and I have a scheduled tour of the preschool on Monday morning, after which we will be submitting an application for Oliver to attend the "Sacramento Street Preschool". Cross your fingers for us that Oliver won't be receiving a rejection letter in the mail.

This almost makes me more anxious than I was waiting to hear if Jeff got into Harvard.