We've Added To the Family!

No, not another kid.  We've adopted a cat.  We had been fostering her, but Maria the WonderCat is now officially a full time member of the family. 
I have to say she is a pretty damn cool cat.  She harrasses poor Nibbles the Amazing Guinea Pig (we have very special pets in this house) by sleeping on his cage.  She talks back to us constantly, earning the nick name Senorita Sassy Pants and has recently discovered the kitchen counters.
And she was born without eyes.  Yup. She is totally and completely 100% blind.  Which means she occasionally bumps into walls, and while she has discovered the counters, she doesn't quite understand what happens once she gets up there and can't figure out how to get down. 
Eyes or no eyes, she is the cutest thing on earth and about the most social, friendly cat I have ever known.  You can follow her adventures with our nutty family on Twitter at Mariatwondercat.  She tells me she would like to usurp that damn Bronx Zoo Cobra as the coolest non-human on Twitter.  You gotta like a girl with goals...

There's 104 Days of Summer Vacation...

Sorry Phineas & Ferb for borrowing your theme song, but tomorrow is our last day of school.  Jake finished his freshman year of high school, relatively unscathed.  Abby will be entering her last year of Junior High.  Aidan is headed into the fourth grade.  And our Harry, the baby, will be off to kindergarten.  Finally, as he says.
The kids plans are varied.  Jake plans to skateboard all summer and along with a pal, declared this "the Summer of Hawaiian Shirts".  Luckily, we found a bunch at our local thrift store on half price day.  Where they came up with this idea, I don't know, but at least it isn't the Summer of Sticking Safety Pins In Our Faces.
Abby, in the grand tradition of teen girls, thinks she is spending a lot of time at the mall.  Unfortunately for her, our budget has other plans. 
Aidan is attending summer camp, compliments of a scholarship offered from his school.  He thinks it sounds pretty awesome.
And Harry is having his last summer of babyhood.  Our Movie theater has special kids movies on Wednesday mornings that he and daddy are going to.  I am sure my husband has many other adventures planned as well.  Come September, there will be all big kids in this house....

The joy of doing nothing

It's Memorial Day, and many of you are having barbeques, or parties with friends.  We are enjoying a rare unscheduled day.  No one in our house had an appointments at all today.  Well, Jake had a call back, but he's 15 and could get there on his own and didn't need me to get him there.
There weren't any baseball games, or birthday parties, or classes or work commitments.  I slept in, all the way till 7 (seeing as I am usually already at work at 7, this is what constitutes sleeping late for me).  Aidan, Harry and I walked to Starbucks for an iced latte and some carbonated juice drink things.  Mike got the house to himself for about 12 seconds before Abby came home from her friends house. 
We lounged, played Wii, read and ate.  Abby took Harry to the beach for a little while and Aidan got to be an only child for a little while.  All in all, we were a family of slugs. 
I realize this to some seems like a waste of a day, since it's been raining so much here the past few weeks we practically need an ark, but we almost never do this.  We run like maniacs 8 days a week around here. 
The day is coming to a close, and for once, we are all fairly well rested.  It's a nice change of pace...

Baby boom

I am surrounded by babies!  And it is a wonderful joyful thing.  A dear friend gave birth to twins, my brother and sister in law welcomed a baby girl through adoption, a cousin is expecting twins.  All these babies are leaving me a bit misty eyed. 
For all I complain about my four kids, given my druthers, I would have four more.  In a heartbeat.  And five or ten years ago, that was (almost) an option.  But I'm not 25 anymore.  Never mind how old I actually am, just older than 25, OK?  My youngest is about to start kindergarten this fall, and for the first time in 15 years, we will not be on the hunt for a babysitter.  My husband has one last year of school until he gets his degree.  Our finances, while slightly improving, are not where I would be able to stay home with a baby.
But two weeks ago, I got to hold my niece for the first time.  She was 4 weeks old and perfect.  As my Poppy would declare, a perfect little pot roast.  When her Gramma handed her to me, I immediately fell into the baby sway.  You know, how moms immediately start to rock back and forth when handed a baby.  I kissed her perfect, little, sweet smelling head more times than I can count.  I cooed at her, and promised we would go to the American Girl store when she is big enough.  I stood and rocked until she fell asleep, and then sat and rocked until I was finally persuaded to put her perfect little self into her bassinet.
See, I made the mistake of hurrying my first two babies along.  I couldn't wait for Jake and Abby to meet those milestones.  While Aidan was content to be a baby for a very long time, Harry had no interest in being little.  Harry is a 5 year old with a 15 teen year old attitude.  But I miss the babyhood. 
I miss diaper changes, and being up during the night with a newborn.  I know, some of you who are in the weeds there must think I am nuts, but I do.  I miss their warm little bodies, melting into my chest when I picked them up.  I miss being able to make their world perfect with just a clean diaper, warm bottle and cozy jammies.  No one has needed me to sway them to sleep for almost 5 years now. 
In all likelihood, the baby chapter of my life is coming to a close, whether I like it or not.  And just when I really feel like I have finally hit my stride as a mom.  For now, no decisions are being made.  The de facto decision is there are no babes other than the borrowed ones for the foreseeable future.  My husband isn't crazy about the notion of starting over, and the finances just aren't there.  But if you happen to need a professional baby rocker, give me a call.  Ok?

Well...

It's no secret that despite the fact that only 4 children live in this house, there is almost always an extra one or three around this joint.  It's not a secret, because I complain about it regularly.  On one hand, I am glad that my kids are excited to have their pals over and that we are able to do it.  On the other hand, feeding extra teenagers is not cheap.
Apparently, feeding the children is unusual around here.  At our house, if it's time to eat, and your kids are here, they are going to eat.  I even keep a couple of "safe" options on hand for my daughter's friend who keeps kosher, in case she is over and we are having ham and bacon sandwiches (OK we've never had that, but it does sound good, doesn't it?).
Why then do MY kids come home from their friends houses famished?  (for the record, Abby has never come home hungry from her kosher friend's house.)  Every time I have to pull something together because my kid was at someone's house at dinner, but didn't eat, I SWEAR I am going to stop feeding the neighborhood.  But I don't.  Cause I am a weenie. 

Slave driver

Can someone please explain how I managed to raise 4 children who think they are exempt from doing chores?  Mind you, these are not unreasonable chores.  No one has been asked to scrub grout with their toothbrush, or build me a rec room.  I am talking loading the dishwasher, cleaning their own rooms, feeding their guinea pig and taking out the trash.  Without me screaming at them to do it.
Oh, my kids have the allowance thing DOWN.  And I know the "experts" say not to tie chores to allowance.  But at 15 and 13, finance is about the last thing I have over my kids.  If they expect to get money without having to ask for it, I expect to be able to put the trash in the can without it spilling over all over the place.
Apparently, that is a lot to ask for in this house...

It's not me, it's you

Dear Refined Sugar,
It really hurts me to do this, but I think we need to spend some time apart.  It's just that I have grown in ways I haven't expected...  Sideways.
When I really think about it, you are pretty awful.  You seem all sweet and nice, but you just want to hang around in places I would rather you stay away from. 
I know, we've had some good times over the years, but really, it's time.  Perhaps you and your pal High Fructose Corn Syrup can go and hang out with some teenagers with better metabolism.  You're right, I will probably be back.  Several times over.  But it's going to be just a short term thing, until I get my head back on straight.
Love,
Me

Love Note To My Family

When people ask me how many kids are in my family, I tell them I have two brothers, but am really the oldest of eight.  You see, my grandparents raised their daughters to be very close, and in turn, their children were also raised to be close.  There are a total of eight grandchildren, and in many ways we are more like siblings raised in different houses than cousins.  We are five girls and three boys, and each of us was the baby at some point.  We range in age from 36 to 18, and speak to each other, either in person, on the phone or via facebook often.  They are some of my favorite people in the world.
When we were younger, our moms took us to whatever photo studio a) they had a coupon for and b) would be willing to take on a group photo of this crazy bunch and gave it to our grandparents as a Christmas gift.  We stopped when I was around 20, and Bridget (the baby) was around 2.  The next year, I was about to be a mom myself, and our mothers were probably tired of hearing me whine about having to find something green to wear to match whichever of the little girls fit into the green velvet dress that had been worn by all of us.  I had this thought that since I was the oldest, maybe the littler ones should dress to match me...
This Thanksgiving, we crowded into my brother's garage and re-created that picture, including making Bridget sit on my lap.  My brother and his wife printed the picture and framed and wrapped it for our moms for Christmas.  Needless to say, it was a huge hit.  The day after Christmas, my Aunt Nancy called to let me know how special it was to her and how she loves that we all really DO both love and like each other.
The thing is, I don't think any of us realize how incredibly special the bond we have is.  Because to us, that is just normal.  We forget that some people barely know their cousins, much less have actual relationships with them.  Taking that silly picture in the garage was actually FUN.  We told the younger kids what brats we were, and how difficult we would be.  We remembered the year my aunt assumed the picture would be from the waist up and dressed Colleen and Megan in beautiful sweaters and mismatched stretch pants, only for all the pictures to be full length.  Or the time Erin had a tantrum and was crying so hard we really thought she puked down my back.  And the year Aunt Nancy fought the face off the studio to make them accept her coupon (she was right, by the way).  To make it worse, that year, they cut the very tops of both of my brother's heads off in the pictures.
So thank you to my crazy family for giving us the kind of bond you can totally take for granted.  Thank you for raising us to just know that we are both loved and liked.  Thank you for our shared humor, our love of matching Irish sweaters and our shared history.  Because really, we don't take it for granted at all.

That Which Does Not Get Done

Over the years I have come to accept that my plans exceed my capabilities.  Every year, there is some wonderful holiday thing I want to do, but it just doesn't get done.  Until this year.  This year I refuse to beat myself up about what I just don't manage to find time for. And I refuse to even teasingly call myself lazy.  I have 4 kids and a full time job for Chrissakes.  I don't have time to be lazy.
This year, Christmas cards did not get done.  I know, many of you were pining for my traditional, non-red eye corrected photo card of all of my kids looking almost at the same place at the same time.  Who knows?  Maybe I will take a page from Julia Child and send the card I created but never had printed as a Valentine.  Or Arbor Day greeting. 
I didn't really bake any cookies either.  Sorry.  I was tired.  Did I mention that I have 4 kids and a full time job?
We DID get almost all of shopping done prior to Christmas Eve.  (So it was the 23rd, but it was still BEFORE Christmas eve).  We went to the beautiful Kris Kringle market, ate chocolate covered marshmallows, had a picture with Santa and saw the windows at Marshall Fields (take that Macy's.  Always Fields in my heart!).  We watched Christmas movies together.  We had friends over, and went to friend's homes.  I re-read The Bird's Christmas Carol, like my grandmother did every year.  We admired our lovely tree and wrapped gifts. 
It may not be a Martha Stewart Christmas, but it's mine and it is plenty.  May you all have a holiday season of plenty.

Hug a soldier

This time of year, I always notice the number of service men and women around town, either those lucky enough to be home for the holidays, or those, while not home, at least safe and stateside.  This year, though, I am noticing something a little unsettling.
Most of the young men I see in uniform are starting to look like boys to me.  It dawned on me that, really they are just boys.  Many of them are just three tiny years older than my own sweet baby boy. 
So, now when I see these young people, in addition to thanking them and sending my silent prayers into the universe for them, I send an extra thank you and prayer to their mothers.  I cannot imagine what it must be like to see your sweet baby, who you have protected so well, walk headlong into a danger that you can do nothing about. 
This holiday season, consider sending a Christmas card, or a USO care package to one of our service people.  Whether you agree with our presence in Iraq and Afghanistan or not doesn't matter.  What matters is that our boys and girls know that we are thinking of them.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

HOLY CRAP!  It's COLD out. 
This should not be a surprise, as I am a native Chicagoan and cold is what we do here.  I hate the news reports where they stop and ask motorists if they are surprised by snow.  In February.  Now, snow in June?  THAT would be a surprise.  But that it is roughly freezing out on December first should not be a surprise.
But there I stood, on the train platform.  Shocked that the wind was blowing right through my coat.  Stunned that my gloveless hands were cold.  Why wasn't I wearing gloves?  Because it's just December first.  It's not "cold" until at least Christmas, right? 
So, now I do what I do every winter.  Perch on our radiators, in an attempt to thaw my bum out and complain that I am freezing.

Klingon

I have a stalker.  My 5 year old, Harry.  Apparently, this change in our family dynamic has cause the little man to be more than a bit clingy to me.  At this precise moment, I am typing this has Harry screams "Moooommmmmmyyyyyy" over and over again.  It sounds remarkably like someone is killing him. 
Except he is completely safe.  And I have done multiple hugs and kisses and glasses of water and one more hug and a kiss and answered just one question (which is often actually a declarative sentence about how much he hates going to bed).
I know change is rough on a little guy. I get it.  I do.  But I may need a preschooler restraining order if the kid doesn't stop following me into the bathroom.

Giving Thanks

Yeah, I know I am a couple days late, but I spent the bulk of my weekend puking and sleeping, so give a girl a break.
I am thankful for so very much this year.  I am grateful for a return to good health after my adventure in the ICU in March.  I am beyond thankful to be off the blood thinners that did an excellent job of dissolving the blood clots in my lungs, but made things like brushing my teeth and shaving my legs look like a horror film. 
I'm thankful for healthy happy kids.  I am thankful for my Jake, who is turning into such a young man but still was over the moon excited to go see Toy Story 3 with us.  I am thankful for my Abby, who makes me laugh every day, even though she is personally responsible for most of the gray hairs I am covering up.  I am thankful for my Aidan who still cuddles with me.  I am thankful for my Harry, who greets me every afternoon by telling me how much he "misseded" me.
I am thankful for my husband, who braved Black Friday crowds to get me popsicles and ginger ale to cure my upset stomach.
I am thankful for my big, nosy, Sout-side extended family for raising me in more than a little chaos and doing the same for my kids.
I am thankful for dear friends, both near and far, whether we met in High School, work or on the internet. 
I hope you are as blessed this holiday season.

Who ACTS like that????

So last night, we went to the annual Disney Magic Lights Parade downtown.  Mickey and friends parade down a rather magnificent stretch of a mile and turn on the holiday lights as they move along.  It's a big deal and we've been taking our kids to this since Abby was 2 months old in a Snugli.  She's 13 now.
Well, unfortunately, the weather was nice yesterday.  So the crowd was huge.  And this truly HORRIBLE woman in a gray beret with a black bow on the front just won the award for bitchiest woman on the planet.  The police had left their road closed signs laying flat on the ground, taking up a ton of space and Abby had a bit of a hissy about having to stand near a trash can instead of right by us.  Eventually the police came and took all but one of the signs, so my husband lifted the sign and propped it up against the bus shelter, making a lot more room.  Abby was trying to get into a better spot, while making sure her two younger brothers were in front so they could see the action.  Obnoxious hat lady had the absolute NERVE to tell my child that she was behaving poorly and was "making me uncomfortable".  I think more than that was said, because Abby was off to the side, by the trash can she so objected to and away from her friend.  I went to talk to her and my baby burst into tears.  Full on tears.
And the issue the woman was soooo uncomfortable about?  Her uncollapsed, $700 EMPTY stroller.  So, wretched woman, I hope you and your overpriced stroller have a very merry Christmas together.  Though I don't think Santa stops for adults who make kids cry at a Mickey Mouse Christmas parade...

November 18

Today is my dad's birthday.  He'd be 62 this year.  For those of you who never met my dad, all I can say is boy did you miss out.
My dad was a goof.  The king of the goofs.  The emperor of the goofs, really.  He was the kind of dad who rode my pink Huffy Sweet Thunder bike through our neighborhood because we couldn't fit kids AND the bike in the station wagon to get it to my grandparent's house and I wasn't allowed to cross the busy streets yet.  He was the kind of dad who played hide and seek in the house, but always hid in the furnace closet.  He told spooky stories starring a Big Black Toe that still give me the heebie jeebies.
But better still, he was the kind of grandpa who thought the sun rises and sets in his grandchildren.  As far as Poppa was concerned, my kids could do no wrong.  None.  And vice versa.  Oh the adventures they had, roaming our neighborhood, with the kids riding in my blue grocery cart because he couldn't figure out how to collapse my stroller.
Mind you, my dad was not without faults.  He was a Viet Nam vet, with PTSD and in otherwise poor health.  He had a short temper, and many times growing up, you weren't sure just which Dad you were getting.  But today is his birthday, and the awesome always outweighs the difficult. 
So, if you have a moment, raise a boneless rib sandwich in a toast to my dad...

Someone's got the gimmes!

And it's not the kids in this house.  It's me. 
Given the new work situation in the house, we are, once again, looking at another Christmas where the adults don't exchange gifts.  Which, rationally, is OK.  It really is more for the kids than us.  But it still sucks.
We made the decision that I am keeping a hair appointment I considered canceling.  A new salon in my town is offering 50% of their services if you book by the 26th, and then you lock in your rate for the next 6 months.  Making the fancy place about the same price as our local Hair Cuttery. 
I am hoping this haircut puts me in a better frame of mind.  Mike already had someone call about his resume, so hopefully a new job is on the immediate horizon.  And if all else fails, I will have great hair...

Yay! More Crisis!

So, my husband lost his job today.  Apparently, in some companies, it's OK to pick a fight and the one who GETS bullied gets fired because he asked for an explanation rather than walking away.  Especially when the bully is the boss's brother.  And the boss herself is a bully.
See, my husband had the absolute nerve to ask for a raise a couple of weeks ago.  A raise he deserved.  A raise his bosses knew he deserved.  A raise that was two years late.  He was turned down.  Again.  For absolutely no reason what so ever.  Instead, they fired him.  And gave a completely false reason for his termination.
Of course we are upset.  We thought we were going to have some breathing room for Christmas this year.  But mostly I am so incredibly disappointed.
See, his boss is my old boss.  The one who fired me.  I used to really like, respect and admire her.  Instead, I learned the hard way that she is just an unethical, unreasonable bully.  I hope she reads this, and I hope it hurts.  Bad.

Growing Pains

My third child, Aidan, has always been my baby.  He's always been very content to be little.  Getting big has never been much of an enticement for him.  Aidan is the kind of kid who loves to cuddle up; he just kind of melts into you.
Until now.  Aidan is starting to feel his oats apparently.  He is suddenly balking at us treating him "like a child".  Which is especially funny because sometimes he has a bit of a speech impediment that makes "l" sound like "w".  He wants to roam the neighborhood like our two teenagers.  He wants sleepovers with his friends.
Which is another problem.  Aidan asked if he can have a sleep over.  I said sure and who did he want to invite.  Jordan.  I nearly said OK, until my daughter told me Jordan was a girl.  Yeah, no.  Go Fish.  So he said Aaron.  Except it's an Erin.  Another girl.  Sorry, dude, this mom is not cool with the co-ed sleepover.  Even at 8.

I'm back-- Again.

So this time, we had a reliable computer, but less reliable monitor.  Hopefully we are set for awhile.  In my absence, we moved, to a more comfortable neighborhood.  Our old neighborhood was lovely, but not quite a good fit for my boisterous family of six.  We are now in an equally lovely neighborhood, but more family centered.  And I am right across the street from a hospital.  Which to me means, not easy access to an emergency room when needed.  That would be logical and make sense.  I'm excited by being across the street from a hospital cafeteria.  Hospital cafeterias always have kick ass grilled cheese sandwiches.  And I LOVE grilled cheese sandwiches.
We also decided to medicate Aidan for his ADHD.  We fought the good fight against added chemicals to our healthy boy's body.  We resisted medicating  him to make other adults happy for three long years.  Ultimately, we decided that Aidan wasn't happy.  Aidan knew he is smart, but couldn't figure out why school was so hard for him.  We found a terrific doctor who respects our reluctance to medicate a healthy child and meets us half way.  He takes the smallest dose of Concerta and only on school days.  He is having the best school year of his entire school career. 
Nothing else terrifically noteworthy for now... 

Tradition!

The cooler the air gets, the more our family traditions come to mind.  Summer is too relaxed for our already loosey goosey family for a lot of traditions, though I suppose that could be a tradition in and of itself. 
Most "normal" families tend to think of traditions being related to the "big deal" holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  And we have a lot of those, from using my good china for Thanksgiving dinner to our annual trip to the Kristkindle Market for chocolate dipped marshmallows and a visit with Santa near Christmas.
To me though, it's the little traditions that matter.  Every Friday our family has cheap, grocery store pizza and pop in the living room while we watch Wizards of Waverly Place together.  Sundays, we go to Mass as a family, then the grammar school age kids attend religious ed and Mike and I hit McDonalds and a local discount store along with whichever kid doesn't have class.  Those surprisingly beautiful days, when it hits 70 in March for no good reason, we hit the zoo.  On birthdays, we have the favorite meal of the guest of honor.  Even if it's peanut butter and jelly on Eggo waffles (which is actually remarkably tasty, for the record).
We ut so much emphasis on tradition sometimes, that I think we miss out on the best ones.