I Used to LOVE Disney Movies

Why is it that every time I watch a Disney movie, I end up in tears.  I mean full out, snot dripping down my face, dry heaves, ugly cry, whimpering tears?  I cannot make it through one of those without a visceral, emotional reaction.  Maybe it is worse now that I am a parent since every story line centers around the parent / child relationship.  Sure the scene that makes me cry may not be focused on this relationship but the back-story always includes that deep bond of love. 

So Friday was family movie night & I queued up Monsters, Inc.  All three of the boys and I have had a tradition for the last month to have Friday nights blocked off for Family Movie Night.  Bryan makes his famous Whirly-Bird popcorn and we (gasp!) let the kids eat in the Family Room.  All four of us wedge onto the couch and we watch a Disney cartoon.  We have had a good streak with Toy Story, Toy Story 2, Cars and Tangled.  Each one of them I end up as a sobbing mess while my 4 year old looks at me like I am somehow embarrassing him here in the seclusion of our house.  When he can’t take it anymore, he asks “Mommy, are you crying?”.  I of course am so emotional that I cannot even answer the question.

Tonight is the night that I think I am safe…no montages of toys that were once the center of the universe who are now tossed aside for newer and better.  No final race scenes where the car who has a chance to win gives it all up to help his hero because he has learned a greater lesson from a mentor (read father-figure) that he respects.  No coming of age for a girl stolen from the arms of her parents who loved and adored her so much that they never let a birthday pass without an entire country celebrating her existence.  No, not this time!  This is Billy Crystal & John Goodman making me laugh with one-liners and Pixar’s version of slap-stick comedy. 

So why is it when 10 minutes before the end credits I am a puddle on my couch?  I start to believe that this movie was made for only me; forget that it was released before I ever had children.  Because no one else could possibly love their kids as much & understand the bond that is ever existent between a parent & a child.  That witnessing the idea of saying good-bye to a child who you love so much  (whose cartoon persona in the last hour and a half you swear has come to life on your TV) breaks your heart in two because you know that you could not do it.

Thanks a lot, Pixar!  Thanks a lot, Billy Crystal!  I am yet again the embarrassing Mom whose flame will only increase & expand as the years progress.  It will not end here I am sure.  My children will have many references to point at when reminiscing around family dinners of how I mortified them with my behavior.  Of course, they will not understand until they too are parents and innocently try to do something nice for the loved ones in their house, only to be delivered a Disney sucker-punch.

But don’t worry; next week is the movie Up.  I will be safe from the tears and raw emotion because what could possibly be touching about an old man who lost the love of his life, a foster kid without a mentor, a needy talking-dog who just wants a friend & enough balloons to float a house?  Hey wait a minute...I think I am going to get sucker-punched again!!!

My Friday Night Movie Club!!!  Note the Mickey fan...he may be a bit biased to Disney.

Thanksgiving

I have never been a huge fan of Thanksgiving.  Turkey was never at the top of my list of favorite foods and now that Bryan & I are vegetarians – I don’t see the point in a big turkey dinner with all the fixings.  Thanksgiving for me has long been a place-holder for guaranteed family time between the calm kick-off of Halloween & the mad-dash of Christmas, which I consider the 3 months of holidays.  On the topic of Thanksgiving I am neutral, I am Switzerland.

This year everything changed for us.  Our 4 year old spitfire, Connor, was diagnosed as a Type 1 Diabetic on Thanksgiving Day.  It was a shock for us.  It is still a shock for us. 

How could my perfect child that I brought home just four years earlier from the same hospital now be back with this life-changing news?  How could I not feel guilty for passing on the mutated genes that affected his entire body?

Although not a diabetic myself, I had knowledge of what he was about to experience.  My younger sister was diagnosed at age 7 as a Type 1 Diabetic.  Having grown up on the sidelines as a spectator to my sister’s life, I remember so much but would never know exactly what he was going through. 

The three days in the hospital last month are a blur.  The most vivid memory I have is crying every time Connor left the room to find a new DVD or join a visiting family member in the playroom.  I refused to cry in front of him.  He was being so strong & trying to understand the sudden game change.  The staff called him a Superhero & told him that his insulin shots were energy boosters to help him with his powers.  He loved the idea & took to the role immediately.  I know he secretly always thought he was special, now he had proof.

There is no fairy tale ending to this blog.  But I can say that things are getting better.  I don’t cry as much these days, although I still have my moments.   The most important thing we have found is that Connor is still Connor.  He is still his intelligent, witty, bold, inquisitive, silly, lovable self. 

And that we are blessed.  One thing you do come away with from a 3 day hospital stay in a Pediatric ward is that you are blessed your son is going to go home, back to his life – he just has to take 4 shots a day.  I cannot guarantee that all the parents on that floor could say the same.  For that reason alone, I would not trade places with anyone.  I love my boys (all three of them) and our life together.  I thank God everyday for what we have. 

I know that next year’s Thanksgiving will not be just a placeholder in the middle of the holidays, but the start of a new celebration – marking the anniversary of when we discovered the Superhero that lives within my son.  For that reason alone, I now look forward to celebrating Thanksgiving with my boys (all 3 of them).

My Super-Hero & his little Side-Kick

A Life without “S”

My youngest son is a master of many things.  He is a champion cuddlier.  He has a master’s degree in giggling.  He eats green beans faster than any adult I have ever seen.  And from what we can tell in comparison to our oldest, his pouting skills are off the chart.

Unfortunately, a mastery of the English language is not one of the skills he possesses.  No matter how hard he tries, since he started speaking a year ago, Trevor cannot say the letter “S” in words.  Although, I do not think that this affliction will stay with him throughout his life…it does make for the cutest conversations around our house these days.

With Halloween just around the corner, like any two year-old my son likes to point out the new decorations & comment on them.

“Look Mom, a pooky keleton!”  (a.k.a. Spooky Skeleton)

“Mommy, I cared of the carecrow on the porch” (a.k.a. scared of the scarecrow)

I learned quickly with my first son that most young children need interpreters when they learn to talk. Hence, the glamorous life of a parent.  When with relatives or out in public if our youngest decides to come out of his shy turtle shell to interact with others, the questioning expressions are always directed at me for translation.

Last week Trevor had a cold, which only added to the confusion when he spoke.

“Mommy, we top at red light & the car tuck until it green.”

“Can I nuggle with my blanket on couch, Mom?”

“Let me queeze my tooth-pate today.”

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind correcting him daily or even hourly with his speech.  My four year old is a constant reminder of how quickly they grow up and I will miss this “baby-talk” in another year. 

Surprisingly, I don’t always correct him.  The other day I was listening to them play while preparing dinner in the other room.  Trevor was so happy with his older brother for assembling his train toy that he declared, “Fank you, Connor!  You my Bet Friend!”

In my opinion, no other pronunciation would have been better.  He said it perfectly!

My "Pecial" Boy

“Mom, Nonna lets me spit in the toilet.”

It has been just over a week since my parents (a.k.a. Nonno & Nonna) watched our two angels while my husband & I went on a four day mini-vacation. Every day since we have been home my oldest has leaked out covert information about his unsupervised time with my parents. Don’t get me wrong; I am one of those parents who truly believe that whatever happened while we were away (as long as both kids are alive & the house hasn’t burned down) is their little secret. Funny thing though…my oldest can’t keep a secret.

Every day is a new nugget of information like a mythical breadcrumb trail leading me to the enchanted forest where Grandparents are in charge: 

“Mom, Nonno lets me color outside everyday!” Not a big deal, but the weather has since turned & it is only 50 degrees these days – not gonna happen, son.

“Mom, Nonno lets us build forts in the dining room with the table and blankets. Trevor & I have secret club meetings under there.” Awesome, let’s hope that they post the “no girls allowed” sign soon so I don’t have to crawl under there to referee the toy time.

“Mom, Nonna lets me spit in the toilet.” Now this one made me stop folding the laundry & turn to him for further explanation.

“Oh really? When you say ‘spit’ – exactly what do you mean?” My son proceeds to mimic the motion of spitting. OK, now that we know he understands the word (always a concern with him) lets figure out why my parents taught him to spit in our absence. Were they trying to macho up my four year old? Is he not tough enough for their liking? They did raise four girls, and my father is retired military – my boys’ impromptu ballet moves & reenactments of tea parties during lunch may have pushed them over the edge.

“How often do you spit in the toilet, son?” I ask with a straight face.

My son looks at me like I have a learning disability & he feels sorry for me. “Every time I brush my teeth, Mom.” It is all crystal clear to me now. Since we had adult height vanities installed in the boy’s bathroom, even with a stepstool it is a bit high for my eldest to navigate. At 44 lbs I don’t expect my mother & her knee replacement to dead-lift my moose of a son. ‘Spitting’ toothpaste into the toilet was the easiest solution.

“OK, Connor but now that we’re home lets go back to aiming for the sink.”

“Sure Mom. Nonna & Nonno are the best!” He states very matter-of-factly as he pirouettes out of the room.

I can’t wait to see were the breadcrumb trail will lead me tomorrow!!!

My youngest with the Enchanted Creatures he adores - my parents.



Side note - is this child always eating, or is it just me???

First Love

         Experts say your first love can be a defining one.  The one in which all relationships are compared during the dating ritual that leads to the ultimate commitment of marriage.

Fresh off of his dinosaur birthday party last month – our newly anointed 4 year old has decided he is...in love. 

After his first half day back at two day a week Mini-Preschool, my son had a dramatic announcement for me on the ride home.  No, it was not that the Pretend Corner was now a Pizza Parlor instead of the Campsite setup he had last spring.  It was not that the Sensory Table now contained rice for all of his shoveling & shifting needs and not the sand he left behind for summer break.  The declaration was that he unequivocally was “in love”.

You must first understand that my oldest has a penchant for all things dramatic.  It is never just a Monday night dinner but rather, the best spaghetti & green beans he has “ever tasted in his life”.  I am not just praised for the play-date I planned, but rather I am “the best mommy in the whole-wide world that ever lived”.  Of course, we have learned to take him with a small grain of reality.

So on that first day of “school” for the 5 minute ride home with both boys strapped into their car-seats, I ask Connor to tell me all the details of his first day back.

“Mommy, I am in love” he declares as he fakes a swoon, places his open hand knuckles down on his forehead  & falls the 2 inches his straps allow him back into his safety seat.  I make a mental note that I seriously need to monitor his TV viewing.

“That’s great.  Did you happen to get her name?”  This question is steeped in the history of one too many stories of “that boy who I played cars with for two hours” or “the one girl who ate lunch at my table everyday”.

I am amazed that his response is an even more dramatic, “Mommy… I’m in love with Erica.”

Having been exposed to his outlandish proclamations before, I am not easily swayed form my state of reason.  “That is wonderful, Connor!  What is it that you love so much about Erica?”

Without even a moment of hesitation as if he has a list at the ready that he has edited in his head for this exact moment, he replies “I just love her white shirt she wore today with the pink & purple butterflies on it”.

And with that, I know that we will have another day to try and instill in him all the values and life lessons he needs before he goes from an “I” to a “We”.  My husband & I still have time to try and mold a man who respects & appreciates women for their intangible qualities and character before he enters into his first relationship to which all others are compared.

My husband, of course, handles the announcement logically when Connor plays out the dramatic announcement in full for him that evening – complete with a fall to the floor during the swoon & hand to forehead phase.  “Well buddy, let’s see how you feel about her after you see her outfit on Thursday."

The day Connor's life was changed FOREVER...(too dramatic?  Nah, not for my Drama King!!).

Two ≠ One

When you’re a new parent, you have no idea what to expect.  You are initiated into a new world of protecting and raising this helpless infant without a coveted manual to guide you, hoping at each turn that you are doing it “right” and not scarring this perfect human for life.

So when you become a parent the second time…forget it!  You know exactly what you are doing, because it is Baby 2.0.  You prepare for the precious life during your pregnancy with anticipation of all the same experiences, now a seasoned veteran of how to handle “anything”.

The only problem is….someone forgot to tell the baby that they are supposed to be a clone of their older sibling.  This is the issue we ran into with our second child. 

I should have known that things would be different the second time around from the moment we got pregnant.  With #1 it was a struggle to conceive, one that took us 10 months to successfully achieve.  With #2 it was the first month, first try.  A blessing of course - just surprising.  Throughout my first pregnancy I read up on the tour schedule for Barnum & Bailey since I had an acrobat in my womb.  Number 2 moved once every few days & I swear I heard a faint “sorry” coming from my belly when he did.  With #1 I was induced due to lack of progress, but with #2 my water broke as I ran down the hall to use the bathroom a week before my due date. 

From the second my precious sons came into the world their personalities were defined.  My firstborn came out alert and watching everyone in the room not needing me or my husband to comfort him.  He was independent & strong, defying the norm and holding his head high as all the staff noted.  My second came out screaming like an adolescent girl on Space Mountain and did not stop for a good 25 minutes; I truly believe it is because he wanted to be put back in.  He was tiny, timid and scared.  I joke to anyone that asks that #1 came out of the womb running in the opposite direction of my husband & I while #2 came out and tried to claw his way back in.

Now as two happy toddlers who enjoy their time together, the balance they bring is refreshing.  On public outings #1 sees strangers as an opportunity to try out his new material – never thinking for a minute that this audience of people walking around the grocery store might have goals for their day other then listening to his retelling of the play-date we just left.  In contrast #2 is happy to sit patiently & observe the process of running errands.  But if said strangers smile, wave or dare to say “Hi” to #2, he will turn his head and stare in the opposite direction until they have left.

My husband & I have finally given up waiting for #2 to turn into #1.  As opposite as they may be, we have found that their individual strengths make them each perfect.  If you need a good laugh or someone to debate (a.k.a. argue) with, then #1 is your guy.  But if you need a hug and a good cuddle, then #2 is always ready.  Just don’t confuse them or you will scare the tar out of #2 and have to hog-tie #1 for him to sit still long enough for a snuggle.

They may be opposites, but don't tell them that...they think they are TWINS!!

“Mommy, you never go to work. Do you have a job?”

My 3 year old is completely serious as he stares at me while I am on my hands and knees cleaning under the kitchen island after the breakfast bonanza has ceased.  I have Cheerios stuck to my capri pants, I just put my left palm in syrup and the dog is licking blueberry waffle crumbs off my flip-flops.   In my mind I am trying to rationalize if this is one of those “pick your battle” moments - but my pride won’t let go of the offensiveness of the question.  Does he want to nit-pick the semantics of the word “work” or am I under the island right now for “fun”.

            I peer up at my first born as he stands there awaiting my answer.   It is 8am and I have already managed to shower & dress myself, bathe & dress two squirmy toddlers, serve breakfast, send my husband off to work, walk the dog (twice), water the plants, unload the dishwasher, start a load of laundry and answer 999,999 inane repetitive questions.  I was hoping to finish cleaning the kitchen before my coveted downtime (a.k.a. morning nap).   My options are clear:

1.      I could go the easy route and change the subject: “Who wants to see if Sesame Street is on yet?”

2.      I could go with the one word answer: “YES!”  - but that will only lead to 20 more questions, followed by a formal interview as to why I worked the job I did thus opting out of being a princess fulltime.  My children can’t understand how I turned this option down.

3.      Or I could tell him the truth.  That I had an amazing career, one that I truly loved.  How, at 26, Mommy was the youngest Account Executive and traveled on an airplane every week to meet with the heads of companies to present statistical data and analysis.  I could reminisce about the seven years I had a blast and was paid for it.  Then explain how one day Mommy decided that the most important job I could ever have is raising my two boys, thus tying up my story with a neat little bow.

As I start to open my mouth, my 2 year races past us yelling “TAG, Connor!”  Just as quickly as Pandora’s Box of Toddler questions was opened, my eldest is bounding out of the kitchen in the direction of the anticipating squeals.

I make my way over to the sink to wash my hands when I am paged by my most beloved clients: “Mommy, can we learn how to ice-skate on a pond today?  I want to do a figure eight.”  I laugh at this one, “Not today guys, its August.”  Sorry, make that 1 million inane questions I have answered this morning on the nose. 

It’s not the easiest job ever, but it is the most rewarding.  Did I mention I now get paid in kisses, hugs, tickles & songs?  I wonder how big my Christmas bonus will be this year… 

The BEST part of my "job"...naptime!!!!



We Don’t Negotiate with Toddlers

If we negotiate with Toddlers, than the Toddlers win. 

   OK, so maybe the often repeated line was not about Toddlers.  But I am discovering that it applies to their tactics as well.  Take my 3 year old son:

Me: “OK, Connor – time to go to bed.”

Connor: “But, Mommy, I am too upset to sleep.”

Me: “What could you possibly be upset about, you had a good day.”

Connor: “I am upset that you & Daddy are going to Vegas and leaving me here.”

Me: “Connor, where did you hear about ‘Vegas’?”

Connor: “I don’t know, but I want to go too!”

Me: “Connor, we are not going to ‘Vegas’ now go to sleep.  Besides, do you even know what ‘Vegas’ is?”

Connor: “No, but I want to go!”

   That pretty much in a nutshell is the reason why I have to constantly remind myself that this 3 year old person in front of me is operating on a platform without any knowledge or reason.  Forget that the tiny human does not know where or what ‘Vegas’ is.  Instead, let’s focus on the fact that even if he wanted to so desperately go as I heard about for the next half hour – he is well under 21 making it a “craps-shoot” anyway!

   Yes, I have spent many an afternoon thinking that I am educating my son by giving logical, well-thought out answers to his pie-in-the-sky ideas.  “No, Connor.  You are not old enough to be a Daddy.”, “No, Connor.  You and your younger brother are not Identical Twins.”, “No, Connor.  I don’t happen to know the name of the girl you will marry one day.”, “No, Connor.  You cannot go Trick-or-Treating today –it is July.”   Only to realize half-way into the argument that he doesn’t even know what side he is arguing for, much less have any valid points to sustain the defense.  Like a dog chasing its own tail I have to stop and wonder how I ended up here again.

   Of course sometimes a part of me enjoys the debates we get into over nothing.  I can see my son’s strong-willed and confident side shine as he makes a case built on imagination alone.  After all, he is only 3 and the innocence and wonder he possesses will not last forever.  I look forward to more mature disagreements about politics, world issues and ethics as he gets older.   I know one day I will lose an argument to him and not just give-up my position for the sake of bedtime.

   But right now, I need to book 2 plane tickets for my husband’s conference in Las Vegas.  I figure if I can’t negotiate with him, I might as well just flat out lie to him…

My Little Negotiator

Welcome One and All to the Circus (That is My Life)

     Just last month my father (Nonno as the boys call him) took all of the grand-kids to the circus.  My husband & I (true kids at heart) accompanied this traveling side-show to help out Nonno with the children.  As we were sitting there in the bleacher seats half-way into the event, I could not help but think that I was watching my own daily life play out in the 3 rings below.      
     I empathized with the animal trainers who were saying silent prayers that their charges were all behaving in public and "preforming" as they were taught to do.  The plastered smile of the juggler could not hide the slight flinches that escaped as he navigated too many balls in the air at once.  And of course the tight-rope walker just trying to make it from one end to the other without a misstep as the crowd gasped at the brave woman. 
     As a stay-at-home wife & mother, I too have been in these positions.  Now my clothes may not be as bedazzled, my children may not be "animals", the balls I juggle may not be on fire and my tight rope may not be 20 feet in the air but I too preform daily in this crazy circus we call life.  Only I probably get better accident insurance rates! 
     Welcome to my circus...