Magical City

I talk a lot about wanting to move out of the big city but the truth is that I want to live in a magical city where we have all the diversity and culture of a big city, only it's small, everyone knows their neighbors and there's lots of room for the kids to run and be wild. Anyone know of this place? And I know what you're thinking, but no, the suburbs don't count.

Miller Outdoor Theater - Jack and the Beanstalk put on Children's Express Theater

Herman Park - I know. There are no ducks. I think the screaming and huge chunks of bread pegging them in the head, scared them off. The pigeons, on the other hand, were on the attack!

No T.V: Week Four

Our ginormous tv is dead. We had a love-hate thing going on. Hubby bought it before we were married and I HATED it but loved him. Love-hate. For the last year, ginormo has been teasing us with a prolonged death. Losing some color here and there, then a speaker in and out and the whole time I was dreaming of another. Smaller, thinner, and mounted. But the damn thing held on for almost a year! Alas, the dinosaur came down. A month ago and we have yet to welcome that sleek and sexy new tv into our home. At first it was a battle of wills, between my husband and myself. I wanted small, and discreet. He wanted huge and manly. Whoever could go the longest without could pick the tv. Then I caved. He laughed. I got mad and changed my mind. We still don't have a tv.

Our lives have changed. After the first week the kids stopped asking to watch Dora and Diego. After the second week they woke in the morning anticipating which games to play that day and Daddy started planning activities for after dinner. Some time in the third week I had a breakdown, but after that stopped crying. (Really, this no tv thing wasn't a we-are-too-smart-and-inspired-to-watch-tv thing. We aren't sitting around having cumbaya moments with each other or anything. I wanted to WIN but I caved first. So when Daddy laughed, I was a sore loser and threw a fit. Now it's just pride carrying me out to sea.) Now we are on week four with no tv and I think we've come over the hump. We'll see. If this part of my post is missing in a few weeks you know it got worse.

Busy living

... more like surviving.

I know there were short lapses of time *haha* between my blog posts so far this year. Buuut (me whining like my four year old, because for some reason it's catching. Like that song, "This is the song that never ends..., it goes on and on my friend..." You know the one. Yeah, you'll be singing it all day. HA!) Ok, so yeah, buuuuuuut we still did a lot of livin', even though I wasn't able to actually sit and upload pictures, or write about them or even remember my name. Don't worry, my kids remind me hourly that it's "Maaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaa". Got it!

Anyways, my life always looks great in a montage. So without further ado, here is a picture montage of my life for the last six plus months. Enjoy.

You did it!

Your big boy cake! 18 days without your toot and still counting.


I have tons of pictures over the years of you just like this one. It was part of you, what you needed, and what eventually would send me into a panic when it went missing. So, alas the time came when it was lost for good and you had to leave behind a little more of your babyhood in order to venture into the big, scary world of boy-dom. Goodbye toot, you will be missed.

Allie and Nana

N: Allie, go get some panties and pajamas for bed.
A: NO! Just panties.
N: Are you going to sleep in just your panties? No pajamas?
A: Yup, I like to sleep in just my panties..... Nana?
N: hmmm?
A: You know, momma doesn't even wear panties to bed? Really. uhhuh.
........................................................................................................................

Well, that's the story told by Allie repeated by Nana, in front of me for my husband's amusement.

How can I share with the whole world of 11 people who read this, you ask? In turn, I ask you: Could it get worse than my MIL knowing I sleep without panties? Well yes, there was that time my Mom found my vibrator.

Benjamin, Benito, Big Ben, Papito, Papas...

My last, sweet, little snuggly baby. Just thinking about you being a year old makes my heart ache a little. My hurricane baby. And good god, there are no better words to explain how our lives have changed. Your life began in the quiet peace of our home surrounded by the chaos after a storm and I think this describes you very well. I think from the moment you were placed in my arms I knew our world had been turned more than upside down, but you, you were solid, steady and sure. You exhaled peace and calmness and if I held you close enough I could feel it too. I still can. It's amazing how you have brought exactly what I never knew we needed into our family.

My sweet Benjamin, you are such a giving child. You cuddle, love to be held, laugh softly and are perfectly content just being next to me. You are mellow and tough and what I imagine will be the strong and silent type when you are a grown man. You give so much of yourself, that by the end of the day it takes all that you have left to crawl into my arms and nurse and cuddle until you can replenish your spirit.

You have been such an easy baby amidst all the chaos in our house. It's so easy for you to not have a schedule or to get right back up when your brother or sister gets a little too rough. You are a survivor and I'm almost certain that's the reason you walked one day shy of eleven months. You had to. You are loved and I think you know it. Sometimes, I worry that we don't get enough time alone to do all of those skill building activities outlined in my parenting books and magazines, but then I hear you calling, "Allie", your first word, because you want to dance too, or I see you building towers with Martin, and I know. I know you are the luckiest of the three. You are Benjamin, my last son, the baby. You are loved.

Now that I've completed my motherly duty and told the world of how wonderful you are, I must also mention that while my world has been upside down and I was hanging on for dear life, I did have a moment or two where I was able to watch you closely and really know you. I had it wrong that first day we met. You are not simply the calm after the storm, but you are the storm as well. You see, your sister is clever and personable. She makes friends easy and jumps in over her head on most occasions. Your brother is stubborn and more determined than anyone I know. But you are patient and strong. It takes a lot to upset you and you function well out of your comfort zone. You have shown no fear and I'm afraid you don't have any. It's almost as if you've been watching your whole life, just waiting to let loose on the world. You are the storm out in the gulf, that moves slow and grows steadily stronger. I see you coming but I'm not prepared. In three very short months, you have climbed to the top bunk, scaled the playground slides, mastered jumping on the beds, hurdled the bathtub, and many other life threatening feats that I choose to block out. I'm a little scared. You are not.

So you see my sweet boy, it's only fitting for us to be here, at the beach, celebrating your first birthday. You will forever be our little hurricane. So strong and fascinating, yet, you move slow and with a strong potential for destruction. I am in awe of you and though I'm a little nervous about our years to come, I can't wait to see what beauty and excitment you bring into our lives. I love you my Benito and I couldn't imagine a more wonderful person to round out our family.

Happy Birthday my sweet boy

My sweet boy, you are three today! We made it. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. I love you more than I ever imagined possible. Your Daddy asked me the other day in the midst of all the birthday craziness of making 15 dinosaur invitations and dinosaur tails, who I was trying to impress. I tried to explain in some rational way, how or why I set these impossibly ridiculous criteria for your birthday celebrations and lives for that matter, but I failed miserably. "I just want them to have the best" doesn't cover it for some reason. I love life and I love you guys. I want to share everything I love about life with you and your brother and sister so you can be as happy as I am. I remember the pure joy of being celebrated on my birthday. Complete indulgence with donuts for breakfast, cake for dinner, the magic of seeing a fish tank and Rainbow-Brite on my bedside the moment I popped my eyes open. I want it all for you too.

And by all I don't mean all the latest craptastic toys, an over scheduled extra curricular life, the biggest, most expensive, loudest, most competitive, my kids have it better than your kids, life. I want you to feel the pure joy of all the simply beautiful things that life has to offer. Happiness, love, sorrow, nature, family, friends, magic and mystery.

This time between two and three has been so magical for me as a mother because I've been watching you go from a sure and steady toddler who engulfed the world around him to a young child who is taking a closer look at all the things you missed in your frenzy to know everything. You are learning how to interact with the world and we are learning who you are and what tickles you fancy. I'm learning. You're a perfectionist, you embarass easily, you love attention but don't want us to know it, you don't like tv, you can't whisper, you need control and you're picky but the ones you choose you love hard.

Today, when I get a quiet moment I'll stop and remember the day you came into this world and how carefully I planned every detail of your birth. You see, with your sister, I had no idea, I mean NO idea what I was in for. Yeah, we took the classes and read the book and unfortunately, heard the stories, but there's just no preparing for something like that and five years ago I had some major issues with not being able to prepare. So, nineteen months later when you were coming ON your due date... just like I planned... I was ready. I had a checklist for everything and another checklist to tell me or whoever needed it, in which order to do the checklists. Done. But you, you were someone I could not prepare for. In all of my years of studying child development, and teaching, and reading parenting books, I was and am not prepared for you. You have changed me and how I see life more than your siblings.

You are this rock in my river that springs up all of these ripples and forces me to part my waters. I am changed in so many ways. Yes, I have less hair and even some more grays, but I have also parted ways with my expectations of myself because that person is not who you need. I am here for you, because you need me and even though I haven't figured it all out yet, I know that I won't ever stop trying. I love you. The real you; not the you, I planned for you to be. Happy birthday my big three year old. I can't wait to what you've got planned for us this year!