Big Time Rush is in the house!!!

My first concert with my mom was Prince in Riverfront Coliseum. I painted my face purple and found every article of purple clothes available to wear. I only remember little snippets of the evening – picking up my mom’s friend in Clifton, the grandiosity of the Coliseum, dancing my heart out, and watching Prince perform some sexy moves!

Maria’s first concert was a tad more subdued and kid-friendly (I got introduced to the ways of the world early with Prince’s music!). We saw Big Time Rush last night at Nationwide Arena with about five thousand dressed-up, screaming, heart-swept girls and their moms (half of whom were just as dressed up as their daughters). Maria and I showed up in our running shorts and t-shirts (Ri sported her homemade Big Time Rush t-shirt made by Aunt Laura – so much cooler than the t-shirts for sale).

We had awesome seats on the first level. We visited Alana up in her seats before the show. Maria wanted to sit with her, which I knew would happen, but I wanted to at least check out our seats down below. I made Maria head down with me just to check them out and told her if she wanted to head back to Alana after that, we could. When we got to our seats, we found that they were pretty close to the stage. Between that and the fact that Alana had brought a friend with her to the show (Maria has her dad in her – she likes to have her time alone with her cousin or friend and does not like intruders!), we stayed in our seats. It was worth it – we had a killer view and Logan walked up to our seats and sang a song one step away from Ri! I about had a heart attack – reliving my youth but Maria reacted in the complete opposite manner. She did not want to rush down and touch Logan. She did not want to act giddy and scream when he got near. She wanted to be, and was, completely composed. While I nudged her to shake Logan’s hand, she refused standing quietly in front of him. The girls behind us were ready to hyper-ventilate and Ri stood with perfect composure. Is it that she’s only 7? I don’t think so – I think that is deep inside her and who she is – at age 7 and 37. No screaming madly for her – she is the calm and collected one (even more than her mom!).

So, when we returned to our seats, she gave me a piece of her mind.

“Mom, you embarrassed me when you did that. Please don’t do that to me.”

Her big blue eyes stared up at me in the most genuine, heartfelt manner, and I felt two feet tall. It was the saddest moment for me because here I was thinking that she was as excited as I was! But I’m glad it happened because it solidified in my brain how much my daughter needs her space and is completely opposite to me when it comes to behavior at these events. Nonetheless, after I explained to her why I nudged her and why I was excited, she forgave me and shook off the embarrassment smiling at the thrill of having been so close to Logan.

But she stayed true to herself throughout the rest of the show staying calm and collected in her chair while screaming fans surrounded her – every once in a while she would stand up and pump her fist or shake her booty but it was far and few between. My girl is way too cool.

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Thought for today: Life is Good

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Why is it that we convince ourselves with each new year that the fireworks show is going to be an amazing time full of laughter and hugs and unforgettable moments? When instead it is full of spats and whining and trying to find a good spot to set up camp? Ok, so I exaggerate a tad. After all, I believe life is as good as you want to make it so even though there were the spats and the whining and the search for a perfect viewing spot, there was also laughter when the cookies were brought out, hugs when the fireworks sparkled in the sky, and unforgettable moments when I witnessed Jon and Maria holding hands as they walked back to the car.

I haven’t so much learned to lessen my expectations through the years as I have learned to change my thinking. I used to think “this night will be perfect” and when one thing went wrong, I would get upset and believe the entire night was a failure. Maybe it’s a matter of getting older (or maybe it’s a matter of reading lots of self-help books!) but I have improved my thinking in these circumstances. I go into an event now with the thought that no matter how things go, I am lucky to be able to experience the event and have time with my loved ones or by myself. I am privileged to be able to walk to the event, be able to talk to people, be able to eat good food. So when Mario trips and cries or Maria whines or the weather is sweltering hot, I can acknowledge them for what they are and move on to experiencing the better. My results are much more positive and gratifying. And so when I got home last night, I thanked life for giving me time with Jon and M&M to watch fireworks and smile at one another and have tender moments together (trying to get in the car quick enough to not shine our headlights on spectators).

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This holiday has allowed me to sharpen my thinking skills even more between the 90 degree, hour and a half parade and the irritable, sun-drenched, fatigued children. But, alas, we were all together downing the waters and watching the floats and having some laughs with cousins and old teachers and friends.

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We even managed a bike ride to Stauf’s for a thirst-quenching iced coffee. Maria is becoming a bike pro using only one hand at times and standing up off the seat at others. Mario still enjoys his mama riding him on her bike, which I still secretly love, too since Maria is already pushing away like a 15 year old to be her own person (it’s too soon!).

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And so, I continue to revel in my positive thinking as we head over to Jon’s niece’s house for a cookout. How lucky I am to have as much as I do in all aspects of my life – family, friends, home, health, work. No matter if I get a burnt burger tonight or Mario throws a tantrum or the slip-n-slide fails – life is still good on this July 4, 2012.

Triplets for Ri

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I am a grandma. Maria had triplets on Saturday afternoon – Sarah, Jessica, and Emily. She told me that the birth was easy and she was able to run around with them hours later. Their “births” occurred at Toys-R-Us in Kenwood on our way home from Louisville. She begged me to buy the triplets for her and I refused at first. But then I thought back to my days as a little girl with my dolls and I couldn’t resist.

She has been taking care of them ever since Saturday. They cry and giggle and burp and say “mama.” Pretty cute. She wrapped them in a blanket at Grandma Lolo’s house and walked them outside while my mom walked Lou. She invented a new diaper for them that just soaks in the pee and poop so there is no cleaning necessary. She fed them their bottles and successfully juggled keeping them all content and happy. She is super mom.

In fact, I see her future as a super mom handling 5 kids at a time. She was at the dinner table with Grandma Lolo and Papa Rod and Rod told her he had to go into work for 12 hours to fix power lines. She responded “I am glad I’m not old enough to do that work!” I Indeed, she would much rather work with babies. She is a natural, after all. Anyone that can feed two babies and get her little brother to help feed the other newborn rather than play his newest Ben Ten game has certainly got innate talent.

Driving the Munches

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Does this crew crack me up or what?!

My sis is back in town with her hubby, Jorge, and her cuddly monster of a dog, Stella, and they agreed to take my two darling children to the farm for the next couple of days since our sitter threw up all day while babysitting them yesterday. Poor guy must have gotten Maria’s bug last week – he barely made it out of the car after he picked up Mario from school and had the pleasure of throwing up all over our sidewalk while the kids screeched with depraved excitement.

So, I had an afternoon full of frantic phone calls trying to find child care for the rest of the week. Luckily, Meg and dad came through – this will be a test for Maria Grace – it is supposed to be in the 90’s the next couple of days and there is no AC at the farm. I’m quite sure she will be naked through the afternoons!

So back to that retro sis of mine (Maria told her she looked like she was living in the 80’s and Sar told her that her look was “retro” – not 80’s). She arrived promptly at 8:30 am to pick up the munches (Sar’s endearing name for them) who had been begging for her to arrive since 6:25 am. They were excited to spend two hours with her in the car and did not even ask for a movie on the way. Sarah should be honored.

She called me half way into the trip and let me know she was teaching them the names of colors in Spanish. She also was laughing hysterically at the stories coming out of the munches’ mouths. Maria told her about a news clip where a man was naked on a street in Florida and they had to blur his privates. Mario chimed in and added: “that was me!”

Yeah, I am quite sure she was kept amused the entire ride and I am quite sure the munches were in seventh heaven.

Some bacon with your splinter?

The evening started out enjoyable but plummeted downhill very quickly.  Maria, Mario and I biked down to the park to meet Sarah, Jorge, and Stella for a little picnic dinner.  We packed up all sorts of goodies – ham sandwiches, spaghetti, cheez-its, watermelon (yeah, our “picnics” are four-course meals) – and squealed with joy when we spotted Sarah, Jorge and Stella under the pine tree. 

We ate together for a few minutes but then the kids split away to climb the tree.  Within 10 minutes, I heard Mario crying.  He sat on the ground next to the tree with one shoe off holding his foot.  I knew right away what we were facing, and I dreaded it.  A splinter.  A splinter half the size of a sewing needle, if that.  But to Mario it was the size of Mount McKinley and there was no way that anyone was touching it.  Sarah asked to look at it but as soon as she touched the bottom of his foot to turn it towards her, he screamed and cried hysterically.  She got in one fingernail push and he went ballistic.  Jorge tried his magic, too, but to no avail.  I knew we were going to need tweezers because he would not let us push for a long enough time to get it out. 

“Mom, stop touching it” he continued to scream every time I tried to get close to him.  I explained to him that we needed to get it out quickly or it would lodge into him deeper (nothing like trying to instill more fear into a kid in order to get something done).  He agreed to head back home with me to get the tweezers.  As I carried him to the bike, he continued to weep and he told me to hurry so that the splinter didn’t go any deeper.  My fear-mongering was working.

We got home and I had the brilliant idea to do what my mom told me my grandma did to her when she was little – wrap bacon around the splinter.  I got out a slice of bacon and wrapped it around Mario’s foot.  This action did bring a faint smile to Mario’s face until he realized that I’d still need to use the tweezers.  Allegedly, the salt in the bacon draws the splinter out.  I believe my grandma used to wrap bacon around my mom and her brothers and sisters’ splinters all night long.  There was no way I was waiting that long for Mario – he would have had a coronary.  So, we kept it on for ten minutes and then I propped him on the couch to work on getting the splinter out.  You would have thought that we were performing open heart surgery on him.  He was hysterical and bawling and jittery.  I kept trying to calm him down but as soon as I did, he immediately started it back up when I moved my hand towards his foot. 

“Mom, let me tell you one more thing!  Please mom, don’t touch me, let me tell you just one more thing.”  He begged like this over and over.  I finally grabbed his foot and held my other arm over his arms but the little guy is strong and he used his free leg to kick me.  My temper started to flare at this point – 45 minutes after he first got the splinter.  He looked at me with huge tears running down his face and exclaimed:

I hate God because he created splinters and they hurt me!” 

My poor boy.  I knew that there was no turning back for him, and we were just going to have to go for it.  I called in Sarah and Jorge.  Sarah held his arms while I held his other foot.  Jorge took the tweezers and began to dig.  Nothing.  Except screams of fear from Mario.  He was begging for mercy and for us to stop all action.  Jorge eventually handed the tweezers my way and I just ripped into the skin on the bottom of his foot.  After two tries, I got it.  A little splinter the size of a mouse’s hair.  This miniscule piece of wood caused an hour of pure hell. 

Mario was traumatized afterwards holding onto me for a good ten minutes.  When I told him I’d take him to the library, he barely moved.  His core had been shaken.  I know one thing – he will never be a carpenter when he gets older.

Don’t sweat the small stuff

I came home from work last night needing some serious big hugs from Maria and Mario.  Work has been kickin’ my a– lately.  But it is nice to jump on my bike for a ride in the open air after work rather than getting into a hot car.  And to my surprise, the kids were waiting near the back door when I walked out of the garage.  They got smothered with kisses. Over and over.

I laid with them later in the evening and watched them drift off to sleep.  I love how their eyes are wide open when I head over to sit next to them, and they swear that they will stay awake until midnight because they are Not Tired!  And then after a back rub or foot massage, I see their eyelids begin to droop and their cheeks begin to turn toward the soft pillow.  And then they are out.  And how beautiful they both are so quiet and still.  As I laid with them, I thought about how fortunate I was to have them in my life – day in and day out.  Sure, there were moments that I wished I had two minutes to be alone but those moments were overshadowed by their character and lightness.

After sitting with them for a bit, I walked into the kitchen for a late-night ice cream bar, and a review of the latest news.  I found a nugget of a piece by Ann Bauer in Salon that struck me, and made me even more cognizant of the fleeting moments we have with our kids.  As they say “time flies when you are having fun” – even when you don’t feel like you are having fun (i.e., changing a diaper at 2 am or quieting a screaming kid in the grocery store).  Bauer succeeded in making me take a step back last night from all of the chaos going on in my head with work and camps and deadlines, and breathe.  Breathe and stare at my unbelievably gorgeous, darling kids.  Because one day I will be standing in the bleachers, too, just like Bauer, and I want to be able to testify that I lived to my fullest with them, and consciously tried to limit the number of regrets that I would experience as a mom raising two kids and juggling work and being a strong partner to Jon and taking care of family and friends, and being a community advocate. 

Bauer’s piece provided a welcome reminder to enjoy the small stuff of life and not get weighed down by the other.

Icees and Madagascar

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Maria has come back from the dead. Four days after becoming inflicted with a nasty flu bug, she was finally able to walk around the house, eat solid food, and joke with her brother. Thank you world!

We celebrated with a trip to Target for icees and a small present in celebration of Maria’s revival back into society. They both have their icee making down to a science adding a lot of the initial flavor (usually cherry) and a squirt of every other flavor creating a perfect rainbow of sweet sippy goodness. They hop in the double shopping cart and sip away while we walk the aisles.

Maria was torn between a Barbie or a doll baby. She has a ton of each but I like the thought of her caring for a doll more than the thought of her dressing up a Barbie to go out with Ken. Maybe I am wrong – I do automatically shy away from barbie but what do I know? Maria could be acting like Barbie was going out with Ken to a charity event to help the community. Nevertheless, she went with my inclination and chose the baby doll because it came with two bottles to feed her, which she loved. And a binky. Mario was torn between Incredible Hulk gloves or Ben Ten figures. He would have went for the gloves if they fit him. But the holes for the hands were not snug enough so he ditched them.

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After Target, we headed to Madagascar 3 in 3D at the movie theatre. The kids told me I was the best mom ever (I held it to them later when they hated me for making them take a bath). We pulled out our M&Ms and Milk Duds from Target and got our movie theatre popcorn and we were set! The movie was less than stellar for me but the kids loved it. I did fall in love with the circus bear, however. And the music added some life. Mario danced in the aisle at one point and Maria hit my arm and begged me to make him stop. She gets so embarrassed nowadays even though there was no one else in the theatre!

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When we got home from the movie, the kids helped me pick up leaves in the back. Mario called over to me after a few minutes and asked if I would get him a drink of water. I told him that he was almost five and he could get his own water.

Maria dropped her rake and her jaw dropped. Mario walked inside. I stood twenty feet from her wondering why she was so amazed.

“Mom! You just made Mario get a drink on his own and you didn’t automatically say ‘yes’ to him! Don’t you feel good about that? Great job, mom!” and she went about her business.

Yes, there is no doubt that she was my mom in a past life.

Lazy Sunday Afternoons

Lazy Sunday afternoons
Oh, how I love thee

Two sleepy pumpkins
Sprawled out in the BOB

I thought these days were over
with Maria age seven and Mario
almost five

But the lure of an afternoon stroll
with a canopy overhead and
the wind grazing toes
was too tempting

And I simply thank
the stars
and moon
and sun
as I listen to
the melody of
light snores coming from my babes
on this lazy
Sunday afternoon.

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My little slugger

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“Go Mario!”

He soaks up the fans’ adoration and takes a hard swing at the ball. A bouncey grounder to second. He holds his loose helmet on top of his tiny head and runs to first. He looks over at me and gives a thumbs up.

Proud pumpkin-seed boy.

When he heads out to the field, he catches me reading an email in my phone.

“Mom! Put your phone down and watch me!”

Nah, he doesn’t crave attention – not at all. I put my phone down and he sports a mischievous grin. I yell “good job” to him when he runs after a grounder even though he has the closed part of his glove on the ground instead of the open (we definitely need some grounder work).

He lines up after the game with his teammates and gives the other team high fives. Hopefully he keeps up that sportsmanship up through the years because that competitive spirit in him always pokes through.

“Did my team win, mom?”

“I think you tied. You both played well.”

“No, mom. I think we won because I got around the bases and I caught the ball. Yeah, we won.”

Ok then. He clearly does not need any confidence booster from me. But he does need me to put down my phone.

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Beating the flu bug

Poor Ri sauntered into my room two nights ago complaining of feeling sick. She said her belly hurt. We laid together in the bed with me rubbing her back and she moaning in pain. A half hour later, she hurled her evening snack – an apple with peanut butter – onto our blankets and pillows. And so it began – our night of ups and downs, crying and pain. Poor girl; I don’t know if she was more upset with being sick or missing out on horse camp.

I kept hoping that she’d wake up feeling fine but no such luck. I got Mario situated with cereal, ran to work for two hours and came back home for the day after a phone call from Ri begging me to leave work and be with her. I laid with her the rest of the day. She is a beautiful sight – even when sick. Her soft tanned skin and huge blue eyes staring over at me. She whispered “are you glad you came home to be with me mom?”

“Of course.” I replied.
“Thank you for leaving work, mom.”

What a doll baby.

Mario got a full dose of tv and computer usage throughout the day. David tried to take him to the pool but he wanted to stay near me. I kept telling myself that I’d miss all of this clinginess one day in order not to go crazy between the two of them whining for me through day and night. I just kept wishing Maria would turn a corner. She is usually a machine rocking whatever bug in her right out of her in 24 hours. But this one is no joke and has taken her down for the count.

I made Mario lay down with us last night at 8:30. He was asleep by 8:45 (baseball practice and no nap through the day may be the key to an early bed time!). I was happy to have him down so I could focus all my energy on making Ri feel better. We played I Spy in the bedroom and talked about silly things she did as a baby. She finally dozed off at 10:30.

Jon got in at midnight and promptly slept in Ri’s bed to avoid any possible infiltration of the “bug.” He flew back a day early to take care of his baby girl and help me out, which means the world to me and to Ri (when I told her dad was coming home early she smiled and said “Dad’s the best.” I didn’t take it personal.). I woke at 6:45 am and made myself roll out of bed to take a run. The day before I had eaten three donuts, a bag of Cheetos, ice cream bars, and a block of cheese. My body craved a run.

Mario caught me putting on my running shorts and pleaded to come with me. His little sunken blue eyes and baby lips mouthing “please mama” pushed me over the edge and I put on his sweater and took him to the stroller (yes, he insists on a sweater in 75 degree weather). We cranked out five miles together before the donuts from the day before reared their ugly heads and made my body say “STOP RUNNING!”

I returned home to my hubby and daughter hanging together upstairs. Two peas in a pod. Maria was so happy to have him near her. I got dressed for work and gave Maria a kiss. “No, I want daddy!” she commanded.

Yes, that’s a mother’s world. We are with our babies all day and night but shoved over to the side when dad comes home. No problem though. I’d much rather see the love between daughter and father than not. And as a daughter myself, I know I’m in her heart no matter what.

When I checked on her this morning, she told me she was feeling a bit better. She had eaten a Popsicle and kept it down. “I just want to eat, mom!”

Now, that’s the girl we all know and love!

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