New “Moan” ugh!

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I hate staying indoors, especially when it is sunny and 68 degrees outside in November.  I love taking a morning rum, especially when it is barely light and a chilly 40 degrees outside.  I hate coming home after a day at work and sitting in the house the rest of the evening.  I love taking a walk in the dusk of the evening when it is crisp and the air is invigorating.  That is why I was so bummed out after my hospital trip last week. 

Last Sunday night, the pain stabbed through my left chest and up through my left shoulder like it has in the past.  I took two Aleeve and went to bed.  I tossed and turned but slept decently through the night. On Monday, I ran and worked out in the morning and had a little bit of pain in my left shoulder through the day.  Slept fine on Monday night.  On Tuesday, I started to get the pain back so I took it easy and decided against a morning run.  Tuesday night I tossed and turned and felt a lot of pain in my left chest again.  I stayed up a good portion of the night.  Wednesday rolled around and I went to work with the continuous pain shooting through my left chest.  By the time I got home in the evening, I was not feeling well.  I started to have a shortness of breath and a headache.  Jon forced me to head to the Urgent Care, which was closed.  I travelled on to the ER. 

There I was amongst a lot of people complaining about how long they had been waiting for a doctor.  A woman in a wheelchair rolled up to me and gave me some advice “You are gonna be waiting here for hours – I have been out here for four.”  She rolled back to her group and began cursing about the length of time in the waiting room.  Turns out she was only 28 (looked 50) and she was a heavy drug user and smoker (at least that was what she was divulging to her group).  Luckily, I got in to see a doctor within an hour.  They hooked me up to an EKG immediately, which was normal.  They did chest x-rays and blood work, which were normal.  They were perplexed at how a non-smoker, runner, healthy woman could have such severe chest pain.  The doctor decided to keep me overnight in order to have me do a stress test in the morning. 

I was in such pain through the night.  Morphine did nothing.  It was one of the scariest times in my life because I could not breathe in without excruciating pain.  My breathing was so shallow because if I breathed any heavier, I felt like a knife was stabbing me in my left chest.  Because I could only breathe in a little bit, I got anxious that I would not be able to breathe at all if I laid down and fell asleep.  Therefore, I did not sleep all night.  I stared at the tv, the door, the machines and wondered if I would make it.  Yeah, your mind works in crazy ways at 3 am in a hospital bed.  Morning arrived and the new doctor was skeptical of a stress test.  First, I probably could not perform it because I could not breathe in enough to stress my heart.  Second, he saw nothing abnormal in all of the x-rays and tests so he did not think it was a heart problem.  He ordered a CAT Scan for me.  I had never had one of those before.  Not pleasant.  When the nurse shot die through my veins, I immediately thought I would throw up metal and swore I had gone to the bathroom on the machine.  What a horrid feeling!  Luckily, they were all just sensations from the dye.  An hour later, the doctor walked in and informed me that I had pneumonia.  It had showed up on the CAT Scan test. 

Maria showing me the words she learned from her "word ring"

Jon picked me up with Maria in the back seat holding a picture of me when I was ten.  She loves this picture of me with my super balls (little round rubber balls that they used to sell at the grocery store for 10 cents).  She wanted to know how I was feeling and if I would be ok.  She led me upstairs when we got home and put me in bed.  She proceeded to bring me two flowers from the yard in a small vase and a bag with her and I drawn on it.  She showed me the words that she had learned while I was gone.  She is so good to me – a natural caretaker. 

For the first two nights, I was miserable.  The pain killers could not relieve the pain in my chest, and I sat up most of the night looking out the window thinking of my grandma.  I just visited my grandma a few weeks ago when she had pneumonia (could I have gotten it from her?) and she told me that she had such trouble breathing because of all the phlegm in her nose and lungs that she just stayed up all night worried that she would lose her breath.  I remember thinking that she had to be scared.  Now, I experienced first-hand what she felt.  And, I can attest to the fact that I have known all along – you can never truly know what another individual feels in a situation until you are in it yourself. 

Maria and Mario enjoying some sofa time

Jon was a doll trying to calm me down but nothing helped.  The kids loved life because Jon and I were too tired to do much but let them watch tv!

Finally, on Saturday night, I slept for a few hours soundly.   I woke up Sunday feeling a little better.  Jon took the kiddies all day so I could rest.  He picked them up from Grandma Meg’s and Peepaw’s house where they had played on Saturday and spent the night on Saturday night.  Maria got in a three-hour hike with Peepaw and Mario (Mario, being the youngest, gets Peepaw’s shoulders).  She walked the entire way.  There is something about the farm that brings out the hiker in her because when she is in Columbus or Cincy it is all stroller for her!  Mario wore his Spiderman costume the entire time, which gave the grandparents a chuckle.  Jon picked them up and carted them to Uncle Mario’s and Aunt Vicki’s house for a day of four-wheelin’ and spaghetti and meatballs.  Maria’s dream come true. 

Maria getting ready to four-wheel with her dad

They spotted bucks and cows.  They petted kittens and saw the dogs.  Maria got her toenails painted in Buckeye colors by Bianca.  Mario got to wrestle Big Mario.  Jon got to ride his four-wheeler around the farm.  A good day. 

Mario refusing to pose for a picture at Big Mario's

I sat in bed, laid on the couch, watched Sex and the City 2 and the Turning Point.  Thought about cooking dinners and reading more books.  Came up with new games and activities for the kids.  Went stir-crazy eventually.

I rejoiced in seeing the kids and Jon at 8:30 pm.  I made the mistake of walking out to say hi and the chest began pounding again.  Mario sat on the couch and told me about the bucks.  Maria sat at her desk and did her homework.  She is getting so good at spelling her words and figuring out what words begin with a certain letter.  She had the letter “f” tonight and was able to spell out “friends” and “fish” and “frame” with my help.  The smartest kid ever!

The two munchballs doing their love pose for mom!

I helped Jon put them to bed, and promised I would read Maria 20 books tomorrow night since we did not read any tonight.  I love that she wants to read with me!  And I promised Mario that he would wake up with Superhero powers if he slept under his Spiderman cover all night.  Within 10 minutes of coming downstairs, Jon and I heard the pitter patter of toddler feet running through the hall – he must be confident that he has all the powers he needs.

Girl bonding around diarrhea and poop

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Maria and Anna dressed up for Halloween

Maria wanted a girl in her class to come over after school so badly on Monday.  Maria had gone through a couple of rough spots with girls in her classroom and I was excited to see her wanting to invite a friend over.  I had been talking to her about how important establishing friendships with girls was during school. 

Mario was still hanging with his grandparents (and wanting nothing to do with his parents) so I thought Maggie could earn her share of money for the day by picking Maria and her friend up from school.  Maggie took them to the park, walked them home, and let them play in Maria’s room.  I got home around 5:30, and as soon as I walked through the door, Maria  and Anna were dragging me upstairs. 

“You gotta see my room mom!”

“Yeah, you have to see Maria’s room!”

I closed my eyes to the point of not being able to see most anything in front of me but open enough that I knew what room I was in when we arrived at our destination.  Maria’s room was CLEAN!  You could walk on the floor instead of on clothes; you could select a book from the bookcase versus the floor; you could see the sheets on her bed rather than fifty-five stuffed animals.  Unfortunately, five minutes later the room was back to its natural state with Maria and Anna throwing animals at me, karate-chopping me, and jumping all over the room.  They were HYPER, laughing hysterically at anything I said or did or anything the other one did.  Both of them rolling around on the floor beggin’ me to tickle them: the simple pleasure of being goofy for a while; just what I needed after a crappy day at work.

We decided to head to Panera for dinner. I put the two of them in the stroller and began our walk up the street.  I was excited to talk with them about school and friends and teachers and being a girl and dealing with boys – ya know, all the stuff that a mom wants to chat up with her daughter and her girlfriends (already wanting the scoop in kindergarten!). 

Instead, the entire way was full of talk about diarrhea and poop. 

The two of them played off of each other like a comedy team.  I was reminded of an incident with my friend’s son a few years back.  The subject of “poop” had come up between another girlfriend and I, which my friend’s son overheard, and he laughed harder than I had ever seen him laugh before at the word “poop.”  My friend walked in the room and asked “Did you say something referring to poop?!”  Shocked, I answered in the affirmative and she just shook her head smiling.  There is something about excrement that is innately funny to kids – and obviously not just to male kids.  Nearly the entire meal consisted of this lovely talk – even with me trying hard to steer it to another topic. 

So much for my female bonding moment with the girls.  I can only imagine the conversation with Mario and his friends in a couple of years.  Nonetheless, when we returned home, the girls sat down at Maria’s table and drew pictures for one another.  The pictures consisted of two girls holding hands and hearts around them.  They both wrote each other’s names and their own names above each girl and handed their respective picture to the other.  When I dropped Anna off to her mom, the girls hugged and Anna yelled “I love you Maria!” and Maria responded “Love You, Anna!”  I was grateful to hear that from them and witness a friendship develop (even if it has to be around diarrhea and poop)!

Come on 40 – bring it on!

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Ri singing me happy birthday!

Really, did November 5 come again this year?  Maybe we skipped over the 5th straight to the 6th?  No, I feel one year away from 40 – November 5 hit for sure.  The legs are tight when I wake up, the knees creak a bit when I stand, I have to adjust my eyes for a few minutes to focus, and by the time the sun rises, I would have gone to the bathroom at least twice.  Ugh.

Riding in the Pelotonia

But I also have an incredible cadre of friends, two crazy spastic kids, one hilarious hubby, a heckuva cool family and good health.  Speaking of health, my birthday day started off with a long run and morning at the gym to lift weights (yeah, my hubby can think of about 1000 different activities that he would rather engage in on his birthday morning!).  I came home to a kiss from my girl even though I was sweaty (typically she makes me shower before coming near me) and a “hello” from my boy who did not change his position of refusing to touch me before I showered. 

I walked Maria to school (riding her almost the entire way on my shoulders since we were running late – a daily occurence).  After dropping Ri off, I headed into work to be greeted by brownies from my assistant and happy birthday greetings from my Facebook friends.  Man, you can start to get a big head when you see all of the FB birthday wishes on your birthday.  I started bragging to my young cousin about all my birthday greetings, and she quickly informed me that all people have to do is hit a button in order to get an automatic happy birthday wish to “friends” of theirs.  Ahh, well, keep me humble.   

Maria presenting me the gifts she wrapped.

I picked up Mario from school.  When I walked in his classroom, I got that gigantic Mario smile and that wonderful scream “Mama!”  When Mario and I stepped in the house, Maria was wrapping my gift with Jon.  Jon looked at me amazed.  “Do you know that your daughter is Martha Stewart? I wrapped your gift and reached down for tape and she had already tore a piece off and stuck it on her arm for me to use.” She LOVES to prepare gifts for people.  She loves cutting the wrapping paper, wrapping the gift, taping the paper, drawing designs on the paper, and presenting it.  She could not wait to give me my gifts.  She also asked Jon to buy my a card that she thought was hilarious.  It was a picture of a woman with gigantic boobs caught in metal traps on the ground.  Her husband is yelling “I told you to watch out for the booby traps!”  She sees that card with me when we are in Giant Eagle and she always takes a look at it.  I guess all along she has been secretly wanting to get it for my birthday.  Gotta love her humor.  She had Mario give me a card with a girl lifting weights since I love to workout.  She is precious.  

Sweet angel sleeping away.

We had Jon’s family over for cake and ice cream.  My favorite – sheet cake and chocolate chip ice cream.  Heaven on earth.  Everyone took off around 9 pm (including Mario who headed home with Grandma and Grandpa with no resevations – he LOVES heading north to be with them), and Maria and I played for a while.  She started to get tired around 10 and I took her up to lay with her in my bed.  I don’t think five minutes passed before we were both snoring away.  My dad came over at 10:30 after watching my brother play in his concert, but I had already passed out.  Pretty bad when your old man can party it up later than you.  But, hey, I gotta cut myself a break – my dad is a frickin’ machine. 

Ri came back into our bed at 5 am, and snuggled against me to get warm.  There are not many other things that I can think of that bring me as much comfort as my girl’s arms wrapped around me and feet warm under my side (except for Mario on my other side doing the same).  The sun rose a few hours later, and I opened my eyes to my first day at age 39.  Bring it on, baby – 40 is still a whole year away!

Chunky

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My intrepid, no holds-barred girl!

“You’re chunky.”

 
 “Yeah, you are chunky!”

Laughter erupted amongst the kindergarten boys and girls as they looked at Maria – the subject of the comments.  Maria stood in line waiting to march back in the school from recess.  She informed her teacher.  The teacher’s response: both kids who shouted the comments to Maria got “yellow” marks for the day (one below the best mark – green). 

One of the kids’ mother, Angie, texted me while I facilitated a retreat that same afternoon.

“Anna needs to apologize to Maria today. Please call me when we can come over.”

After my retreat, I called Angie to get the scoop.  “I cannot believe that Anna would say that to Maria – I am so sorry.”  She continues to tell me how awful she feels and how she sat Anna down to talk to her about how those words could hurt her friends’ feelings.  She asked Anna how she would feel if someone came up to her and said she had an ugly nose.  Anna started crying immediately.     

We hung up the phone.  I stared into the dining room at Maria drawing a picture.  I felt a mixture of emotions.  Anger ranked as the overwhelming one at that moment.  Anger not so much towards Anna but towards this deep-rooted ideal that girls must be skinny in order to be beautiful, and this ideal entering into kindergarten of all places.  To five-year olds.  This weight thing is such a struggle for most women.  I have found many a day that I spend an excessive amount of time worrying about what to eat or irritated about how my jeans fit that I lose track of the big picture – living.  I don’t want Maria to become pre-occupied with her weight to the detriment of living.  I want her to be how she is now: ready to chow down on a piece of cake in front of her, willing to put on her ballerina outfit and dance around the room, proud of her strength, at ease with looks.  However, I can already sense a bit of doubt about how she thinks she looks.  She gets angry at times while putting on her jeans when they won’t button easily.  She looks at her face in the mirror and scrunches up her eyes while complaining “I am not beautiful.” 

Maria and Anna at their Halloween party

Society certainly does not help with all of the magazines and tv shows flaunting 100 pound women smiling, having fun, surrounded by friends.  While I was thinking of the comments to Maria, I wondered to myself whether I would have been as angry if kids called her “ugly” or “stupid.”  I would have been angry because I don’t want people to be mean to MY child but I would not have been as angry.  Why?

Because I struggled with my weight and listened to people call me “chunky.”  I have witnessed first-hand how difficult it can be to persevere and how crappy it makes you feel.  How you second guess yourself and become pre-occupied with it.  I have seen my friends do the same.   

But really, what I have found as I raise Maria is that a lot of the time I get so angry about something, I can look back at my life and see where I was hurt by it.  And that was no different in this situation.  These kids said something mean to Maria.  They could have told her she was ugly, or had a huge nose, or dressed goofy.  Maria would have been hurt by that, also.  I think making a national event of such comments because they deal with “the weight issue” may be perpetuating the issue more than resolving it.

My girl and me

The mom of the other kid, Zach, called me later in the evening and asked if Zach could bring a picture over to Maria.  They arrived at the door fifteen minutes later.  Zach handed Maria a gerber daisy and a picture of him, Maria and Anna playing and smiling.  Maria blushed.  He said sorry.  Maria hugged him. 

Maria learned forgiveness, Zach and Anna learned compassion and humility, and I learned to take a deep breath.  I do not want to project my former (and sometimes current) battle with weight and looks on my daughter.  Yeah, society is ridiculous with its promotion of the skinny, the young, the white.  But this incident did not need to rise to the national level.  We needed a discussion about loving yourself and loving your body, your heart, and your mind.  We needed some apologies and hugs and smiles.  And we got just what we needed.

Halloween with the Superheroes

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Superheroes!

Maria and Mario love Halloween as much as their mama loved Halloween as a kid.  Our Halloween was held on Sunday, the 31st.  Most other neighborhoods held their Halloween on Thursday, the 28th.  When I realized this, I immediately came up with a plan to stroller to the adjacent neighborhood and hit a few homes on Thursday.  Jon stopped that nonsense.  “Mary, give me a break – they will get too much candy on Halloween night – you do not need to go out Thursday, too.”  In my heart, I knew that.  However, in my competitive head, I didn’t care.  It wasn’t that I thought we really needed the candy (that is the farthest thing from what this family needs) or that I would eat it all up (which I would if in front of me – another farthest thing from what mom needs!) – it was simply that we had the opportunity to go out and collect free things (candy in this instance, and an occasional set of fangs) and I wanted to take advantage of it!  I was the same way as a young girl dressed up in my crayola crayon costume or my ghost costume.  I would walk around the neighborhood until my legs felt like they were encased in cement – tired, heavy and slowwww.  But when I got home and flipped over my pillow case – heaven on earth.  Reese’s, Snickers, Heath, Milky Way, KitKat….

Ready for the Haunted Hayride and festivities...

Rather than head to the adjacent neighborhood, we went to our neighborhood park for a Haunted Hayride and Halloween goodies.  They had four large card tables full of chocolate candy, cookies, chips and cheetos, and hot dogs.  My children could not get enough.  Maria dived into the cookies like they were being discontinued, and Mario ripped into Kit Kat bars like he had never eaten in his life.  It was impossible to monitor the two of them, also, because each of them had me at different places at different times (part of their plan).  Of course, here I am spouting off about how much candy they are eating and telling them to stop as I rip open my third snickers and take a big bite.  Like mother like daughter and son.  Neither superhero won the costume contest.  My girlfriend’s daughter won as a pink flamingo and a boy we didn’t know won as a Mad

Returning from the hayride (Mario is still shaken by ax-wielding boys!)

Hatter.  Maria was upset – Mario could have cared less unless it meant he would be forbidden from the candy.  Maria could care less about winning in sports but when it comes to contests related to costumes, drawings, guessing games, she is serious.  We took a hayride around the park, which was not too scary (there were two little guys at the end holding fake axes that scared Mario a bit) but provided great entertainment for me because Maria sat next to her Kindergarten buddy, Jason, and bugged him the whole time by sitting close to him, getting in his face, and snuggling with him. 

Maria’s Halloween night left her with a basket full of treats and some good times with her friends and cousin.  In past years, I have held her hand and we have gone to a dozen houses before she looks at me and pleads “let’s go home and eat our candy, mom.” This year, a completely different girl emerged.  She walked over ten blocks, saw friends from school that she embraced and talked to, walked up to houses by herself and said “thank you” after getting a treat, and acted goofy with her cousin during the entire trick-or-treat event.  I even caught her looking at people differently than she has in the past.  She really studies them now.  Both girls and boys.  She will catch something on them or about them that fascinates her, and she will just stare.  She looks to be in deep thought processing why the person is acting a

Maria and her cousin

 certain way or looks a certain way.  It is much more penetrating and more sophisticated than her stares in the past.  I walked the last block home holding her hand and her cousin’s hand thinking about how lucky I am to be able to experience the excitement and raw pleasure that these two five-year-old girls have for this holiday. 

Mario just wanted to eat his candy.  We went to about ten houses before he looked at me and demanded to eat a piece of candy.  I told him he had to wait until we got home and without hesitation, he was ready for home.  It was as if he knew that after he ate his candy that night, he would likely never see his basket again (Jon wants it out of the house so I stash t in secret hiding places for me and to calm the kiddies when I need to do so).  He got just the amount

Spiderman playing it cool

 he could eat that night with a few extras for the grandparents (he knew his mom and dad would require him to give a few away to family).  Calculated little fella.

So, another Halloween over.  Maria brought home a craft from Daisies this afternoon.  It was a paper turkey for Thanksgiving.  Hard to believe that it is only three weeks away.  I catch myself saying that every year but every year it seems even harder to believe how the time flies.

M&M getting ready for bed after a night of Halloween fun!

Boo at the Zoo

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Maria and her goat

I had heard from a few friends that the zoo has a fun “Boo at the Zoo” event in honor of the Halloween season.  I thought Maria and Mario would enjoy it since we had not been to the zoo for a year and they would be able to not only see the animals but gather treats at all of the treat stations.  I was right. 

Mario and his goat

We got to the zoo at 10:30 in the morning thinking that we would leave by 1 or so in order to get a nap later in the afternoon.  We left at 5:30 pm.  The kids had a blast in their costumes (especially Mario who strutted up to anyone who glanced at him and shouted “Spiderman!”).  The weather could not have been nicer.  We got the treat of seeing a polar bear dive into the water right in front of us.  A mama and baby elephant fed on hay together.  A huge rhino walked by us.  The kids petted a snake (they could not wait to come home and describe the event to dad who is not fond of snakes)!  We even found the barn and petting zoo.  The petting zoo had a score of baby goats for the kids to pet and comb.  Maria loved combing and brushing the babes.  She has got the most gentle demeanor around babies – human or animal.  Mario liked their tiny poop pebbles thinking they “looked cool.”

Maria and her baby elephant

We watched the bats being fed in the bat cage (bananas and apples) and my observant Maria noticed three little white bats at the corner of the room that looked like newborn babies (or it could have been a different species of bat).  Nonetheless, Maria again proves that she is like her father – able to see the tiniest of things that most people overlook in their hurried lives.  She makes me breathe and slow down.  Unfortunately, we went to the reptile house next so I slowed down to see the snakes and lizards. 

We ate a healthy lunch of zoo pizza, hot dog and french fries at the Zoo Eatery.  While we were eating, they played a clip about Africa and Mario perked up “That is where mom wants to go, Ria!”  I have dreamed of Africa since seeing “Out of Africa” with Meryl Streep and Robert Redford years ago.  The land reeks of beauty and depth and richness.  I love Alexandra Fuller’s books of her childhood in Africa.  Something about that country penetrates me.

Spiderman heading down the slide

After filling ourselves to the brim with grease, we headed off to the zoo playland, which both kids surprisingly enjoyed (usually one of them gets bored quickly).  Maria played mother hen to Mario watching his every step and guiding him in the correct direction when he veered awry.  At one point, some older boy began to push his way by Mario to get through a tunnel, and I saw Maria take the boy’s arm and thrust him back.  Little does Mario know how his sister protects him and has his back.  I have a feeling this protective sister will remain throughout his life (watch out girls). 

Super Girl heading down the slide

We ended our visit by petting a rat and hugging Biscuit and Gravy from Bob Evans (yes, the kids knew who they were – that is a bad sign!).   I allowed each of them to get something little from the gift shop – Maria got a stuffed animal penguin that we named Pipi and Mario got two plastic cheetahs.  On the drive home, Maria wrapped Pipi up in her Super Girl cape and told Pipi how happy she would be at her new home.  Mario smashed his new cheetahs together and made them kill each other the entire way home. 

I got home and sat on the couch.  M&M soon huddled over to me wanting to continue to play.  As I tickled their feet and smothered them with kisses, I thought to myself “this is a perfect day.”  I wish I could bottle that feeling up and open it up when I need it (like tonight when I am fighting a bunch of deadlines and trying to get everything together).   I am working hard on changing my thinking when I start to go down this path of worry and anxiousness.   This weekend, I could have been in a worried, anxious, irritable state based on some situations at work.  But I knew I needed to change my thinking from worried/anxious to grateful in order to keep me up on the mood elevator, and keep me enjoying the weekend with my family. 

Maria was not lcosing her eyes because she was scared of the snake!

There were times I slipped and started down the worrisome path, but each time I caught myself and guided my thinking back to grateful (look at these awesome kids of mine, look at my kind hubby, look at my great family and network of friends…).  When I can find grateful, I can find stability and peace.  And I can go to bed at night just a little more uplifted and hopeful of what is to come (which tomorrow is more Halloween candy so yippee!!!).

Mario braving it!

The tedious task of shaving

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I hate shaving. 

Enjoy being shave-free for now, girlie!

I am looking so forward to cold weather so I can get a break from shaving.  I am going to look like Grizzly Adams  when Spring hits this year because I have become so annoyed with the process and cannot wait for a reason to take a break.  My razor is always dull and I have to run it up and down my leg five times in order to get a smooth cut.  I think about the amount of time that I have spent shaving my legs throughout the years, and I am sure I could have built a tiny empire or traveled around the world a few times. 

And the armpits.  Ugh.  Why is it I tug and pull all over my underarm in order to get a good shave and yet when I put on that sleeveless shirt, I still find that one lone hair sticking out of my pit.  It’s as if it is giving me the middle finger and laughing hysterically – “You thought you got me, sucker, well I am a hard one to pluck, baby!”. 

Maria walked in to the bathroom tonight while I was in the shower.  She saw me shaving my leg, and sat on the toilet to watch.  Finally, she spoke up and  questioned “When will I get to shave my legs?”  I sighed and responded, “believe me, Ri, you do not want to have to shave.” 

“Yes, I do mom, that will mean I am becoming a woman.”

Yeah, believe me Ri, I felt that way too at age 10.  I remember looking at my pits in the full-length mirror situated in my bedroom at my old house and seeing a busy jungle planted in both of them.  I waited for mid-size game to jump out onto my floor screaming in delight at finally escaping captivity.  I had to actually use gardening shears to trim the hair and then move on to a razor.  Now I realize that my mom and dad were protecting me for as long as they could from that awful, inevitable process – the shave.  I will undoubtedly do the same for my daughter (although I may break down and give her the razor when I see hair poking out of all sides of her precious arms).

My Spiderman

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Supergirl and Spiderman in the house!

I loved Wonder Woman when I was a little girl.  I don’t remember why I loved her so much – whether it was her power to do good, her awesome attire, her good looks….  I just remember emulating her with my gold bracelets and my headband and my belt and lasso.  

Mario loves Spiderman.  He adores him.  He wants to do everything he does.  He tries to climb the walls.  He jumps from the bed.  He flexes his wrist down to shoot a web.  He turns his head back and forth to determine where evil is lurking.  It is a pretty recent phenomena. 

We went to the costume store to pick out Halloween outfits a few weeks ago and nothing was particularly on the minds of Maria or Mario when we walked into the store.  Maria picked out five different outfits all fairly slutty and horrific (for pre-teens even!) but we finally compromised on Super Girl (which I am sure Maria agreed to because of her red shiny thigh high boots – oh, my!). 

Mario, on the other hand, could not decide on anything.  He liked Batman and Scooby and Frankenstein.  The Spiderman costume hit me as cool because it had one of those inflated chest and arms to it that I thought would be hilarious on Mario since he is so tiny.  It also had a mask that did not go all the way over his face like the others (and I knew he would hate one like that – what kid wouldn’t – why do they do that?).  I mentioned Spiderman as a costume and he agreed to it and that was that.  We tried it on in the bathroom and I held him up in the mirror.  He smiled.  He wiggled out of my arms and chirped “Let’s get it mom!” 

Shooting us with his web

We bought it.  He never mentioned it again except on the occasions when a neighbor or relative would ask him what he was going to be for Halloween.  He dutifully responded “Spiderman!”  A week or so ago, he found some Spiderman books and movies at the library and he wanted to read and watch them.  Then, two nights ago, out of the blue, he begged to put on his Spiderman costume.  I agreed not knowing that he would never want to take it off until he was 20.  He became Peter Parker/Spiderman.  Coincidentally, Spiderman (with Tobey Maguire) was on HBO that same night and Mario and Jon watched it.  I believe that is when the deal was sealed.  He watched the entire movie with Jon asking questions, biting his nails, getting excited. 

When I came home from dropping Maria off at a friend’s house, the movie had just ended.  Mario asked me to act like I was drowning in wet sand.  I threw on my acting hat and started crying “I am in wet sand – I wish someone could help me!”  “Spiderman” jumps off the couch and runs to me, pulls off his mask, and stares as me.  I learn that this means I should say “Oh, are you Peter Parker, Spiderman?”  To which he responds “Yes, I am.”  Then he grabs my arm and pulls me out of the wet sand.  He slips on his mask and runs off to which I learned I am supposed to say “I won’t tell anyone your identity, Spiderman.” 

He even wore it to the zoo to pose with the goats!

He played the “wet sand’ game with me at least 30 times over the last two days.  He wrestled with Jon during the times he was not playing the game with me.  Jon played the bad guy and Mario took him on as Spiderman.  He could have played all night long.  He loved checking himself out in the mirror while he was slipping on his mask.  He stood on our bed, staring at himself in his costume and mask, for minutes.  He even posed a few times without noticing that we were watching him.  When we went outside in it, and he had to put on shoes and socks, he made sure he chose his red socks to match the costume and his red and black gym shoes.  Thank god we had those around because he freaked at first at the thought of having to wear shoes that did not match his outfit. 

When I put him to bed (for the fourth time – he got out three different times providing a new excuse every time) he stopped me before I left.  “Come here mom.”  I walked over to him and he pulled my hand to him so that my face was close to his face.  “Mom, Spiderman helps people.  He is a good hero.  He kills bad guys because they are mean.  Spiderman will protect you.” 

Those words cradled me all night.  What a lover-boy.  It is hard to believe that the kid can make me want to drive off a cliff many a days after he says something like that to me.  When I went to bed later that night, I went to check on him in Maria’s bed.  There he was with his mask by his side (the neurotic mother told him he could not wear it to bed because he may suffocate) and his spider on his chest, ready to take on the bad guys to protect his mama.

Thinking fo those kids again….

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One of Mario's dress decisions

Mario enjoys dressing himself.  Actually, I think it is more accurate to state that Mario hates others to dress him.  He knows what works for him (which lately has been an old pair of black sweats and some plain colored long-sleeved shirt) and he wants to hear no different from a mom who wants him to wear a trendy, new short-sleeved polo shirt that she bought him months ago and he still has not worn (summer is over soon, buddy!).  Mario is 3. 

One of Maria's more "conservative" outfits

If Maria had a choice, Maria would allow her mom to dress her everyday.  She wants to have the right to overrule any clothes selection made by me, but she wants me to ultimately put the clothes on her body.  All the way down to her socks and undies.  Maria is 5. 

Maria enjoys being pampered.  If we were living in 18th century France, she would surely be the Queen.  She has no qualms demanding things from me, her father, her grandparents, her brother (to her credit, she will typically put a “please” on the end of a demand if that makes it any better).  She likes massages.  She loves fancy dinners.  She wants a stroller to pick her up when she steps outside the house. 

Yet, Maria is also gritty and bombastic and attentive.  She senses emotions and feelings in people before most adults.  She acts hawkish with her family always ready to protect them by any means.  If Mario is crying, she will search all over the house to find his binkie and if she cannot locate it, she will think about what else would calm him down (“give him candy, mom, now!”).  If Jon is having a stressful day, she will sit him on the couch and massage his shoulders (“It’s ok, dad, calmmm down.”).  If I get hurt (typically by Mario’s kick in the face or punch in the gut), she swoops me up and immediately applies a band-aid (bleeding or not) while asking me how I feel every ten seconds and rubbing my head. 

Maria and Mario at the pumpkin fest "corn swim" - Maria did not take her eyes off of Mario and pushed anyone who got close away

She cleans like a wild woman when in the mood.  I can put her in charge of washing the floors, scrubbing the cabinets, beautifying the windows – she will do it all (except her own room).  However, there is always one prerequisite – we have to play Cinderella while she is cleaning.

“Mom, act like you are my stepmother and you are making me clean – but you are a nice stepmother.”

“Cinderella, you better be cleaning so you can get to the ball and dance your tail off!”

“No, mom, so I can get to the ball and meet my prince.”

“You can meet a prince, darlin’ but you also need to have fun on your own and not be dependent on a man.”

“Oh, mom, just say it!”

Yeah, as much as I try to take the “fairy tale” out of the “fairy tale”, it does not work too well.  “It is her age”, other mothers tell me, “she will have no desire to talk about boys in a few years.”   Yeah, and I will turn 20 next year.  We’ll see.

Maria is also one heck of a singer.  We learned this fact during my sister’s reception at my parents’ farm in September.  My uncle Jack played with his band for a couple of hours while people ate and hung out.  After about a half of an hour, Maria walked over to the band, grabbed the microphone, and started singing.  No inhibitions.  Her cousin, Alana, stood by her side, a little shy and overwhelmed.  And Maria not only sang, she sang with such passion and force.  She held that microphone and swayed, moved it around her mouth, switched hands while continuing her tribute – a little budding Beyonce.   

Mario posing after taking 20 minutes to put his socks on "correctly"

And then there is Mario – the second born.  The “crazy little monkey” as we call him because it fits so well.  He is a typical second born child – trying to get all the attention and spoiled (although as I think about it, Maria is just as spoiled being the first-born – I guess we are equal opportunity spoilers!).  He will talk over Maria while she is trying to sing just to irritate her and have the audience focus on him rather than her.  He will cry and flail is arms and scream with the hope of getting his way (typically done when he wants chocolate or candy before dinner and is told no).  In addition to being a crazy little monkey, he  is also an independent little stubborn mule.  If he cannot get his sock on the way he likes it (he inherited from his Aunt Sarah an obsession for making the line on his sock lay directly over all of his toes) then he continues to try and try and try for however long it takes to get it right.  On the weekends, so be it.  Gives Jon and I more time to read the paper.  But on weekdays it is maddening as we are trying to get out the door for Kindergarten and work. 

He is the child that will go outside for an hour and find things to keep him busy without ever needing us to go out and play (Maria would not last five minutes).  He loves to dig and play any kind of ball (he could throw a baseball or shoot baskets for hours) and throw plastic toys around the yard.  He loves his golf but you cannot ever try to put a tee in the ground for him; you will have thought that you just encountered the Incredible Hulk with his explosive reaction.  He wants to do it all himself.  The same applies to breakfast.  He wants to take the waffle out of the package, put it in the toaster, and put the syrup on it.  He will only let me cut it and that is because I scared him by telling him if I don’t cut it he will choke to death from the huge pieces. 

M&M in the fall leaves

But, as much as Mario loves his independence, he still needs his family around him.  He hates the thought of anyone but mommy taking him out of the car, putting him to bed, finding his bink, getting his food (although he did ask for dad to get his cereal the other morning which may be a minor breakthrough), sleeping with him.  Maria left the other week for a couple of days and he continued to ask “Where is Ria? I miss her.”  When she is home, he watches her like a hawk and repeats almost all she does and says (she used to always whine that she did not want to talk about what she did at preschool and when I ask him at dinner what he did, he responds: “I don’t want to talk about that right now, mom!”).  When Jon went out of town for a few days, he cried on the way home one night for his daddy to come home.  Both he and Maria are like pack dogs – they like to see the entire pack together.

Hopefully, that desire will stick around when they are 17 years old.  However, somehow I see Maria dashing out the door to sing at the local bar and Mario darting out to play his fourth game of basketball for the day.

Pups, Hamsters, and Guinea Pigs, Oh My…

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Maria with her "duster" pup

The other night Maria and Mario and I were brainstorming on what to do for the evening since it was raining and chilly.

“Let’s go to the zoo, mommy” Mario pleaded.

The zoo is closed and it’s raining, nut-ball” I joked back to him.  That led to ten minutes of pummeling from the two monsters who laughed as they tackled me for call ing Mario a “nut-ball.”  They will find any excuse to tackle me or Jon.  They have our rambunctious genes. 

“How about the pet store?” I ask (knowing that the strip mall with the pet store had a Halloween store and bike store – two places I had to get to in order to get costumes for the kids and get my bike geared up to ride them around before winter strikes). 

They were all over it especially because this pet store holds pets in open-aired cages so that you can easily pick them up and hold them.  Hamsters, mice, guinea pigs, rabbits, and even rats (which we are told by the pet store supervisor are actually very sweet animals who like to be held – yeah, and Attila the Hun was really a darling sweet guy).  Maria darted straight to the pups when we arrived.  And, oh, were there pups!  Some fluffy and round, others pointy-eared and hyper.  Maria found one that was tiny, fluffy, and white like a little duster, and she cradled that pup in her arms like she was its long-lost momma.  Little did Ri know how much I wanted to take him home – he was about the cutest little pumpkin ever but I knew that Cy (our 12-year-old Chesapeake) would not be too excited about that little pumpkin coming into his abode. 

Mario and his hamster

Mario found a furry, light brown mutt who was just as hyper as Mario, and who dragged him around the entire store.   Mario quickly lost interest in the pup when he saw all of the hamsters scurrying around their cage.  He became fascinated with the little plastic “homes” that the hamsters slept under in their cages.  He tortured these poor hamsters by lifting the plastic home constantly – making the hamsters scurry to the next home – and then lifting that home up.  He begged to take home one of the hamsters.  I firmly believe the hamster would have firmly protested against such an idea because whenever Mario picked one up, he squeezed its belly so tight that I thought the hamster’s eyes may pop out. 

The rabbits were another favorite of Maria’s – she enjoyed trying to pick them up and petting their soft, long ears.  Mario also liked the birds and finally got up the courage to feed one some bird seed.  He beamed with pride as the bird nibbled away from his palm.

So, there you go folks, an inexpensive fun night for the entire family (although you do smell like a combination of rodent waste and dog dander when you walk out of the store….).