Shrieks and Tears

For the last two days, I have left home accompanied by the screams and tears of Ben desperately trying to get to me as I walk out the door. Paul says "He misses you when you go so he wants you to say." I say, "Well, it is breaking my heart, but I have to go to work so that we don't lose the house or starve to death."

All I know is that there is nothing worse in this world as having your child reach for you while crying and screaming, but not being able to do anything but his him goodbye and walk out the door. I know that after I leave, he is fine but it still is awful at the time.

Just pray for my heart, because right now living in a converted school bus on a commune is looking fairly attractive. I might hate the whole "earth-mother-hippy-tree-hugger" thing, but at least I could be with my babies while squatting in the fields picking turnips... Do you think communes have salons for my manicures, pedicures and facials? If they do, then I think that I might be moving.

The Honest Truth

Just wanted to quickly add that I might joke about how my boys' eating habits, clinging, teething and climbing drive me insane.. but at the end of the day, I would not trade any of those things for all the stars in all the solar systems discovered and undiscovered.

I could not breath without them in my life!

(And yes, it does look like Benjamin is practicing CPR on the cat but I swear no animals were harmed... at least not that day and possibly the next, can't really remember the day after that, but more than likely the cat was okay.)

And yes, I have turned that chair into the dirty clothes hamper. I think it adds a touch of shabby chic to the room. It is the perfect compliment to the Fisher Price/Little Tykes play area on the other side of the room.

Love forever and beyond my boys... You will never know the joy you give me (mainly because it will encourage the behavior and end us up on Jerry Springer some day... oh what the heck, go ahead, keep doin' what your are doin'... just remember to wear a helmet.)

Teething and Clinging -- A Mother's Cry for Help

Dear Tooth Fairy,

I understand that you are extremely busy putting money under the pillow of boys and girls around the world each time they loose a tooth and I am being completely honest when I say that I feel your service is under-rated and completely under appreciated. Most people think that money delivery is all you do, but I know differently. I know that you are a selfless servant to all things related to dental health and that you are a core resource to all parents in regards to their children's brushing, flossing and loose tooth needs. As a great admirer of your work, I am truly grateful for your ceaseless dedication to dental hygiene.

Now that I have that out of the way, can you please take a moment out of your crazy schedule to visit my son Benjamin and work your magic on his eye teeth and 2-year molars. I really don't care if you make them come in over night or if you just sprinkle some of your special fairy dust on them to take away the pain, but I am desperate and need your help.

Benjamin is a very sweet boy, but he has inherited my flair for the dramatic. I would almost go so far to say that Benjamin is a virtual genius in the art of temper tantrum and whining. Recently, Benjamin has also completed his masters in Mommy Manipulation. His thesis has been on the strategic use of guilt and tooth pain to gain the desired response from Mommy. I believe that the boy has a future doctorate in his sights.

All kidding aside, I need help.

He has begun to systematically train me to carry him at all times. Although you would think that I could establish a defense against his offense, I am powerless when he refuses to eat and instead shoves his entire hand into his mouth trying to claw out the offending pain. Gigantic tears slide down his round, Rosy cheeks and I crumble. At this moment, I have overdosed on Aleve and have wrapped my back and shoulders in ice. You would think that carrying over 25lbs of dead weight would not be so difficult but once you do a single circuit around Babies R Us and realize you forgot something on the opposite side of where you are located, the 25lbs becomes more like 50lb. The soft kiss on the cheek from the boy firmly cements his position on your shoulder.

So I ask you to remove his pain from my baby and allow me to say to him without guilt, "Lay down and kick your feet. Your temper tantrum does not affect me because I know you are fit as a fiddle. I am immune to your tactics because I, your brilliant mother, have negotiated with the Tooth Fairy to turn you back into the boy that you were 1 week ago before those awful teeth decided to come in. You will now sit in the cart without whining, smile and play games. You will walk beside me, holding my hand and laughing occasionally as I WOW you with my wit. And last but not least, you will NOT look at me with those big brown eyes lined with those long dark eyelashes and cry for me to carry you around."

So what do you think Tooth Fairy, can you come and assist. I don't think I am asking for a lot. I am even willing to negotiate on taking care of the money thing for both (yep, I said both of them) if you could do this one small favor for me.

I look forward to hearing from you. Don't worry about the time (I know you keep strange hours) and feel free to call collect (I know you are always on the go).

Gratefully yours,

Frantic for Fairy Dust.

Speaking of food...

Below, you will find the reason I will forever eat my dinner looking down at the table and not looking at my children. I know the "experts" say that toddlers need to "experience" food texture and taste, but honestly, for others present, it is like watching a lion rip the intestines from a defenseless bunny. This "expert" should be set up in the brain-washing chair from "Clockwork Orange" and forced to watch my kids eat a hamburger. Nothing like witnessing the gagging of putting too much meat in their mouths, and then the extraction of that chewed beef from their gapping mouth as their tongues flicks small flecks of ground flesh toward their mother. The same woman who carried them for 36 weeks during which she lost the ability to control her bladder and ended up producing enough gas to save the US economy. But hey, those "experts" might like it while this "expert" is slowly breathing through her nose trying not to add my chewed beef to the "experience" of texture and taste.

Henry VIII as a Toddler

What's the best thing to give a teething toddler? Well according to my husband, a fried chicken leg. Yep, nothing like nawing on greasy meat to make those teeth feel better. Next we will try beef jerky and Laffy Taffy.

Know thy Enemy!

So the other Sunday, we discovered Zachary doing a little light reading. As you can see, he is deeply engaged in learning all the latest parenting techniques being promoted by the experts featured in Parents Magazine. All I can think is "Damn, now he is going to know what I'm doing." and he is thinking "Damn, did she really think that was going to work?

Double Trouble Infants

It is hard to believe that those little bundles above are the same ones that were running around the yard this weekend, but they are. I think I have blacked out that time, because I was sleep deprived and constantly on edge due to acid reflux and the continual attack of %@#* gas bubbles. What I do remember is holding these guys in my arms while they peacefully napped and eventually falling asleep to the steady rhythm of their breathing.

I know that I will never experience the peace felt relaxing with these angels.

Our Molly Bear Is Sick

Yesterday, our Molly Bear was diagnosed with diabetes and cateracts. She is only 3.5 years old, but she just suddenly started acting like she couldn't see the ball when we were playing fetch. We thought at first it was all her hair getting in the way (we haven't made her groomer's appointment yet this month). Now we know better.

Paul and I discussed how far we are willing to go with treatment for our Molly. We determined that we would give her insulin twice a day per vet's instructions and adjust her diet. So that expense is acceptable to us. We will continue her daily treatment until the point that her sight affects her quality of life.

We know she will never get better, but we are committed to ensuring that the rest of her life is the best we can provide.

Just Some More of My Favorite Pictures

This time it is a look back at some of my most favorite pictures of the boys as babies (not the babies they are now, because to me, they are still babies, so shut up, toddler, shmoddler... babies they are... so shut your yap.)

Benjamin and his Ball

Zachary just chillin'

Yes, this is how they napped in their bouncy chairs once they could turn over!

Well that's enough remembering for tonight. I think I will kick back and read for a while before heading to bed. Today, Benjamin was very needy and Zachary just wanted to run. So I expect tomorrow, Ben will want to scale side of the house and Zach will need constant assurance that just because the TV is off doesn't mean that it is gone forever.

Good night!

Sometimes Waking Up is Hard

My father was a heavy sleeper most of his life. There are stories of my grandfather picking up the bed and tossing my father to the floor and the time my father slept through the first air raid in Vietnam. There was the one time my mom left to go to work after trying to get my father up several times. Apparently, that caused a "discussion". I followed in my father's footsteps and could never wake up on my own. At one time in my life, I had no less than 5 alarm clocks in my room. I could even sleep through the phone and once was woke up by one of my friends knocking on my window. So, it goes without saying that this seems to be a trait in my family. Zachary appears to be the one who hates to wake up and often times has to be teased awake (don't get me wrong there are times when the boy is up and ready to go). I fear that Zach has inherited the "coma" gene and will be our daily struggle to get awake and to school on time. I believe the picture below says it all....

There is hope. Both my father and I grew out of this problem and I know that by the time Zachary is 35 he will be able to wake up without too much fuss. Until that time, I expect to see this face a lot in the future. (And to be honest, I can't wait.)

That Boy Might Not Make It...

So this picture was taken in November 2007 after I accidentally dropped Ben on a ceramic tile step. It was a complete accident caused because I was trying to multi-task, but no matter the reason, my son spent Thanksgiving 2007 with a black eye.

This was only one of the accidents I have had with Benjamin in his lifetime. I don't know why it is always Ben, but it is...

He was only a few weeks old when (in my diaper ignorance) put my finger in the leg of his diaper to pull it open to take a quick peek and caught his scrotum with my nail. He started crying and that's when I noticed the little bit of blood coming from my son's most sensitive part. I was horrified and it didn't help that I was in the middle of a new mommy's group and the local hospital. I quickly wrapped him up and began comforting this poor boy who had his nut sack assaulted by an OPI red sword of death, saying "Oh does boo have a little gas bubble?" All the new mommies nodded their heads as though they too had encountered this all elusive gas bubble and knew the havoc it could cause. Little did they know, my son had just been violated and was desperately trying to signal for somone to get me a pair of nail clippers.

The next time I hurt my Benjamin, he was just learning to walk and he teetered by me so proud of himself. I tapped his diaper covered butt with my big toe and the boy fell over like a redwood in the forest. Howls of terror erupted from my precious son and then I realized that I kicked my son's ass literally. It was just a love tap but I apparently forgot that I am the equivalant of Godzilla to his Tokyo.

The latest incident was a simple scratch to the face but even that made me feel just awful. Now it seems the boy thinks that being injured is a natural state of being. Last weekend he fell off a chair in the kitchen causing a bruise on the side of his face. This weekend I noticed a burn on the inside of his right wrist caused when his father wasn't quite quick enough from stopping him from reaching out to grab a fresh baked pretzels. Paul thought he stopped him because Ben only seemed mad that he didn't get his way but in actuality the boy was burned. I saw it today and now think that we need to get the boy a bubble suit. It might be the only way for this boy to make it to his 2nd birthday in 2 months.

As a matter of fact, Paul has posted a mailer on the refrigerator that we received from the new Children's Hospital in our area. I believe these nice folks will get to know us by name in the coming years and will eventually understand that accidents just seem to happen in this family... You have to remember I am the one who fell down the backstairs and broke my left foot off my left leg... You can't do that every day. It takes a true talent in the art of accidents.

I believe Benjamin will not quite have the talent I have at tripping (pun intended) into accidents but I have a feeling he will be the master of his own brand.

We Lost A Light this Week

This week has been tough. On Tuesday, Gary Morrison, a man I have worked with for 10 years, passed away this week. Gary was on a plane from Dallas to Chicago when he had a seizure caused by a brain aneurysm. The plane was in the process of landing and was met at the gate by the paramedics. Gary was rushed to the hospital. We found out on Thursday that he passed away. Gary was such a caring and giving soul that he was an organ donor Let me tell you a little bit about Gary. He was funny and always happy to do what it took to get the work done. Gary could get really testy but it was always caused by his drive to provide our customers with the best service and products. As of last year, I started working closer with Gary than I have ever had before and I was really starting to feel like I was getting into a position to learn from Gary and his years of knowledge. I really feel like I have lost an opportunity to grow professionally and personally. Gary was married and had two beautiful daughters, 10 and 7. I decided on Monday to take Friday off so I could maximize my weekend with the boys and on Tuesday, that decision was re-enforced. I know that Gary would do anything on his family, but he was constantly on the road for work. He missed a lot of time with his family due to those responsibilities, but I know that he did all o it because of his devotion to his girls and the life he wanted to provide for them. I am dedicated to providing the same for my boys, but I will keep this loss in mind every day. It will remind me to make the time for my family and that work is designed to facilitate my life, not be my life. So bottom line, even in death Gary has continued to mentor me and help me grow professionally and personally. Thank you Gary.

It's Springtime in Wisconsin

Winter is long in Wisconsin and most of the time you think that it will never be warm enought to venture outside without a parka, ear muffs and gloves. The snow piles up and the sky stays this gray murky color that makes you imagine that the sun has been stolen by some evil genius.

This weekend it was sunny and warm enough to play outside for the first time this year. We didn't have a camera with us, but luckily today, Paul thought to grab one. Following are some of the glorious pictures of our boys playing outside for the first time in 2008.

Thought I would take a few minutes and share some of my favorite pictures of my precious monkeys. If you can keep from smiling at these shots, then your heart is dead and your soul is heading to the devil (just thought you would want to know).

"Benjamin cruisin' on his dump truck"

(Reminds me of driving to work with my latte every morning. )

"Zachary and his best friend, the remote."

"Boys in the Bath playing with their Balls."

(In the future, this will be required viewing for all potential girlfriends.)

My Little Men

So Easter was uneventful this year (yep, I know I am late but hey I'm busy and so you are lucky I am even typing this now). We did take the time to dress the boys up and snap a few pictures. Now the problem is that looking at these photos reminds me how much they have changed in the last year. I feel like its just a matter of days before I drop them off at the dorm for college.

As a matter of fact, the picture below, I have named:

"Our First Wedding - After Party"

Don't they just look like little men? I think I will avoid dressing them up as much as possible. I will keep them in PJs with feet until they are 21... Yeah right, I guess they are going to grow up. I just wish they would slow down a little.

Working-Mother's Guilt

Its Saturday night and I have just finished a week from hell.. Too many hours, too much work and not enough time with my boys. I am sitting here typing this with a stack of work sitting beside me just waiting for me. Sometimes I think I can't do this any more and then I remember why I work as hard as I do. Its because of them. It really is just that simple. I get up every morning, get ready for work, drive into the office, work 10 - 12 hours and then drive home knowing that they will already be in bed. I say to myself that its better to work these hours now before they get older and understand that I am not around, but it still bothers me to know that I am not there to kiss them before bed. Why am I working so much? Well, my company has a division that is on the fast growth path and I want to be a part of it. It is a positive direction with a lot of potential for me to establish myself within an area that will give me longevity. I love what I do and feel like I am really making a difference but it really is too much for one person to do. I have asked for help and although I have been told help is coming, I am not seeing any really action being taken. My boss has offered to take some tasks from me but the problem with that is I have a system established that allows me to track and monitor those tasks in a way that allows me to not have to worry about when or how things happen. If he takes these tasks on, I will have no way to ensure that my procedures are followed and that we have the ability to access information on a moments notice. Why is that important, you ask? Well, I am a control freak and if things are not in their right and proper place, it stresses me out. That's why I want an assistant I can train to do stuff the way I want and I will have the ability to ensure that happens. So I guess the bottom line is how much control do I give up in the hopes of getting home before bedtime. The answer is simple... I give it up and deal with the stress as it comes. It really is the only thing I can do that will be of benefit for my boys. I hope someday when they are older and have a family of their own, they understand the heartache I feel each time I leave them or am not home for a new skill or experience. I pray that they know that I never want my headstone to read "She worked hard.", but instead I want it to say "She gave everything to her boys. Time, understanding, love and support". Well the work awaits and I must get to it or I will have no chance of getting home before bedtime next week. So I will get it done now so I might be able to kiss them good night next week. No matter that it's Saturday night and all I want to do is read and relax, the bottom line is I do what I do for my boys. They are what is important.