The Good Stuff

My intention with this blog was to focus on the positives.  Some weeks are harder than others.  Like this past week.  It started out with a Mother's Day...... baseball tournament.  Like WTAF, am I right?  I'm guessing a dad planned that one, because even if mom doesn't want a fancy brunch for Mother's Day, I can't tell you what she doesn't want... another effing baseball tournament.  

Let's move on to middle of the night Monday.  The oldest child is sick.  Like throw up red vomit all over his bedding and carpet.  Twice.  For the love of God child, your six year old brother can get to the bathroom to puke, it's time for you to get it together.  Tuesday morning greeted us with middle child throwing up, and me feeling like DEATH.  So, yeah, Tuesday was fun.

Thursday (in mid May mind you) mother nature decided to give us winter temperatures and snow, and our nanny was now sick, leaving me to  juggle work with three stir crazy kids after school. FUN TIMES.

BUT my friends.... I promised a blog about the good stuff, and yes, even amid the vomit and snow of this past week there was in fact some good stuff, and for the most part, if you look hard enough there usually is.

The Good Stuff:

My youngest son is moving from five to six in a matter of weeks and we threw him a GIGANTIC space-themed birthday bash.  Now for some of you the thought of hosting 20 plus kids and their parents at your home might cause you to hyper-ventilate, but not me, I am in my element.  I have always loved planning my kid's parties, and I know my time is running short. My older kids don't want a theme party with goodie bags of plastic crap, but my little Julian still lets mommy go to town making the arrangements.  Now don't get me wrong, I am NOT at Pinterest mom.  My ideas are less crafty and more extravagant, irresponsible spending.  We had a spaceship pinata, a rocket photo booth a bunch of black t-shirts, glow in the dark fabric paint and planet stencils.  We had astronaut ice cream and glow sticks galore.  The party was EPIC, well at least by six year old standards.  My older boys helped out by hiding treats for the treasure hunt and even stood back for the little kids when the pinata was smacked open.  Julian got boat loads of toys he doesn't need, the kids got high on way to much sugar, and it was by far the happiest moment of the week.  Not everyone loves birthdays the way that I do, I get that.  But for me,  I feel there is a lot of not-so-good-stuff in day to day life, and thus, it is critical to celebrate happy occasions at every opportunity.

So there you have it, a hard week ending on a high note, and here's to hoping for a vomit-snow-free week ahead!

Bittersweet

Well it's a Thursday night but there's a high school game

Sneak a bottle up the bleachers and forget my name

These 5A bastards run a shallow cross

It's a boy's last dream and a man's first loss

                                            -Jason Isbell, Speed Trap Town 

I am a huge fan of Jason Isbell.  He paints such a vivid image of small town life in Alabama, and with that one line "It's a boy's last dream and a man's first loss" he beautifully captures the melancholy loss of youthful innocence.  I have thought about that line often, and it has brought me to tears on more than one occasion.   

Watching my sons grow up is so bittersweet.  Often times I am caught up in the grief of my own loss as my cuddly babies grow up and away from me, but those lyrics take my breath away, and I realize how each passing year steals away some of the carefree innocence of childhood. 

A few weeks back we attended a school sponsored Rockies game on a chilly April evening.  We sat in a section with the other fifth grade families, my eldest huddled with a bunch of rowdy classmates, chanting song lyrics and doing just about everything but watching the game.  Eventually the boys, with a few bucks in their pockets ventured off to concessions running around, a pack of pre-teens clearly buzzing with with the thrill of new found independence.  I saw a smile on my son's face I had never seen before, and I felt.... damn happy for him.  I wasn't consumed with my own feelings of loss or fear, I was just excited for my boy, and all that his future holds.

I remember my early moments of freedom,  first, at eleven, walking a half mile to the nearby convenience store with my sister to load up on candy, feeling so grown and independent. And later, an 18 year old in the passenger seat of a convertible, a cute older boy with shoulder-length blonde hair at the wheel, driving way too fast, summer air, stars, I felt like the whole world was ahead of me, and it was. 

My son is growing up, and it is exciting as I see him become who he will be.  I think of all the years to come, his first crush, his first dance, his first job, his graduation, and I know that his future is full of endless possibility.  But there will be loss.  There will be heartbreak, disappointment and broken dreams, but I hope that his life will be different, than the one Jason Isbell sings of.  I hope that no matter what set backs and pain he endures he will never, ever stop dreaming.  

You are never too old to dream.  

I still do.

The Truth About Boys

I have three boys. 1-2-3. Three.  I will frequently share my sheer disbelief that this in fact is my life, because according to my playbook, I was supposed to have two little girls.  Alas, I ended up with Zachary, Evan AND Julian!

I grew up in a family with fairly low testosterone levels.  My father preferred poetry to football, and later my stepfather, while he enjoyed his Mets, was more inclined to take us ladies to the ballet than spend the day doing "man stuff" like fixing cars.    I had one sister and neither of us were particularly athletic or tom-boyish.   I grew up as girly as could be. I had a brief and ill-conceived stint with modern dance, I was involved in theater and show-choir, and I was loath to participate in gym class.  I am an unapologetic stereotypical chick living in a house with all boys.  So I know a thing or two about cohabiting with them, and I'm going to share these life lessons with you.

1) Boys make your house smell like piss.  What would seem like it should be some sort of a genetic  advantage, (the ability to aim) instead  has lead to the decline in sanitary homes across the world, and  increased the stock value of disinfectant wipe manufacturers.

2) There is never a quiet moment.....EVER.  I remember my own mother's reaction to an early visit with her grandsons.  "There is so much NOISE" she commented, and reminisced about the days my sister and I quietly hid in our bedrooms reenacting soap opera scenes with our Barbie dolls.  No my boys believe that in order to be heard they must be screeching at full capacity.  Dinner conversation at our family table usually consists of  "you want what?! I can't hear you! Zachary stop shrieking  the lyrics to Hamilton, for the love of God!"

3) They bounce of the walls. No. Literally.  Case in point, today I accompanied my youngest on a class field trip and several of the boys were seriously throwing themselves at the wall in the elevator, laughing hysterically.  No, the girls were not participating.

4) They don't want to get a pedicure with their mom.  I suppose that is obvious, but I am just throwing it in there. Because, I always wanted to get a pedicure with my offspring.  *Sigh*

5) Every hour of our free time seems to be consumed with some sports related activity.  Whether it is soccer, baseball or basketball practice, a kid's game, a team "photo-shoot", a post season pizza party, a live Rockies game, a Rockies game on TV, a Rockies game on the Radio, reminiscing about a past Rockies game, or reading the Rockies stats in the local paper...... you get the idea.  

6) Someone is going to get hurt.  Boys play hard. Often times, hard play turns to play fighting, which turns to real fighting which turns to bruises, bites, tears and maybe someday broken bones.  Some boys in their frenzy of hyper-activity fall and hurt themselves. Sometimes badly.  (Now don't get me wrong, I assume that this may also be the case for girls, but I don't have girls so I don't know.)  We have been lucky thus far., and have only endured one concussion, and two trips to the ER for head stitches.

I could go on with my list, however I am at the end of my day as a boy-mom and I am totally worn out.  I have dealt with boys throwing themselves at elevator walls, endured a meal with my family which for safety reasons should have been accompanied by ear plugs,  washed and folded what seemed like 3000 baseball and soccer uniforms, and cleaned piss off the bathroom floor for the 110th time this week (it's Monday.)

So goodnight fellow boy moms. Sleep well. It starts again tomorrow!