You can't erase words.

Every time Jay and Lola bicker I remind them that we are the OHmommy family and the OHmommy family uses nice, happy, and kind words. Because the OHmommy family is a nice, happy, and kind family. They get it. I know it is very Sesame Streetish, but they get it.

"We have so many friends that love us BECAUSE we are a nice, happy, and kind family." And they get it. We count our friends and think about the people who lovingly surround us. And it has worked.

Until.

Until, recently.

"You are ruining MY life!" Lola screamed at sensitive Jay. I stopped what I was doing. I was speechless and frightened by the power of her words. Where. In the world. Did she learn to say that? And. How old is she?

"Lola! LOLA! Those words are horrible." I grabbed her with some force and planted her on my knees. "Look at Jay's face. His face is telling you that you hurt his heart. His heart is so sad!" Lola frowned. Jay was near tears. The sadness in his eyes was clear, for no one has ever spoken like that to him before.

"I'm sorry, Jay." She can't look him in the eyes. My OHmommy lecture won't work. They have heard it too many times before. I needed to think fast and think like a four year old. Fast. Simple. Think. Before I lost the teaching moment. Fast. Think.

"Words. Words come out and you can't erase them. Never." I started and I spoke with more volume and more passion. "Words are like toothpaste. When they come out, you can't put them back in." I saw my children nodding along in agreement.

Both of them, children of a dentist, listened to every word. And I realized then, that I was brilliant. There is a new lecture in the OHmommy house.

"You can't erase words." I repeated myself and hugged them both.

It is so simple. So brilliant. It is something that I believe in and I want my kids to believe in.

Jay smiled. Lola sheepishly smiled. And I smiled knowing that I just taught them a great lesson in compassion. You can't erase words.

She nose it all....

Our modeling agency called yesterday and asked if Lola was available to work this upcoming Friday afternoon. Fifi just had her first job Monday and now Lola on Friday. Between preschool, swimming, gymnastics, modeling, parties, and playdates our calendar has NO BLANK days. When did that happen?

"Yes." I answered checking our calendar.

"Okay. Before we book her, the client has a question for you. They want to see if Lola will be comfortable doing something in front of the camera." Sara, from the agency, informs me.

"Um... okay. What?" My heart drops and there is silence on the other end. We have been with the reputable agency for years and suddenly I am beginning to feel funny.

"Can she pick her nose? On cue?" Sara asks.

"Ummmm.... yeah! I can't get her to stop." I laugh out loud.

"Great! Cause you know, some kids are proper and all and won't pick their nose in front of the camera." Sara giggles over the phone. "She needs to be able to pick her nose on cue. It is for a birthday card."

"Yup. No problem here. Lola will pick her nose on cue." We hang up and she e-mails over the details for the shoot.

"Hey, Lola. A photographer wants to take pictures of you picking your nose." I run to Lola and gather her up in my arms.

"Like this?" She asks and sticks BOTH her pointer and middle finger up BOTH her nostrils.

"NO! Ewwww, not like that. Try one finger." I am giving my daughter instructions on picking her nose properly. So not classy.

"But, I like BOTH of my fingers in my nose." She whines. "It is better that way."

Oh, lordy. It will be a long Friday afternoon. The client booked an advanced nose picker. A firecracker that nose it all.

Q and A's revealed....

From Bigos to Louboutin to Veneers and everything in between. My classy readers amazed me with their awesome questions.



What is your most favorite thing about each of your children?

What a beautiful question, Jen. I love Jay's compassion, Lola's confidence, and Fifi's giggles.
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How do you keep your skin looking flawless?

Oh dear God, Kim. Flawless it is not. I take pictures with my $1,500 camera, a $300 lens, a $200 flash, and edit with my $200 software. Now, if only I could convince myself to spend that much on my skin.
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How in the world do you really make it through your days in stillettos?

Dearest mommytime, I get incredible foot massages from the husband.
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Do you really do EVERYTHING in stilettos?

Oh, Wendi. Not everything, you silly. I sleep barefoot. Although I am sure Mr. OHmommy would fancy them in bed.
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What do you connect with most strongly from your Polish heritage?

My fellow Polish sister, Mamawise, I connect most strongly with the sense of identity. It is so comforting to know exactly who my ancestors are. I have walked the same streets that they have. Prayed in the same churches they have. Eaten the same meals on Christmas Eve they have. Speak the same language. I have admired the same literature, music, and arts. I am comforted in knowing who I am and where I belong. I am a pure bred, born in Poland, 100% authentic Pole.
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In 20 years, when your children are grown, what do you hope your blog will tell them about you?

Jay will be 25, Lola 23, and Fifi 21 and my sweet Lattemommy I hope they will understand how head over stilettos, crazy in love I am with them.
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If you could live anywhere, where would it be?

Hands down CHICAGO. I puffy heart that city, Nat, more the witty words can say.
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If you were going to write a novel about your life, what would the title be?

Okay, laskigal, you have me stumped. I really would consider "Classy Chaos." Or perhaps "Ate. Loved. Prayed: A Journey through the Trenches of Motherhood."
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How did Mr. Ohmommy and Mrs. Ohmommy come to meet?

Oh, zoeyjane, I tell my kiddos we met in college, shook hands "Hello", and got married. Somewhere inbetween is a story to be told. I will tell it soon, but it is not so PG-13.
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If they can make children's toothpaste that effectively brushers teeth, and tastes good, why can't they make that for adults? I vote for Cheeze-it flavor.

BAM!!!! I think the egel nest just made us millionares. We will be checking into copywriting THAT idea. BAM!!! I would like to start producing sweddish fish toothpaste myself. BAM!!!
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When are we going shopping?

Sweet Jesus, Amy. You name the place and time and I will be there. If shopping was considered a sport, I would be the gold medalist .
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I want to know all about your favorite handbag. Designer, color, and how you came to own it.

How did you know I had a fovrite handbag, Amy? LOL. My Gucci baguette in the classic print with red stitching and a gold buckle is hands down my favorite. I even have cute stilettos to match in the same print. Imagine the quintessential black dress paired with matching shoes and bag.
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What are the 3 languages that you speak and are you teaching them to your children?

Cutie patootie Girlymom, English is my third language. Polish was my first. I attended pre-school in Austria and spoke German as a child. I can barely teach my children to feed themselves, so I consider teaching them English a big accomplishment.
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Who are your children named after? How did you pick their names?

Well, Sarah. All of my kid's blogging names are fake. Jay's real name was my most favorite boy's name growing up. We had trouble naming Lola and actually legaly changed her name at eight weeks old. And Fifi's name was simply just too beautiful to pass up. I needed my third child to be a girl to bestow this name upon her.
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With all you do for your family, what is your favorite thing to do for yourself?

Oh, sweet Gomommy, how I love to take baths. I have always been a shower kind of gal until my husband taught me the fine art of bathing. You can find me in the bath and my kids in front of Noggin.
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My question (from one ametuer photographer to a professional one)" How did you come to be a photographer? Do you own a studio?

I have a photojournalistic style, Stephanie, and I can't imagine ever doing forced studio poses. I came to be a photographer because I wanted to capture my son's every moment. I wanted to preserve the memory. My obsession began there and soon a hobby evolved. Thereafter, friends started to ask me to take their pictures and a career was born.
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What are 4 classy things you do everyday?

Classy pregnant Crystal, everyday I apply soy milk lotion all over, slip on my Tiffany's pearl earings, some Hanky Pankys, and a little Bond #5 on the neck. With these 4 things I feel like a million classy bucks in my twenty dollar Old Navy sweat suit. Funny how a pair of nice underwear paired with pearls makes you feel so good in sweats.
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How did you get involved in having your children model? Do they enjoy it? Do you enjoy it?

Oh yes, Carrie. I do enjoy the adult connection in the creative world. Lola loves it. Fifi had her first job ever yesterday for Little Tykes, and Jay has dropped out due to boredom. Someone approached me when Jay was 15 months old and we have been actively modeling since then. I mean "we" as in the kids. I don't model.
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Did you ever think you might have as many kids as you have?

There was a time, Karen meg (mommy of 2), where we sold all of our baby items after our second child. We were counting our profits and I felt then that I needed the third child. I just didn't want to live life with any regrets and imagined myself sitting home with grey hair wondering... "What if we had a third child?"
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When you lose your temper, in which language do you scream? My mom is Polish, and boy she could let loose a sting of consonants!

LOL. Jenni, you probably know some awesome Polish words. Will you share? When I loose my temper I send everyone to their rooms. They have not witnessed an angry Polish mama. Yet.
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At what moment did you know Mr.Ohmommy was the one?

After about six months of dating, my posh Don Mills Diva, we traveled Eastern Europe together. I knew he was the one after a long day of walking the cobblestone roads of Budapest in stilettos, letting loose a string of consonants. Mr. OHmommy silently hailed us a cab, even though we were starving students. I knew he was the one.
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When piecing together the perfect outfit, which is more important, the shoes or the purse?

The shoes, Lisa! Shoes are the first thing I notice in a person. You could be so well put together and wearing crummy shoes. Shoes tell all.
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Does the dentist scene in Little Shop of Horrors make you and Mr. OHmommy cringe or laugh maniacally?

It makes Mr. Ohmommy laugh. Yes, Robin let it be known that I did not marry the man for his humor.
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Being married to a dentist myself.... my one and only question is how do you get him home and leave the work behind?

Oh my, Meg. My sweet sweet Meg. Does he bring patients home with him? That is a little kinky, yes? I tell him to keep the patients at work. Cause when he gets home, his work has only begun.
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Co bys w Sobie smienila?

What Dzaidek, would you like me to change about myself? I am happy with whom I am. Are you hinting at something?
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You write often about the vast differences in your children's personalities. What do you think has been the most important lesson you have learned from each of them?

Awesome question, pregnant Wordygirl. Jay has taught me how to love. Lola has taught me patience. Fifi has taught me to slow down and patiently love all three of them.
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Tell us who you think would make a better president - YOU or your HUBBY? Why?

Dearest, around the funny farm. The HUBBY would make a better president. I can barely lead my children to cross the street to Target.
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What is your fav brand of stilettos? I would live for nothing more than a pair of classy Louboutins, but until I can swing negating a months mortgage for a pair, I love BCBG's.

Oh, swanky Smart a$$ mom, we could be the best of friends. I just scored my first pair of Louboutins this weekend. I have a mommy that happens to have a stiletto obsession too. I love my mommy.
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What attracted you to your husband?

I was immediately attracted to his butt. Yes, Amy, I know. But, at that time in college, I was really into working out and I noticed his butt at the gym. Mama liked!
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What classy woman inspired you most?

That is an easy one, Lisa. Jackie O. I am obsessed with everything Jackie O and have read just about every biography written about her.
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What are two things "classy" about your life that changed once you had your kids?

Ohhhh... good question Kristen. I no longer have weekly scheduled waxing appointments and my eyebrows frequently resemble my fathers. And, I often let my leg hairs grow more than they should. Bushy eyebrows and hairy legs aren't very classy I think.
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How do you get your hair so shiney! I want!

Awww, thanks Miss. I straighten my hair with the Farouk CHI Turbo Ceramic Straightener and could not live without it. My sister convinced me to splurge and my hair has been shiney ever since.
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Okay, my favorite of my MIL's Polish recipes is her version of Bigos. What are your favorite secret Polish recipes and can you share them?

Oh Flea, how I love Bigos. Probably one of my most favorite Polish dishes. So time consuming though. I have the science of making stuffed cabbage down. I would love to share the recipe, wanna come over?
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How do you whitten your teeth? Does your husband do it at the office?

Oh, Maria. My real teeth aren't this white I drink massive amounts of Earl Grey tea everyday. I have veneers! Yes, my husband "did it" at the office after hours.
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Are there any OHsisters or OHbrothers?

Yes, Tara R there are. I love them both, a sister and a brother, very much. We are a close knit family that loves heated debates. -
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How old were you, when you came to the USA?

Suchsimplepleasures, my friend, I was my son's age when I arrived. I started kindergarten not knowing a word of English and Seasme Street taught me Spanlish. I have been confused ever since.
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How about a tip on taking "classy photos of kids." I seem to never get any good ones that don't look to posed.

Momof3crazykids, you are a mom of three kids... taking pictures is hard to do. Try squatting down at their level while they color, read, or play. Armed with a camera, try to be a fly on the wall and observe them at their level. I am sure you will love what you snap.
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You showed us a picture of yourself in a bikini from a few years ago and you had amazing abs. What do you do to keep in shape?

I am sorry to let you know, Lizzy, that the picture was taken exactly 10 years ago when I met my husband. I needed that body to secure a proposal. Soon after our wedding and three kids later, my abs resemble more of a wrinkled mess. I posted that picture for motivation and sadly it is not working. I am still a wrinkled mess.

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What's the most unexpected thing you've discovered about yourself since you became a mother?

Mommy Bits, that is an awesome question. The most unexpected thing I have discovered about myself is the amount of energy I have. Before children, I selfishly allowed myself to sleep in and wake up naturally when my body intended to wake up. Running after three kids on five hours a sleep is exhausting, yet somehow I manage to do it day after day.

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How do you keep your teeth so white? You have a beauitful smile. I want that smile!! ha! Any recommendations from Mr. OHmommy he can share? For someone who is looking into doing some cosmetic dental work, veneers or lumineers?

Annon: My real teeth are not white. But as a wife of a dentist, I am his walking ad campaign. Last year, I got a mouthful of veneers and love them. I am constantly look at myself in the mirror and smiling.

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What is your one guilty pleasure? The thing you do just for you that doesn't involve your hubby or kids?
Oh man, Amy. I didn't get THAT memo. You mean I can have have a guilty pleasure? And not feel guilty? I can't even sneak away to the spa without getting a phone call from the hubby, "Where are Fifi's shoes?" "When did she have her last bottle?"

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Will you share your story about leaving Poland?

Yes, Holly. I will in the future. Writing about poop, kids, and snotty noses is so much easier and less time consuming. It takes me about 30 minutes to write each post before I go to bed. The leaving Poland post requires a lot more thought and energy. Both of which I am lacking this winter season.

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I assume you have an accent - so what's it like?

I don't think I have an accent, Mommica, my BBF. However, yesterday at the grocery store the butcher asked me where I was from. "Chicago." I answered. He said, "No, that doesn't sound like Chicago. Sounds more foreign." Why don't you call me and find out for yourself? I would love nothing more.

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If you could live anywhere, where would it be and why?

Besides living in Chicago, Jessica, I would like to live in Chile where I could ski and sun bath all year round.

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If you could take your family anywhere in the world, to introduce them to culture and diversity while still having fun, where would it be?

Nice question, Grandy. I love to travel and introducing my children to culture is one of my top priorities for them. I plan on taking my children everywhere in the world. Jay has been to three countries already. Lola has been to two. And Fifi to one. I want to hold their hands as we walk across the Great Wall. I want to ski the slopes of Chile with them. I want us to dress up for Carnival in Brazil. I want to scuba dive with them in the Australian reef. I want to skip together through the streets of Italy. I want to sit together in a sea side cafe off the Baltic. I want. I need to see the world with them.

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I would like to know (Are) how you (you even) chose your names (open to the possiblility) for your children? I mean, are they family (of making) names or did you (out) always know you'd name them, or did you find them (with me) somewhere?

Thanks, Mr. Lady, for the question. You always manage to make me blush. I have always know what name to give my son (Yes). Naming daughters has proven to be more difficult. I (it is) choose very traditional names for all three of my children (very possible) that will forever be timeless and classy.

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Do you take your kids photos?

Yes, Karen. I take about 500 photos a month. I print only about a 1/4 of them in a photobook and store the rest on a portable hard drive.

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Having three kids under the age of 5, how do you manage when you're out with them?
Dear, anon. I always pack a bag full of snacks and juices. They are constantly snacking on every fieldtrip we take. I have been known to rip own a bag of goldfish in the middle of Target too. I am sure they have me on camera.

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Do you speak fluent Polish?

My sweet cheesehead, Kathryn. Yes. I speak fluent Polish and sometimes even think in Polish. Spanlish, English, Polish.... I tend to loose a lot in translation.

February 24th, 2008

Dear Fifi,

I woke up today, on your first birthday, to the sun shinning through our blinds. Your head was resting on Daddy's chest. Your chubby toes were resting on top of my chest. The three of us, like every morning, created a "H" in bed. You are our family's final piece of the puzzle. You complete us.

Happy first birthday sweet Fifi.

For years I silently wondered what my third child would look like. I wasn't at peace with myself and knew that I did not want to live with regrets. When Daddy bought me the gorgeous dinning room set in lue of a third child, I still felt empty. That emptiness hurt bad enough that I finally convinced Daddy to have you. You fill our hearts completely and we can't imagine life without.

It has been a tremendous year for all of us. I had one of the saddest, most heart wrenching, soul searching, worst weeks of my life that I shared with you. That week, when you were a month old, when we were at the Children's Hospital was beyond words terrible. When I think about the intrusive tests that you were put through to determine that you were not epilectic, I cry. I cry as I type this because the image of you being returned to me, after the tests, with your eyes swollen shut from crying, is still so fresh in my heart. I held you. I pushed aside all the wires you were connected to aside, and slept with you every night against the doctors orders. I did not leave your side to eat. Or shower. I kept you in my arms and cried. When it was confirmed that you had benign neonatal sleep myoclonus and were perfect, I finally exhaled. However, the image of your swollen eyes shut, I will take to my grave.

From the moment we were released to today, I have held you, slept with you, kissed you, obssessed about you all day long. You love to hold my hands and walk around, like a blind person, you tap your right foot against an object on the floor to determine what it is. When I strap you into your carseat, your head starts spinning around in each direction looking for Lola and Jay. When I lift your arms and dive into you armpits to kiss them, you giggle and allow me to linger. When you see a balloon, your most favorite thing in the world, your finger points and you say "This?" this was your first word. When you are fed and no longer hungry you start spitting in all directions and this is followed by more giggles. Your giggles are contagious and everyone around you smiles with you. You are confident too and know what you like or don't like. When you met Santa you locked your knees and refused to take a step towards him. You love animals, you love music, you love to clap and you love to smile.

Happy first birthday, daughter. Your spirit has filled our home and our hearts.

Love,
Mama

Classy and Witty Q&A's...

Last week I started some well needed Spring cleaning. My house is still a HUGE mess, but my blog is more organized.

You might have realized I got my own URL. You might have read my "About me" and witnessed my remarkable photoshop abilities. You might have clicked on my "Neighbors" and glanced at the blogroll. You might have been curious to see what "Bling" was. That "Bling" my friends makes me blush everytime.

The last thing on my blog's Spring cleaning to-do list, is to include a "Q&A" section. I really disliked my 100 things post and am envisioning the "Q&A" section to be full of classy and witty questions from my classy and witty readers. I envision a place where new readers can come to learn more about me and find you.

Please leave me ONE QUESTION and your url address, so I can minimize my clicking and pasting. Keep it CLASSY and WITTY... things you really would like to know about me, about blogging, about parenting, or whatever else. Please remember that my entire family and handful of friends read this blog. Mwah from a PG-13 kinda of gal.

I will try to answer as many as possible. MR. OHmommy will pick his most favorite. That lucky blogger will be rewarded with a basket full of adult and kid's toothbrushes and toothpaste. What do you expect from a dentist?


In the meantime, I will be crying all weekend long as we celebrate Fifi's 1st birthday. I might even make Monday a holiday and not blog. Imagine that? I leave you with Fifi's 1st portrait, that is waiting to be hung next to her siblings.Summary: Leave me ONE classy and witty question (include your url) for my new Q&A section and you might win TOOTHBRUSHES and TOOTHPASTE for your family!!!

Dreaming of the Olympics....

Soccer was over in November and since then Jay has been without sport. This drives me, an over-committed busy mom, crazy. (Overcommitted: SAHM of three, professional photographer, non-profit 20 page monthly newsletter editor, PTA nominating committee chair, PTA spring banquet committee, blogger, playgroup dropout, AKA... crazy)

"What can I sign you up for?" I ask him every week, being that finding Jay a sport has been on my to-do list since Halloween.

"I will think about it." He answers each time. This drives me, a pushy compulsive mom, crazy.

"I’m still thinking." He re-words himself moments later.

"Mama. I know! I know what you can sign me up for." Jay exclaims one day.

"Sweet mousie, Jay. I am so happy. What can I sign you up for?" Thrilled that he has actually thought long and hard about it. I am excited for his excitement.

"Pilot lessons."

Needless to say, I was not able to find pilot lessons for a five year old in the suburbs of Ohio.

Would he like to play indoor soccer? "No, too many people on the field." He likes to kick the ball but is afraid of a crowd of kids running toward him.

Would he like to play indoor tennis? "No, it is too sweaty." He happens to sweat a lot and doesn’t like it.

Would he like to play baseball? "No, the ball is hard and I am afraid of it hurting me in the shoe-shoenka by accident." He happens to watch America’s Funniest Videos and saw a man yelp when the ball hit his shoe-shoenka.

What would he like to do? Truth is that since he was born, Jay has not liked to do much of anything organized. He is a very sensitive child that has the separation anxiety of a two-year-old. He loves to be with me. All the time. And I am okay with it, cause really... how long will THAT last?

He cried at baby Gymboree. He melted down at toddler My Gym. He kicked and screamed on the way to preschool ice skating, He fell asleep at piano lessons. Tennis lessons. Swim lessons. Basketball lessons. All. Of. Them. Disasters.

What have I done? Truth is, I made him finish every single class in the sessions posted above. Always one sport at a time. Never pushy. I taught him the importance of perseverance "See, Jay? Last week you couldn’t even stand on the ice." I taught him the importance of being proud of oneself "Are YOU proud of YOURSELF for swimming so good today?" I tried to teach him that crying doesn’t solve problems "I understand words, not tears, words help me understand your feelings."

Last week, I received an email from one of the sweetest women I have met to date. "I have talked to the gymnastics owner and he agreed to create a boys-only introduction class. It is scheduled for Wednesdays at 4:30." Way to be pro-active, Mommy. Sweet. I thought. That is immediately after Lola’s class. I can even save on gas and camp out at the stinky gym for two hours, at back to back classes.

"Jay. Mama signed you up for boy’s gymnastics. Big boy gymnastics for boys like you that are 5, 6, or 7." I tell him deciding that I too will be pro-active and take matters in my own hands.

"I. Don’t. Know. About. THAT." He speaks slowly and doesn’t look me in the eyes.

"You also said you weren’t sure about snap peas and now they are your favorite! I think you should give it a try." Wow. Sometimes, just sometimes, I amaze myself.

Today I spent two hours in a sweaty smelly gymnastics gym with three children, in stilettos. Today I saw my son participate with much enthusiasm. I saw determination in his eyes as he attempted all of the men’s apparatus. I saw pure joy as his friends, all boys, joked around in typical manly fashions. I saw a new love growing inside of him.

"Did you like it? Did you have fun?" I immediately asked him.

"Yes. Oh, yes! I really loved it!" He confidently looked me in the eyes and spoke.

"Are YOU proud of yourself? I saw you so high in the air, on the bar." I continue.

"Yes. I. Am. Proud." His voice grows more confident with each word.

We drove home with an exhausted Fifi, a talkative Lola, and a confident Jay. Jay was looking out the window and interrupted Lola, "I like gymnastics even more then Star Wars Lego computer game and I want to go EVERYDAY!"

The computer game has been his nirvana since Christmas. I am dreaming of the Olympics.

Glory, Hallelujah.

Holy Guacamole!

Houston. We have finally landed.

Stop. It. Now.

In four days Fifi will turn one. ONE. Oh my gosh, one years old.

As the third child she has been lovingly neglected. More than once.

While the other two were in school, I read a book to Fifi. "The cat says, MEOW!" I let out a meow, she looked at me, and started laughing. "The dog says, ARF, ARF!" I barked out loud, she looked up at me, and started laughing again. Why is she laughing at me? And then I realized. This was the VERY FIRST time I was going over animal sounds with her. I must sound hysterically foreign to her. The other two, at this age, had memorized at least a dozen animal sounds

Yesterday we played around in the basement and Fifi was trying to keep up with the other two. She followed them around walking from furniture piece to furniture piece, always watching them. She lost her balance, fell, and lightly bumped her forehead against the wall. Not getting off the couch, I peered over and saw little tears forming and her lip quivering. "Oh, it's okay baby girl. You are okay." She cried for a minute and pulled herself back up to see the others. "That a girl!" The others required massive amounts of band-aids for even the slightest of accidents.

On Saturday I took all three kids to a birthday party in an indoor playground. The warehouse was full of gigantic swingsets. The older two immediately took off in different directions and I stood alone with Fifi. "You want to swing, baby girl?" I placed her in a bucket swing and gently pushed her. Fifi's eyes opened WIDE and she let out a fearful cry. I stopped the swing and smothered her with kisses. How can she not like to swing? Everyone likes to swing. Oh my gosh, this is her first time in a swing. Oh my. I used to take the older two to the indoor playground every week of the winter.

Today, I dropped off the others at preschool and headed to the grocery store. There were many other SAHM moms and senior citizens shopping too. While waiting for my bologna a senior citizen approached our cart in admiration of her baby blue eyes. "Ahhhh, isn't she sweet?" I thanked her and even allowed her to touch my daughter. Fifi was all smiles. "She must be your first." The lady declared. "No, actually she's my third. My last." I explained. The SAHM next to me in the deli line whispered just loud enough for me to hear, "Oh, I would not have guessed she being your first." I smiled and approached her, curious to hear how she knew this. "She is still in her pajamas and has what looks like syrup all over her chest." I looked down at my beautiful baby and she was infact in her pjs sprinkled with syrup. I looked at the SAHM and let her know that I did remember to change her diaper this morning. Everyone smiled and parted ways.

As the third child she has been lovingly neglected. Yes. More then once. However, she is also loved by more than one. She was born into an immediate family of siblings all of which smother her with attention. Hands down, this baby has received many more kisses then the other two.

Fifi. Darling. Please stop growing so fast. We are thrilled you are a part of our family. However, you are growing up too fast. Mama just realized that you have never been in a swing, or never been read a book, you are always in your pajamas, you are always without a bib, you have no age appropriate baby toys, and you have been introduced to Tom and Jerry way too soon.

Please stop. We can not keep up with you. Our sweetest Fifi... slow done. (Her REAL name is just so beautiful, wish I could share). Fifi. Stop. It. Now.

Is it okay for me to cry this weekend when she turns one?

I need a CHILL pill.

At the tender age of 25, I gave birth to my first child. I was the first one to get married, the first one to buy a house, and the first to have a child. I had no girlfriends to walk me through the trenches of motherhood.

"Your life is going to change." A childless friend of mine explained at my baby shower.

Three kids later, I am wading through the trenches trying to stay afloat balancing all of the duties associated with motherhood. This. I can handle. Except for, MY trenches are filled with worries. Deep with thoughts. I can't seem to relax and enjoy the trenches for what they are. Instead. I. Worry. ALL THE TIME.

Two weeks ago, our sweet baby girl, slept an entire 12 hours straight through. Most normal parents would rejoice. I franctically ran to her room picking out her obtiuary picture in my mind. I kid you not. Cause, surely she suffocated last night. She was dead for sure, so I threw open her nursery door and slammed it against the wall. And. I woke her up.

On Sunday, my gracious husband took all three kids to the Natural History Museum. I was told to take a bath, shave my legs, and catch up with Oprah. I was completely relaxed the first hour. During the second hour I became a little more un-relaxed. During the third hour I became anxious, Oprah is good like that. I was alone for three and a half hours before I started calling. No answer. NO answer!? NO ANSWER!!??!!! OH, my gosh... NO ANSWER!!!! Surely, my husband lost control of my minivan and is stuck in an icy ditch. In one selfish afternoon, I have lost my entire family. Oh my gosh. They are all dead. I feel the lump building in my throat. I have to clear my voice to take his phone call fifteen minutes later. Note to self: no cell phone reception in the planterium.

Yesterday I prepared lunch for the kids and left them alone while I put Fifi down for a nap. I was enjoying my one on one with her, caressing her baby chubs, absorbing the smell of her delicious baby neck, and loosing myself in her baby blue eyes. "AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" I hear screaming. Terrible, horrible, incredible screams coming from the kitchen. Followed by silence. I toss the baby in the crib and run downstairs skipping every other step, yelling "BREATH! LOLA. BREATH." She has holding breath syndrome and frequently looses consciousness. I am picturing a lifeless child, like I have held so many times before. I reach the kitchen and come face to face with this....

"I got ketchup on my pillow! AHHHH!!!!" Lola sobs. I exhale.

And so my friends. My trenches are deeply filled with worry. For no reason. I am hoping that the worries lessen as my children grow older or hoping that amongst one of you is a licensed doctor. I need a chill pill. The biggest baddest chill pill on the market. Legal or not, I must have it.

I just can't seem to fully relax as a mother. Will I ever be the same?

Perfect in the City

Moving from one of the greastest cities in the world to a smaller city has been hard on me. My husband knows very well of my love affair with Chicago. I love the theatres, the restaurants, the energetic night life, the posh people, the opera, I love the culture. The cosmopolitan culture. I will always be a city girl. I have cried knowing that my children will not.

I could remain bitter about living in Ohio. Or. I could learn how to live in Ohio.

I try to do the best with what he have here in Ohio. I want my children to experience as much city culture as possible. I want them to embrace the amazing fine arts, I want them to experience scrumptious Ritz-Carlton brunches, I want them to learn about exotic music, I want them to feel comfortable at a swanky coffee house. I want to cultivate them to find comfort in the city and enjoy life.

Just about every week, I take all three kiddos into the city, on my own. We have museums, gardens, tea houses, ethnic grocery stores, concerts, and the performing arts.

This weekend, we searched our closets for our theatre bests and met some friends for a play downtown. It was wondeful. When the play was over the theatre quickly emptied and parents feverishly ushered their children back into their minivans for the suburbs. No one with kids actually lives in our Ohio downtown.

I ushered my three children to a coffee house for a muffin snack. We created stories about each customer and watched the city in action. "What do you think that Dog's name is? Look at that pretty lady, do you think she has any kiddos, how many? What do you think that couple will have for dinner" My fieldtrips to the city are paying off for we laughed, we sipped, we watched, we relaxed, and talked for some time together at our table for four. They were perfect at the theatre, perfect at the coffee house, and perfect walking the streets. It was a perfect day for a city girl in heart.

THE sweetest thing

Jay was quietly hunched over our craft table working. He was working hard on something and didn't even give me permission to peek.

"What are you working on?" I break his concentration.

"YOU can't see until I am all ready." He explodes into giggles.

"Let me peek, Jay!" I tease him knowing very well that this child lives for rules.

"No! Mama. You have to be a patient. Just wait!" More giggles.

He approaches me with this....

and my heart melts. This is the VERY FIRST letter from one of my children. He even had a piece of tape ready for me so that I could display it. I might go as far as to laminate it tomorrow to preserve his little smudges. I don't want the smudges to disappear. This is THE sweetest letter I have gotten. Ever.

Beemster Cheese

Every time we travel, the kiddos pack their own carry-on luggage. Toys, books, candy, and most importantly their stuffed animals. We have been to Costa Rica, the Dominican Republic, and Mexico without EVER loosing anything. My children treasure their stuffed animals. They sleep with a dozen each night and choosing JUST ONE to take on a vacation is extremely hard to do.

Jay picked "Blue Mousie" as his friend to accompany him to Mexico this last January.

We lost "Blue Mousie" in Mexico. I lost him.

Knowing very well that my overly sensitive first born child would cry and try to return to Mexico for "Blue Mousie." I told him that he died. "He is in heaven swimming in pools of swiss cheese." I lied to my son.

Jay was happy knowing that "Blue Mousie" was in heaven. He was comforted with the idea of his mouse in peaceful heaven. Except for, he kept thinking about him. He kept wondering about him. He was really sad that "Blue Mousie" wasn't able to accompany him to "Pajama Day" at his pre-K during "P" week. "I wish that Blue Mousie was just alive to come with me, Mama."

My husband, unbeknownst to me, e-mailed the cheese company BEEMSTER (the manufacturers of blue mousie and cheese) and told them of our troubles.

BEEMSTER, responded immediately. There were only FOUR "Blue Mousies" left in the United States of America and they would ship one to Ohio tomorrow.

Today. We got a package. One day before pajama day at pre-k.

Thank you BEEMSTER cheese for reincarnating "Blue Mousie." You have made one very special cheese lover very happy. We will serve BEEMSTER cheese at his birthday, graduation, and wedding.

Thank you Beemster, thank you! Now I have to discuss reincarnation with my preschoolers.

What is worst then...

your new adorable puppy pooping everywhere?

Your adorable three year old child un-knowingly stepping in the poop and continuing to walk around the ENTIRE house.

I will spare you the photos.

just laugh WITH me...

We lost Hunter, our new puppy, yesterday. For 15 minutes the kids and I walked around the house feverishly calling his name. With no luck, I sat all three kids down for a yogurt snack, while I searched for the dog alone. Naturally, Lola managed to drop some yogurt on her pants and ran to the laundry room to take them off.

"I found Hunter!" She screamed. And there he was, asleep on a pile of dirty laundry.
Upon further investigation we found his poop, very close to the door. Ah ha! So this is why people in the midwest wait until spring to bring home puppies. I so didn't get THAT memo. I have been missing a lot of parenting memos lately. I don't blaim him though. It was all of 4 degrees outside and schools were closed.

I proceeded to clean up the mess and took him outside. I was unable to wait patiently for him. I heard Fifi screaming inside. She had been left alone in her highchair for too long, with her own cup of yogurt.

I proceeded to clean up her mess and this caused her to scream even louder. No child of mine has ever liked their faces scrubbed. I took her clothes off and left her on the kitchen floor as I searched for her pacifier. "KIDDOS!!! Where is Fifi's pacifier?" I screamed over her screams.

I licked the pacifier off (she is my THIRD after all and dogs do have clean mouths) and placed it in her mouth. Ah, ha! I wondered why my entire family LAUGHED OUT LOUD when we announced we were adding another dog to our family. Now. I understand. Three kids. Two dogs. One husband. Yup, I so understand that we are done multiplying the chaos. Just laugh WITH me.

One FLU over the Cuckoo's Nest

The last date I had with my husband was November 3, 2007. This past Saturday night we had another date. I got my hair done, bought a new sassy top, took notes via gmail on make-up application from a friend, and threw on my favorite stilettos.

We drove seperately to the venue. Fifi vommitted on Friday for the first time in her life and I was worried about her loose kupas. She had a tummy virus. My husband put her to bed and coached his parents on how to keep the kids and two dogs happy while I waited for him at the party.

Finally together surrounded by posh adults we began to relax. A little bit of talk, a lot of laughter, a sampling of finger foods, a tiny bit of gossiping and we were in our element.

The husband's phone rang.

"Lola threw up all over grandpa. We cleaned her up and started the laundry." My mother inlaws voice quickly snaps me out of my element.

"Where are your extra linens?" She asks. Knowing that my linen closet has been on my to-do list for months and the chaos within, I instruct her to place Lola in our bed.

"Mama? Mama, Lola just threw up all over. And grandma doesn't know the good-night song." Jay whispers over the phone. I instruct him to join Lola in my bed where he can sleep on my pillow and I would join him soon.

I hang up the phone and turn to my husband. "You think we should go home?"

"Nwah. They are not going to die. They are with my parents." He said, spoken like a true man. His parents had one child. ONE. For a reason.

We resume our socializing. Laughing. Eating. Feeling like part of the adult world. Talking about pointless adult subjects and enjoying every minute. Minutes go by and my husband whispers into my ear...

"I think I ate too fast. My stomach doesn't feel right."

"Dude, you better be joking. Go to the bathroom and connect with your stomach. Talk to it. Cause I really need to be here. I need it." I whisper back to him with no compassion in my voice.

The only child, my husband, turns his back and makes his way to the bathroom. I re-fill my syrah and resume my conversations. This is my time. Moments later the husband approaches me again, he made no connections with his stomach and we had to leave. We were the first adults to leave the party.

We came home to my in-laws watching HGTV and the house quiet. We graciously thanked them, they left, the husband ran to the bathroom. The demonic sounds that trembled our walls were all too much for me. I peeked in to see the sink filled to the brim with stomach lining. I left him.

I opened up our bedroom door to check on the sleeping kiddos. The stench that met me slapped me across the face and back into my mommy element. Again. I looked at Lola in the dark. It was not possible. I had to turn on the light to check if she was dead. I ran to the light switch thinking about the my child dying under my MIL's care.

Lola was asleep on my pillow with a beard full of dried vomit. Beef stew vomit. A beard of it, encrusted on her. On my 100% Egyptian Cotton, 400-thread count white-on-white striped pillow. She was asleep in a pool of beef stew vomit. Every time she inhaled, the pool would bubble. Her blond hair was soaking up the protein. I pictured my MIL watching HGTV.

I stripped her. I woke up sleeping Jay. I stripped the bed. I started the bath. I covered my ears to nullify the demonic sounds echoing throughout the house produced by my husband downstairs. I opened up my chaotic linen closet and 7 years of sheets fell upon my feet. The dogs, asleep in their crates, were now yelping to get out and join us.

An hour later everyone was asleep in my house. I laid awake admist the new sheets.

"Maaaammmmaaaaa...." Jay was groaning for me. I too began calling MY MOMS name outloud. I made my way to his room to find him hunched over vomitting. I gently rubbed his back encouraging him to get it all out and re-introduced him to new pajamas and new sheets. I grabed a towel from the kid's bathroom, scoopped up his vomit with my own bare hands, on my hands and knees, and my stomach began to speak.

And it spoke loudly while everyone slept. The walls shook and I craddled the toilet.

I need to nurse my cuckoo's nest back into health and re-organize my linen closet. I am the mother cuckoo and this is what we do. Forgive my absence tomorrow as I clean the nest.

Cheaper then Botox...

Bangs!

I would never regret having botox injections in my forehead. The bangs? Ummm... I might regret in the morning.

The WHAT IFS in life...

We have been keeping a secret for 9 weeks. We haven't told our friends or even our parents.

We feel so blessed having three wonderful children. But something is missing. My husband and I have sat up many nights talking. Discussing. Wondering.

"What if?"

The "What if?" conversations turn into those of finance and responsibilty. Another mouth to feed. More sleepless nights ahead. What would happen to our plans for traveling the world?

The nights have turned into days and finally we just went ahead and did it. Who wants to live life with regrets? Because... what if? So. We. Did. IT.

And.

One hour later.

Our family was complete.

Meet the newest member of the OHmommy family. Hunter. A 9 week old dauschund.
Who could say NO to this face?

Who could say NO to this face?

Who could say NO to this face?

Who could say NO to this face?

Who could say NO to this face?

.

We couldn't. We didn't.

.

We drove out to the country and passed by many dilapidated porches adorned with Confederate flags. We flew by an Amish buggy and a yard full of chickens and cats. We waved hello to a toothless farmer chasing his turkeys. We heard Hunter's farm miles away.

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Alone with three children in tow I parked the car and let the kids out into their heaven. Six dauschunds, four chihuahuas, two wild turkeys, a boat load of barn cats, a litter of puppies born nine weeks ago, and another litter born two weeks ago. The lady in charge had a long mane of gray hair and smelled like a barn. My stillettos were digging into the gravel driveway.

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"Welcome, come in." She ushers us into her home. The dogs immediately corner us and start barking.

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"Wow. What a nice place to live. Kiddos, I bet you never want to leave. Right?" I try to make pleasant conversation when infact I might throw up from the smell in the house. Have I mentioned I am not an animal lover? I am not.
.

"This place STINKS, Mama. It SMELLS." Jay says out loud, before I can silence him, in front of the Dauschund whisperer. This fieldtrip to the country. This puppy. This pet is all for him. He wanted a brother.

Mrs. Gray took a fleece blanket and started rubbing it all over the dogs so that Hunter could be comforted by the scent of his home. Vomit! As we were driving home, I called Mr. OHmommy. He informed me you can't wash a puppy for some days. Vomit! Should have gotten the cat we had already named John from the county rescue center. He did not smell like vomit. Vomit!

.

My children, fortunately, are filled with love for Hunter and are unable to smell. Hunter refused to nap in his new doggie bed and spent the entire day on Jay's lap. Jay blissfully stroked him for hours as he drifed in and out of sleep. Fifi crawled after him yelling "Mama... maaammmaaa..." And Lola, started coming up with names for our third dog, HER DOG. "When I am 5 and a half, like Jay, I will have a dog named Diamond. No it will be Happy. No, no, okay, maybe it will be Freckles."

.

However, I think our family is perfectly complete for now. I have no visions of letting my hair go gray admist sixteen dauschunds. That vision does NOT include classy stillettos.

"Mmmmm...."

"Mmmmm..." Fifi's third word ever, surfaced over dinner yesterday.

"You like dinner, sweet baby girl?" I asked her from across the dinning room table, several feet away from her.

I am spoon feeding the 5 and 3 year old and the baby eats with her own hands. She eats all by herself. Glory, Hallelujah. She eats.

"Mmmmmm...." Fifi sighs again and lifts her green bean in the air admiring it. Happy.

"Mmmmmm..." And again. This must be an innate word since no one is directly infront of her saying "Yummy, yummy.... open your mouth... Mmmmmmm. Here comes the airplane!" Nope. No one is feeding the baby.

"Mmmmmm..." Fifi shoves another handful of pork roast in her mouth.

Three kids are fed. I dance a little as I clean up, knowing that my Fifi really enjoyed her dinner. I smile feeling more confident in my cooking skills. I place her on the floor next to the kiddos. She watches them play. I continue cleaning up the kitchen while dancing the happy confident dance.

"Mmmmmm...." I hear from a distance.

"Mmmmmm..." Fifi, again. I feverishly scrub the table knowing that chaos is brewing.

"Mmmmmm...." Fifi is sitting in the middle of our family room with a H&M receipt hanging from her mouth.

"Mmmmmm...." I open her mouth and sweep the paper out. Obviously her palate isn't refined yet. Pork roast or paper? "Mmmmmm..."

Uggg!!! Just when I was beginning to feel confident about my cooking. Shot down. Yet again.

Seeds of love

Today, February 5th, is my best friend's 30 1/2 birthday.

1/2 birthday? Yup, her half birthday. In the world of five year olds, half birthdays are equally as important as actually birthdays. Jay turned 5 and a half last week and his teacher made a production out of it. "I am 5 1/2 now!" He screams outloud.

The husband and I got married on Natka's birthday. August 5th. We made a t-shirt for her, "It's my birthday and all I got was this T-shirt" a picture of the husband and I plastered across her petunias. She eagerly tossed it over her maid of honor dress and promptly spilled a Cosmo on it.

I met Natka twenty plus years ago at sleep away camp. It was my first year at the camp and her second. She wore real Umbros and real Keds. She WAS cool.

She is cool.

I have one friend. One real, she will do anything for me, girl friend. The godmother to Jay. A member of our family. My children call her Cocia Natka, or Aunt Natka, and just recently realized she isn't blood related.

"Cocia Natka is married, right Mama?" Lola asked me yesterday as we were driving back from gymnastics.

"Yes."

"Then how come she doesn't have any kiddos?" She asks.

"Well. Because. Because she needs some seeds in her tummy. God will make the seeds grow bigger with love. And this love will make a baby." I answered. Dammit, I really need to remember to have music on at all times in the car.

"Mama. Where do you get baby seeds from?" Jay enters the conversation.

"Great question. Where do you think the seeds come from?" I save the conversation by turning the tables. (Note to moms: this never fails)

"I know! I know! You can buy baby seeds from Babies-R-Us." Lola is grinning knowing she just said something brilliant.

"I never saw seeds at THAT store." Jay informs.

"YES!!! That is where you buy baby seeds and all things for baby." Lola lashes back.

"No. There are no seeds THERE! You can buy seeds at the Wal-mart! I saw them there!" Jay, very seriously, educates us. Geez, where is the music? I always have music on in the car.

"Maaaa-maaaa-maaaaa!" Sweet baby Fifi joins the conversation. Her SECOND word ever. First word was "This?" I turn around to face Fifi as she is clearly looking into my eyes and saying MAMA for the very first time. I pull the car over, in the nearest parking lot, and for the one hundreth time that day, smoother all three of them with kisses. I laughed out loud and then I cried. This is the LAST time I will hear "Mama" for the first time out of my child.

The first time you hear the words, "Maaaaa-maaaaa" you will cry with happiness. For days, you will cry. With the second child you will laugh out loud and do a little dance. When you hear "Mama" from your third (or last) child, you will savor the moment and do both: cry and laugh.

Who's who?

I put the kids to bed early, threw on a pair of jeans, kissed Mr. OHmommy good-bye and raced to the restaurant. It was Saturday night and I was meeting Mamawise for a girl's night out.

I was the first to arrive and took a seat at the bar. The bartender approached me with a smile.

"Meeting someone tonight?" He asks and casually glances down at my wedding ring. I rotate my rings so the diamonds align.

"Yes. I am." I giggle like a school girl and fluff my hair.

"Ohhh, anyone special?"

"Yes. Someone I met online." I smile. He stares at me. He looks bewildered and walks away shrugging. I giggle.

I look toward the door. The door opens and a drop dead gorgeous blond walks through the crowded entrance. All eyes, in the room, are on her. She walks to me. To me! And we hug.

"Hi, Mamawise." She puts down her sassy fur coat, fluffs her hair, and sits down besides me.

We found each other on Kim's blog. We are both readers of her cute blog. I had commented, on one of her posts, about my love for Polish sausage. That same evening Mommywise and I were chatting away on the phone. We were both born in 1977. We have kids. We live in the same city. We are both 100% Polish. We can't swallow pills. We have American husbands. We... we have so much in common!

Us. I am hoping Mamawise can give me a lesson on make-up application and hair styling. Isn't she darling? Must be the Polish genes!

This past Saturday night we laughed, we cried, we talked, and we giggled. My cheeks hurt so bad at the end of the night from smiling.

We took some random pictures throughout the night and created a game. Can you guess WHO'S WHO in each picture?

Who's who... Traditional Tote or Sassy Clutch?

Who's who... Hooker Heels or Practical Boots?

Who's who... French Onion Soup or Buffalo Chicken Wings?

Who's who... Full Fruity Pina Colada or Frosty 1/2 Empty Coors Light?

How well do you know OHmommy? Go ahead, guess one or guess all. ***Due to the cost of our Girl's night out, no prizes will be awarded.***

I have freckles, hear them roar!

Shortly after I was born, thirty years ago in Poland, a close family member commented on my freckles.

"She has so many freckles! No one likes a girl with freckles. No one." They uttered in Polish to my hormonal Mother whom just gave birth to her first child.

My mother told me this years later as I was battling my own war with hormones in junior high.

"People do not like freckles?" I asked her. From that day on I wished for clear porcelain skin.

Today, I look forward to summer, sun, and the re-apperance of thousands of freckles. Each freckle is perfectly placed where God intended. Each freckle gives me personality. It seperates me from you.

"Hello little freckle. Hello cute buddy. Tickle, tickle." The kiddos laugh out loud and I join in! Yes, we talk to and tickle our freckles.




Thanks Kelly at Ordinary Art for the "I Dare You" challenge. Changing body image for the sake of our children. You are brilliant! Brilliant! I have freckles and hear them roar!

Can you hear me now?

My Lola. She does not listen. Well.

When she was a year old she had already suffered through six ear infections. Her ears were constantly filled with fluid and so we opted for the placement of ear tubes.

Maybe she could hear us better?

We were shocked to learn the truth. The fluid actually was prohibiting her from hearing. The before and after results were alarming. She really could not hear us well before the tubes.

Lola came home and we were so happy knowing she could hear. Better. Except for, she still did not listen to us. We took her back to the ENT doctor. The doctor said her hearing was perfect. We asked him, "Are you sure? She doesn't listen to us." He wrote her a Rx for some discpline.

Ear tubes. Check.

Discpline. Ummm...

We tried that. Nothing worked so much. Time out. Behavior charts. Threats. More time outs. "Are you sure she can hear?" We asked our ENT for the 19th time.

And then. And then...

Lola got Bella Dancerella Cheerleader as a gift. She followed directions! She listened to Bella, the main cheerleader! She listened! She actually LISTENED! She was following directions!!!

She can ... OH MY GOSH... she can hear.

Can you hear me now? Lola, you are busted.

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Game on! Game on! Game on middle child! Gooooooo Game! (insert image of OHmommy doing a fancy cheerleading jump)

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Selective hearing? Have you heard of selective punishment? GAME ON! Game on! Game on! Go, game, go!!! (insert image of OHmommy doing an even fancier cheerleading jump)