NYC: Part 1... Relationships

When I booked our impromptu trip to NYC I was a little apprehensive about spending an entire weekend with my sister. I was worried that we would find something to argue about. We have argued about nothing, our entire lives. However, the more we age, the closer our bond becomes. Although, I am still bitter about her stealing my room when I moved out to attend college.

As much as we like to think of ourselves as different, we are very much alike. We are both passionate, hard working, stubborn, confident, loving, head strong, conservative, and of course classy women. I might be a little more laid back and she might be a little bit more out spoken... but truth be told we are quite the same. This weekend solidified our sisterly relationship. Holy guacamole my sister is as laid back as I am!!!

Furthermore.

This past weekend, I realized that my sweet little Lola is so incredibly in love with my sister, "Don't tell Uncle Mike and Dave... but I love you and Kash the most of all."

My daughter loves my sister. She LOVES her! I love that. And my sister loves her back ten times more. I love that even more.

I have been editing pictures all flipping night long and I keep stumbling back to the following pictures. See below. My daughter LOVES my sister. She admires her.

"I want Kash to babysit us, while you go back to work so we can live in NYC with her. Bye, MOM. Go back to work!"

"I miss Kash. Really bad. Really, really, really bad. Can she move to Ohio?"

"I like Kash's rules. She LETS us eat candy all the time!"

"Kash would let us stay up all night long... how come you can't?"

More awesome NYC tales to be told tomorrow. A round of applause for me, OHmommy, for editing 200 picture tonight... phew.... thank goodness for Earl Grey Tea! It only took me 4 hours.



PICTURES DELETED

Trading my Stilettos for Sneakers

I have always been fascinated with New York City. The glitz of Broadway. The glamour of the 5th Avenue. The swankiness of the Upper East Side. I have dreamed about visiting for years and breathing it all in. Tomorrow, I will hit Central Park for the first time.

However, if someone told me 13 years ago that I would be going to NYC, for the first time, packing a double stroller, sneakers, My Little Pony and Star Wars underwear I would have laughed out loud. Thirteen years ago, this May, I was graduating high school and my senior class of 400 voted me the "most likely to travel to foreign lands." I spent that entire summer sleeping on roof tops in Pamplona and the beaches of Ibiza. Life was fabulous.

I started college. Met a boy. Got married, on purpose. Had. Three. Kids.

My life had changed. I could not continue sleeping on beaches forever. My life is better. My kids have opened up my eyes and the world is now a new place for me to re-discover. Yesterday, at the grocery store, I picked up 10 new cloth bags and Jay asked me why I was buying them. "Well, what junk food is to your body... plastic bags are to the earth." This simple trip to the store sparked an entire afternoon conversation loaded with interesting questions. The world is a different place. I have questions to answer and a purpose to live.

So, although I would have probably laughed 13 years ago had I known I would be packing sneakers instead of stilettos to NYC, I am anxious to see the city through the eyes of my children. I can't wait to run through the park and chase pigeons. I can't wait for their first subway ride. I can't wait to push them in the stroller pass Fao Schwartz. I can't wait to see if they sleep through the mariachi band, outside of my sister's flat. I can't wait to experience it with them.

Had someone told me I would be a SAHM of three in Ohio, I probably would have traveled a lot more extensively. And even though, 13 years ago, I envisioned my first trip to NYC to be full of club hopping, stiletto wearing, innocent flirting chaos I would not trade my travel companions and the memories we will create this weekend.

What are you going to eat in NYC, Lola? "I will actually try the New York Chicken. But no adult foods like tomatoes and pickles." Where can I find New York chicken? I need to google that tonight.

What are you going to buy in NYC, Jay? "The biggest Star Wars Legos in Fao Schwartz and some jewelry for Babcia (his grandma) so she can be beautiful." Babcia promised, over the phone, to buy the kiddos ANYTHING they wanted at Fao Schwartz.

What are you most excited about, Lola? "I am so excited to sleep in the same bed as Kash!" It is a good thing I spent over a $1,000 for a sleepover.

What are you most excited about, Jay? "To bring home the world's largest Star Wars Legos. I will carry it myself on the plane if it doesn't fit in our luggage." I am so happy he can reason.

Bye-Bye Ohio.

PS. I am still packing my heels even though my blister has not healed. Sometimes looking good hurts.

PSS. I am going to miss Mr. OHmommy and Fifi so bad. That hurts too.

He is most definitely MY son

"Mothers are fonder, than fathers, of their children because they are more certain they are their own." ~Aristotle

Over the weekend, we noticed that a rainbow had formed in our neighborhood. Lola raced to find her boots convinced she was going to find a "magical treasure." She was speaking in tongues with anticipation of finding "magical treasures" of jewels and diamonds.

I threw on some boots and ran for my Nikon with anticipation of documenting the first rainbow of the season. Lola was already outside and Jay no where in sight. I joined Lola knowing that Jay would soon follow.

I was engrossed in taking pictures of Lola and Fifi that I barely noticed MY son. My son joined us outside ready to document his story. He had grabbed his camera and was completely engrossed. He is most definitely MY son.


Now I have to figure out where Lola came from. She most definitely was switched at birth. It is possible, isn't it?

Stiletto Mishap Overture

Although I have had many stilettos mishaps in my life I have never documented any. Until today.

There was that Fall night in 1997 after a night of karaoke at Haggerty's, that resulted in chipping my two front teeth after clumsily loosing my balance in my Guess pumps. And who could forget St. Patty's Day 1999 in my green Banana Republic pumps when I managed to sprain both ankles?

This past Saturday yet another stiletto mishap took place adding to my growing list.

My husband fills root canals and drills cavities on Saturdays and I venture out with three children, on this family day, alone. With the kids out of school, I usually try to plan a field trip to keep us active. This Saturday, I bought tickets for the orchestra's performance of Dancing with Dvorak. The youth ballet danced alongside the orcherstra and we had second row center stage tickets. I had a bag of suckers to keep Fifi occupied. We were set.

After a quick breakfast, I dressed all three children in fancy theatre attire and started to work on myself. I picked out the cutest gold stilettos to match my bulky gold H&M bracelets to dress up my traditional all black attire. I grabbed our tickets and was out the door.

Half way to downtown, at 9:20 am, I realized Fifi had fallen asleep. I checked the tickets to make sure of the 10am curtain call. Flipping frogs... the time on the tickets read 11:00am. I could see the sky line of our downtown and heard Fifi gently snoring. What was I to do for 90 minutes, downtown, with three kids, no stroller, and no snacks?

I clicked my gold heels together.

I drove around to find a McDondalds and ordered some breakfast snacks to keep the other two busy and quiet. I drove around for some time hoping to find something to do.

The clouds parted and the sun shone down on the stadium. I drove closer and realized that in the grassy quad of the stadium was a FESTIVAL!!!! It was a "fan fest" for our basketball team. I found parking 1/2 between the stadium and the theatre district. A mere 10 city blocks separate the two.

We spent an hour shooting hoops, playing games, watching the cheerleaders, and enjoying ourselves. I allowed about 15 minutes for us to walk the 10 city blocks to the theatre.

I clicked my gold heels together and we were off.

Along the way Jay found a ten dollar bill, "Finders keepers!" Fifi watched the pigeons, "Bird." And Lola sang out loud. We started approaching the theatre district and I realized that it was quite empty. It was 5 minutes before 11:00am. Where we are all the people? I checked our tickets to double check the time. Check. And check the date. Check. And check the location. Flipping Frogs... Dancing with Dvorak was NOT in the theatre district it was at orchestra hall, by the university, a mere 100 city blocks away from us.

I threw off my heels as we ran to the car. I was dressed for the orchestra and not a hike through the city.

I frantically drove the 100 blocks barefoot. We made it and the performance was in full swing as we were ushered to our second row seats. It was amazing. It was delightful. Carnival Overture had the kids tapping their toes. I used Fifi's chubby legs to direct the orchestra through Johannes Brahms Hungarian Dance no.5 in G minor. We giggled. We danced.

It was the most amazing and delightful Saturday field trip to date.

Well worth the huge blister on my pinkie toe caused by my beloved gold stilettos. Now I can add April 2008 hiking the city, with three kids, in heels to my list of stiletto mishaps.
Sunday morning my toe, well was not looking so classy, I wore ballet flats to church and stumbled around all day. The husband, who is home on Sundays, took the kids on a fieldtrip to the zoo. He did not wear stilettos.

Happy Anniversary Mama i Tata

April 16, 2008

Kochana Mama i Tata,

Ya tak bardzo kochama vas and I am sorry that your investment in my Polish schooling did not appreciate in value. At least, I made life long friends in Polish school.

But enough about me. Today is your 32nd wedding anniversary. I want to thank you for taking that giant leap of faith and moving to America with us. Through all the hardships we have faced throughout the years, your marriage has stayed strong. Your marriage has been a foundation for us all and an example of what to follow for the future.

Happy Anniversary Mama and Tata.

Who would have thought that 32 years later you would have three incredibly gifted children and three incredibly delicious grandchildren all hopelessly devoted to you? We love you more than words can say.

Today, on your 32nd anniversary, a new American Greetings card made is debut at Walmarts across the world. Appropriately so it is an anniversary card which reads...

"The only thing better than loving you is knowing that you love me, too."

Furthermore, and even more appropriately so, the outside of the card is a picture of two very delicious children holding hands. Your grandchildren.

Your leap of faith and investment in us, in our future, has paid off. We lead by your example and are thankful. Kochama vas forever and ever.

Love,
OHmommyski

The Real World: OHmommy

When I gave birth to Classy Chaos some nine months ago it was to chronicle my life as a SAHM to three. My soul purpose was to document funny and cute things that happened at home so that my parents, my siblings, my family, and my friends that were sprinkled across the globe, could read. I wanted them to be connected to our lives. And. They are.


Although, I continue to write for them and for me, sometimes you come into play. My purpose is the same: to document our lives. 90% of the time I usually write about exploding diapers, the funny things Lola says about being blond, Jay's new interest in gymnastics, and shopping at Target.

There are times when something happens and I do not blog about it because you might not find it as cute as my Cocia Hania would. Fifi screams instead of talks. She comes in one level, LOUD. It is almost as if she is trying to stay on top of the chaos at home. She points her fingers, "THIS???!!!!" and "DOGGIE!!! WOOF WOOF WOOF!!!" It is hysterical. She is definitely related to our LOUD family. I think she talks more then Lola. Imagine that?

And so, I don't blog about Fifi talking and instead find something that might interest you like discussing Jay's sensitivity. I don't really want to document it. But somehow, I have found myself amidst this incredible blogging world full of communities. The mommy community is amazing. Perhaps blogging about Jay's sensitivity would help another mommy figure out how to help her child. Perhaps I made a connection with one person. Perhaps not. I feel like I want to contribute back to the community.

Nevertheless, my original purpose is to chronicle my life. I want to document my life. I rarely ever philosophize because really... I am just too damn tired with three kids. I am too exhausted to discuss religion, although I desperately want to talk about it. I am too tired to discuss raising body awareness, although I desperately want to talk about it.

My point is that I write to document the cute and funny things that happen around the OHmommy house. These stories paint a picture of our lives. I do attend church regularly. I do love to wear heels. I really never swear. I do not feed my kids anything processed besides the occasional mac n cheese and chicken nuggets. I love my kids.

The cute and funny stories might paint a picture of a cute and funny life. And, for the most part the picture you have painted in your mind is 90% accurate. There is about 10% that you don't know.

The 10% that I do not blog about.

The 10% that I do not want to document.

The 10% that I do not want my parents reading.

I give to you, The Real World: OHmommy. "She isn't always wearing stilettos."

I panic when people arrive at my house un-announced. Usually there are dishes in my sink, my windows are dirty, and my counter top is full of junk.

Usually my playroom, looks like a tornado hit. I keep re-organizing and they keep re-dumping. It drives me crazy.
Usually Jay's room likes his closet vomited the Star War trilogy all over his once pretty baby blue room.

Usually Lola's room looks like a bomb went off in the American Girl place. I should give up on making beds in the morning because by the afternoon I have n-ked dolls spread over her coverlet.
One month ago, Fifi ate the puppy's poop, off of our dinning room carpet. I was too ashamed to blog about it.

AND...

I spoon feed dinner to all three kids, every single night. I do. I can't go to bed knowing that their tummies are empty and/or loaded up with processed foods. I am a bit ashamed.

AND...

The last time I washed my hair was on Monday. I do not need to bore you with my personal hygiene issues and the lack of time/privacy I have with three small children.

AND...

I have been depressed this year. Partly because staying at home for 6 years has reached an all time level of un-fulfillment. I am very grateful to be at home, I am, but I also want more. I need more. I don't want my parents to know I have been depressed, now they do, and now the stalking will begin.

AND...

I have issues with some local SAHM friends. Nope not YOU silly. But this blog is about my life and not theirs. You don't want to hear about their issues and what I think about them.

AND SO...

There you have it, my friends, a sampling of the 10% that you do not know about me. Although this probably won't become a regular post for me. I prefer you continue painting a picture of perfection with a sprinkling of chaos. My long time readers know I changed Lola's name after birth, I have been without a diaper when I desperately needed one, and we have been to the ER too many times. That is why I choose the title CLASSY CHAOS, because most of my life is pretty chaotic and I hold my head up high through it all. I want to document my life.

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Sometimes the Real World OHmommy bumps into the Real Blog OHmommy and the two worlds collide. My good friend Steph at the Daily Grind sent me the prize I won on her blog. This might motivate me to add some new meals to our boring repertoire of meals. Yes, meals I will be spoon feeding my three children. It is a good thing I have Mr. OHmommy trained to eat by himself.

And now to announce the winner of the very sassy and very cute beach towel from Workin' That Preppy I mentioned last week on my CLASSY awards. The winner, drawn randomly by a chubby 13 month old hand, is .... CRYSTAL. Hurray for Crystal!!!

I shook hands with Miss Maple Syrup 2008!!!

We sat around Sunday morning, at home, wondering how to spend the day. The kids offered their usual suggestions of Chuck E Cheese and Burger King. My husband, on the computer, checked the weather, "Cloudy and 38 degrees."

"No rain? No snow?" I asked him. "Are you sure?


"Just cloudy and cold." He mumbled.


"Sweet. Let's find our winter jackets. We are going to the 2008 Maple Syrup Festival." I exclaimed with excitement. I gathered up the gang and started layering them. "Remember how awesome the Port Clinton Walleye Festival was last year?" I asked my husband. "And how much fun to do we have at the Feast of the Assumption every year?" I smiled. "Remember the Wisconsin State Fair 1999 and how we found our wedding band?" As I remember all of the wonderful festivals and fairs we have attended I get giddy.

"I know you love your off-the-beaten-path festivals. BUT it is less than 40 degrees outside. And the festival is 40 miles away." My husband mumbled again.

"Come on, let's go. If we hurry we will be able to catch the parade, wave to Miss Maple Syrup 2008, watch the lumber jack competition, and observe the maple syrup demos." I was giddy and it was infectious. The kids asked a million questions in the car before completely passing out.


I forgot my Nikon at home and was forced to use a point and shoot. UGH! I hated the 5 second shutter delay. Nevertheless, I documented their first taste of pure maple syrup, their first bites of corn dogs, and Jay's first views of a lumber jack competition. It was a good thing he picked out a camo sweatshirt. He blended in perfectly. We learned so much about maple syrup and lumber jacks. Memories were made.

We had such a wonderful time at the 2008 Maple Syrup Festival, although it was cold and it did actually snow and we were one of 10 families there. We plan on making this our summer of festivals and fairs. The kiddos are too young to appreciate going camping. Furthermore, we don't have enough money to summer at the Hamptons. Therefore, this will be our summer of festivals.

When we came home I logged onto http://www.ofea.org/ and http://www.ohiotraveler.com/ to print out a list of upcoming festivals in Ohio.

WARNING: Scattered and Sappy post ...

Introduction removed @ 11:54am est by Ohmommy. What OHmommy meant to say is that the cycle of abuse can be stopped with a sprinkling of love. But she was tongue tied.

I am often amazed when people approach me in public to acknowledge what a beautiful family I have. "Your children are so lovely, what a blessing of love." A seasoned mother whispered on at church. Little did she know we bribed them with sprinkled donuts. Today at the mall, an elderly lady approached me "What a beautiful family. I can feel your love." I smiled and thanked her. But what I really thought was: Whatever. How can SHE feel our love? What a sap! Last week, when reading a new library book about the world's greatest mom, Jay exploded at the ending demanding that the book was lying. "SHE can't be the best mommy cause you are! We love you the mostest." Today, Jay approached me and asked me why I called the husband, "My love" all the time. All of these moments make me step back to admire the love. The unconditional love.

Dammit. We are so sappy in love with each other. When and where did this happen?

WARNING: I get more scattered and sappier ahead.

I didn't really think about cycles of love until I sat down this morning to check my email. My parents returned from their trip to Poland and sent me pictures documenting their trip. The first hundred were ordinary pictures of villages, castles, storks, fountains, churches, and statues the same pictures they send each time they travel. They frequent Poland as often as I frequent my salon for highlights.

The last hundred of pictures were of my mother Mamusia and her father. My Dziadek suddenly had been stricken down with Alzheimers and needed hospice care to monitor his new medications. He had been there since the holidays. My parents traveled to see him and return him home to reunite with his wife of 60+ years.

My Dziadek and my Mamusia, leaving hospice care.

My Babcia (grandma) greeting my Dziadek, as my Mamusia smiles.

Reunited.

60 years of marriage is incredible. But, their marriage wasn't perfect. I clearly remember my Babcia describing her soul mate Michael dying in the war. She thought of him often. I clearly remember my Mamusia describing the affects of alcoholism that my Dziadek suffered through for years. But the love of family prevailed.

My weekend project is to photo shop that middle picture to perfection. I plan on blowing it up, framing it, and displaying it in a high traffic area of my abode. I once read that one of the many secrets to a happy family is to display a picture of the parents in each one of the children's rooms. Sounds sappy, I know. But think about it. The children have a constant reminder of love.

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Monkey see and monkey do.

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I want THAT picture of my mother with her happily married but not perfect parents framed in my house to remind us that love is what binds us together.

.

My family and I are incredibly lucky and are humbled by our lives. We have not witnessed much abuse or drama. Not every family is so lucky. An old colleague of mine was mentally and physically abused by her husband for years and finally fled with her beautiful daughter. Their loving home is filled with pictures of their family: the mother and daughter. Love binds them.

.

I look at my children, my life, my family and I want our cycle to continue forever. Our cycle of love. I am off to photo shop, frame, and preserve that memory. I want them to remember that our family is one filled with generations of love.

.

I encourage you to place a picture of loved ones in your children's rooms. Fill their rooms and your home with your family and their love.

The First Scrapped Knee of the Season

The kiddos picked to ride their scooters around the neighborhood. I packed up the stroller with some water, a cell phone, and the garage door opener. I was totally prepared for a walk with three kids.

A mere four houses later...

My clumsy Lola took a spill across the pavement and her princess scooter landed in the ditch. The faulted acron was cracked in half. She took one look at her bloody knee and another look at her muddy princess scooter and lost it.

"Ahhhhhh!!!" She gasped for air in the middle of her fit. "My knee! My scooter!!! My knee. MAMAMAMAAAA!!!!"

I scooped her off the floor and quickly tried to save the day. Now, I am no MacGyver here. I had water, a phone, and a garage door opener. More importantly, I had a muddy princess scooter, a bloody knee, an inconsolable middle child, an-outdoor-loving-wants-to-be-on-the-move toddler, and a 5 year old already half way home and not in my sight.

"AHHHHH!!!!" I started to scream. I looked into Lola's eyes and realized that I was the mommy. Okay, got that memo. I changed my stature and fixed my posture. THIS was the first scrapped knee of the season. It has been months since having to deal with outdoor related accidents, I was a little rusty.

"Lola. Look. Do you see how beautiful your blood is?" As I started to speak I realized that I had no clue where I was going with this. I sounded incredibly stupid. I just needed to get her mind off of her knee.

"What a pretty color of blood you have. It is so sweet." I smiled and gently raised her knee for her to see. "It is the color of summer strawberries."

Lola looked at her knee and examined it before smiling out loud. "Yes! It is so pretty. It is the color of watermelon."

"Yes. It is. You have very pretty blood, Lola." I placed the muddy scooter across the stroller grabbed her hand.

"It is as pretty as a ladybug!" Lola giggled.

She stood up and held my hand. She ran after Jay singing "I love my blood! It is the preeeeetiest blood in the world. JAY. JAYYYYY!!!! Look at my blood!"
Mr. OHmommy came home from work and was required, by Lola, to appreciate her pretty blood. "Do YOU like my pretty blood, Daddy?" My husband looked at me perplexed. "DUDE. I had to tell her something!" I laughed.

the CLASSY awards

It is THAT time of month again. Time for the "Classy Awards." But this month, I am stepping it up a notch.

There will be awards.

There will be a give-away.

There will be some fabulous entertainment.

Welcome, my friends, to the April issue of the "Classy Awards." Make sure you comment for your chance to win a very classy prize.


THE AWARDS
Thank you Kristen for the "I love you this much award." I love you more. I do. I also am madly in love with Mishelle and Mr. Lady. These are two incredible writers/mothers. As one brilliant blogger amongst us often says, "Nuff said."

Thank you Melissa for the "Tiara-wearing Blogger" award. I am passing this cute award to Tootsie Farklepants and Stephanie. It was love at first "site" for me with these two fine ladies. Both of these women deserve their own tiaras.


Thanks Mombabe for the "I puffy heart your blog" award. I puffy heart your blog way more and this award too. I also puffy heart Jamie's blog and Rachel's blog. They are always very positive and make you say things out loud like, "I puffy heart you."

Thanks Karen for the "Friend" award. That is one of the most humbling awards because true friendships are so dear to me. I would like to pass this onto Kelly, and Stella. Whom I consider to be real friends in real life, although we have never met. Yet.

Last but not least, is my very own CLASSY BLOG award. Past recipients of this award have been Ms. January Lunanik, Ms. February Huckdoll, and Ms. March Don Mills Diva. This month, (insert drum roll here) Ms. April is my very dear friend Amy from Memories and Musings. Amy comments on every single one of my posts. Furthermore, her entire blog has been designed by her and her husband. THAT is so classy. She and I share the same blogging philosophy: write to remember memories. Amy... you have some class.

THE GIVE AWAY
A couple of days ago, I won a monogrammed beach towel from the very classy and sassy "Workin that Preppy" blog. Check her out to see her beautiful items. I would like to PAY IT FORWARD to all of my valued readers. Leave me a comment and you might win a very cute monogrammed beach towel just in time for the summer. I will randomly pull a winner. Thank you readers. I puffy heart you all. Lurkers delurk... that means you Gina, Theresa, Kelly, Maggie, Jessica and whomever else might read this blog but rarely ever comment. How classy would this beach towel look? Yup. SO classy. So leave me a comment. Since I gave birth to this blog I have not asked you to delurk. Today is the day, for YOU might win a classy beach towel just for leaving me a comment.

THE ENTERTAINMENT

Now. What would an awards ceremony be without proper entertainment? Well, it wouldn't be so classy. Ladies and Gentleman, I present to you today's entertainment...


VIDEOremoved

The Nagging Child: Nature or Nurture

What sensitivity is to Jay. Nagging is to Lola.

I often wonder if she was born nagging or has it just become more pronounced through my inabilities of mothering a stubborn and opinionated child.

Man. Oh, man. My middle child. Lola loves to nag. I remember as an infant her middle-of-the-night screeching was so terrible I would often slide the cradle into our dark closet and shut the door. In the closet she would continue to screech for hours. These intital screechings developed into today's nagging. Neither my husband nor I are naggers. We are quite the laid back pair and the fact that our middle child nags so much really has us wondering.

Where does this nagging come from?

Example 1
She persistently nagged me about her fourth birthday for days. Where would we get our nails done? How many days left? What color or pattern would she choose? Where would we go and eat? And on and on she nagged me for days.

Example 2
Last week she modeled for some Step 2 products. Very aware of the fact that she gets paid in bags of skittles she persistently nagged the creative director, forty years her senior, to use her for more than one shoot. More than one shoot equals more than one bags of skittles. "But. But, I really want to model some more. But. But, please I NEED to do another job." She told the photographer on set while looking him straight in his eyes and hands on her hips. "I need another job."

Example 3
Lola received Pretty Pretty Princess, the board game, for her birthday last month and it quickly became her most favorite game. She quite frequently plays it alone just for "practice" so she is ready to outwit her girlfriends at our next play date. However, she has grown bored of playing alone and has started to nag both Jay and I to play. "You said we are going to play. When are we going to play? How many minutes until we can play?" She walks around the house nagging us until we both give in and are adorned in plastic jewels.

So, was Lola born with nagging genes of have they just developed through my mothering and giving in?

More importantly. Where does this nagging come from?

Today , I got the answer I was looking for. Last week, on a whim, I booked three round trip plane tickets to NYC. In two weeks Jay, Lola, and I will be visiting my sister in the big apple. Before I could even forward my plane internairy to my younger sister, whom also happens to be a middle child, she had already sent me an email outlining 10,983 things to do in the city with kids. Before I could even reply to her emailed list, she called me. Before I could even reply to her voicemail, she called me again. And again. And. Again.

I can clearly picture my plane ride to NYC with Lola by my side, "Are we there yet? Are we there yet? MAMA!!! Are we there yet?" More so, I can clearly picture sightseeing NYC with my sister, "Did you see that? Did you see that? Run. Faster. We got to see everything! Did you see that?"

All of the middle children in our extended family are females. I could not imagine life without them. They really keep us on our toes and fill our hearts with love.

Aren't all first borns so sincere, incredibly loving, extremely passionate, uber classy, fabulous, and beautiful? Ahem. I am glad you agree.

The THIRD child

Dear third child of mine,

I am so sorry. Really, I am. Two entire hours of watching your sibling's gymnastics classes proved to be exhausting. You passed out in the car. Again. I placed you asleep on the floor, in your jacket and shoes, because I did not want you to nap for long. It was just too close to bed time and I didn't want to jeopardize our night time ritual.

We all walked around you, not very quietly, hoping you would wake up amidst the chaos. Lola and I prepared dinner and Jay built legos beside you. And you slept. And slept. Oblivious to it all.

Not in my wildest dreams would I have left my first born on the floor, in his shoes, surrounded by filth (I was able to photoshop the crumbs) asleep for a nap. But you, my third child, looked so incredibly peaceful.

I just hope that the old saying, "What doesn't break you, makes you stronger" holds true to you, my sweet Fifi.

Love,
Mama

The Sensitive Child: Nature or Nurture?

I have often wondered how and why Jay is so sensitive. He was born crying and has pretty much cried every day since. I have read just about every book possible on raising sensitive children/sons and have picked up a couple of pointers. Some work others don't. I have combined these pointers and created my own strategy to help him cope with tears.

He was the baby in Gymboree class that was always in tears. He was the toddler in Kindermusik that sulked. He was the preschooler that cried at drop off until April. He is the five year old that tears up when something is not fair.

The Baby Whisperer identified my first born child as "sensitive."

He is.

He is very sensitive.

I have often wondered if perhaps I nurtured him into being sensitive or was is purely nature's call? Sure, I was over protective of my first child and rushed to his every tear. But was it my rushing or our genes?

Example 1
I started to clean up the legos that cover our dinning room table to prepare for this weekend's dinner party we are hosting. I noticed some legos under the table. "Jay! Jay, handsome, pick these up before I vacuum them up." The idea of legos being vacuumed sent him into a fit of tears. We all worked as a "team" to clean up the pieces.

Example 2
A couple of days ago, Lola's constant bratty whining really got to me, and in the heat of the moment I screamed out "I am sooooo tired of this whining! I am going back to work!!!" As an innocent bystander to our argument Jay started quietly whimpering. "But... but... but, Mama. I want you to stay with me all the time." Yup, I felt like the world's worst mother until Lola screamed "Good! When do you start?"

Example 3
Today Jay was admiring my necklace and I explained to him that it was a present from Daddy given to me on the day that he (Jay) was born. I told him that I would pass it on to his wife on the day she delivers a baby. His eyes started to fill up with tears, "Mama? Mama, I want you to have it forever. I will buy the wife something else." I wiped away his tears and smothered him with kisses.

These three examples are just from the last week alone. We continue to practice the secret, my personal strategy, which I think is brilliant and should write a book on. However, there are some days that he just cries. We talk a lot. I encourage him to use his words to talk through a problem or a feeling. It is a constant work in progress. It isn't exhausting work because obviously I am so in love with him and truly pray that my work will result in a confident man in touch with his feelings.

So, was be born sensitive? Or is it my mothering?

Today, I got the answer I have been looking for. Is sensitivity a product of nature or nurture?

My husband came home for lunch to prepare Hunter's belongings for his new loving and childless home. If you are just tunning in, see post below, we no longer have a puppy. His eyes were swollen, red, and filled with tears. Sure my husband teared up at our wedding and the birth of our three children but never have I seen him cry. Ever. He spent the majority of the day dragging his feet and wiping away his tears. Just. Like. Jay. Sensitive and loving.

The two men I love most are extremely loving and sensitive. The apple did not fall far from the tree. I love them both so much it hurts. And so. I think my husband needs a "secret" too. I'm just saying.

terrible, horrible, no good, VERY bad day

Let's start at the end of the story for once. Shall we? Everyone seems to be okay. Hunter, our puppy, has a new home.

After school on Tuesday, I picked up Jay and his friend Connor and drove home for an afternoon play date. Connor has been to our home at least a dozen times. He is a well behaved boy and his mother is a good friend of mine. We swap boys regularly.

The boys eagerly ran upstairs to Jay's room while I entertained Fifi and Lola and made lunch for the gang. The boys, head over heels in love with the puppy, smothered him with attention. Giggle. Giggle. Growl. Growl. I yelled upstairs, reminding them, that angry puppies bite and to give him some space.

All four children ate their lunch together and soon moved onto their yogurt dessert. It was 1pm and Fifi was rubbing the yogurt across her eyes and massaging it into her scalp. It was evident that she needed a nap.

I prepared her bottle and ushered the gang downstairs to our playroom, the furthest room located from Fifi's nursery. A mere five minutes later I heard Hunter, our puppy, barking and growling. Again.

Growl. Growl. Giggle.

Giggle.

I entered the basement guestroom and saw all three children on top of the bed armed with light sabers, foam swords, and plastic guns. Weapons in our house is an entire separate blog post.

The children were taunting the puppy with their weapons of mass destruction. Waving them feverishly at the puppy. "Mommy gives you rules to keep you safe. He WILL bite someone." I threatened them. Connor looked at me un-phased and proclaimed, "He already bit me!" He revealed the wound on his arm. It WAS rather a large bite. One that had actually drawn blood. I examined it and talked to him and locked up the puppy. Still shocked that Hunter actually bit a human I talked to Connor some more. He insisted that it was not a problem, I exhaled a tiny bit, and we went outside, climbed some trees and waited for his ride.

Ten minutes passed and Connor's father arrived to pick him up. He exited his brand new sexy Audi dressed in his courtroom bests threads. I explained what had happened and his handsome father, in his most compassionate lawyer voice, replied "Well, that will teach him not to taunt dogs." I exhaled a tiny bit more.

Fifi woke up from her nap and I sat the kids down to talk to them. I explained, again for the billionth time, that puppies are like babies and bite. We practiced "teaching Hunter who is boss" by flipping him on his back and staring him down to prove power. We talked.

This SHOULD have been the end of the story.

But no. Oh no. Not in the OHmommy world of classy chaos.

No.

Grab a seat my friends.

Why must my life be so uber chaotic?

Why?

Hunter bit Jay equally as powerful as he did for Connor. Although, this time, no one was taunting the puppy. Jay lovingly tried to pick him up to cuddle and the stupid animal bit him across his neck. The neck I so lovingly kiss each day. The neck that I linger in and smell each night. The neck of my first born child.

Without sounding like a raving lunatic I will spare you the conversation I had with my husband. He canceled his last two patients and came home. We found Hunter a new home.

The End.

Perhaps the outcome would have been different if we named the puppy LOVER and I blogged at CLASSY PEACE. Perhaps. But this was the story of a HUNTER on CLASSY CHAOS. Go figure.

Desperate Housewives of the Midwestern Tundra

The rule of thumb, in the OHmommy family, is that once the temperature reaches 50 dry degrees we head outside.

Finally. We reached 50 blissful degrees on Monday and the sun was shinning brightly outside. I gathered up the kiddos for our daily bike ride around the hood.

"Mama! Mama!!!" Jay yells, well ahead of us, on his bike.

"Yes, handsome?" I pick up speed and try to catch up. Fifi is happily kicking her feet in the stroller. I smile. Oh. My. Gosh. We are outside and the air feels beautiful. The sun is incredible. I am smiling.

"Mama! You need to call the news. This is VERY IMPORTANT." Jay informs me.

I catch up to him. I look to the left. I look to the right. "What? What is so very important?" I am confused.

"This is so important." He stops and throws his hands dramatically on his hips. "Someone needs to call the weatherman to tell him that it feels like summer out here!"

He smiles. I smile. Fifi kicks her feet again. I take out my cell phone from my ski jacket and pretend to dial. "Hello? Yes. Hi. We are outside in Ohio and it feels like summer here. The sun is out. The birds are singing. We are riding our bikes. And. And. And the snow is melting. Okay. Thank you. Have a GREAT day."

We continue our bike ride smiling the entire way home.

Us Midwesterners can appreciate the seasons changing. Man do we appreciate it. Goodbye old man winter. 50 degrees sure does feel like summer. No April Fool's joke here.