OHmommy Illustrated: 2008 Swimsuit Edition

Some months ago, in the middle of the Midwestern winter, I decided to challenge myself physically to get into bikini shape. I vowed that I would post pictures of myself in a bikini by mid-July.

People. That 'aint happening.

Last summer, Fifi was three months old and I wore a "post maternity" tankini. The summer before that, I was pregnant with Fifi and wore a "pre-maternity" tankini. The summer before that I was a toned size 4 and in amazing shape for my best friend's wedding. I. Was. Hot.

Now, as a mother of three young preschool aged children, I have no time to get toned and so I have fluffed out to a sweet size of not a 4. Sweet. Really sweet.

My time will come. For now, I need to research one piece swimsuits to wear in ten days for my mommy and me "Tadpole" swim class with Fifi.

The last swimsuit I purchased is now four years old. It is this beautiful Calvin Klein suit. I have it in both black and charcoal. It really is one of the best one pieces out there and I have received many compliments wearing it. If you are looking for a one piece... look no further. This suit cries, "I am classy and hot!" It is perfection and on sale at Victoria Secret for $70.

However, it is time for a change. It has been 4 years since my last real swimsuit purchase.

Okay.

So I sat before my computer researching "ONE PIECES."

Wha?

Are you serious?

I could not believe my eyes.

Mr. OHmommy started drooling.

Have swimsuit styles changed THAT MUCH in four years?

Seriously? Who....





So. Not. Appropriate for the "Tadpole" swim class I signed Fifi up for.

I did find two very classy suits and am having trouble deciding between the two. Obviously, I will be buying a black suit, as to not draw attention and create a more slimming silhouette.

I have until Sunday to order a suit. I will pick the suit of what the majority of you pick. Here are the two finalist:

Which one is shall I sport, to the first day of our "Tadpole" swim class in 10 days?

Money Talks: A Test for School Readiness

In Ancient Greece, scholars would test young boy's readiness for school by asking them if they would prefer a bag of sugar or a bag of coins. If the young boy reached for the bag of coins he would be ready for school.

This I learned while researching material for my Master's thesis in education.

Standardized testing for school readiness in Ancient Greece seemed so simple. And so incredibly accurate. Is your kid smart enough to realize money is more valuable than sugar? Great. He is ready to be schooled!

Kindergarten screening in modern day United States is so incredibly complicated.

Rhymes. Letter recognition. Numbers. Eye exams. Motor development. Pronunciation. Sentence formatting. Coloring in between the lines. Mothers drilling their children. Upper case letters. Lower case letters. Mothers sweating bullets while waiting. More rhymes. Fill in the blank. Days of the week. Algebra. Calculus. Latin.

Wha?

The state of Ohio determined that Jay was ready for kindergarten, by the date of his birth, for the 2007-2008 school year. One year ago, to date, after his first kindergarten screening he failed MY Ancient Greece test by reaching for the skittles, so I held him back. The school counselors confirmed that I would not regret my decision.

That is all. He was not ready. He was extremely sensitive. I wanted one more year with him to encourage his confidence and embrace his love of learning. I wanted him to LOVE learning. Is there a better gift in life than buying an extra year of confidence? I think not.

Holding back boys, who were born close to the cut-off, from kindergarten in our neck of the woods is very common. I have heard that most mothers do not regret the extra year with their sons. I would agree. Jay is a gazillion more times confident today than he was a year ago.

This weekend he passed MY Ancient Greece test.

My husband took Jay and Lola to the fair. Two hours went by without a phone call. I cleaned house preparing for our BBQ and enjoyed the silent house while Fifi slept. I cranked up the volume to my favorite CD and scrubbed the kitchen floors on my hands and knees.

The phone rang.

"Dude. Will you talk to YOUR son?" The husband asked, emphasizing the YOUR. Which in turn meant he was emotional and crying.

"What is up handsome?" I asked MY son.

"Daddy... daddy... sniffle... sniffle... he won't let me play the games.... sniffle, sniffle.... he won't let me.... sniffle... sniffle.... play the games at the fair." I can barely understand MY son through his emotional sniffles.

"I can not understand your tears. I can understand words." I confidently tell him.

"Daddy. DADDY will not let ME play the games!!!" I can see him straightening up and confidently yelling in the phone.

Without even thinking I reply, "Oh... Handsome. Tell Daddy he owes you ten dollars from two weeks worth of chores. Okay?" I remind him that he has been unpaid for two weeks and his charts have been checked off and Daddy has forgotten to pay him.

"Okay." Sniffle... sniffle... "Okay, Mama... I will tell him. But...." I interrupted my son and told him to put the daddy on the phone.

"Dude.... we have not paid Jay for his chores in two weeks. Give him his $10." I told the husband.

"Okay. But what if...." My husband started to say and I interrupted him...

"He won't. Show him the price of one game. He know how to add. He will figure it out." I get off my hands and knees and wonder if my mom-rader was correct. Will Jay realize that playing a game at the fair is a waste of money?

Still on my knees when they came home, I see Jay approach me empty handed. "Did you play a game at the fair?" I asked.

"No, Mama. That is so silly. It is a WASTE of money!!!!" He confidently exclaimed. "I am saving my money for some new Legos."

My boy. He is sooooooo ready for kindergarten next year. Stay tuned as I cry a river in August 2008, a full year later after he was "supposed" to start school.

Mommy is having a heart attack...

If you are looking for a witty post today, click away.

I am not looking for sympathy or reassuring words. I have a lump in my throat and a sharp pain in my chest and have had trouble breathing all day long. I haven't googled my symptoms but am pretty sure I am experiencing a full blown heart attack.

We had a beautiful Memorial Day weekend. The weather was perfect and the husband was home for 4 days. Together, as a family, we had a picnic in the park with good friends, we entered the kiddos in a bubble blowing contest at the fair (see post below), we attended two amazing parades, Jay rode the scariest roller coaster ever and loved it, we rode bikes in the park, and hosted the extended in-law family for a terrific BBQ. It was all super vanilla frosting great.

Tuesday marked the first day of summer vacation. It was all of 50 degrees outside and I had mounds of laundry to fold, an empty fridge, and three active children bouncing off the walls.

I woke up in a funk and everything went downhill from there.

It was my fault. I created my own bad day. If Mama 'aint happy, no one is. I did not shower. I threw on unattractive mis-matched sweats. I skipped breakfast. I moped around all morning and my phone did not ring once. No pre-school. No play dates. No field trips. No plans.

Three active kids bouncing off the walls.

I peeled them off the walls one by one and created a "store" from our pantry. We filled the kitchen with pantry items and created price tags. One box of Mac n Cheese for $43.00 and a box of Cheerios for $32.00. I emptied the jar of pennies and we played the morning away. After lunch, I put Fifi to bed for her nap and continued playing with the kiddos.

Right about the time when she woke up from her nap, my moping was more pronounced and I became stir crazy. I slowly started to gather the clan up for a trip to the grocery store.

CRASH.

BAM.

"Waaaaaaa!!!!!!"

Fifi managed to climb on top of a chair and fell backwards hitting the back of her head against the wall. I scooped her up and held her tight, as I stroked her hair away from her tears.

And. Then. I felt her. I felt her stiffing up in my arms.

Her arms went limp. Her eyes remained open. I stared into her distant eyes. I have never seen anyone so distant, she was not there with me in my arms. Her dilated pupils frantically darted from side to side.

"Fifi!!!!!" I shouted. "OH MY GOD, FIFI!!!!" I gently blew into her face knowing very well that is how I get Lola out of her holding breath syndrome. "FIFI!!!!!!" I continued to yell watching her pupils dart. Her entire body became rigid and jerked, as the lack of oxygen to the brain triggered her seizure. At least Lola closes her eyes during her seizures, Fifi's eyes were frightening.

Lola came into the room obnoxiously singing, "SHUT UP! LOLA!!!!!" I grabbed the phone with one hand and instructed Lola to dial 911. I have never once told anyone, not even my own parents in my teenage years, to shut up. "Fifi, come on sweet girl." By now, she was still stiff as a board, lifeless, so very pale, and her pupils continued darting. I held back from vomiting but allowed my tears to flow. I shook her and blew one last time onto her face. My knees were weak and I sat down with my lifeless child.

After two minutes she sat up in my arms and looked around with much confusion. She continued to cry and I told Lola to put the phone down. Crying is good. Eyes silently darting and stiff body is bad. I held my sweet baby girl close to my heart and just lost it. I freaking lost it.

I was trembling. I am crying now gosh darn it.

After talking to our doctor she advised us to contact our pediatric neurologist. Which we have seen before. A number of times. Lola's holding breath syndrome (Official explanation: Pallid infantile syncope) is so severe she has monthly seizures. And Fifi had benign neonatal sleep myoclonus as an infant and was hospitalized for a week.

I interrupted my husband at work with a phone call to let him know what had happened and how I believed that I was in the middle of experiencing my first blown heart attack at 30 years old. He calmed me down. Instead of calling my mother or any friends, I continued to mope around all day staying far away from googling any of Fifi's symptoms. I sat the kids in front of the TV with ice cream sandwiches, both a rare treat, and stepped outside into the cold for some fresh air. I listened to the birds and let the coldness of the air wake me.

I have two young daughters with holding breath syndrome. It is official. It really isn't a BIG deal and not at all life threatening. I am grateful to have three beautiful, healthy, funny, loving, active, smart, witty, confident, and happy children. I am very grateful for our health and very aware of many more terrible things that could happen to my children. Perhaps I am a big cry baby, for it is not a BIG deal.

Holding breath syndrome really super duper sucks. It just does.

Holding a lifeless seizing child sucks in my books. I have, to date, held a lifeless seizing Lola on 7 separate occasions. And now it begins with Fifi.

The lump in my throat is growing bigger by the minute and the sharp pain in my chest is growing stronger. I know that I am given only as much as I can handle in life. But I do not know how many more times I can handle holding a lifeless child.

Turns out that I did not experience a heart attack today, just my first ever full blown cry baby panic attack. I now understand why mothers age faster than fathers.

Caption Challenge

Here is a picture of Lola and Jay, taken this morning.

What is the story behind the picture?

Go ahead... play along. Create a caption or mini story to accompany this picture. I'll let you know who is closest. :)

Apparently, I belong in the zoo...

Thursday was a busy day for us. Lola had a picnic with her preschool, at a park, to celebrate the end of the year. Jay had a field trip to the zoo with his pre-K class.

I watched the news the night before and was prepared to dress the children for 55 degree Spring-like Ohio weather.

Jay begged to wear his camo hoodie, his most prized possession, and I convinced him to pair it up with some fleece lined sweat pants. I sent him off to school with a kiss and a hug and proceeded to speed across town to Lola's school picnic.

9:30 am. We exited our heated minivan and greeted our preschool friends at the park. It was a bone chilling 40 degrees outside and as I watched Lola happily running after her friends, all I could think about was my sweet Jay chilled at the zoo.

9:45 am. The topic of conversation amongst the mothers was how flipping cold it was. I tried to contribute to the conversation and watched Lola swing but all I could think about was my sweet Jay chilled at the zoo. "Heeheee... can you believe the pool opens up this weekend?" I said.

9:55 am. I wrapped my pashmina scarf around myself and buttoned up my Mango trench coat. My feet were half naked in my Tory Burch ballet flats and I was no longer keeping my eye out for Lola. I was no longer part of the mother's conversations. All I could think about was my first born, my first love, my sweet Jay chilled to the bone at the zoo in his camo sweat shirt.

10:02 am. Dude. It is cold. Jay must be cold too!

10:04 am. "Mrs. Soy, would you mind posing for a picture with Lola? I think we are going to take off." I exclaimed, as I flipped out my Nikon and summoned Lola for a quick picture. I was the first mother out of the parking lot and the rest followed me.

10:07 am. I called my mother. "Mama? I am so worried, I can't even swallow." I grabbed her attention and already knew her verdict. "I sent Jay on his field trip with just a hoodie and it is so incredibly cold... you think it would be pushy of me to crash his field trip and deliver a winter jacket?"

10:08 am. "No." My mama told me. "You won't make it through the day knowing he is cold for another 5 hours."

10:48 am. After picking up Jay's winter jacket at home, I arrived at the zoo parking lot with his jacket. He was without warmth for an entire 108 minutes.

10:52 am. At the zoo entrance. "What do you mean you can not use your walkie talkie to locate my son's preschool class." I yelled at the disheveled 18 year old. "This is an emergency!" He asked me to calm down and inquired about the nature of the emergency. "It is cold outside. I have his coat!!!!" I looked at him shaking Jay's orange winter coat about.

10:53 am. Security approached the crazy OHmommy and calmed her down. "Miss. You must clam down. We have over 1,365 schools visiting us today. We can not locate YOUR son."

10:54 am. The gates opened for me and I was left to find my son on my own. I was lectured on what constituted as an emergency.

10:59 am. I stopped a cute mother with a double stroller. "Have you seen a group of children in gray T-shirts?" I frantically asked her. She told me she had seen at least a couple of dozen groups and they all looked alike.

11:01 am. I ran past the Baboons in my flats and spotted a group of gray T-shirts "Academy Preschool" and I ran to them. I found part of the preschool!!! They informed me that lunch for the preschool would take place in exactly 30 minutes under the main pavilion. I need to find Jay and give him this jacket. I am cold. Therefore, he is cold.

11:02 am. I ran past the Jaguars and Fifi sat up and yelled out, "MEOW! MEOW! MAMAMAMAMA... MEOW! Mama? Mama? Meow? Mama... meow?" I tucked her back into her stroller and told her that we were on a mission to find Jay. No time to explain animals and their noises. "Hurry, Lola.... Jay is cold!!" I yelled out hoping she would pick up her pace.

11:30 am. I. Found. Jay. Right outside of the main pavilion. The teacher gave me an incredibly confused look. "Jay might be cold. I have his jacket." I explained waving his orange winter jacket in the air. The other mom chaperons also look uber confused. "Dude. It is cold outside." I took off Jay's gray "Academy Preschool" T-shirt, tucked in his camo hoodie into his pants, placed his winter jacket over the camo hoodie, and topped it back off with his "Academy Preschool" t-shirt.

11:31 am. I smiled. I hugged and kissed Jay and shook hands with his teacher. I ran past the Baboons and the Jaguars back to the parking lot. I was thrilled to have found him, to give him warmth and comfort for the next couple of hours left on his field trip.

11:43 am:
3:00 pm. The girls and I waited for the bus to arrive at the pre-school. We noticed sweet Jay happily waving HELLO through the window. He stepped off the bus.....

wearing just his gray preschool shirt.

No camo hoodie.

No winter jacket.

Just a gray "Academy Preschool" t-shirt.


Apparently, I belong in the zoo.

I do.

He said he was "too warm."

After driving 30 miles, convinced he was as cold as I was, and frantically dressing him in the middle of the girl's nap... he was "too warm." He needed to take off his hoodie and the orange winter jacket.

The Classy Blog Awards: Coincidence, I think not!

Last night I sat before my computer, the kids were in bed and the husband was watching baseball, so I logged on for the night. I started to think of my next blog post and realized that I had not awarded anyone the Classy Blog Award for the month of May. Opps, May is almost gone. Awards give me a warm fuzzy feeling and I love to spread them around.

In all honesty, I have been so busy re-vamping my personal photography website, taking care of three kids, and enjoying the Spring weather I have fallen behind on many blog type duties.

You can help me out on this one by:
A) Attaching your email to your blogger profile. If you have commented and not received an email from me. Your email is not attached, but you still crack me up. Attach your email, so I can let you know how awesome you really are.
B) Check out my neighbors tab and make sure you see your blog there. If you do not, kindly shoot me an email to classychaos at gmail dot com right now. Most new visitors of mine, check out my neighbors tab first and if you comment here I want you to be represented.
C) Realizing that as much as I love to read blogs I am a very busy mother of three extremely active, not in school, and not napping children and can only get to so many each night. I love to read you. I really really really do. But I also love my husband and children very much too. Actually, I love them more than your blog.
D) Do you buzz or twitter? I try too. Find me , OHmommy, there too.

Okay. Back to my post.

So I was in the middle of composing my Classy Blog awards post when my sweet friend Rachel e-mailed me. She wrote... " I have a present for you. <3"

Shut up. I thought. She in Texas and I in Ohio and we were both thinking about each other that very same moment. Sweet. Weird. Whatever it might be, it was not a coincidence... we are truly very much alike.

I was writing about her the same moment she was writing about me. I puffy heart the internet and all my new peeps. Rachel from, A Southern Fairytale gave me her monthly award and I blushed out loud....


Her blog was one of the very first I checked out and was so intimated by, I didn't comment on for months. She was sassy. She was smart. She was... oh so very classy. She was everything I wanted to be as a blogger.

So not in return, but very much on (coincidental) purpose, my sweet Southern Rachel is my Ms. May of CLASSY BLOGS.

She joins the rankings of my very first two non-family-related readers: Ms. January Lunanik and Ms. February Huckdoll You guys are my firsts and forever in my heart. And Ms. March, my very own BLOGHER roomate in San Fran Don Mills Diva, eeekkk I am so excited to meet you. And the sweet Ms. April Amy from Memories and Musings my third reader.


With June only a couple of days away, I would like to present my next Classy Blog award to Tootsie Farklepants of Vintage Thirty. If you have not checked her out already, you are really missing out. She is hysterical. She is a mother of three. She is a blond beach skater babe from California and a writer extraordinaire.

Apparently, I have a response...

A glimpse of my responses to my children, husband, family, and friends, in the last 48 hours of my life.

"No way, Jose. I will not buy that." In response to Lola at the dollar section of Target. She begged for a flask. It was pink and plastic and read Summer Flask. Apparently, she likes portable drink containers that are typically found in some college dorms.

"Who keeps farting?" In response to the giggle, giggle, fart, fart, giggle, and laughter heard from my bedroom this morning. Apparently, farting is funny amongst 5 year old boys.

"They catch Mommy's seeds." In response to Lola asking me what the box of feminine products were used for. Apparently, I should not let Fifi play "empty the box of mommy products" while I try to get dressed in the morning.

"That is my territory." In response to the husband begging me to grow out Fifi's hair before getting her first hair cut, when all I have been dreaming for is a cute summer bob for my toddler. Apparently, Mr. Juno running shorts believes he has a say in our kid's styling.

"I have a blog!!!" In response to the other tipsy moms at the PTA fundraiser asking how I stay busy. I gave out my URL while wobbling around in my Louboutins heels, at the dive bar, after the event. Apparently, I should not drink socially.

"You can not bring weapons to school." In response to Jay asking if he could bring his foam swords in for show and tell. Apparently other moms allow it and apparently Jay learned that I am not apparently like other moms.

"......................." Silent response, in response to Lola telling me that everyone will see my tummy at the pool in THAT bikini, in the Dillard's dressing room. Apparently, I have a fluffy tummy.

"Sh!t." In response to Fifi slipping in her own puddle of shoe-shoe on the kitchen floor. Apparently, right after changing her diaper and letting her diaper rash air out, she needed to go again.

"If you are happy, I am happy." In response to Lola proclaiming she will marry a girl and have 63 girl babies all named Clara. Apparently, she likes girls.

"Dude?" In response to the mother at the Jewish Community Center Park while she was reprimanding my Jay for getting too close with the sand digger to her precious toddler. Apparently, it is time for her to teach her kid boundaries, my kid was playing according to sand box rules.

"Do not run over your sister!" In response to Lola getting dangerously close too Fifi in her Barbie convertible in our driveway. She kept her eyes on the target. Apparently, we are going to have sister issues down the road.

"Everything you can do, I can do better." In response to my best friend spoiling my kids by buying them everything in site at the science museum, art museum, and gas station. Apparently, I will buy more obnoxious, more sugar filled, and louder things for her children.

"Yes." In response to A.) Joining the social committee of our neighborhood B.) Chairing the Adult Outings committee of our PTA C.) Taking on to photograph two weddings in September D.) Hosting the extended in-law family for a BBQ this Sunday. Apparently, I am a big push over and can not say NO.

"Stop yelling. God hears you." In response to Lola yelling out her prayers and what she is thankful for. "I LOVE MY BROTHER AND AM HAPPY AND LOVE EVERYTHING BUT NOT THE RAIN AND THANK YOU GOD SOOOOOOO MUCH FOR MYSELF!!! AND AMEN! AAAMMMMMEEEENNNNN!!!" Apparently, she must have been a liberal Southern Baptist in her previous life.

"I am not like other moms." In response to Jay begging for the new $20 Indiana Jones whip. Apparently, other moms are buying plastic leather whips with sound effects, for their sons.

"Is she breathing?" In response to Fifi sleeping over 12 hours, in her own crib. Apparently, she can do it. Amen.

"Congrats on graduating for the gazillionth time." In response to my sister graduating from Columbia, this morning with her Masters. Apparently, if you give Kash an education she will want more. And when she wants more education, she takes out more loans. And when it comes time to pay off loans, she get another education. Congrats Kash, we are so proud!

Maybe she is born with it?

Our basement holds five years worth of toys. We have developmental gender neutral baby toys, a Thomas the Train collection, an enormous pink castle tent, shelves full of action figures and Barbies, baskets full of balls and hot wheel cars, bin loads of Polly Pockets and more toys than one can list spewed throughout.

It is quite evident that within the walls of this house lives both genders and a baby.

The baby was quite content for 15 months sitting with a basket full of Baby Einstein toys to keep her busy. Now that the baby is turning into a toddler and toddling along from toy to toy, watching her explore and play is a delight.

Actually. It is like much like watching a gender social experiment.

On a mission, Fifi bypasses the light sabers, hot wheel cars, and action figures heading straight for the basket full of plastic rings, beaded necklaces, and once inch stilettos. Once she carefully selects an acceptable accessory she finds a skirt to match. Only when fully dressed does she head over to find a stroller for her baby doll.

This happens often. I wonder where she is learning this type of gender role play.

PICTURE DELETED

If you give OHmommy rain boots....

It rained all day today and I could not have been more excited to wear my new Hunter rain boots.

However, I threw them over my jeans and realized that my outfit would not work. My jeans were simply way too bulky and boot cut. I needed skinny jeans. Skinny jeans became popular when I was pregnant with Fifi and I have had my eyes on them ever since.

I didn't want to invest in an expensive pair because skinny jeans are essentially jean leggings and my post pregnancy body is just not ready to go there yet. Yes... 15 months is considered post pregnancy in my world.

I dropped off the kiddos at preschool and ran to the store with Fifi. Marshalls... brand names for less "Shop On." Perfect for me. I was ready to get my shopping on for the perfect pair of jeans for my boots.

As we dodged the rain in my ballet flats, I noticed a huge sign in the window that read "SHOE MEGASHOP." We walked through the doors and I knew that I was in big trouble. They totally re-vamped their shoe department. They placed all 5,000 square feet of DESIGNER SHOES directly in front of the store by the entrance.

I was in trouble.

I could end the story right now and tell you that I did not even make it to the jean department and walked out with new sassy shoes instead.

That is precisely what happened.

I spent over an hour drooling over stilettos, wedges, and cute sandals. Fifi lead a path of destruction and opened every box in sight. In the newly organized shoe section, each shoe was neatly displayed on top and the available sizes were boxed underneath. It made shopping for shoes so much easier and Fifi had a blast admiring pumps and placing them in and out of their respectful boxes.

We were in shoe heaven!

"This?"

"This?" She pulled out shoe after shoe and slipped them onto her chubby feet.

I have been looking out for the perfect summer sandal for days at the park, pool, and playground. I can not do flip flops anymore for I believe my legs look too manly, heavy, and muscular. I wanted something simple and with a little bit of a heel to slim down my legs.

I found what I wanted in shoe heaven for just under 30 dollars.

Shhhh... whisper. I am afraid my Hunters will be jealous. See the newest addition to my shoe family.



If you give OHmommy rain boots, she will need jeans to match. When OHmommy shops for jeans, she gets distracted by shoes. When OHmommy buys the shoes, she finds a cute top to match. When she puts together the cutest summer outfit, it rains. And when it rains OHmommy will put on her rain boots and realize she needs skinny jeans to match.

Mr. OHmommy is hoping is doesn't rain for a while.

I am just not ready for this...

Why is this picture of a boy's bicycle worth photographing?
To the average eye, it is just that, a boy's bicycle.

To me, it is so much more. It is the details of the kickstand and lack of training wheels. I am just not ready to have a child that does not require training wheels. Furthermore, I am just not old enough to have a child with a kickstand. How many other 30 year olds have a child with a bicycle sans training wheels?

I am just not ready for this.

I admit. I have babied my oldest.

When he was 15 months old and still not walking, I held him and encouraged him to stay near. When he started walking, the very next day, he took his first 100 steps and was off forever. When he was 18 months old and still not talking, I spoke for him and filled his life with stories. When he started talking, the very next day, it was in full sentences and full of reason. When he was 2 years old and still afraid of water, I gently washed his hair at night and glared down evil splashing children at the pool during the day. When he started swimming, the very next year, it was underwater and across the pool racing his sister.

I have typically waited for him to give me signs of readiness... cause really, in all honesty, I could never be ready for the next developmental milestone. I have always tried to be in tune with him because I have never been tuned. I never read the Mommy Manual that they sent me home with from the hospital.

So, when my first born love, approached me this week asking to take his training wheels off. I wept. I knew that once they were off he would be too. And really, in all honesty, I am not ready for this next stage.





Attached is a video for my family & friends to prove his latest accomplishment. As we were uploading, Jay asked me, "You think everyone will say... Good job Jay?" Yes, I do, Jay. I am so proud of my big boy. A boring video to the average eye, but to me... a whole new world of letting go. Sniff. Sniff.

I thought I was HOT...

My kids are growing like weeds. How do I know? They are still hungry after a well balanced meal.

Yesterday, the husband, prepared one of his scrumptious chicken stir-frys. He used no recipe for his delicacy and successfully disguised a medley of nearly a dozen exotic vegetables. We ate well.

Jay asked for seconds, Lola cleared her own bowl, and Fifi did not even share with Murphy our daschund. When Jay approached me for his third bowl I sarcastically replied, "No, way Jose! I do not want you to grow anymore. I want you to stay this age forever."

To which he very honestly replied, "The more I eat, the more I will grow. I want to grow tall enough so I can reach up and kiss you on my own."

To which my heart melted. I wanted to bottle that up and save it forever only to release it when he is about 16 and saying whatever horrible things he will say to me then.

About two hours after our scrumptious stir-fry, the kids were hungry again. However, it was too close to bed time and Fifi was dying to sleep. "No, guys. Bedtime is in 1/2 an hour." However, the older two were BEGGING for food, actually begging for McDonald's. "What the heck.... let's go." I threw on a pair of jeans and instructed the husband to put Fifi to bed.

They were so excited!

We arrived at out neighborhood's golden arches for our impromptu evening date. "One chicken nugget happy meal, honey mustard, french fries, chocolate milk, and a girl toy. One cheeseburger happy meal hold the onions, apple slices, chocolate milk, and a boy toy. One small Diet Coke, please."

I smiled at the kids and paid for my order. I turned to my left and noticed a handsome business man smiling at us. I smiled back. I suddenly remembered that I was without my wedding ring. I am often without it, especially in a hurry. He was without his too, but not in a hurry. He smiled at us again and gave me the complete stare down. I turned around and blushed in disbelief.

Oh. My. Gosh. He is totally checking me out.

We waited for our order and Lola searched the restaurant for a table. He started to order. "The number 4 super sized, please." He looked over at me again. He smiled.

Oh. My. Gosh. I am not imagining this. He is totally checking me out. I still have "it."

I smiled. I grabbed our tray, met Lola, and started to divide the food. As the kiddos ate their food I could not wait to get home to tell my husband... "Dude. I am still hot! Someone at McDonald's was TOTALLY checking me out."

As we were leaving McDonald's the handsome business man gave me one last smile.

We jammed on the way home. The kiddos walked through the door with their McDonald's toys and greeted the husband. Just as I was about to rub my awesome still-have-it hotness in my husband's face he smirked and asked me, "Ummm, are you afraid of heights?"


Just for the record, my thighs did not always meet at that point. For a long time, before kids, they did not rub together at all when I walked. Yes. I used to be hot.

A Private Letter to my Mama.

Kochana Mamusia,

Today is Mother's Day and you are 5,000 miles away from me, taking care of your aging mother and father in rural Poland.

This alone is a true testament to the kind of person you truly are.

I can't verbally wish you a Happy Mother's Day. I can't physically hug you to tell you how much I love you.

But rest assured I know and appreciate what you have done for me.

I know that it must have been incredibly painful for you to clean houses during that first summer in America, while Kash and I were in daycare. I can't even imagine the feelings you felt that summer as you observed happy American children enjoying their mothers while you made their beds and scrubbed their bathrooms.

I know that you must have thought that I was an un-grateful American teenager when you lovingly packed smelly goose liver pate sandwiches for my high school lunch and realized that I threw them out. Oh. What I would do now for some smelly goose liver pate, smothered on top of rye bread.

I can't even imagine the strength it took to leave behind a familiar language, comfortable surroundings, and a loving family in your young twenties to move across an ocean for us. I. Just. Can't. Even. Imagine. A simple trip to the mall with three children makes me break out in sweat.

I can't even imagine what you must have thought when the vice-Principal of my high school called to let you know that I was "unaccounted for" and presumed "ditching school." You see... I was trying my best to fit into the American culture and celebrate "senior ditch day." I now understand how disappointed you must have felt not understanding how students could disrespect education. I am so sorry. For the reference, the Jerry Springer show did not delight.

I love how your reminded me, my entire life, that I was different from everyone else. Not in an elitist way, but in a loving way that reinforced why we came to this country. I might have given you a snotty look as a teenager when you said "We are the BlahblahSKI family and we are not average." It only took me 30 years to understand the true meaning behind your words. We are not your average family.

I love.

I love you. Even though, as a typical Polish family we might not hug enough and kiss in public and pronounce our undefeated love to one another. I just want you to know that I am becoming a little more American with each day. I am longing to hug and kiss you with obnoxious emotions. "COME HERE AND GIVE ME A HUG!!!!!" Sacrastically prounced with a thick Chicago accent.

I love you now, more than ever, as I am someone's "kochana mamusia." I can now, only begin to imagine, the feelings that you have wrestled with for 31 years.

Happy Mother's Day, Mamusia. Without you, I am not myself.

Kochama Ciebie,
OHmommy

Motherhood Has No Script

Motherhood is full of highs and lows. There are days when we experience both.

Take for example our trip to the zoo this week. We frequent the zoo often, if just for a brisk walk through the park. The older two have a virtual map of the zoo downloaded in their heads and by age 18 months were able to distinguish between a red eyed tree frog and a bull frog. They could point to a sloth in a lineup of apes and recite a list of facts.

However, my poor and neglected third child caused me to worry about her speech development on this zoo trip. She seemed so confused. Could she be speech delayed? Should I seek professional help?

To her, the elephant was a "Woof! Woof!"

The crane and stork were both "Quack! Quacks!"

The sloth, marmoset, and lemurs were all "Meow! Meows!"

The older two got a kick out of her confusion and laughed the entire time. I shook my head and worried about my baby, on our ride home. At 18 months old the others were reciting "Old MacDonald" in their sleep. I know better than to compare them; nevertheless, worrying is second nature to me and I do it every chance I can get.

Back at home I organized some puzzles for the older two and took my 15 month old Fifi upstairs for some well needed quality time. I sang to her as I un-dressed her. I kissed and lingered in her neck while I hummed another song. We giggled as I chased her around, barking like a dog. I read a handful of books while she sat in my lap. I took her downstairs, still undressed, to start dinner. NOTE: The third child is without clothes a lot. Especially around dinner time. Green is the new black.... we save on running the washing machine.

Fifi walked over to the mud room where Jay and Lola's backpacks are neatly hung. Every morning she watches them get ready for school, she watches them being dropped off at school, she watches our loving goodbyes. She. Pays. Attention. And I grabbed the video camera to capture her.

She is fine. Totally 100% perfect in every way. She might get her animals confused but her observations of us are not confused.

Soooooo.... motherhood. Ah, motherhood! A typical day of an obsessed mother can start on a low note and can end on a high. Some days are filled with highs and other days full of lows.

The best part is that: there is no script and we create the story. It is mostly in our hands. In remote villages of Islamic Africa, my sister explained, mothers frequently exclaim "It is in God's hands!" regarding everything from the village's rainfall to the health of their children.

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!! Hope you experience many highs while writing your own mother's day script. It is in your hands.

Honestly, I wish I made these things up...

Over the rainy weekend, my husband cleaned out our pantry and re-organized the chaos. This wasn't a terrible task since our pantry holds spices, rice, noddles, canned vegetables/soups, goldfish, pretzels, and juice boxes. I grocery shop sans kiddos to limit their begging and pleading for the occasional bag of chips or processed cookies which are reserved for parties.

In the midst of re-organizing, the kiddos stumbled across a gem. A lonely box of green Jello and a packet of cherry Kool-Aid. Which were purchased, last August, when I mistakenly towed three kids to the grocery store alone. "Can we make these? Mama, can we?" They harmoniousily chimed in unison eager for a treat. I struck a deal with them and agreed to the treat. "When you finish dinner we can make those together."

Needless to say, they finished their dinner in record time and threw on their aprons. I read the directions and started to boil the water. Lola carefully cut open the package, I poured the glass of hot water, and Jay poured the glass of cold water. Together they whisked and mixed and giggled. "J-E-L-L-O... We are making J-E-L-L-O." I plugged my nose at the stench coming from the Jello. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph... come and smell this husband!" As he approached to smell the horrific lime green slime mixture, I re-read the package.

LIMITED EDITION: Margarita flavor.

Sweet. Actually not so sweet. Anyone that knows me, knows that I can't stand the margarita flavor. Ugh!

I should have poured it down the drain. Instead, I looked into the kiddo's excited eyes filled with anticipation and remembered that I need to pick my battles. Was this a battle worth fighting with two super excited, processed food negelected, peaceful children?

No. Instead, I let my children eat the margarita flavored jello in peace. I made a note to myself to read labels more accurately and shop alone in the future. No. Matter. What.

I think I need a vacation sans margaritas. Sans kiddos. Sans chaos. Buy me a ticket to Sans Souci.

Green IS the New Black

On the wall of Lola's preschool class hangs a sign that reads...

"What does your mommy do, while you are at school?"

Each child answered, in preparation for the upcoming Mother's Day Tea. Naturally, Lola replied that I shop while she was in school.

I do.

I grocery shop on Tuesdays, on Wednesdays I hit Target for the essentials, and on Thursdays I pick up whatever I have forgotten. I shop with only one child in tow. There is a method to my madness.

This last Thursday, I worked out.

Therefore, by Sunday we ran out of TP and had to make an emergency run with three children and one husband to Target. Very aware of what could happen with so many people attending a Target run, I allowed Jay and Lola to bring one dollar, out of their piggy banks, to visit the "One Dollar Section" upon the completion of our shopping trip.

Like an old married couple, they held onto their dollars the entire time while discussing what they could purchase. They stayed by our immediate sides and contemplated. Our Target run was sane enough and by the time we reached the check out counter the kids were giddy to make their own purchases.

"Mama should I get the bath bubbles?" Lola asked.
"Mama.... how about the stickers?" Jay decided and held onto his loot.
- insert Fifi screaming of boredom here -
"No, no bath bubbles. How about these hair bows? Lola contemplated some more.

- insert Fifi screaming of boredom here-
"No. No. No Bubbles. No Bows. I want a necklace!" Lola finally decided.
- insert Fifi screaming of boredom here -

- insert bored HUSBAND screaming here -

- Insert the mommy here - I.... I smelled the pizza cooking, the pretzels baking, and the Cinnamon rolls being iced and in my no-carb-zombie-state-of-three-days I nodded in agreement to whatever they decided on within the dollar section. "Yes. Yes. A necklace is perfect, Lola! Those stickers are awesome Jay. Yes. Yes!!! " I smell pizza. Damm carbs!

We checked out and Jay held onto his stickers while Lola threw her necklace on.

As my husband buckled Lola into her car seat he read the inscription on her necklace: "Bachelorette on the Loose."

Sweet.

Yes. Lola purchased a shot glass, on a necklace, from family friendly Target. She has never seen a shot glass before and thought the tiny cup on a necklace was... cute.

We took it to the community park on Monday afternoon, since I did not allow her to take it to Ballet class in the morning. Every time a mother shot me a mean glance across the park, I smiled and convinced them "we are trying to go green... those water bottles are hazardous to our environment. These shot glass are green and reusable when filled up at the bubbler."

We are so way ahead of our time. Go Green! It is the new black.

The time has come...

I need to dust off my parenting books.

I have spent the past year dealing with Jay's sensitivity issues and Lola's never ending "terrible twos" and have completely neglected disciplining my third born.

This week she woke up a toddler.

It has been three years since I have dealt with disciplining a 14 month old. I have forgotten how exhausting it is. She is too young for time outs, she cries to every "No!" she hears, she falls to the ground and arches her back when I divert her attention. I can no longer change her diaper without pinning her to the ground and breaking out in a sweat. I can no longer strap her into her high chair for some quiet time without watching her wrestle out of it and falling to the floor. Fifi has developed a strong personality and her new toddler presence has been heard.

It has been easy to give in to her screams for I have two others I need to chase after and discipline.

"OUR family does not call each other names. Do not call her a peepee head." Shhh... shhh, Fifi. Stop screaming, you want to go here? Mama will follow you. "Get your toes away from his face, LOLA!!!" Shh... shhh, Fifi. Stop screaming. You want another frozen go-gurt? Here you go. "Jay, stop riding your razor in the house!!!" Shhh... shh.... Fifi. Stop screaming. You want Mama to do back flips. Okay, how many?

I have been a bit overwhelmed between serving frozen go-gurts and executing back flips. I think the time has come to dust off my toddler parenting books. Save me some time and tell me has worked for you.

Oh my gosh. I have a toddler.

Out of the mouth of Lola...

Fifi really can not stand Lola. As soon as Lola approaches her, she ducks and turns the other direction.

Lola is too loud. Lola is too aggressive. Lola hugs too tightly.

I try very hard each day to refrain from screaming, "Let go of your sister. She does not like you." Those words might damage both of them. Instead, I remind Lola for the 473rd time that she needs to be soft spoken, gentle, and loving towards her baby sister. And then I watch as she hugs, hooks, and tackles her sister later erupting in obnoxious laughter. Uncontrollable wicked laughter.

The truth is. Fifi does not fancy Lola.

However, yesterday I observed something that made my heart swoon. I stopped and watched the sisters interact for the very first time. I had no Nikon. I had no video camera. I had nothing to remember this glorious event but my memory.

I watched as they sat next to one another on the floor of Fifi's room. Their legs gently touching. Lola was reading the Hungry Caterpillar to her in a soft and gentle voice that I did not know she had. I peeked around the corner to see Fifi pointing and Lola lovingly touching her.

I smiled. My heart smiled.

I had just observed the first genuine sisterly moment between them. I walked into the room and knelt before them. "Lola, sweet Lola. What a great big sister you are. Fifi loves you so much."

Lola smiled and looked up at me with her big beautiful eyes and said, "I am a good big sister. I didn't even fart. I didn't even fart one teeny tiny time."

NYC: Part 2... The End

This afternoon, while the older two were at a friend's house and Fifi was napping, I was touring 20 million dollar NYC apartments online. Ahem. Just a couple pennies below our target price range. Yes, I fell in love with the city. What is there not to love?


Reality is that my husband works with his mother and father as a Dentist in Ohio. Ahem. Exciting, I know. Ohio is where we will stay. Therefore, it is time to find closure with NYC and start planning our next adventure. Mali, West Africa (aka the land of no McDonalds) for New Years Eve.


What did we do in NYC? With my sister as a tour guide I should re-phrase the question to ask "What didn't we do?" That would be much easier to answer.



Basically, with two pre-school aged children, we toured playgrounds. We saw Helena Christensen at a SoHo playground. I drooled over the stilettos of the Park Avenue moms in Central park. We made friends with three chiwawas on a roof top Greenwich village penthouse. With my not-so-city-friendly-double-jogging stroller we ate on the run and played in nearly a dozen different playgrounds. For 12 hours each day, the kids were on the go. Good thing that back in Ohio we are always on the go and very rarely plopped in front of the TV. They were troopers and embraced everything. Did I mention that TWO separate families asked ME for directions admist the chaos of Battery Park? Yes, I felt very cool blending in with NYC.


(NOTE: MANY PICTURES HAVE BEEN DELETED)
Their first glimpse of a NYC subway.



Feeding pigeons, in line for the ferry to Ellis Island.

After waiting for 2 hours and 22 minutes we saw the Statue of Liberty.

After 22 minutes on Ellis island Jay was hungry and Lola was sleeping.

Back on Manhattan. We toured Central Park for hours. There were ponds, waterfalls, and rock formations. It was breathtaking.

Looking for Eloise in front of the Plaza. No luck. That is me... the brunette with the blond kiddos. My blond sister was mistaken for the mother of MY children more often that I never was

Fao Swartz had life sized Star Wars legos.

... and a nursery full of $100 babies to "adopt."

We took the advice of some Classy Chaos commenters and headed toward Dylan's Candy bar. The kids thank you. And so does my Dentist husband.

That was the end of JUST the first day. Exhausted? Yes. Worth it? Yes. Would I do it again? Heck, yes!!

Nobody came home to Ohio empty handed. Jay scored legos at the Toys R Us in Time Square. Lola came home with Julie, the newest American Girl doll. And I.... I bought something spectacular at Saks on Fifth Avenue. Any guesses?