Happy Valentine's Day... Stupid Cupid.

Drumroll please..... It's Valentine's Day. February 14th. I remember those days well sitting in elementary school counting out cartoon valentines at the end of the day to see how many I got. Junior high and high school got the carnation sales and the anticipation of seeing flowers delivered every period. Strange, how college was a bit of a blur and I can't recall the rites for that stage of romance...(blush).  Your twenties alternate between being preparing furiously to celebrate an uber-romantic evening with the love of your night or wearning all black and having a sassy girls' night out in defiance of the whole tradition.

I learned gradually as I got older to drastically lower my expectations of Valentine's Day. Single or not, somehow, it always lead to disappointment. I was never swept off my feet. Flowers never showed at my workplace (Or was it I managed to avoid being on the schedule so as to not vomit on a colleague's roses?). There were no surprise-cooked-just-for-me candlelit dinners. Lowering one's expectations worked well. I could enjoy a splash of color in the ol' wardrobe again and perhaps even hum a chorus or two of  "My Funny Valentine" walking by two twenty-somethings on their way to the last dinner of their relationship.

2007.  I may have been single on February 14th that year, but I was certainly looking forward to February 18th. I had a blind date scheduled. Meeting a gentleman at nice cozy tavern in Fells Point known for it's simple good food. I was terrified. The girl would be showing up with the green headband. Yeah, I know. Cliched at it's finest.  It was fun dinner, full of great conversation and laughter. He was tall, handsome, smart and gave me butterflies like no other. Clearly there had to be a catch. Especially when I ended the date early for my 4 am alarm for work the next day. I hoped, but had no idea if I would ever see him again. (yeah, you men are weird like that...).

2011. He's still here, snoring next to me on a nightly basis. I call him my dear husband. We have three gorgeous boys. We may bicker over who is going clean the cat box, change the next dirty diaper, put gasoline in the cars or fold the laundry; but he's my funny Valentine and we do it together. See what lowering your expectations for awhile can do? Land you the lottery.

Stupid Cupid, always picking on me.

WooHoo! It's National Marriage Week.

Valentine's Day is fast approaching. But even more importantly, did you know the week leading up to Valentine's Day is National Marriage Week? Apparently it's an annual celebration/focus on marriage from February 7-14. I am actually all for this, celebrating all types of marriages. I think, perhaps, it shouldn't just be a week. It should be 52 weeks, given the divorce rate in our country.

Marriage, after all, is hard work. Any married person can attest to that. It's easy for us to lose track of each other and nurturing of the marriage. There's work, there's the kids. There's house maintenance. There's chores. There's the never-ending laundry. There is the me time. And yet somehow, we rarely make time for the we time.  Oh sure, once every couple months one might call the babysitter and go out on a date, and typically start out the conversation with "Isn't this great? We really need to get out by ourselves more often..." and by the end of the evening have digressed to talking about the kids exclusively.

We have been working to get our married groove back since the birth of the twins. We instituted our Top Chef Sundays which has been quite successful thus far, as we have found we really enjoy cooking for each other again. I do my best to try to hang out for at least a half hour or so at night when the kids go down once or twice a week. (it's not easy). And Keith tries to come to bed early once or twice a week to keep me happy. We are also back to attempting to remember the little things and the small courtesies that are so easy to forget and take for granted.

With a little luck, it will be National Marriage Week all 52 weeks of the year in this home. And hopefully Valentine's Day everyday. I wish nothing but the same for EVERY married or united person out there.

Flashlight Tag, Anyone?

My two year old can work my iPhone. He can work that sucker independently, make phone calls to China, send texts, download apps, randomly FaceTime his dad, pick out games in the "Liam games" folder. He can also break into the settings and jack my phone up to the point where I have to call my husband, the Apple junkie, also known as tech support; to help me piece it back together. I am pretty sure at age two, I still was blissfully unaware a telephone existed.

He can also find the XBox controller and ask my husband to play games while he watches enthralled. Reason number 852 as to why I didn't want a video gaming system in the house. He can independently program the DVR remote and accurately change television channels.  I am not telling you this to brag about my two year old's genius level of intelligence. Oh no. Not one bit. These little nuances of my child bother me. Bother me A. LOT.  As a child, I ran around outside from morning til night, riding bikes, playing, swimming, exploring. Just playing outside.  There was none of this Nick Jr crap on the TV to entertain us. None of this "it's preschool on TV, 24 hours a day". Are you kidding me? Put the remote control down before someone get hurt.  The average young person spends SEVEN hours a day on the computer or in front of the TV.  That's insane. Now that it's winter, I try to fill my toddler's day with coloring, playdoh, book reading and other activities that feed the brain. When we actually get snow - it's time to pack up and go play in it!

The average young child spends fifty percent less time outdoors that we did as children. Fifty percent less time. Holy cow. But I guess all that TV watching and social networking and tweeting and gaming is so taxing on a young person's soul. My husband and I personally can't wait to introduce our son to a tiny tricycle this summer and get him to have the same love for bike riding that we had as kids. It was one of the criteria we had in house hunting - it had to be a good bike riding neighborhood.  During spring, summer and fall, we make it mandatory that we are outside for a good portion of the day and set up an inflatable kiddie pool to beat the heat so that there are no excuses.

1 in 3 young children are now overweight or obese. I fight every day to make sure my children don't fall into that trap. I fight everyday to make sure myself and my husband don't fall into that trap. Rock on Michelle Obama. You can tell this middle American family what to eat any day of the week. We're listening.

It really DOES take a village....

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My three sons

My three sons. I love fiercely in a way only a mother possibly could. And they all couldn't be more different from each other. Even the twins are starting to give us glimpses of the personalities they are beginning to adopt as they approach their first birthday.

My two year old. He's headstrong. Hugely opinionated. Knows what he wants and often stands his ground until we decide if fighting the battle is going to matter come Tuesday or not. We usually discover upon checking him when we retire for the night he's changed his pajamas into something he's decided is much more suitable. He has very strong opinions on food. Very strong. Just this morning he declared the munchkins he and I picked out as "yucky" and then asked me to hold his munchkin when we stopped at the corner store for milk - but not to eat it - and then proceeded to pick out a small package of Oreos and bring them to the counter. Where I was then told I could eat the yucky Munchkin. So today I learned Oreos for breakfast good, Munchkins bad. Good thing he actually likes oatmeal on a regular basis. He likes to tackle tasks himself. He's very observant, paying close attention to us even when we are unaware. We recently discovered he is capable of setting up the baby gates properly all by himself.

Our ten month old twins. Twin A had a lengthy six week NICU stay. He is methodical and deliberate and progressing on his own time. He puts a lot of thought into every action he takes. He is capable of sitting and entertaining himself with toys and playing quietly. He doesn't cry unless there is a clear reason for it such as being tired, hungry, an excessively wet diaper or overly bored with a toy, super frustrated with tummy time. He has made up all his weight easily, wearing 12 month clothing. He is a champion at teething and starting to work at finger foods and likes the taste of softer Mommy and Daddy foods.

Twin B had a two week NICU stay. He has caught up to his age developmentally. He cannot sit still for a second now that he is crawling and cruising. He needs attention constantly and is a high maintenance child. He despises naps, I suspect because it means he may miss household action. He cries and fusses to hear his own voice. We anticipate he will be a chatterbox when he starts talking. He is the smallest of the three boys, having not tolerated the milk based formula. Now that his formula is switched, we foresee him catching up to his brothers. He is quick to pull toys away from his brother if he likes what he sees.  He has the most million dollar smile of the three and has since day one.

Fact is they are our sweet boys, different as can be. We cherish their personalities and foster them to be their own person as long as they grow up to be good people and make smart decisions in life.

Rolling with the differences

They say the first child is always the experimental child. After all, you spend more time preparing to get your driver's license (and you have to pass a test!) than you spend preparing to become a parent. If you were as clueless as my husband and I  when we took our oldest home, then you know the kid is nearing three on what amounts to a wing and a prayer. It never ceases to astound us the differences that stack up when child number two (or in our case two and three) arrives on the scene.

Child number 1 (#1) learned the hard way to cry it out in a dark room so that Mommy and Daddy could resume sleeping as soon as human(e)ly possible. He's a great sleeper now.

Children number 2 and 3 (#2/3) are nearing ten months of age and still get rocked to sleep every night, then to be placed in their cribs with soft music and a nightlight. Needless to say.... not such great sleepers. God forbid they cry it out.

#1 could tumble and barely had time to start quivering his chin before he was scooped up and consoled.

#2/3 mean you listen to the thud and hold your breath waiting for the cry.... No crying, no problem.

#1 has the most beautiful head of curly hair. We swore that we would be the parents to let it grow and grow until he rebels as a teenager by actually cutting his hair.

#2/3 mean prior to one year of age, we are already plotting the first haircut.

#1 could only watch kid-friendly, educational type shows. Think select Nick Jr, Sprout and PBS.

#2/3 have worked it so their older brother now runs around declaring "TBS. Very Funny. "

#1 got a bath every single night of his infancy.

#2/3 mean three kids. three baths. three times a week. Unless they get super dirty.

#1 started going on outings before he was a week old. He happily traveled the East Coast with Mommy and Daddy.

#2/3 mean we barricaded the door for a good six months before we felt brave enough to run to the corner store with all three.

#1 got homemade gourmet baby food until he started eating what Mommy and Daddy ate for dinner.

#2/3 got three batches made before we through in the towel and called our dear friend Gerber to help with the mealtimes.

But what everyone gets is two parents who love them all more than anything in the world, as imperfect as we are. Sure, we stumble from time to time, laughing about how our poor kids got stuck with amateurs. But who of us doesn't feel their way through parenting, learning as they go?  We have a older child who loves his younger brothers and will tell us how he needs to play with "his babies." We have three children who laugh constantly. They are thriving.

Oh, and the drop-off on pictures between kids? Not a chance. Picture taking still going strong.

My Own Personal Quickfire

Like many couples with small children, my husband and I are constantly seeking ways to find time during the day and/or week to have a moment when it is a little less about the kids and a little more about the marriage. After all, it is our relationship that became the springboard for marriage and children to begin with. We also firmly believe a happy Mommy and Daddy make for happy parents and thus, happier children.  But it's easy to forget and get caught up in the needs of two infants and a toddler, taking care of them day in and day out and suddenly, January has rushed by in a frozen blur of bottles, diapers and all the Playdough creations you can imagine.

So, my husband and I have taken it upon ourselves lately to actively make time for each other. But even the whole concept of "I won't go to bed and just stay up chatting during Animation Domination" can get stale real quick. Just as his keeping me company during a Real Housewives marathon puts him to sleep in five seconds.  And while Date Night is a crucial concept,  neither of us is convinced upping it to weekly would have the same effect; that just means once a week we pay someone to watch our kids while we leave the house to talk about them.  So, that leaves us with the question: what's a couple to do? Enter the weekly Quickfire cooking challenge.

For those of you who might be Bravo junkies like myself, then you surely must be familiar with the Emmy-winning Top Chef by now. A wickedly addicting cooking competition that never fails to make my mouth water and give me cooking envy.  It's also the only Bravo show to date my husband has ever watched with me. One week ago, we opted to break the household budget and purchase both the Top Chef cookbook and the Top Chef Quickfire cookbook. We decided that every Sunday, one of us would pick a recipe, starting with the Quickfire book  and cook for the other. It's a move that allows us to focus on the other in a way that takes us back to cooking in the pre-marriage days. Picking a surprise recipe, gathering ingredients, eagerly anticipating our spouse's reaction. And most importantly, not having to worry if the recipe is kid-friendly or not! Come to think of it, when was the last time holidays and birthdays aside, we really devoted time on a regular basis to planning things for our spouse?

This Sunday is the first day, and my husband is cooking for me. I can't wait to see how he does with his first Quickfire challenge. Padma be damned, he's already won in my book.

Seriously Folks ?!?

We've all been there. Victim to those moments when you just would love to know what in tarnation the other person was thinking, or more importantly, who authorized them to be out in public.   My husband and I have wasted far too much time as of late chuckling over this stuff and it seemed too good not to share a few of our personal favorite experiences.

The folks at the local mall who feel any free spot of curb is fair game for a parking space. If there is cement, they will park, whether it's an actual legal spot or not. Local law enforcement seems to feel this is just fine and dandy. I shudder to think what would happen at Christmas with a fire or medical emergency needing actual space. And the epidemic is spreading. I caught it now appearing at a Target near me this weekend. Here's a thought. Park in the parking space at the end of the lot and walk like the rest of us. It's healthy and it won't kill you.

One last time. Repeat after me. I know I have my hands full. So, when I/We are out and about with three children and one or more are fussing or melting down; unless you are willing to grab a diaper or a bottle and pony up to help,  no one is interested in making conversation with you and hearing how busy we are. Oh, and no need to roll your eyes when you can't make eye contact with me because I am WATCHING my children and not paying attention to your insane need to tell me that I (1) have twins and (2) have my hands full. Yeah, my husband caught you.

Fashion Police Alert: if you have a muffin top or beer belly, please I beg you, cover it up! Target has some stylish and affordable options. There is no need for a belly shirt. Ever.

I need help understanding why there is a subpopulation who finds it necessary to treat every crosswalk as an opportunity to sashay down their own personal runway. They look foolish and cause drivers to become impatient, nearly taking out those of us trying to cross in a reasonable amount of time with small children, sans a fierce runway strut.

Why must some people start up with dagger eyes and audible sighs the moment a family with children sits down to eat in a restaurant? I can assure you, no one in my group slipped the hostess a $50 to seat us next to you to ruin your meal. Keep it up buddy, and I can promise you that I will allow my children to leave their manners back in the coat check along with yours.

Now anyone who lives in the beltway can appreciate this:  Unless you live on a deserted island or got your driver's license in the last twenty minutes, I am reasonably sure you have seen both a dented car and someone getting issued a ticket before. So why rubberneck and hold up traffic for 45 minutes? Keep it moving and keep it safe.

Jets fans. Yankees fans. Lakers fans. Flyers fans. No further explanation needed.

And don't even get me started on those parents who have to post every little thing their child does on Facebook along with 100 pictures a week..... Oh. Wait. Ha Ha... This is awkward. That's ME!

What "Seriously Folks?" moment have you encountered recently that made you stop and take pause?

Things I am Obsessed with - January

It's a new year, new month and new things to obsess over for 2011.  While I am still sorting through the fashion and beauty trends I like, here's a quick round-up of some items in general I am dying for right now.

The 50th anniversary of the inaugural address for a great president whose term and legacy was sadly cut short. I cannot put down The Kennedy Detail. A compelling account of the story of his presidency just prior to, and the assassination as told by his Secret Service agents, who are breaking their silence for the first time. The guilt is palpable from the pages, and their perspective on that fateful day is unparalleled.

With a resolution to bring back the family dinner into our hectic lives, comes dessert (in moderation of course!). Enter A World of Cake, a stunning cookbook that provides recipes and stories of cakes from around the world and for all occasions. Tackled thus far? The Queen Ann's Cake from England, aka Carrot Cake. Yum. Also included are surprisingly easy frosting recipes. 

Being the bookworm that I am, I discovered online yesterday the most amazing bookends that I must own before the year is out. Ideally before May is out (I fortunately have a birthday, Nurses' week and Mother's day in a three week period - with a generous husband....) Enter the Carmen Object and Bookend from Lunares Home. A most delightful platform shoe bookend made from recycled materials, hand made, cast in a metal alloy, promised to never tarnish, chip, peel or crack.  $115.  Consider it a work of art for your home. 

While there are still a couple more months of Old Man Winter upon us, and snow is predicted for the next day or so, the resort and pre-spring catalogs are rolling in. One of my favorite children's catalogs has me giddy with anticipation for warm weather with this backyard toadstool table and chair set - our backyard had plenty of trees and shade to tuck this away in and let the imaginations run the day!

$450 at Chasing Fireflies.  The table and chairs are made of resin and weatherproofed. Perfect for Indoors and Out.

Three kids means there are days I am convinced I might die without a cup or two or three of coffee to function. Enter my Starbucks addiction. Thankfully they have heard my call that the Venti size just isn't big enough - Now introducing the Trenta size for those iced drinks on the days a hot beverage won't do. 31 ounces of unadulterated iced coffee or iced chai bliss. Now. If the Starbucks corporate suits would recognize some of us working weekend folk would LOVE a Trenta hot option for a weekend to sip on all morning. Dee-licious.  Available for iced drinks only May 3rd everywhere.

Pantone's color of the year. Did you even know Pantone released a color of the year each year? It shows up in our clothing, home decorating trends, jewelry etc. This year, it's Honeysuckle. 

I must be on testosterone overload in my house, because I am loving this proclamation and trying to figure out just how much I can incorporate it into the house and my look. So tired of the Navy, Khaki, Orange and Army Greens that run my life as of late. Bring on the honeysuckle!  ( I am sure my husband can't wait for 2012 and a new color of the year to come quickly and save him....)

There you have it. My current obsessions. See you in February when hopefully I will have figured out what fashion and beauty ideas for 2011 I am going to get the year started with, and then head into Spring and Summer with.    What has caught your fancy in the new year?           

A Real Housewife versus the Real Housewives

There is a Bravo channel phenomenon that has been sweeping the nation since roughly 2005. I am speaking of the "Real Housewives" franchise that originated in Orange County, California and spun-off into New York, Atlanta, New Jersey, Washington D.C. and now Beverly Hills. Like many, I watched fascinated with the wealth, the lifestyle, the catfights and this whole notion that they were representing a "real housewife". It's slowly growing old to me and somewhat ridiculous as we have now been exposed to this season after season, and now with the current RHoBH incarnation. Let's be honest. None of these ladies could honestly last for a day as a real housewife in my life. Let's try and picture Camille Grammer without her four nannies wrestling with my three boys. I'm giggling already at the visual of the first five minutes.

This real housewife has no servants. I know my kids names. I change diapers on three children. I plan and feed them three meals. EVERY DAY. It's (gasp) not all organic, because hey, it's a recession and we are on a (double gasp) budget. I make beds and do their own laundry right down to owning stock in Spray n'Wash for various boy stains that I treat myself.  I lug two carts around the grocery store and Target to get the household chores and shopping done. One for the kids and one for the items. I am loathe to use a sitter most times, no one can do it better than my husband or myself - Nanny who? I am a champion at detangling curls and wrangling a child to cut their nails and clean their ears. I read a mean bedtime story and always remember to include voices.

I can play trucks, sing nursery rhymes, hide and go seek, pull wagons and build blocks with the best of them. I don't worry about breaking a nail and I gave up lipstick the day my oldest was born. I have to beg to find time to get my own hair done. I shop sales and hunt at end-of season for some ridiculous bargains and, yes, I am have been known to be a Maxxinista. There has been days we all play in pajamas until dinnertime when a fresh pair goes on post dessert. And there has been days the boys are the only ones I can manage to get dressed.  My life sure did change when I had kids, and I chose it willingly, eyes wide open the entire way.

I clean my own house. I dust. I vacuum. I wash windows. I scrub showers and toilets. I spring clean, I fall clean. I in-between clean. I am my own house manager. All while holding down a full-time job.

Can the Real Housewives do that? This real housewife thinks not.

Ode to My Family

Kind
Energetic
Inspiring
True-Blue
Honest

Loving Kindness
Inimitable
Amazing
Mischievous

Exuberant
Limitless
Incredible

Nervy
Open
Adventurer
Hard-boiled

My four boys. I love them in so many more words than described above and wouldn't have it any other way.

How would you describe your family if you had to choose one word for each letter of their name?

Can what is lost be found?

There seems to be days, weeks and months even when I play a certain swan song. A song whose lyric runs that of the "I just don't have the time variety." Does the refrain sound familiar? Each day starts out with the best of intentions and suddenly I find 3 hours have passed, filled with diaper changes, snacks, temper tantrums, or each child needing individual versus group attention. Then we start all over again with lunchtime. All the while those good intentions get lost and the laundry piles up, dusting gets neglected, the lawn needs to be mowed and the car oil changed.

I wish I could tell you I was efficient with nap time. I used to be. I used to even be able to find time to nap with my oldest and still get it all done. With three, nap time  is best used to hurriedly straighten up for round two and that's on the days I can even get all three to nap. Because, after all your best efforts, why on earth would three little boys ever stick to the same schedule for anything?

I am still waiting for the magic formula on how I should reclaim lost time. Not let the good intentions get left behind. It never fails to appear that the harder I try, the worse my efficiency gets. Or three little ones actively seek to sabotage me.  Now there's a theory I can work with. I am quite confident a mother could do a lot with two or three more efficient, thus found hours.

I will find time for that mani/pedi on more than an annual basis.
I will find time to dust once a week.
I will find time to create deliciously gourmet - okay, just deliciously home cooked - meals for my family on non-work days.
I will find time to give each child the proper balance of group and individual attention.
I will find time to plan fun daytime out of the house activities for us.
I will find time to pick away at one home improvement project a month.
I will find time for my running.
I will find time to rediscover the joy of reading.

Now, if I could just find that time to get started on the list.

A Southern State of Snow?

When winter comes, I pride myself on being tougher than most around these parts, now living below the Mason-Dixon line. I spent my first thirty years in northern Vermont and consider myself a bit of an expert on what a "real" winter is and how to drive properly in the snow. I grew up going to school with three feet of snow on the ground (hey, as long as there's no ice...) and I love to tell my husband I practically put the chains on the school bus snow tires myself.  We certainly never went to the grocery store in a blind panic when the weatherman starts whispering the "s" word and a half-inch on the ground doesn't even warrant a conversation about the weather.

When I headed south to Virginia for graduate school, it was more than a little bit of a culture change for in terms of how one dealt with Old Man Winter. I remember the first day I woke to the alarm clock and my local NPR bursting with school closings. I ran excitedly to the window thinking I would see soft white snow having fallen overnight, reminding me of home. Instead I was greeted with signs of the end of autumn - dry brown grass. No snow.  No ice. Perhaps a 30 degree temperature. Are you kidding me? Cancel school simply because it's cold? In my wildest childhood fantasies such a thing never did occur.  Then came an actual snowstorm. Two things shocked me. One, the amount of people who seemed to be of the belief that owning an SUV meant that they could and should be out driving in heavy snow. Um, do you understand why you are now sitting in that ditch dialing the state police, you brain surgeon you? And two, the mad rush folks make to the grocery store for bread, milk, eggs and toilet paper as if those 4 essential items are all  you need to hold you over for a week.

Now granted, I did send my husband out last year for a full grocery shop just as the snowpocalypse of 2010 hit us. I was pregnant and on bedrest, along with our toddler and I understand that occasionally a storm will come along that warrants a trip to the store in preparation. But more often than not, living here, I've found the snow is gone in two days. I am guessing that the grocery run could be better spent on items such as the fixings for a nice tenderloin dinner and have yourself a nice warm meal in lieu of that stockpile of toilet paper which will now carry you into the next decade.

I'll admit. I have already gone soft with the temperatures. I get wimpy and fuss when the thermometer goes below 50, as that's much too cold for this fragile flower; preferring a nice sunny 80 degree day. Thus my husband loves to throw the tough northern girl card right back at me when I complain. Yesterday morning I found myself driving into work in a bit of a snow squall with less than a half of an inch on the ground. Drivers were already on the highway at 5 am being silly, driving fast, driving slow, stomping on brakes, creating a general sense of panic. I did drive steady and calm. But had I spotted a grocery store en route, I just might have pulled over myself, bagels and scrambled eggs on me.

A look back to say Goodbye and Farewell

With the turn of every new year, there is always a moment or two of self-reflection where one might look back, pause and say "What was I thinking?"  2010 proved to be no exception as a year filled with such moments.

*Standing in a line for 8 hours on iPhone 4 release day with a toddler and two infants. My husband assured me if I went at a "reasonable" hour, I wouldn't be there for more than just a couple hours, after all, he was in and out in just three! Eight. Hours. Thank goodness for a too kind sister-in-law who hung with me for all eight hours (after her own three hour wait) and a mother-in-law who rescued the toddler after hour five. We got into the Apple store just as the formula ran out. Never again.

*Thinking that I could actually order multiple pairs of boots in multiple colors from J.Crew. And that I would be able to intercept the package from my husband, who would then be none the wiser. When I wore then boots, I could slyly just answer "Oh, this old thing? It's been in the closet.... awhile" when asked how long I've owned them (he never misses anything, the guy can sniff out a purchase at thirty paces).  Only I never counted on the UPS man delivering on the day I work and hubby doing early day care pick up EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Oh Bootgate 2010, I am still trying to live you down and perhaps be allowed to shoe shop this year.

* Trying to have a nice quiet lunch post the twins two month checkup at the Olive Garden, as our toddler was at daycare for the day. Except we didn't count on the fact that our waitress had apparently never seen nor heard of  fraternal twins before. She not only paraded every staff member she could find by our table, she stationed herself right next to us and talked to us throughout the entire meal. Extra conversation, you got it! Second helping of breadsticks.... suddenly she's busy. She even remarked to us at one point how we must never get the chance to go out together anymore more and enjoy each other's company. Ya think? How sad that when we left another member of the waitstaff crew told us they were sorry we couldn't eat our meal in peace. Talk about your Twilight Zone.

Can't wait to see how 2011 pans out.

24 Hours....

Should the day ever occur when I find myself without husband or children (honey, are you listening?) Much thought has been put into the notion of what I would do with 24 hours of sacred free time.

Some ideas that I just might indulge in:
Sleep until at least 10 am
Long uninterrupted bath
Reunion with 2 months of Bravo programming on the DVR.
Catch up with 6 months of Vogue back issues
Starbucks and Godiva for every meal
Finally finally Jonathan Franzen's Freedom
Nap
Nap
Nap
Visit my old friends Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda, even if only on DVD
Shoe shop online.

The reality is, I'd probably be more likely to do:
8 loads of laundry
3 loads of dishes
Clean 3 bedrooms
Mop 2 levels of hardwood
Organize the playroom
Dust
Vacuum
Wash the windows
Purge for Goodwill
Tackle some random redecorating project
Grocery shop
Have dinner on the table by everyone's return

And somewhere my husband is laughing hysterically because he knows the nap is the only thing this mom of three  would take given 24 hours to herself. Okay, maybe an online shoe boutique or two. Only because you can surf the web from bed.

Maintaining Myself

A person once told me now that I was a mother, I couldn't be fashionable anymore. That was the  wisdom the individual chose to impart on my fragile ego after the birth of my first child. That statement hit me hard and I took it personally. People raided my closet! Came to me for style tips! I felt so chic now, living outside the nation's capital and shopping in Manhattan pre-baby. I knew how to mix Ebay finds with retail pieces. I knew how to scour the estate sales for the gem amongst the rubble. And I knew how to find that must have piece at Neiman Last Call. And now someone is telling me, that I can't be me anymore? My brain suddenly flashed to a vision of myself popping up on the "People of Walmart" website and I got angry.

How does being a mother suddenly mean you lose the ability to have a little style? I'll admit, my style priorities may have changed a bit, but that same woman is still there. I have a harder time justifying Neiman Last Call or otherwise with three kids; but then again, I'm often leery of stores that will require the majority of my purchase to be dry clean only.  Though giving up dry clean only fabrics for the majority of a wardrobe should not mean style is lacking. That only means I am looking to save a little money on cleaning bills when I spend days off covered in formula and baby food.

Now I cull the trends more carefully. I think classic equestrian styled boots for fall versus this past year's peep toe bootie. I look more to bring accessories into the wardrobe mix with the classic styles to add that je ne sais quoi to my outfit. The big chunky necklaces that were so in for so long were perfect for the new mom, pregnant mom, losing weight mom as I metamorphosed through so many aspects of body and clothing yet still allowing for a fun, fashionable and stylish feel.  Summer always finds me in some version of the sundress, be it the Maxi of 2009, or some version of a lightweight summer pant; and who didn't love last year's cropped J. Crew cargos?

Us mothers are a stylish bunch. For someone to say we're not? I say that is a soul seeking their own fashion identity as much as we struggle to maintain ours.

Gulliver's House

Most homeowners don't say this, but there are a lot of days I find myself nostalgic for our old apartments. And not for the traditional reasons one may expect: city living, no maintenance, lower rent payments vs mortgage etc... Nope. I am talking getting misty over my lack of living space. What? You're shocked? It's okay. Anyone would be, for it's a rather peculiar reason to wax nostalgic over.

We lived in our last two bedroom apartment with our firstborn for over a year before we moved into our current house. I couldn't begin to tell you the square footage of the apartment other than small; and we made full use of our tiny deck as living space when weather permitted. But one thing that apartment forced us to do was to keep our belongings and baby gear in check, not buying what there wasn't space for. Despite the urge to spoil our firstborn madly, we actually cut him off from toys at one point until his first birthday just to be able to make room for presents at his actual birthday. Poor kid had to learn to play with what he owned and push through the boredom as an infant. Life is just full of rough lessons when you're young.

Then came the house. The incredible shrinking house. We planned on having "just one more" child, so we bought an adorable three bedroom starter home in a lovely cul-de-sac. Ha! We moved in expecting, and two weeks later found out we were expecting twins. Shrink. Already down one bedroom. Then the gear. Gear for one child takes up a ridiculous amount of space. Now our sitting room and family room are consumed by baby gear and toys for two and three. Shrink.  Just trying to navigate around two exersaucers alone is insane. Now that the twins are mobile and the baby gates are back up everywhere, keeping them from crawling places they shouldn't. Shrink.

Suddenly you feel a little bit like Gulliver peering into the tiny castle. Or what once seemed like your spacious new house so full of promise and storage. Now it's run amok with toys and baby gear  spilling out of every corner. The gear may eventually go away, but the toys will keep coming in all shapes and sizes until one day I find there are three grown men who don't live here anymore. Then, somehow, in all the found space, I suspect my husband and I will find ourselves longing for the days of Gulliver.

My Mini Marc Jacobs

I'd like to clarify a couple things. My oldest is two and a half years old. He's a boy. He's quite rough and tumble. Mommy fancies herself quite the in-the-know stylish lady on the days time can be found for a shower. My worlds have now collided.  I haven't yet decided if I should clutch my chest and wipe away tears of joy or pull out my hair in frustration. Fortunately for me, the kid has got great taste. Michael Kors, Jr or Mini Marc, if you will.

It all started the day I put a pair of baby Uggs on of his brothers (cute on a 9 month old, but grown adult - not so much). He got very upset and on a 50 degree sunny day insisted on wearing his winter snowboots because his brothers were wearing boots. What are three boys if not co-ordinated? Then came the day I put in the "wrong" cuffless sweatpants. He threw himself on the floor, cried; then got up, brushed himself off and got out the proper color for me to put on him. A smile then crossed his face. He now does this over his his t-shirts, long sleeve shirts, hats and shoes. It's all wrong. And he will inevitably pick out something that looks cooler than what we started with in the first place. Never mind that I bought nearly everything the kid owns to begin with.

And the shoes.... He had this one pair of brown slide on Timberlands that he is obsessed with. He'll wear those shoes till they rot off him I'm convinced. We're still working on the whole "shoe appropriate" concept. It could be worse. He could be attached to polar bear slippers or Elmo sneakers or something equally ridiculous. The brown slide on Tims are nice - they resemble a miniature pair of Merrells.

The defining point began two days ago when he and I spent the better part of 20 minutes debating the finer points of Batman flannel button up pajamas versus martian cotton pajamas. The Batman won. But the next morning, he came running downstairs in a fever pitch with his Batman top on, holding the martian bottoms demanding to mix his prints in a retro-chic sort of way.

He is young and has so much to learn. The foundation has clearly been set and Momma is proud. Sniff.

A Sherpa's Journey....

... Or perhaps just a couple of parents trying to leave the house? How I miss the good ol' days. Those days when all you had to do to leave the house was grab the car keys, a lip gloss and the  debit card.  Estimated time of return? Next week, if we felt like it. My obstetrician still tells stories of the day we left her office headed to New York City on a spur of the moment dinner date just prior to the travel time cut-off with our first. All because we could. Now, just getting to the corner store for milk when only one adult is home take the kind of planning and precision that finds you on the recruitment list of General Petraeus himself. After all, you can't just "run in" with a toddler and two babies sitting in the swagger wagon. Most likely, if we run out of juice or milk during the day, someone's going to be waiting until Daddy gets home.

There's no such thing as packing light anymore. I suspect the last time I got to carry an actual purse I was about twelve years old.  The concept of the $300 chic diaper bag makes sense to me as it's the one bag I've bonded with and used every day as both purse and carryall until that bag was hanging off my shoulder in threads. My husband, who is a tough sell, could even justify the upgrade when the twins were born.  For me to leave the house just to run to the neighborhood Target, never mind an actual event, I need to take: a pack of wipes, 4 size three diapers, 2 size five diapers, changing pad, 4 pre-made bottles of formula (always take 2 more than you think you'll need), bag of snacks for the toddler, water bottle for the toddler, wallet, cell phone and list. Now imagine if we were to really venture out for the day or there were cold weather to take into consideration.   How I miss those days of keys / gloss / card....


It's forever amusing to hear people say what it takes to get out of the house or show up somewhere late. And I am positive somewhere a mother of triplets or quadruplets is reading this laughing at me. But we've found now in order for us to show up somewhere as a family on time (and it happens) we start the packing up process TWO HOURS before we are supposed to leave our house. Notice I did not say getting dressed and I did not say arrive at our destination. Nope. We start two hours before departure time. Because inevitably we'll notice something is missing when we check our bag of necessary items. Or a diaper "blows out" and needs to be changed. Or a tantrum is had. Or someone wants to try to use the potty. Or something gets spilled. You get the idea. Two hours gets filled quick and the next thing you know we are in the car and on our way. 


Did I mention how much we used to just hop in the car and go because we could? Even with one, you're still reasonably portable. With three kids so young, for us it's a bit like climbing Everest. Six months of preparations for one major event. Road trip anyone?