Squeezing In One Last Day...

It's the last day of Summer vacation for the Bonus Brother.

He starts his (gasp!) Junior year of High school.

My crazy ones still have a week before school starts.

So we decided, along with half the other people in the State,

to have one last Hoo-rah at the local water park.

Yeah.  See this guy?  He's looking for our sanity too.

For the low-(snicker)-Low price of $150, the average family of five can enjoy several obstacle style kiddie pools,  a wave pool, the lazy river and a multitude of water slides.

We love our water slides... especially backwards, screaming like a girl,

....and making a huge splash. 

(Run! Little man run!)

We also love the wave pool. 

Or more accurately,

 they love being thrown in the wave pool...

Last year, I was brave enough for this little water slide.

It's called the Pirate's Plunge.

It's a 99 foot drop, with speeds up to 60 mph, and includes two drops, both of which are in the dark.

So, needless to say, this year,

I decided against the involuntary free fall and atomic wedgie...

My oldest son, did not.

When the sun beating down started taking it's toll,

we decided to enjoy a leisurely float down the Lazy River. 

While they floated around, maybe I could catch a nap. 

Or, they could beat each other with their rafts.

**sigh with eyes rolling**

So, I attempted to catch a nap in the chairs...

Yeah, that wasn't happening either. 

After one more attempt at the lazy river,

lots of yelling,

holding my mildly sun burnt head in my hands,

 rubbling my temples,

wondering what on Earth we were thinking,

our day was officially over.

As we were walking out my youngest looked at me, smiled big, and said

"I've had a great day, Mom, how 'bout you?"

"Yeah, Buddy.  Fabulous."

Surviving Even More Boys...

Even my tomatoes are boys....

Go Ahead, Talk About Me...

Today I was that woman.

You know the one.

The neighbor who never has the time to mow the lawn except on a Sunday morning. So if it wasn't bad enough that the yard looks like a vacant lot, now you have to listen to their mower before noon on Sunday.

That woman at the dump who has barrels full of recyclables, because once again, she has no other day to recycle them except Sunday.  So you have to wait in the line of cars for her to dump each barrel in the way-to-small opening. 

That woman who while at the dump, had to get back in the line of cars because she saw the exact Fisher Price Little Tykes basketball hoop that her mother's been wanting for her house for the younger grand kids. And then held up traffic (this is more due to a horrible system of waste removal that the town has) while she strategically had to get it into the car with all the aforementioned barrels and her children.

That woman who then decides that even though she knows this is NOT a good idea, she has no food in the fridge and must go to Walmart on a Sunday afternoon.  One kid riding under the cart, kicking her the entire time, the other was obviously over tired, and hid at the end of each aisle until they came around the corner, only to jump out and yell "BOO!"

That woman who got to the checkout, had none of her coupons work, and had her kids fighting over who was going to bag the groceries.

That woman who will probably be on the next "People of Walmart" video clip.

That woman who all the girls at the hair salon will be talking about, since she saw her hair dresser there and quickly scooted down the next aisle in the hopes of avoiding her and the inevitable embarrassment of her horribly behaved children.

That woman...

That was me.

Go ahead. 

Talk about me. 

I'm too tired to care.

Touring Boston...Blurry Pictures..Take 2

Tonight's Tour is The Boston Children's Museum.

On Friday Night after 5pm...

when EVERY parent in the city takes their kids...

First room, exploring the sounds of nature. 

There's trees, interactive tubes, wind tunnels, animal noises, etc. 

And somehow, my son wound up banging on drums.

Next room, cultural diversity.

See how other cultures live, what toys they play with, how different their lives are.

And still, my sons ended up banging on drums.

OK...Moving on....

 they found the only home-made pin ball machine in the place...

Then, on to the game room,

for some quick games of Tic-Tac-Toe....

(evidently, it requires much thinking)

15 games later, I still have no idea who won. 

But, while this battle raged on,

The oldest and I tried some of the other mind bending games.

Yeah Buddy, I don't really get modern art either.

Next stop, the kid power exhibits...

These are actually our favorites.

They have bicycles rigged to generate power.

The faster you go, the more things move and light up on the sign.

Then there's this...

The Power Launch.

The object? 

 Get that tiny tennis ball to shoot straight up in the air as high as you can by pulling on a rope on the other side.

Which is why my kids were seen multiple times doing this...

OK, while I wasn't thrilled that they were rolling around on the floor,

That sucker went up through all three stories.

After peeling them up off the floor,

It was time they climbed the walls...

They love rock wall climbing.

Best part? They have to focus, and therefore don't fight.

I am almost tempted to install these on the side of the garage.

And finally, it was time for this...

The three story high climbing structure.

Which is only the

Best. Thing. Ever....

3 ways in at the bottom,

No way out at the top (without a parent).

They can get lost in there for hours, yet you still know where they are.

GENIUS!

Grand total for our adventure?

$4.

Gotta Love Friday dollar nights!

Touring Boston...One Blurry Picture At A Time.

Welcome to my amateur pictorial tour of Boston.

This week it's the New England Aquarium. 

My tour is free, as opposed to the real life tour which is $27.95 a pop.

As expected, we saw many of fish in their natural? environment...

Lots of fish, big and little, amongst the sharks.

And, sting rays, just like the one that took out the Crocodile Hunter....

This handsome fellow is extremely poisonous.  Good. To. Know.

This is a Sea Dragon. 

It's kind of like a pink-ish sea horse with wicked awesome camouflage.

It's the weirdest thing I've ever seen...

...and I have boys.

The Aquarium's newest exhibit boasts over 80 new penguins...

I saw this guy and all I kept thinking was "Holy Crud! it's Big Z"...

(Note to self: Stop watching so much Disney)

And then there's this little guy, showing off for the ladies...

"Hey ladies, check out the gun show ova here, Boom! Boom! Fya Pow-a!"

(Note To Self #2: Consider not watching movies all together.)

Best of all is the exhibitor's traveling one-day-only display of extremely rare creatures.

They're carnivores.

They're aggressive.

There's only two in the world.

And they're peacefully co-habitating for ten whole minutes!

Just don't get too close at feeding time.

Love Is Thicker Than Blood

My boys have the pleasure of seeing their father once a month.  That's twelve whole times a year. They get a 3 1/2 hour visit, in which he plays with them, spoils them, and makes promises that he'll never be able to keep.  They look forward to these visits because, after all, he is their Dad.  And, I can handle the fall out from such visits because I can see how important these visits are to them.  I don't doubt that their Dad loves them, but I think he'd rather be their friend.  I don't hate their father. I do hate what he does. Or rather, what he doesn't do.

He missed another visit.

Usually, I will plan something special to make up for his "opting out".  Sometimes it's the movies, or dinner out.  Last month we went to the fair.  And, while they have a good time, the disappointment is still there. I can see it in their faces, hear it in their voices.  This month it was to be the arcade.  So, when I arrived after work to pick them up and break the news, I was surprised to find them more interested in going out for ice cream with their grand parents. 

So we went,  and got the biggest size-of-your-head ice creams on the South Shore.  Then, we were on to the arcade.  Tickets were won, prizes were perused, and the decision was made to save the tickets for a bigger prize next time.  The strange part?  The whole time, there were no tears.  No mad faces.  No crushed little boys. Just "Thank-Yous" and smiles, of my promises kept.

On the way home, I was reminded that the rent-a-hubby's niece was turning twenty.  We were all invited for dinner and a celebratory cupcake.  We made the hour drive down to the house where my kids were quickly lost in a sea of neighborhood kids, rent-a-cousins, and every piece of sporting equipment known to man.  Somewhere between  lobster and  an off key "Happy Birthday", I noticed the rental, his nephew, the bonus big brother, and my boys playing basketball outside.  Playing like any family would after dinner.  When basketball lost it's luster, soccer became the event of the evening, with the all the women on the side lines screaming "goal" and some weird version of the "Ole" chant.  We stayed hours past bed time.  Rent-a-hubby and Bonus Brother decided to stay at our house instead of going home.  As we all made the trek home, I waited. 

Still, the Dad questions never came.

As I tucked them into bed, I expected some hint of disappointment when I asked if they had a good time that night.  I saw only the healthy glow of over exerted tired faces, and big smiles as they said what a great time they had playing, and how excited they were to spend the day with B.Bro and the Rental tomorrow.

We spent the day today as a family.  All five of us.  We crammed in the car, drove an hour from home, pretended to be tourists in the rain, and spent the whole day as any normal family would.  The kids laughed, they fought, and they had moments where they may have actually like each other.

Their Dad never came up.  They weren't sad.  They were just happy to be with the people that wanted to be with them.  The people who were always there for them.  The ones who wanted to be their family.  Not because they were related by blood or DNA.  But, simply because they loved them.

On the way home, kids sleeping in the back, the CD playing switched to a song I'd not heard before. The lyrics began....

"She was born in Kansas City, raised in Arkansas,

Fell in love with and ex-marine.

She already had three babies, he had one of his own,

They came together for another and me,

Our family never shared the same last name,

But our family was a family just the same, and they say,

Blood is thicker than water,

Oh, But love is thicker than blood."  
-Garth Brooks  

While the rest of the song was lost on me, the beginning hit home.  I never wanted to blend a family.  I kept my married last name so it would be the same as my sons.  I have asked my sons many times about how they would feel if Rent-a-hubby and I got married.  I have asked them how they'd feel about being a family of five instead of just three. 

Today when I asked, my youngest said, "We've been a family of five for a long time. Ma, where ya been?"

A family is not a last name, DNA, or a piece of paper. 

Family is created by time spent. 

By sacrifices made, and promises kept.

Family exists, and thrives with love.

Summer Traditions.. On A Budget

There are few things that scream summer more than this...

A good old fashioned baseball game.

Every summer I attempt to take my boys to at least one ball game.  We'll call it a tradition of sorts.  Unfortunately, the cost of four tickets to a Major League game here in the North East would be cause for bankruptcy.  So, we indulge in the Minor League.  And, while my sons would love to go to Fenway, sit atop the Green Monster, and eat Fenway Franks until they puke, they will not see much of the craziness or love of the game, as we did last night.  Players went over the fence, balls flew into the seats, and one guy even attempted a double steal.  And, much to my humiliation, my sons, (coached by the rent-a-hubby), heckled and rooted (appropriately) for their teams in a truly LOUD and obnoxious fashion, that any where else would have been cause for concern.  Except here, they fit right in. 

Now, while the boys will tell you all the stats, great runs, and "cans 'a corn", of last night's game, here are my Mom highlights of the game.

The cost of the tickets:  Priceless.  (Really click to enlarge it if you can't see... four tickets for FREE)

Using this play money (also given to us FREE) to buy my son this.....

Cotton candy as big as his head.  Oh, did I mention that we had tons of room?  Since the stadium's rarely packed, the kids can get up and move, even jump seats if they want. Which also means they are free to run around and catch stray balls that come our way.  They brought their gloves just in case....

And had plenty of room to stand up, cheer, and make some noise when this happened...

I got to enjoy some gratuitous views from the Rent-a-hubby's randomly selected seats. (Thanks honey, for remembering that I'm just taken and not dead.).....

Money can buy a lot of things. 

I think Family Fun is much better when it's free.

Okay, well maybe when it's just $5 to park.

Tonight's Debate...

I hate shopping with my kids for anything.  Groceries, clothes, a pack of gum.  Anything.  Why?  Because quite frankly, I have no patience for the "Can I have", "Pleeeeeazzzze", and "It's NOT FAIR!".  So, it goes without saying that whenever I can, I go without them. But alas, they needed sneakers. And, I have found that it is actually easier to take them with me and get it right the first time, than guess and return multiple times. After much contemplation, tonight I decided to venture out to complete this mission. Remarkably, we managed to secure two pairs of ridiculously over hyped reasonably priced sneakers, without injuring ourselves or others.

As a treat, because I did not have to threaten them with bodily harm  they were so well behaved, we stopped at McDonald's for dinner.  (Yes, I know, I am the worst Mom ever for letting them eat this stuff, but I did get them the chocolate milk instead of the soda.)  The toy in the Happy Meal this month is Superheros.  Which of course, started tonight's debate heard 'round the table at McDonald's.

Youngest:  "Wolverine's the best."

Oldest:  "No, Iron Man is."

Me:  "Yeah, but Batman and Captain America are the only two superheros that are actually real people"

Oldest : "No, Iron Man is real."

Youngest:  "No Iron Man has to have his suit connected to him or he'll die."

Oldest:  "No, it comes off to be charged"

**Time to call in the experts, Please hold while we connect our phone call to the Rent-a-hubby**

Rental:  "Yes, the thing on his chest can be removed for charging, but without it for too long he'll die."

Me:  "So he can't live without his suit. So he's been biologically enhanced as well."

Rental:  "Yes, I suppose."

Youngest:  "And Spiderman was bit by a radioactive spider, so he's not real"

Oldest:  "And Hulk, Thing, Wolverine...they all have DNA stuff, so they're not real either"

Me:  "Yes"

Youngest:  "What about Silver Surfer? Does he have DNA or what?  And Superman, Green Lantern, they're aliens"

Oldest:  "Yes. So the only real ones are Captian America and Batman."

Youngest:  "So, they're the only ones who could actually stop being a superhero?"

Me:  "Yes, they could actually retire." (I wonder if they are eligible for Social Security?) "What's Captain America's power anyway?"

Youngest:  "He throws his shield"

Me:  "What does that say about us as a nation, that the hero we have named after us can't do anything but throw stuff?"

Rental :  "I don't know, honey."

**Blank stares from the children**

Youngest:  "I still think Wolverine's the best"

Oldest:  "No, Iron Man's The best"




Way to stay engaged kids.
Glad to see I've got your minds firmly planted in reality.

Living With Nature

I want to live here.

These spectacular homes and views are from abodes built by the Seattle TreeHouse Company.  Yup, You read that right, they are tree houses.

When I was 10 I wanted to live out on my own. But lack of funding, and a plenitude of reality left me one option.  The tree house.  I camped out in the tree house in the summer, even occasionally entertained friends in my scarcely furnished abode.  The best part? My tree house wasn't actually built on the trees, since we did not have trees that could support the weight of my mini mansion.  So my Dad, the ever resourceful master contractor that he is, built a house on stilts amongst the trees.  But to my 10 year old brain, the stilts were a meer technicality.  It was still freedom.  A space all my own.

And so, as my son whined once again about wanting a tree fort of his very own, I did some searching.  Which lead me to this totally wicked awesome company.

Unfortunately, I am a girl on a budget.

And, after surveying the plot plans armed with my trusty tape measure, I have determined that there are no decent trees on my postage stamp of a yard.

I broke the news my youngest, who was already drawing up the blue prints, complete with secret emergency get away hatch, and checking the light patterns to determine the best location for the solar panels. 

He was devastated.   

I think after the new fence goes in across the back yard, I'll have my super genius contractor (AKA my Dad) over for dinner to consult on a possible site for a stilt house.  If we can place it atop a trellis type structure, the grape vine could take it over, creating tree like cover. In preparation,  I've attempted some of the research, worked out some of the geometrical equations for this project, and come up with the following:

2(Boys) + Tree house + 3(seasons of use) + FREE(Contractor) =

 Quiet House + Happy Mom

This could be the best Christmas present ever.

Not My Best Parenting Week...

I am not winning any awards for "Mother Of The Year."

Unless you include the ones my sons hand make for me every year at Mother's Day, after much prompting from their teachers.

Truth be told, I am glad I became a Mom, and even more glad I stopped at two.  Actually, if we're being honest here, I probably should have stopped at one, I just don't know which one I would chose.

Thing is, my oldest exhausts me.  His ADHD at times is unrelenting.  He asks question, after question, after OUESTION.  Hummingbirds envy his constant movement, and I can't tell you how many times I have to tell him to sit down in his chair during the course of dinner.  And, at 4 foot 10 inches, he is always blocking the TV. 

Now while these things exhaust me, they are also the things I love.  He's curious about everything.  He's a great conversationalist.  He's very outgoing, loves sports and any game with a ball.  He's very artistic, attentive to the rules, and has pronounced himself judge of all things unfair.  He is a great help around the house, always ready with a hug, says the funniest things, and has the best freckles all over his nose.

My youngest is a challenge.  He is living proof that God makes them cute so you don't kill them.  When he's good, he's really good. He is snugly,  loving, and so inventive.  His mind is always a whirl with some new "potion" or "helpful invention".  He's an environmentalist, passionate about being green, and loves animals.

But when he's bad... there are just no words.  When you combine the ADHD and his ASD (Autism Spectrum) with a regular old bad day, well, the results are monumental.   In his short 8 year history, he has been through multiple day cares, camps, and baby sitters.  He has broken many, many things, including a pre-school teacher's teeth and a computer that will never be the same..  He has a colorful vocabulary, the origins of which I am unsure of, since those words are just not said in this house. And, this such behavior has gotten him suspended from camp for the remainder of this week.

Joy.

All things considered, while I'm not okay with what it will do to my paycheck, I am okay with him being out of camp for a week.  There's been some changes in staff and stress at home, which combined, never ends well for my youngest.  I feel better knowing that he's getting a break, as well as the one on one that he needs. I wish every day that I could be the stay at home Mom that he wants. Life didn't deal out the cards I'd planned on, and most days I'm just trying to make the best hand I can out of them. I just wish that the camp counselors and directors could see what I see in him. That behind that sometimes bratty, mouthy, aggressive child, is a brilliant mind.  An articulate thinker.  A compassionate caregiver.  He has ideas of projects bigger than him, that if executed, will have positive effects that will far exceed his years on this planet.  He's a do-er, a creator, a Jedi warrior of sorts.  I want them to love all that he is, like I do. 

But they won't. 

Most of them won't ever get past his faults.

Most Counselors won't ever really get the magnitude of awesomeness that is either of my children.

But I do.  And, as frustrated as I am, I'm keeping them both.

Because, I love them both.

Equally.

Just not at the same time.

My Deepest, Darkest Secret...

I have been called many things.

Minimalist.

Anal retentive.

Compulsive organizer.

Weird-O.

But in truth, none of these labels really fits what I am.  Minimalist? No.  I have things that I collect and enjoy.  Anal retentive? A bit. I do like things done a certain way and put in their place, but I'm OK if it doesn't always happen.  Compulsive organizer?  Yes and No.  I like to be organized, but that's mostly because I find things easier to accomplish when they are at my fingertips. I mean, come on, I'm a single Mom that works 6 days a week. I need to get things done quickly and efficiently, and if necessary, delegated at a moment's notice.  However, I have a pile of things "to be filed" on top of the file cabinet, that I only get to when the box gets full.  Weird-O?  Well, yeah, this one might be true, keep reading.

But today, as I flipped through my Mom's recent copy of Real Simple magazine, I found an interesting quote. 

"One person's mess, is another person's filing system"

Which started the hamster wheel of my mind turning.

As I went downstairs to the man cave in which my sons and Dad were residing, I found my sons completely absorbed in random episodes of American Pickers, Hoarding: Buried Alive, and Animal Hoarders. After pausing for a moment and debating the consequences of my sons being completely obsessed with these shows, it hit me.

I am an anti hoarder.

Show after show, each person was explaining what it felt like to be ridding themselves of their "treasures".  The emotional attachment connected to an item, or the memory that invoked, was so tangible to them that the mere thought of parting with it, in some cases, was just too much to bear.  They had anxiety, trauma, and described panic attack symptoms even when thinking about parting with their collections.  This is when I realized, I felt the exact same way.  Except in reverse. 

I can not stand clutter.  And at the risk of humiliation, I shall share with you the epitome of my existence.

Exhibit A:  The mail pile and various other papers I need to go through.

Exhibt B:  The appliances under my cabinets, amongst things we use/eat every day.

Okay.  You can all stop laughing at me now.  Seriously, I have lost sleep over this.  I have actually stayed up late at night to clean up and reorganize the kitchen, so I have nothing left on the counter except the mixer and my cel phone. 

And then there's the kids room. 

It's a good thing I only have to go in there to tuck them in at night.  When it's dark.  And I can't see the "filing system"  that is their toy boxes and dressers. 

I have even tried to organize them to no avail.

They have 16 recycled peanut butter jars on their shelves. These are the only three that are actually still utilized and organized.

But it gets worse.  I recently acquired couches from a relative of mine.  While I love her to pieces, her house is a typical "country" house with each nook and crannie filled with something.  She also has quite a few animals.  Her (now ex) husband once called her "Noah" referring to her need to have two of every animal.  I feel I need to add here, that her house is lived in, and very clean.  She had had these couches professionally cleaned.  I cleaned them again myself.  They are white couches, for crying out loud.  I'd know if they were not clean.  And, I still have yet to sit on them for more than five minutes.  Why?  They came from a house with lots of stuff.  (I'll pause here while you snicker.) Yes, I know, I'm crazy.

I'm not even sure why I feel compelled to blog about this, other than that I'm trying to change.  I realize that it's not healthy to lose sleep over papers on the counter.  I know it's not normal to want my children to dismiss every treasure they find, because after all, isn't that what childhood is about?  I want to sit on the couches for Christ's sake!  And then there's this one other thing. 

The rent-a-hubby collects. 

And while I love him like crazy, sometimes I have nightmares about being buried alive in baseball cards.  I sit on the computer at night and swear that his action figures are watching me.  And um, Hello?, can someone say 40 Year Old Virgin?  (Just kidding honey, I love you.)   But, as I said before, I am trying to change.  And, bless his patient heart, he is working with me.  He's moving it in a box at a time, and allowing me to organize it, however I like it.

So I guess, the "cure" for my anti hoarding is similar to the Rental's floor to ceiling collection of treasures pictured above. 

Balance.