Always a catch

When the first inkling of Spring arises you will find us outside, especially when the days get longer. It wasn't until a recent rainy day that either of my children had even thought about the computer. Someone asked for Poptropica.

OK! So I have mentioned it several times and not explained, here goes. Poptropica is an almost free game website where children make their own hero and then go from island to island winning medals as they defeat the island. If you can get past all the advertising going on, some of the islands teach history, they all have different codes to crack, it definately promotes reading and critical/analytical thinking skills.

My beef, it sucks you in and there is no 10 minutes of computer time because 60 minutes later you'r still trying to figure out what's up with that island. The worst part for me is making my superhero go because instead of a steady run I can only make the silly creature jump in the air.

Why an I explaining all of this? To tell you that Poptropica has replaced Webkinz as my goto game site for computer time. Do you know what those cottonpicking chuckleheads did? Webkinz cancelled our account until we "adopt" a new pet! Do you know how much those things cost? I didn't buy the first two they were gifts. I'm not spending $24.95 on a stuffed animal made in China.

So Poptropica it is boys!! So what if we spend an hour instead of 10 minutes, at least I don't have to "adopt" anything. Word of caution though, Poptropica will suck you in as well. I've found myself putting the four-year-old down for a nap while the six-year-old is at school to try and defeat and island before they do.

What? Is that bad?

Now what...

Now what! A phrase that I heard so often growing up from my family, and now from my husband. Is it a harmless phrase? It would seem so, but it dosen't feel like it to me.

Am I being over sensitive? Am I really that difficult? Do I make life too complicated? I think we all have our issues, things we can't let go, places we draw the line. The areas that are gray for me, are black and white for my husband. Things that I can let go of, he can absolutely not.

So this is where we begin. My annal retentive, OCD, type A, perfectionist husband is mad at me again. What else is new, my reaction. I have decided after 15 years to try something new - not care.

Truly, I can not affect this one way or the other, that is what I have learned. When he is mad at me he's mad whether justified or not. He will hold his ground and his grudge even if it is stupid because once he's set his mind to being mad he goes for it.

So, What now? Well, growing up it was a given, I was the middle child so in order to get any attention I had to be creative. Which usually invovled being overly dramatic. Taking the slightest infraction or infirmary to a whole nother level.

So, What now? Well, with my husband it is whenever he feels that whatever I am feeling is insignificant. Or when my stress, anxiety, or general fatigue imposes on him.

So what now? Wait and see I guess. What's the worst that can happen? He'll get angry-er?

Reunited and it feels so wrong...

I am about to mark the 20th anniversary of my last day in hell, or high school as most of you called it. Those were four torturous years for me. Not a cheerleader, not a jock, not a brain, nothing but, well let's not get into all of that.

Friends have said they went to their reunions and "it was such a blast". I can not imagine seeing people that didn't speak to me 20 years ago, some of whom hated me, being a pleasant experience. It sounds more like a bad movie plot in my head where I end up covered in pig blood.

Someone said to me the other day, "Well if you decide to go, don't take your husband. I took mine and it was such a mistake. He had a horrible time." If they only knew my husband. He would probably have a better time than I would.

My husband is one of those saying like, He can have fun in cardboard box, or He could come out of the closet with a friend. OK that last one had a totally different meaning when I was growing up, but then so did the word - Gay.

I really can not imagine going to the reunion at all but taking my husband would be a mistake, I can just see it now. My husband strikes up a conversation and finds and A. runner B. mountain biker C. someone he knows. (Yes, I know that he grew up in Greece, but he knows someone literally everywhere he goes.) They are having an in depth conversation and I'm stuck with someone like Chrissy Donovan. AH!

In a perfect world we would all be past those petty days of high school when being cool, being "in", and having the latest jeans where the only thing that mattered. My fear is that while most of us move on, some never will, that's why they organize a 20 year Class Reunion. Have fun ya'll.

My little big Guy

My baby turns Four next week. Where does the time go? The trip to the hospital seems like only yesterday, as well as the first three months of sleep deprivation and adjustment. Now it's simply water under the bridge.

My little big guy has come such a long way. His second and into his third year have been littered with moments of such total frustration that I wished Gypsies really did roam the countryside in wagons. He is so fiercely independent and stubborn. Qualities that I know could serve him so well later in life, but right now threaten his very existence.

He gave his brother a nickname from the time he could talk and he says it the same way every single time - I'YA! Volume set at 10 and the tone of an angry mother. Where he learned that?? He gets frustrated easily and wants everything done a certain way and when it's not he can scream loud and long about it. Just ask the neighbors.

But we have come so far this year, and I think school has helped. Even though it wasn't until February that I stopped having to drag him from the car screaming into the classroom. He's even telling me when he starts to throw a fit and I walk away either, "I am twhying to calm down" or "I CAN"T CALM DOWN".

So the other day the boys are playing cars together and I dash upstairs trying to return a coaches email when all BLEEP breaks loose. Seriously? I thought to myself - how do they know that I am in the middle of something? I just waited and listened hoping they could work it out, and by that I mean finish beating the crap out of each other. It got very quiet, so quiet it was eerie. Just as I was getting nervous the Six-year-old says something and the three-year-old bellows, "Don't talk to me wight now, I'm in Time Out!" What progress.

Instead of Christmas gifts we gave his Pre-school teachers Valentine's. No, it wasn't some cute, crafty, fab idea - I forgot them at Christmas. So his teacher wrote a very nice Thank you not to Christopher and I gave it to him on the way home from school. He was really studying this card, I thought it was because it had dinosaurs on it. Oh, no, not my little big guy. He finally pipes up from the back seat, "Mom, I don't want this card." Why not honey? "Because there are too many of this yetter in it." Reeaallyy. At the Stoplight I have to yook to see what yetter is causing the problem...too many t's. That's a t. "Yeah, there are 5 of them and I don't want this card.

That's my little big guy, Happy Birhday Sweehear - Mommy yoves you!

Big Surprise!

Everyone loves surprises, right? I guess there are surprises we love and surprises we could do without. But this Saturday morning my kids got the best surprise EVER.

My parents only live two hours away, but the older my children have gotten and the busier my parents get with their business the harder it is to get back and forth. Their busy, we're busy, life gets in the way, Whatever! We haven't seen Nanna and Papa since Christmas.

Saturday morning as the six-year-old is hunkered down on the couch watching some bizarre boy cartoon called Dinosaur King and the three-year-old and I are fighting over why he can not have a Ring Pop for breakfast the doorbell rings. Our doorbell never rings - There stands Nanna, with doughnuts!

I think those poor little brains short circuited. They stood there staring at her. I said. "It's Nanna! Give her a hug!" The little one got it right away, unfortunately the six-year-old was still so absorbed in Dinosaur King he headed back to the television. Poor Nanna, upstaged by an animated extinct reptile.

Not to worry, once she pulled out the doughnuts it was all good. The TV went off and the chatter began, "Nanna come here. Nanna play Yight Sabers. Nanna listen to my song. Nanna do you yike Michael Jackson?" I don't think the three-year-old stopped talking for the first six hours. Nanna admitted later she couldn't understand much of it but he didn't seem to notice.

Some surprise in life are tragic, we have all had our share. But I think this is one beautiful surprise my children will remember for the rest of their lives.
Thanks Nanna!

My guy....

Once a month our school district has a delay start day. School starts one hour later so that teachers can get in-service hours, trainings, meetings, etc. without taking a full day off here and there.

Last week we had a "make-up" delay start day. It was a Tuesday which is unusual they are generally on a Wednesday. It dawns on me at 11:30 p.m. at night that I will need to take the six-year-old along to the Pre-school to drop off his brother and then get home to catch the bus. This is going to have to be played just right...

The next morning we are trotting along just fine getting everyone ready. Then it's almost time to load everyone up, so I dig deep into my high school drama class and tell the three-year-old how great this will be to show his brother where he goes to school. All the way I'm saying things like, "You can show him your playground, and the classroom, and...". No one was really excited, but at least we are in the car, I was afraid the change in routine would be enough send the child into a tailspin.

We got to Pre-school and while I had made plenty of suggestions, the three-year-old showed his brother the bathroom, the muscle room, and the toys that looked like Poptropica. He wouldn't introduce us to anyone, but he did give us hugs goodbye.

As my older son and I got to the car I am already running through a list in my head of things that need to be done when I am quickly snapped back to reality. As he is buckling his seat belt my son says, "Mom, are you sure he's OK there?"

I almost started to cry. If he only know how dropping them off, saying goodbye, leaving them with a twelve-year-old babysitter can pull at my heart - wait, maybe he does. I assured him that everything would be fine, and told him when I felt that way after saying goodbye to them I close my eyes and say - Angels be with them.

We came home and played outside until the bus came. I chased him and tickled him, teased him and hugged him. And as my not-so-big six-year-old rode away on that huge yellow bus, I asked my angels to be with him. Then I went inside to cry.