I saw the sign...

And it opened up my eyes I saw the sign! Aside from the fact that the Ace of Base is so all done in the music world, have you ever felt like that? That the universe was trying to smack you in the head saying "WAKE THE F&*%& UP! I have sent you everything I can!!!" I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe in a lot of things, but I DO believe in little messages that say "hey, good job, you're getting it"! That's what my last week has been like. From pulling in to do daycare dropoff and having three domesticated bunnies come nibble at your toes (my sister is a rabbit- long story; and J LOVES rabbits). Getting in the car and having the radio play immediately "I Can See Clearly Now" by Johnny Nash, then Mary J. Blige's "No More Drama" and then, for the kicker, the Beatles double play- "Blackbird" and "Hey Jude"... followed by a day where everything seems to fall in to place? Those are signs. Looking for a spot for keys and randomly plucking a tin where your long dead grandmother has apparently also hidden keys.  No matter where you are, you recognize them.

And then smack yourself in the forehead going "Why did I wait so freaking long?"

If you want to be happy for the rest of your life...

Never make a pretty woman your wife! That's the song that has been stuck in my head over the past few days. Not clear on why, but it makes me want to watch Mermaids, a movie I haven't thought of in years. "So from my personal point of view, get an ugly girl to marry you..." No real words of wisdom there. Happiness has been consuming my thoughts this past week- again, not sure why, but I'm pretty sure that it's because many of my students have been struggling. The end of the year is tough for everyone, but for students that have unsupportive home environments, it's particularly hard. For anyone with depression, finding the joy in everyday life is difficult. That has been brutally clear to me, as I see more and more young people struggling to make it through each day. What makes people happy? How do we find happiness? Is it in single instances that make our hearts' sing? In comfortable silences? I don't have those answers, but it does remind me to find the beauty and joy in simple moments. My kid peed on the potty three times today with NO assistance. That's beautiful. My husband took the boys into the bubble pit at the farm, and loved it. That's beautiful too. My deodorant smells like freaking peppermint patties. Extra beautiful.

But how many of those moments do we need to bring us true happiness?

Damn Ugly Balls

Catchy title, hunh? Well, that's what I am up at 3 am finishing. Some damn ugly oreo balls. Or mint truffles, however you think of them. My boys are moving up. J has had Miss Katie since he was eight months old (he's 20 ish months now) and Miss Frankie since he was 11 months. M has been with Miss Vanessa and Miss Erynn since he was "2.9". You know, that magical age, right before his third birthday. He's nosing 4 pretty much now, so it's been a while. Today's the day. The last day in Wobblers and Preschool. Toddlers and Pre-K are on the horizon. M is excited, but periodically he will cry that he doesn't want to leave Miss Erynn (with YELLOW HAIR MOMMY!) and Miss Vanessa (BROWN!!! It's BROWN!) to go up to Pre-K. He's holding it together because he knows he can peek in the door to Pre-K 2 and see Miss Karen. J is oblivious. He's happy, and lovely, and congested, and just J like. The real issue is me. I dislike change. It sucks. I like what I know, and I love what I know. Not so interested in change, thankyouverymuch. Forget that it means my babies are growing up, or making progress- to me, it's just in the category of unwanted change. Really, isn't that what life is though? Change that we both seek and that which is thrust upon us? Typically for the better? You have to tear up muscles to rebuild them stronger- sand down wood so the connection with paint is better- strip nails of oils to make polish last longer. That's what I feel like tonight. I made the teachers mint truffles, or oreo balls. Easy recipe, but much loved in the halls of CK. Miss Vanessa is a diehard fan who even consumed a few too many right before her wedding. Well ladies, they are some ugly balls tonight. I was straight up ugly crying when I made them thinking about all the things my boys have learned with their precious teachers. Lumpy, miss-shapen. I had to wake up at an ungodly hour and re-temper chocolate because the first batch was a bust. I think they taste better than any other batch though. Perhaps there is a deeper meaning; it's part of a process- we have to have ugly patches to grow stronger.

Or that we shouldn't try to make truffles three days from the end of school whilst ugly-crying.

Who Needs Sleep?

Barenaked Ladies had it right on so many levels! Really, who needs sleep? I DON'T. Which is good, because I'm not getting it. 8:30 to about midnight is wonderful, but then J will start his coughing screaming patches and then I am done. Up, listening to his ragged breathing on the monitor. Tonight I just sat in his room for about an hour watching him breath like Darth Vader. He sounds terrible but his oxygenation levels continue to be fine. It's just an exercise for him to move air past his tonsils and adenoids. We've started a course of antibiotics that he will likely remain on until his surgery. He keeps losing weight- about a half-pound a week. That's a lot when you only clocked in at 21 pounds to start with! I never thought I would be thinking about high-caloric foods for my 19 month old! He's loving the pouches- sucks it right down- the texture is easier for him to get down his throat. I am noticing that he is avoiding foods that require more chewing. Pasta, applesauce, yogurt- his staples. Mr. J LOVES cheese sticks. "Deese" was one of his first words, but right now it's just too hard for him to swallow. He'll chew it for a few moments, and then let it fall from his mouth. That is what is breaking my heart. I know that he will be fine after he recovers from surgery, and will have a long life of "deese", but right now, I just want him to be happy and healthy. I never thought I would be consumed with mitigating his exposure to fragrances, fumes, allergens. Luckily, I'm a Baer. We're fierce, and protect our cubs every step of the way. 

I wouldn't mind if one of those steps included sleeping through the night though- five a.m. comes all too quickly!

Things that rock...

OK I am just brimming with awesomeness tonight. Snort. Not really. I am, however, loving on some of my favorite things. I like making lists so you all can just suffer through my list of "oh my god not sure if you exist but just in case thank you for creating these things",

1. Electrolux Ergorapido. I have the best vacuum ever. It handled CheerioExplosion 2013 with aplomb.
2. My ice pack. It's AMAZING. If I used the phrase "amaze-balls" this would be the time.
3. Cheapo delicious red wine. It's really good and only 17.99 at Weggie's.
4. Blog fabulosity from One Organic Mama.
5. Tomato and roasted garlic jam from yours truly. LOVE.
6. My kids' school. They are freakin' fantastic. Send your kids there. Even if you live in Minnesota.
7. The place that my heart and soul resides, Cape May. You need to go there. LIKE NOW. Get in the car. Go directly to exit zero on the Garden State.
8. Delicious coconut lime candle. It's Ava Anderson, of course, and it DOESN'T GIVE ME A HEADACHE!!! That's huge. More than huge. My kitchen smells yummy and I don't feel sick.
9. The Farm, otherwise known as Davis Farmland. I love it because my kids love it.
10. Um, of course, Rota! Best ice cream. Best meatball sub. Cash only, but that's ok, I love it anyway.
11. Goodness and kindness and love at Kai's Village.
12. My fabulous new perfume, Love. I smell like marshmallows and rainbows, apparently.
13. Volturno Pizza. Obviously. I love them. I love their food. I love their wine. Most importantly, I LOVE THEIR OWNERS.

That's all I have for the night. Theoretically I should go to sleep, but I think I'll vacuum in my beautifully scented kitchen while drinking wine and eating tomato jam, and smelling faintly of marshmallows and rainbows.

Back to selfishness...

So I was raw last night. This morning I am back to selfish old me! Rejoice! No more feelings emanating! Does anyone remember being a wee baby? Probably not- we'd spend too much time in therapy. I know that I used to go on car trips in a playpen in the back of a station wagon. Forget car seats. Now, it's rear facing until at least two, because we just know better. Science and technology have come a long way. Babies sleep on their backs. We don't frolic with asbestos (or maybe you do- but if so, you're on the crazy train!) because we have more information on the dangers that exist. Then there's our household products. I have always HATED bleach because of the smell and the headache I would get. I switched to vinegar based cleansers after I found out my beloved Biokleen wasn't as clean as it pretended to be. I get headaches- scents usually push me over the edge. And then, I discovered that I could have the best of both worlds. Crunchy, happy products that don't send my already airway-compromised toddler into fits (surgery July 17th!) and that smell super yummy. Yes, I have drunk from the fountain of kool aid that is non-toxic personal care products- Ava Anderson. I had a party. I bought stuff. I used stuff. I fell in love with a stripper perfume oil. I wore it for a week. AND I DIDN'T GET A HEADACHE. Sold. In love. J hasn't had a crazy breathing episode. My daycare provider said I smelled like marshmallows and rainbows. That's when I knew- I had to sell this stuff. Mainly because I want MORE and don't want to pay retail. Then I started researching, and found articles like this. Holy shit. I know a ton of wonderful women who have struggled with infertility- to think that body products like sunblock could be affecting them now? CRAY CRAY. So I am officially a crunchy body product junkie. Feel free to love me here and spend your money on lovely pretty yummy things here.

Don't worry. I still drink cheap boxed wine.

Raw me...

OK, so most of the time I'm rather amusing. Sometimes I touch on serious issues. Tonight I'm feeling rather raw, so you might get more of the real me than I usually intend.

I want more babies. Lots of them. I love being pregnant. I love my boys more than anything, but there is always a piece of me desperate for a girl. Yes, I know that if I did have a third the resounding statistics mean I would have a boy. And that would be fine. As more and more of my friends become pregnant (and my joy for them is authentic!) the jealousy grows. I want to be there with them. I enjoyed having parallel pregnancies the first, and second times, so the third? I want to be in that club too. I get angry at the younger me that didn't choose a financially booming field. If I had a fatter paycheck then I could afford to have more babies. If I had started earlier I could have more babies. If I had eaten better, been thinner, been healthier, been smarter, been cuter, been something, then I could have more babies.

It doesn't matter that all of those things probably make no difference. Right now the difference is that I am sad that my kid count will end at two. I just have to reconcile myself to the reality that I have two chances to shape the future for the better. Two chances to raise amazing boys that will one day be fantastic fathers and husbands. I hope I can do that. If I can't, then I have failed on many levels.

Not that a third would change the odds.

I am a selfish bitch.

OK, so my kiddo has tonsils that could eat Manhattan. His adenoids are massive- I kept telling him it was the wrong set of balls to be growing, but he didn't listen. And here I am, his mama, the woman who gave birth to him, and created all these issues in utero, being glad his surgery isn't until after vacation.

Yup, I admit it. His surgery date is July 17th. Solidly in the middle of the month. The next two weeks will BITE. That's summer school though, and there isn't anything fun going on. Yup I am that mom. Totally relieved that we can still celebrate July 4th on the Jersey Shore with my family and best friend. Relieved as hell that it won't take up any of the non-existent sick days I have left (yeah, I actually have .67 sick days left- damn eardrum ruptures!!!). Completely unexcited that our July trip to the beach is probably out (just a hunch that salt water and chlorine are out for a 15 day post-op 20 month old) but REALLY psyched that the August retreat should remain unscathed.

I am horrible. I'm that woman, who secretly is thrilled that her personal needs will still be met. Feel free to call me a bitch, because it isn't anything I am not calling myself.

Holy Tonsils, Batman!

My little J is pretty cute. He does sound like Darth Vader when he's sleeping though. Snores like a mad man. Breathes heavily. I can hear him over the radio in the car most of the time. I always assumed it was because of his permanent runny nose, but right before his 18 month check up his daycare teacher said "you know he has huge tonsils, right?" Um, no, I didn't. I have never really seen them. I know he has teeth because when I tried to check them, he bites me. The pedi agreed- he has huge tonsils, and should see an ENT. I made the appointment for a month later- pretty excited to get in that fast, but then again, it helps to know people! In the month leading up to the appointment I did some research- tonsils tend to be large in small kids, and that's not a bad thing. They also don't like to remove them until they are three, due to the increased risk of bleeding in little ones. I was totally prepared for the docs to take the watch and wait approach. 

Well, I was wrong. Chest & neck x-rays showed that his tonsils and adenoids are so large his airway is almost totally blocked. 

Then they thought he should have his hearing tested, as there was some fluid present during the visual exam. Sure, ok, but wasn't I here for tonsils? J was a champ during the hearing test, which wasn't surprising looking back, because he CAN'T HEAR! His eardrums don't move- due to fluid- and his hearing loss is moderate to severe. Um WHAT? He's only had five ear infections, and hasn't even qualified for TUBES, let alone enough to indicate a hearing test. The good Dr. McGill theorized that sweet baby J has had MANY more infections than we even knew- because ears don't get that crappy with just five infections. Mommy FAIL.

End result? J needs to have a tonsillectomy & adenoidectomy, his eustachian tubes cleaned out, and tubes inserted. Oh wait, he's so young- this will all be inpatient, at Children's Hospital Boston, resulting in 24-48 hours in the ICU and then two weeks of recovery at home. Oy. I have to wonder if the sunscreen I have been slathering on both my kids for years has something to do with all this airway stuff. I mean, really, it's a seven on the EWG Skin Deep database. That's some scary shit. Granted, I drank the Kool Aid and now don't buy any cleaning or skin care product without checking them out here. 

At least there's a Boloco across the street from Children's. I'll eat well, and J can have some rockin' smoothies...

Germs are pretty rockin'

So yes, I went strawberry picking the other day. It was awesome. What wasn't awesome was watching a daddy take out a bottle of water and wash every strawberry his kid tried to eat from the vine. And then he pulled out freakin' alcohol hand sanitizer and sanitized the maybe 18 month old kids hands after each berry. Really? That's ridiculous. I have seen mamas use that stuff on their babies' BINKIES before. Ummm, do you know what is in that shit? Triclosan, and some other stuff. Look it up on the EWG Skin Deep website. It ain't pretty. How is having that in your kids system better than some germs? Last time I checked, some germs are good for you- kids that live in bubbles don't develop rockin' immune systems. Not to say they never get sick, because that's inevitable. If I have to choose between ethyl alcohol, triclosan, isopropyl alcohol, ethylene glycol, isopropral myristate, and "carbomer fragrance" and dirt? I pick dirt. My kids were sick as dogs this past winter- fevers that hit 106.1 and 105.7 respectfully. Initially, I FREAKED out. Went to the ER and everything. You know what? They can't DO anything. Yes, I could give Advil- but really, unless your kid is miserable, it's not worth it. Fevers mean their immune systems are WORKING. Brain damage doesn't result from the fever, it comes from some of the more horrendous sicknesses, like meningitis, that cause such fever. If they have the regular old flu, the fever isn't going to do jack other than increase wine sales (for the mommies, obviously- if Sauvignon Blanc cured fevers that would be an added bonus!) I am far from crunchy, but even I refrained from excessive baby ibuprofen use during the sick times. It was hard, but worth it.

Don't even get me started on sunblock. Some of that shit is scary as hell.

The zen of floor washing...

So my hubs is a good man- he runs a restaurant and works his tail off. As a result, he's not home a lot when we are all awake. Sometimes I am barely conscious when he walks in. However, yesterday, he was home by FIVE PM. On a Saturday! It was pretty cool. The kids got all settled, and I started my nightly routine. You know, dishes, sweep, etc. My boys are messy as all get out so there is a steam mop session in there too. Hubs was hanging out in the family room with a sleeping toddler on his belly and I started the clean up. First is the family room- pick up toys, etc. Nothing terrible exciting. Then it's time for the floor in the family room. Spray bottle of water and vinegar, and my crunchy lovely flannel cloths. You know, to get the serious gook off- the places where a drop of juice spilled and then five hundred people walked over it, tracking ickies everywhere. My hubs just kept staring at me. Finally he asked me what I was doing- I explained "Ummm, duh, I am cleaning our floors." He was incredulous. "You clean the family room floors? I mean, I know you do the kitchen, but the family room?" What, does he think we have an effing house elf hiding somewhere? Trust me, if we did, I'd be sitting on my ever expanding ass drinking a glass of wine (or coffee if it's before noon four pm) and pointing out shit for Dobbie the house elf to scrub. It just cracked the hell out of me. It's a man thing. They have no freaking clue what mommies really do- even the super involved ones. Tonight Mr. M was rockin' the no diaper scene due to a nasty rash, and he peed on the floor. No big. Daddy FREAKED out and was running around the house looking for gloves or the house elf or something. Maybe Xanax. By the time he got back, it was obviously gone (that spray bottle of vinegar is never far!) and he was like "IT'S MAGIC!!!" Yeah honey. It's the magic of mommies.

Good thing he wasn't here when "someone" pooped on the floor.

Strawberry picking, OCD style

Today I took the boys strawberry picking. Yes, it was voluntary. I took the boys outside in the SUN to forage for something I can buy for 2.99 a pound at Weggie's. Much to my surprise, I LOVED IT. The boys were pretty good at it, and J cruised up and down row after row, picking the PERFECT ones. And then shoving them in his mouth, stem first. Somehow the only thing that would get spit back out was the green. He's a pro. Mr. M was into carrying the bucket for the yucky ones. No shock there, Mr. I like gross things like SNAKES. Eeew. He is so not my child. As for me, I crawled, on my hands and knees in the DIRT. Real dirt too. Not the nice clean dirt I buy at Home Depot. This was a FARM. With DIRT. And probably BUGS (which I tried not to think about). However, I am a wee smidge of a control freak (which honestly comes as a surprise to me, but earlier this week when I was overseeing my corsage making sweatshop workshop with my colleagues, it was pointed out to me as I made someone re-wrap the stem five times) and finding the perfect clusters of ripe berries was my cup of tea. Orderly, systematic, YES PLEASE. The only thing that would have made it the ultimate zen retreat would have been one of those I-exercise-water-backpacks filled with Sauvignon Blanc. You know, the ones that came in so handy in college for morningtails? (Everyone around the country reading this is like, um, WTF are morningtails? If you're a Hamilton alum, you get it, and probably own two of those thingies- one for beer and one for screwdrivers) We picked for almost two hours and when the boys finally started to lose their cool after being treated like migrant pickers (THAT ONE! Get THAT one! No! That one is no good! THERE! THERE! GET THOSE!!!!!) it was time to go. (Sidebar: I know that "migrant pickers" can be a loaded term. I fully stand behind the rights of all workers to have a fair work environment with Blue Cross/Blue Shield and a living wage whether they choose to be called itinerant farmers or whatnot) It was a great morning, and I have the farmer's tan to prove it!

But now what the hell do I do with the 19 pounds of strawberries? Ugh.

Yeah, I am so that mom...

So I love this indoor playground place. It's air conditioned, has wi-fi, and couches. I sit my ass down and relax. The kids run amuck and have a great time. If they can't do something by themselves, then they shouldn't do it. I don't need to coddle them. Little Mr. J can already climb the gigantic inflatable slide and throw himself down because he got tired of waiting for mommy to do it with him. I was so excited when they offered an unlimited play pass for the summer months because I do NOT like to sweat. I do take the boys to the "Farmland" but there's a splash park there- we splash and play in the water, say hi to a goat or two, and then go get ice cream. Perfect. I'll go to the playground, sure. At 7 am or the spring or fall. Summer? No fricken' way. So this play pass was an excellent investment. Let the other suckers go sweat while I troll Pinterest for another decadent recipe. This morning it was madness. There was a birthday party at 8 am (ok, that's nuts- our birthday party is scheduled for 10 am and that still might be too early for some of our friends!!) and it was rainy. Thus, oodles of small children. And lots and lots of helicopter parents. I was still doing my sit on the couch routine but I kept having to go intervene- not because my kids couldn't do something, but because there was a real problem with turn taking going on up in that place. Yeah, kids have favorites. That's not justification for a kids taking 19 turns on the roller coaster (um, I counted- I could see it from my comfy chair) while there was an ever growing line of anxious, excited small ones. My small one was next in line, and after turn 12 or so, he finally just started crying. Not because he wasn't getting a turn- but because he couldn't figure out why the little kid on it didn't understand sharing. I felt HORRIBLE. Mr. M was just bereft with grief and I was about ready to rip that effing car out from under the roller coaster hog, when I noticed that his mother was a helicopter. Three feet away. "Good job buddy! Wahoo! Nice!" Um, how about "There is a line, your turn is done!". That stupid cow pretended to be completely oblivious to the kids, and now frustrated parents, waiting in line. I am (not) a patient person, but I couldn't stand it anymore. I sidled up to the mom and started with the gee isn't this a great activity talk, and she agreed. "My son only likes this, and it's why we come!".  I pointed out the line as her kid took his now 22nd turn, and she was unmoved. "But he's having such a good time!". That's when I decided to point out that it was great he was having fun by himself because he would never have friends if he didn't learn to share. Oh, and that she could buy him the same toy on Amazon for less than ten visits to the indoor playground. She said nothing, but got that stink face. And that's when I hightailed it to the damn roller coaster car when it rolled away from her kid and took it. Mr. M took his turn and promptly passed it to the next rider. Her kid threw a massive tantrum and they left. Heaven help me if they are from our town (which I don't think they are because I am pretty sure the moms at the (sweaty) local playground wouldn't tolerate that shit either). I recounted the story to a friend and they were very concerned that maybe the child had developmental issues, etc. OK, sure. However, pretty sure turn taking is one of those little life lessons we focus on teaching pretty early, even for kids with different learning challenges.

Bottom line? I'm a mama bear, and don't mess with my kid if he's playing fair!

Today is Why I Teach

Today was graduation. Yes, at 11 am. No, we didn't have caps and gowns. There was no orchestra playing pomp and circumstance. No silly string, beach balls, or balloons. Just parents, graduates, teachers, social workers, and the other 40 or so students in the school. Oh, and there was cake, and corsages. Honestly? It didn't matter that it wasn't as formal as graduations typically are. What matters is that I had TEN KIDS graduate. Kids that it took five and a half years to graduate. Kids who are in DCF custody, kids that have struggled EVERY. STEP. Nothing came easy to the class of 2013. There were learning issues, mental health issues, family issues, school issues. Three students stood up and gave speeches. I bawled through every one. They said they thought they would drop out. Work at McD's. Be homeless. And yet, they all got to finish with the most important line; "I DID IT. I GRADUATED!" The pride in our gymnasium was palpable. Many of the staff were in tears, and many of the students. No matter what path you take to climb the mountain, when you are at the pinnacle, the view is the same.

And this is why I teach. Why I work with the kids that I do. And I wouldn't have it any other way.