I got 99 posts, but this ain't one

No, this ain't.
This is officially my 100th blog post.
I feel like there should be some fanfare. Or fireworks.

I've been procrastinating this post for some time now. Like, maybe 6 months.

Or so.

I wanted it to be special.

Some sort of brilliant, poetic, witty, funny, charm filled treatise on my life as told through the most amazing, magnificent event in my life.
But, it became a problem.
What event to use? Was it charming enough? Magnificent enough?

Which brings me to:

Blog Post 99.5: The Unassisted Triple Play

For those non-baseball fans, an unassisted triple play is when a defensive player gets all three outs in an inning all by himself. It has happened 15 times in baseball history. It's super rare.

Mike and I were at the last one that happened, August 23, 3009, Phillies vs. Mets.
And, the thing is, I barely remember it.

A friend posted a link to the game, way back in the fall, on Facebook. And I had actually had to think about it. I sort of remember it. I had a conversation with him about it, and he couldn't believe that I couldn't really remember it.

Mike and I had been looking for treats to bring home to the kids, when we heard the crowd. I think the Mets were trying to rally a come back. Mike says we watched it on the televisions in the store, but I just don't really remember. I do sort of remember the hush of the crowd after. (It just had to be against the Phillies)

It just wasn't the best game that I had ever been too.

The best game was the second to last game ever played at Shea. Johan Santana was pitching. The Mets had to win that game, and the next one, and a couple other teams had to lose for the Mets to make it into the playoffs. Our seats were so high up, I would get dizzy every time I stood. But, I was on my feet cheering and jumping up and down every out of those last couple innings. Johan pitched the whole game and the Mets won.

The next day they lost, imploded really.

That game was insignificant, in the grand scheme of things. It wasn't the last game at Shea. Nothing historically exciting happened. Johan pitched all nine innings, but that happens a couple times usually through out a season.

And, it was awesome.

Mike and I hugged the last out of the ninth inning. We high-fived our neighbors. I remember what the people around us looked like, and the sounds of the crowd, Mike's expression that last out.

In my quest to find the perfect moment, I missed all the others that came in between.
The laughs and the smiles, as well as the tears. The ups and downs that have made up these past 6 months.
Like David's new found love of sharks, and Calvin and Hobbes. Kate's tantrums and need to perform.

These small things, these are the ones I remember.
And will remember.

So, my hundredth post came without fanfare.
Or fireworks.
Or grand, magnificent moments.

But, maybe life, life means a little bit more.

This post is dedicated to my loyal following (seriously, how cool is it that I have a loyal following), especially you Joanie.

Code Orange

David is angry with me this morning. This is how I can tell:




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Divide and Conquer

My children are driving me crazy.

No, that's not right.

My children are driving me fucking crazy.

We've been keeping fairly busy, with soccer and swimming lessons and dance and friends and outings. It's just so hot. It seems to bring out the best in all of us. And Kate wants to be constantly entertained. And David wants to sit in front of the tv. And we are all home, so there's a constant mess that we are tripping over and stepping over.

Yesterday, I had had enough. David and Kate spent all morning fighting and bickering.

Mike decided that he wanted to go to Buffalo to see the Mets farm team play. I did not. So, we divided and conquered. The boys went to the game, the girls stayed home.

Kate and I ordered a pizza, watched So You Think You Can Dance, had our own dance party, watched Tom Jerry. And giggled, lots and lots of giggling.

Kate: Girls night is awesome.

And, it was.


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Your songs remind me of swimming

Our summer so far has been a mixture of bangs and whimpers, the unexpected and the monotonous.

The first week was a bit of catch up - filing, cleaning.

That first Saturday, we had planned to go see the movie Brave, starting our summer off with a bang. Kate cried the whole morning, refusing to go. The boys finally decided to go by themselves.

As they were getting ready to go, Kate whispered: Okay, mommy. When they go, we are going to go too and meet them there.

Me: Um, what?
Kate: We are going to surprise the boys at the movie.
Me: Um, what?

We rushed around the house after they left and were able to meet them there.

David: What the?

That was unexpected. And a good surprise.

My brother, sister-in-law and niece were visiting last week from Washington (the state, not the capital). We spent some time with them in Albany with my mother and Long Island with my father. My brother Conor and his girlfriend Meredith joined us on Long Island. There's something so comforting about being around family. It had been the first time we had ALL been together in about 2 years. We swam almost every day. And barbecued. And laughed, harder than I've laughed in a long time.

This week feels like catch up again - cleaning and laundry, some napping and reading, soccer and swimming lessons.

We are all home together this summer, all summer. Some days work, some don't. The trick is finding a good balance between family time and alone time.

And, hopefully figuring that out before August.

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Kate-isms

Mike was having the kids pick up the basement. It's a disaster. And the two of us are a bit sick of tripping over all the kids toys.

Kate came up from the basement stomping her feet.

Kate: It's not fair. You're the boss, but daddy's acting like it. Tell him that I don't want to pick up.

Oh, the things Kate will say to get out of cleaning.

I have nightmares about what her teenage years will be like.


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Same point, different view

Our house is a cape, which simply means that the kids bedrooms are downstairs, ours is upstairs.

It's nice and not nice. It's nice having some kid free space, but I miss having us all on one floor.

Our first summer in the house, David was just a couple months old. And he would wake up so early in the mornings. We would get him from downstairs and sit him between the two in front of a window at the head of our bed. And he would sit there, content looking up at the trees, while we motivated ourselves to get out of bed.

This morning, David woke up really early. Well, early for me. I told him to get a bit more sleep. He came back about 15 minutes later and climbed into bed with me.

Me: Just 10 more minutes, okay David.
David: okay

He was laying and looking up through the window at the trees. It reminded me of that first summer.

I don't know that a picture would ever really do it justice. The quiet of the moment, the light reflecting off his eyes, the branches of the trees creating a shadow across his face.

But, it's those moments as a parent that you can always recall.




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This door is always open

"Logic will get you from A to Z; Imagination will get you every where else." - Albert Einstein

I'm not sure if you know this or not. And, I fear I may be warning some of you too late.
To think of the danger (danger!) lurking in the most unexpected, surprising of places!

There are sharks that inhabit the river that separates the children's room from the rest of the library.

Now, thankfully, there is a bridge and stepping stones to help one cross. I have seen many an adult though forgo these safe routes and venture across the river.

Kate and I were at the library the other day and came to the crossing in question.

Kate: Mom! Wait! The sharks!
Me: Should I take the bridge?
Kate: No, I brought my magic wand. When I do this (waves wand around) it will make our shoes magic and we can walk across the water without the sharks getting us.
Me: I'm a little nervous. Are you sure I won't sink into the water?
Kate: Watch. (waves her wand and steps out onto the water). See?
Me: Thanks Kate.

And I was able to cross without incident.

And we were able to pick out some books from the children's room.

On the way out of the children's room we encountered a bit of trouble.

Kate: Oh-oh.
Me: What's up?
Kate: I lost my wand. I thought I put it here (pats her skirt). But it's not there. Maybe it fell out.
Me: Oh-oh.
Kate: Did you bring a wand?
Me: I forgot mine.
Kate: We can't cross.
Me: Let's take the bridge.

We took the bridge and sort of had to leap from the end onto the purple and green squares.
Sometimes the sharks know when you forget your wand and wait at the end of the bridge for you to fall in.

I'm glad Kate was with me to help me see the sharks and get me across.

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