He Just Turned Ten, But We Both Have Some Growing Up To Do

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Luca’s 1st Birthday

Luca, our only child for 7 years, turned ten on October 14th! Somehow, he still manages to be the sun we all orbit, even with all the chaos his sisters’ create. From his first moments the kid’z been fawned and fussed over, cherished, adored, and overly spoiled. Not that he doesn’t deserve, almost, every moment of it. He’s given us more laughter, love, pride, and pure amusement this past decade that I could ever express in words.

Like most kids, he lives for birthdays and holidays where presents are involved. Which BTW, when did Halloween, Easter, and Valentine’s Day become holidays for relatives to send gifts?

As parties go, this year’s wasn’t over the top but, with little free time on my hands, it was stressful nonetheless. By the morning of, I was still unsure how, after committing to provide transportation, I was going to get 13 of the 16 kids coming from FIDI and Tribeca to Indoor Extreme Sports in Long Island City, Queens, during rush hour, on a Friday night.

I also needed to pick up the cake, assemble gift bags, and make sure a sitter was lined up for the girls. Bottom line, I put a lot of work in with little time and help, save for my mom who ran with me to Party City on the eve of the party, while Mark was enjoying a guys night out.

At this age, Luca’s expectations for additional gifts, on top of, yet, another birthday party needed a serious adjustment. We checked out his Amazon wish list and promptly nixed 3 more giant nerf guns (how many Nerf Zombi Strike FlipFury Blasters does one kid need?), and a tactical vest kit (sorry, NO). Since he would be showered with gift cards from all of his friends, we picked a few listed items, including a pair of random headphones.

But, always wanting things to be perfect, I fretted that, for his turning double digits, I didn’t have that one special gift. I thought,”rather than just any old headphones, why not buy him a cool pair of Apple Beats.” Now, desperate to have them for tomorrow, the 14th, Grandma and I sprinted to the Apple store knowing we still had to get the cake and grab the girls by 1:00. Considering the kid looses everything, I opted for a, slightly, cheaper pair, rather than dropping $300 on wireless ones. Miraculously, I got the last blue ones in stock, and coupled them with a matching iPhone case as a gift from his sisters. Feeling pleased, I ran to pick up the cake.

On Saturday morning, with Luca anxious to open his gifts, I couldn’t wait to surprise him with the upgraded headphones. But, no sooner did I hear, “Is this it?”, after he surveyed the few boxes we brought out, “I can already tell you didn’t get me a nerf gun,” he said, choking up. Defensively, I reminded him how many he had and maybe he could use his gift cards (ie, his own money) for more.

He was acting very childish, but I knew he was tired. Rather than let it go, I became incensed when I saw him sulking on the couch. Before I knew it, I was laying into him, “Didn’t you just have another birthday party, with transportation for all of your friends, and a beautiful soccer ball cake? I went out of my way to buy you something special.”

Clearly we were both out of line but, as the adult, I should have been able to let it go. Hell bent on making my point, I rambled on throughout the morning, exhausting us both. Unlike Mark, somewhat, the, detached, voice of reason, I also couldn’t bare living with Luca’s disappointment, however misplaced it was.

Later that day, it all blew over, and soon Luca was rocking out with his Beats, thanking us lavishly. All was right with the world again, until later that week. As he stepped off the bus, on Friday, he turned to me, his voice seeming to crack a bit, “Mom, why didn’t you buy me the wireless ones?”

I mean, what is it with kids? It never ends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Weathering the Storms

houston 2I’ve been avoiding you completely but it’s not you; it’s me.  Actually, more like the non-stop distressing news. Feeling inspired to share anything interesting, witty, or remotely funny these days in the wake of Harvey (not just the storm, but now the movie mogul too), Irma and Maria, has been all but impossible. If only they were characters in a love triangle on some cheesy Fall lineup, but anyone living in Texas, Louisiana, Florida, St. Martin, Anguilla, Barbuda, Puerto Rico, Cuba etc., sadly, knows otherwise.

Then came news of a 7.1magnitude earthquake that stuck in Mexico, and, as I write, California’s wine country is in ruins with more that 52,000 acres in Napa Valley and Sonoma completely consumed. If the environmental news wasn’t horrendous enough, it just kept coming. It’s been barely two weeks since we had the horror in Las Vegas. And, of course, Harvey Weinstein’s rampant sexual harassment and abuse in Hollywood just broke days ago.

The awful news is constant, and I’m barely scratching the surface. It can be a real struggle to make light of my day-to-day when the gravity of this stuff weighs you down. The onslaught of natural and human disasters must be wake up call. Regardless of your politics, we may have been able to mitigate, or, possibly, prevent some of the devastation had we taken steps against global warming, to diminish intense climate change and it’s resulting catastrophic storms that have now become our new normal.

Common sense gun control may have also prevented another deranged lunatic from killing dozens. How many more innocent people will be victims before we act? It’s outrageous for people to continue leaning on our 2nd Amendment Constitutional right to bear arms as an excuse to ignore the need for gun reform. The Founders wrote our Constitution at a very different time in history, when America was a mere babe only just gaining her freedom. Common sense gun control won’t take away guns from avid hunters and enthusiast who practice safe sport. But times have changed and it’s absurd to consider our Founders’ anticipated sick people shooting rounds and rounds of semi-automatic fire into crowds at concerts, school children, shopping malls, churches, movie theaters, holiday parties, and college campus.

If, even, one more mother could still hold her son or daughter tonight, or two more homes on St. Martin could have withstood impact from a weaker Irma, or three fewer people died from drowning in Houston from a less severe Harvey, or four fewer homes were taken by the raging fires that burned in Northern California, than maybe even the slightest of our efforts, as a country, would have been worth it.

 

The Autumn of My Life

ToyStory02-740x416A week or so ago, on one of the last, precious, nights of summer, my son and I re-watched the movie Toy Story while the girls slept upstairs and Mark was back in the city.  Knowing that another summer was behind us, Luca was entering 5th grade, coupled with the inevitable chill in the air and overt recognition of time passing too quickly, I practically wept while watching and sensing the ache and rejection in Woody’s heart while he, inevitably, was being replaced by Buzz Lightyear as Andy’s favorite toy.

Maybe because turning 50 is really only a year and change away, or that Luca wanted to pick out all his own school clothes this year, and even my girls are revealing tidbits of maturation, this year’s back to school season hit harder. I can’t help but wonder if I’m entering the Autumn years of my life.

While the days can seem long, the years are short. And, watching kids grow up is like some sort of clock, forcing you to take stock as to where you fit in with all of their movement; questioning whether I am quietly slowing down. With the chaos that the twins bring, Luca’s homework, soccer and social schedule, I barely have a minute to think straight. But when I, finally, do get a quiet moment, it can be haunting.

There’s always something wistful about watching the days shorten and feeling the air become crisper. It’s a beautiful time of year on the East coast, but I’d gladly relish more time to breathe in the salty ocean air, soak up the warm sun and sand, and feel that unforgiving heat penetrate my skin, chasing the girls around the playground. The innocence and ease of long summer days, late dinners outside, fireflies and fireworks are abruptly replaced by brisk mornings at the bus stop, parent teacher meet and greets, and a never-ending string of frantic texts about homework, school projects, and soccer transportation.

As with every transition there comes reflection and lately I’ve been  preoccupied with an assessment of my own “value” outside the home. Having just turned down a freelance opportunity that would pay me for my writing, I can’t help but feel slightly unsettled. I started freelance work when Luca was in school but since Laurel and Maxine came along, just don’t have the time. Being home with them is tremendously rewarding. But knowing I could earn a paycheck for writing, again, did provide a brief, if not fleeting, moment of pride too.  Hopefully, when the time is right, something else will come along.

As the series progresses, Woody eventually makes his way back into Andy’s heart, only to get accidentally donated to daycare in the 3rd movie; instead of the intended destination of attic storage. When Woody and the gang manage to escape and find their way back, he does get chosen by Andy to go off to college; but we have no sense of what his future holds. Sequel or not, I guess that’s usually the case.

 

Out of the Office

out of officeThis may sum up the reason for my silence, but it does give, slightly, the wrong impression; one of relaxation. As a backstory, two years ago, when the twins were born, we bought a summer home for a place to get the kids out of the city in the summer, spend some more time with nature, ride bikes, boogie board, yada, yada, yada.  We knew we needed some extra space, and crashing at my parent’s house, on summer weekends, with three kids, wasn’t going to work. And, for the most part, our time here is filled building memories with family beach days, barbecues, fresh seafood, dining el fresco, enjoying local berries and corn, and excessive amounts of Wolfer Summer In a Bottle, Rose’.

But, during the weeks in August, when I’ve been out here with Luca and the twins, alone, it tends not to be all sun, beaches and rose’. Well, just maybe not all beaches; and NOT ENOUGH ROSE’.

Upon our arrival last week, Max and Laurel immediately conspired that it was time to stop napping all together despite that they are only two and a half! And, just like that, as I was getting used to consolidating, ie cramming my writing into their hour and a half midday nap, along with other mundanities like cleaning and doing laundry, that precious time evaporated. Anticipating a full on crisis, I, luckily, found a morning drop off program at our beloved Children’s’ Museum of the East End, and enrolled them pronto. Thank god, after fully protesting on day one, they now love going to “my little camp” every morning. While it’s been a lifesaver, and managed to shaved off from 9:00- 12:00 daily, I still need to fill the remaining eight, non stop, hours from noon until bedtime! With two 2.5 year olds, it can be a very LONG day!

Grandma and Grandpa were also visiting us these past two weeks. With Mark gone, having the support of my mom on some long, hot afternoons at the park with the girls was a blessing. Grandpa also helped, a little, by entertaining them outside with the hose when their end of day crankiness (both the girls’ and Grandpa’s) typically amped up. But, initially, the girls sensed a situation they could manipulate to their advantage, which played out well for them those first few days.

With two extra adults fawning all over them, they weren’t sure if I still had the balls to instill time outs and strict bedtimes with grandma and grandpa looking over my shoulder. Possibly there was a new sheriff in town? And, like clockwork, there was a notable uptick in calculated tantrums and considerable limit pushing to throw us all into a tailspin. A lot to take after already suffering, mild, heatstroke from hours in the sun at every Google mapped playground available on the east end.

Thankfully, Luca loved the Hampton Country Day Camp, which managed to exhaust him all day with plenty of kids his own age. I can’t express my gratitude enough for providing peace of mind for his contentedness, along with their knack for distributing the optimal number of foam Thumbs Up and Starfish Awards (currently piled up on our kitchen counter), hosting super awesome bus karaoke and enough competitive sports to keep him fired up and ready for his 8:50 am pickup every morning.

With the Hampton Jitney or L.I.R.R. Cannon Ball Express delivering Mark back to us on Friday evenings, I, gratefully looked forward to another weekly family outing at Almond, Bridgehampton where Chef Jason executes impeccable cooking, someone else does the clean up, and, our friend, Jack, expertly, chills another bottle of our favorite rose’.

 

 

 

 

 

On the A list

Last weekend we had tickets to two of the hottest, most exclusive, most famously attended, can I say ‘bestest’ summer events of the Hamptons. No, I am not going retro and referring to Sean Comb’s aka P. Diddy’s All White Party (so y2k and, sadly, no longer a thing). Nor am I referring to one of those, notorious, Hampton’s $10,000 per plate Hillary Clinton Fundraisers (we all know how that ended). And, no, we weren’t up all night hang’n with the hipsters at Montauk’s Surf Lodge (though I am definitely not ruling that out)!

white party 2Give up? All right, so maybe you missed it. We made the rounds with appearances at the Children’s Museum of the East End’s 9th Annual Family Fair, Animals A to Z! And, later that night (a’hem, actually around 6:30), hitting the Taste of Two Forks aka Dan’s Taste of Summer. Come on, people, this is real Hamptons’ partying!

Yes, in lieu of Rose’ All Day, we opted for sock octopus crafts, giraffe party hats, kangaroo sock races, pony rides, unicorn milkshakes, and very clucky pinatas. And, with sponsors like the people from Casper Napmobile, Sensible Sitters, and Hamptons Tumblebus, we knew we’d be walking outta there with some super hot swag in our gift bags! And, they did not disappoint. We’re talking regulation size Sauders & Associates frisbees, enough water bottles and sunscreen sticks to get Luca through the rest of summer camp, and 15% coupons for discounted babysitting with Sensible Sitters. Who could resist?

chilrens museum event

But, the true VIP action started later that day. Not quite 2:00 am, but just before sunset. Celebrating its 7th year as the creme da la creme of the East End summer events, Taste of Two Forks highlights the fare of Long Island’s North and South Forks, with tastings from top restaurants and star chefs of both sides! Set on the stunning waterfront property of Fairview Farm in Bridgehampton, Mark and I (thankfully with no kids, sock crafts, or unicorn milkshakes in sight) toasted glasses of local wine and fresh margaritas while watching the sun set over Mecox Bay and tasting everything, many times, from Noah’s, The North Fork Table and Inn, The Maidstone, Duryea’s Lobster Deck, The Frisky Oyster, etc, etc.

Maybe a far cry from the clubbing and late nights back in the day, (I think we were home by 10:00), but all in all, not a terrible way to spend the weekend. Now back to the social calendar to see what’s coming. Next up, Family Visiting Day at Sports Camp. Gotta get my gown.

 

It’s the Summer of Camp

With our 2nd annual trek to Lake George taking seven hours, instead of the alleged four (not my idea to leave the city at 4pm on a summer Friday), to drop Luca off for 10 days of sleep away camp, I’ve been thinking that this could be his last summer camping away.  Car travel is never easy with the twins,  and, though she, miraculously, made the full ride on Friday night, Maxine, got car sick on the short, but windy, hilly drive up to the camp for Sunday drop off, just as we were pulling into the parking lot.

camp blog 1I grew up on Long Island, only 80 miles from Manhattan, but what is it about the city and sleep away camp? It seems like everyone goes. It wasn’t in the plan for Luca but, last summer, when 4 of his friends, who all live in our building, were going together, I couldn’t refuse. It’s, undeniably, a great opportunity to gain independence, play zombie tag and gaga out in the wilderness, hike, sail, and swim in the lake while bunking with friends in a cabin . . .who wouldn’t want to go? Sign me up.

But so far, this summer has been consumed with planning, transporting, or packing for various summer camps. And, while I love that Luca is somewhere in the wilderness, hopefully not dangling from a cliff or contracting lyme’s disease, and completely detoxing from technology (not allowed), I wish he was closer and didn’t require a full staff to complete the required paperwork, medical forms, and round trip driving.

I don’t mean to complain. I know I’m lucky to be able to send him. But all this schlepping, packing, and planning for everyone’s whereabouts during these precious 8 weeks is taxing. Rather than relishing the downtime with no homework or having to wake early for the school bus, we are, or at least I am, frantically struggling to align schedules, pack and unpack suitcases, label underwear (not mine) and make sure we don’t loose anyone.

With a 7 year age gap between Luca and the twins, I need to ensure he’s has lots of activities, and time with friends, so he’s not spending all summer being dragged around to assorted playgrounds and toddler classes with the girls, or begging me to play Clash Royal all day. But, keeping all of them engaged and contented is a handful. Between martial arts camp in the city, sleep-away camp up in Lake George, and sports camp out East in long Island, we are all over the place (not to mention that he better be prepared for American Ninja Warrior some day).

When the girls get a little older, I look forward to not having to over schedule  everyone’s summer break and, hopefully, just spending some days at the beach, going to baseball games and exploring museums like I used to when Luca was young. But, try dragging toddler twins and an active 9-year-old to the Natural History Museum by yourself everyday. So, until then, it’s what needs to be packed, labeled, and whose going to watch the girls next Friday so I can spare them an eight-hour round trip drive back to Lake George for pick up? I sure hope my husband can come home from work early!

Get the Coxsackie out of Here!

It’s been radio silence on my end, but I do have some justifiable excuses for my disappearance. With 4th grade now in the distant past and my son home, with the twins, its been no picnic finding time to blog. Once we evolve into the assorted camp schedules this should, hopefully, work itself out. The end of school year transition throws everything off in our house and is a bitter-sweet reminder of how fast the years really pass – that Luca will be entering 5th grade next year astonishes me. Somehow I blinked, and now he’s almost in middle school.

cox 2And, just in time for summer, we had an unexpected, and unwanted, intruder. In my last post, wasn’t I, just, gushing about how awesome my girls’ preschool was? Well hold that thought; for the second time in 4 months I received another “warning” email that the Coxsackie virus (aka hand, foot and mouth disease) was going around their classroom. And, like the walking petri dish that she is, Laurel, once again, was an easy target. Just in time for her two aunts and cousin to arrive, for an annual visit, and also causing the girls to miss their 2 days a week of preschool. More money out the window; check.

Coxsackie is a miserable virus with multiple symptoms usually accompanied by red blisters in and around the mouth, hands, and soles of the feet. This time, while Laurel’s other symptoms were much worse, luckily, she was mostly spared the blisters. As we’ve learned, kids under 5 can continue to get Coxsackie and don’t really build immunity. Fortunately, it’s rare for older kids and adults to get it.

It was only back in March when, on our way to the airport for a long birthday weekend to Miami, I received the preschool’s first “warning” email and thought how lucky we all were to be skipping town. Toasting ourselves on the plane, as the girls sat, suspiciously mellow, with Luca playing video games, I pondered why everyone was behaving so well.

Somewhere over South Carolina, I noticed strange-looking bumps forming around both girls’ mouths; like they got ahold of my lipstick and tried to connect the dots in a tangled circle. Still, naive to what was coming; it was, in fact, totally foreign to me since, in 9 years, Luca never got the virus at any of his schools, let alone twice in 4 months.

By the time we landed, Maxine and Laurel, both, looked like they got into a rumble with a porcupine; covered in red bumps everywhere, accompanied by two, thankfully, low-grade fevers to match. Impeccable timing when you’re traveling to a place where the only goal was to hang out in the sun in our bathing suits for the weekend.

This week, dare I speak to soon, it looks as if Maxine may be spared. Still, while trying to enjoy, and tend to, our visiting relatives, poor Laurel needed extensive comfort and care, not to mention, wanting to be held constantly.  For obvious reasons, I hope it will bypass Maxine. And, now they’ve missed 2 weeks of school in honor of the July 4th holiday. More money out the window: check, check.

While I haven’t, yet, identified patient zero at the preschool – there are only 8 kids in the class and my two represent 25% of them – we are down to a possibility of only 6 other kids. With my private eyes now out in full force, you can bet that if I see another bump at drop off, my kids will be getting the coxsackie out of that place.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hip Hip Hooray! The Girls are Headed to Pre-Pre-K!

For another day. The contract was signed in May.

Don’t get the wrong impression! I genuinely love being home with my girls and feel blessed to be able to do so. I don’t think I would trade it for the world. But the reality of caring for twins, with no help, every day, can bring frequent and, honestly, dire occasions.

FullSizeRenderCountless days are filled with unbounded elation and pride, taking them to the park, guiding and watching as they learn, grow, and interact together; but, others offer the same level of exhaustion and desperation; picking up perpetually dropped food on the floor, pleading with them to stop brushing the walls with the toilet brush, dropping objects in the radiators, pulling diapers out of the diaper genie, and fighting, pushing, and biting each other.

Hearing other moms of “singletons” (a word I never heard before having twins) talk about heading uptown, or to Brooklyn, for some cool new mommy/baby yoga class or exhibition can be isolating, when, at least at this age, taking the twins out of the neighborhood, alone, is the equivalent of trying to commandeer a cruise ship through the Holland Tunnel.

The qualities that make my girls extremely mischievous and endearing, also make them arduous. When other kids are sitting nicely in their high-chairs, mine are usually standing and jumping up and down in the seat shouting “O-U-T!” While everyone else’s kids are sitting quietly in their stroller, my girls insist on standing and leaning dangerously over the tops, nearly grazing the sidewalk, taking all of my strength to keep our tandem double stroller from toppling over on my way to the supermarket.

And, the horrified stares and comments, from random strangers, can take their toll. “Do you see that they are not strapped in – that looks dangerous,” I often hear as my girls are blatantly jumping up and down in the stroller, trying to push each-other over; leaving me no room for denial. “It’s not nearly as dangerous as Maxine opening the car door on the Long Island Expressway while we were driving 65 mph, or when she opened the car door right as I was entering the Midtown Tunnel, at night, in the pouring rain, with no place to pull over. . . you should have been there for that,” I want to say.  Usually when all of this is going on, I am carrying some chewed up cheese or granola bar that Laurel has just spit out, in my hands, and only trying to keep us all moving until I can reach the nearest garbage pail.

In truth, I have tried EVERYTHING to keep them nicely seated, but these girls can bust out of a five-point harness quicker than Houdini. So, a few months ago, I enrolled them in a great drop-off Pre-Pre K program, close to home, two days a week. I miss them so much during this time, but I know they are socializing with other kids, doing all sorts of super messy art projects, and having fun. Despite their mild protests on Monday and Wednesday mornings, I gleefully push them along explaining that in a short time mommy will be back to pick them up to go scooting or the park. But, before I know it, I’m often interrupted, “Ma’am, do you see she is dragging her shoes on the ground from the front of the stroller,” and I’ll look down, knowing that, in a few short minutes I will, actually, be stroller free for a while.

Lady, “This is how we roll.”

 

 

 

 

 

Louis Louis

You reach a certain, middle-aged, point in life where it’s nice to have a few special, more expensive, and higher quality items. But it doesn’t take long to realize that luxury goods and kids just don’t mix. We nearly sustained two casualties last weekend, just living our everyday lives, not asking for any trouble.

IMG_2435Despite Apple’s claim to “do swim workouts in open water, track laps at the pool, or splash with your kids,” Mark’s new Series 2 watch didn’t stand a chance against Maxine’s wrath.  As she yanked it down from the nightstand,  it’s screen quickly cracked, thus totally mocking Apple’s claim to “see your metrics clearly, no matter how much the sun glares.”

The second, more unfortunate case occurred in a cab, heading to Randall’s Island, en route to one of my son’s two weekend soccer games.

As an aside, after living in the city, car free, for almost twenty years, we bought a car two years ago – mere months before we learned we were having twins. They say a car’s value deprecates the minute you drive off the lot. In our case, it lost value and, unknowingly, became too small. Last week, we sold it so we could buy another to accommodate the 5 of us, plus Grandma, Uncle Mike, or who ever else may need a ride.

The irony of owning a car in New York it that, but for random weekends or to head to the beach in summer, it’s barely used. Back in the day, taking the LIRR or Hampton Jitney out east was a no brainer. Doing it with 3 little kids and a giant suitcase, during high season, is to be avoided at all costs.

Of course, the only weekend where Luca had two soccer games occurred on the one we didn’t yet have the new car. So, after an expensive Uber ride out to Staten Island on Saturday, we opted for a more frugal cab to take us up to Randall’s Island Sunday morning.

As with most New York City cabs, our ride up the FDR was, utterly, life threatening. While Mark was enjoying the ride up front, I had all 3 kids across the back belted in tight. To our distress, we discovered that Randall’s Island has more than just a few soccer fields, and, after endless looping trying to locate Field 6, Mark and I exchanged pleasantries and decided we needed to pull over. At that very moment, poor Maxine (once again, the villain), succumbed to the perpetual stop and go, and threw up inside my Louis Vuitton bag, sitting open, unsuspectingly, on my lap. Because we were strapped in pretty tight, I couldn’t prevent her from another episode, seconds later, ensuring she covered all bases by blanketing the outside of my bag too.

With me begging the cabbie to pull over, the situation was bleak considering we still had to sit through the game. With only the clothes on our back and the water and snacks packed so lovingly, in my bag, it proved to be long and noxious morning. After paying the driver handsomely for the fare and to have the car washed, any efforts at frugality were futile.

Amazingly, even in her compromised state, Maxine’s targeting skills were quite precise in more ways than one. As our cabbie managed to pull over and we all piled out, miraculously, I was standing right in front of a minuscule sign pointing to field #6. At the end of the day, we all had Maxine to thank!

 

Throwback Thursday – Did I Mention that I Have Twins?

My rant below was originally posted on Facebook on June 9, 2016. As it so accurately sums up a day in the life of raising twins, I wanted it to be published on Tablefor5 so that it can help me document this time in my life. Please enjoy again.  

To the sleek, young, real estate broker who shared an elevator down to “level C” amenities with me this morning, I’d like to apologize. You see, before I glanced down in shame, I caught the look of horror as the elevator door slid open. I knew you were hoping to show your successful, rich, single client a much more glamorous type that could be his potential neighbor. I was almost going to hop off the elevator and let you all ride in without the discomfort. But then, I realized if only I could take a minute of your time and explain the “situation”.

You see, today was supposed to be my “catch up day”. It’s been a long week, actually a long month, but, I’ll get right to the point about my look this morning. My son wound up missing a few days of school, sick this week. We thought he was on the mend, after a trip to the doctor he mentioned he “felt better” and wanted to eat that second helping last night. Well, just as I was getting ready for bed after an already long day, the forces of nature weren’t having it. The poor guy got sick all over his bed, rug and bathroom. After what proved to be a long and tedious clean up, we managed to finally get to bed for a few short hours.

IMG_4107Did I mention that I also have 17 month old twins? Those little cuties decided to get up at 5:15 this morning! With my husband out the door early for a day trip, I was left to fend the 3 of them off myself. Well my girls can smell weakness a mile away. It didn’t take long before Maxine somehow managed to grab a pencil that her brother left lying around and write all over my walls and door. Literally almost at the very same time (they say identical have this weird connection), Laurel went into her dresser and took one of my favorite sweaters she owns (cute little bulldog on the front) and put it in the toilet bowl along with all the other contents of the bathroom garbage pail. Normally all of our bathroom doors are locked, but since Luca was under the weather, it must have slipped his mind.

I figured that was enough for one morning, but boy was I wrong. When I slipped quietly into my bedroom to get dressed (thank god I did this), I locked the door behind me to protect our printer, lamps and picture frames from attack. Well, the girls must have smelled blood because they immediately went into our hallway closet and somehow dragged out Luca’s heavy razor scooter. As I heard something gouging our floors and walls (they don’t call it a razor for nothing), I panicked thinking they were getting hurt. In my panic, I somehow shut the Master bedroom door before unlocking it ,and, due to the fact that the doorknob is broken and doesn’t have the “unlock hinge”, proceeded to lock myself out of my bedroom.

So, when I saw you earlier, I really didn’t have the chance to “get ready”, or even check myself in the mirror before heading downstairs in pursuit of a maintenance guy to help unlock the door. BOY, when I finally saw what you saw, I really understood that I may have screwed up your commission this morning. I just had to reach out, and, at the very least, explain myself.