A day at the beach....

A rainy day at the beach is still better than a great day at work!

Yesterday, I was one of many chaperone's on the annual third grade field trip to Fire Island. I was so looking forward to this trip since last September, when Schmoogie's teacher told me of the excursion. I was elated to take the day off from work, take the school bus to board the ferry and frolic at the beach with my son. We'll have to drench ourselves in sunscreen, wear a funny hat, tank top, shorts, ooooh the sunshine and warm sand in our toes will be such a treat. We'll have lunch on a blanket, skip rocks into the ocean, gather shells, take in all of the freshly blossomed foliage along the boardwalk trail. What a fantastic day it'll be, Schmoogie!

So, yesterday, the day arrived. Almost ready, I had to remember to packed my positive attitude, as we embark on our field trip. The picture was quite different than Schmoogie and I had imagined. We were fully clothed from head to toe, sans sunscreen, add sweatshirt, umbrella, baseball hats, and a towel not for sitting on the beach, but rather for drying off. Throw in the rain jacket purchased at the beach's gift shop, and we had ourselves a field trip.

The rain was relentless. We still had the best time ever, and heck, who needs sun to have a nice day anyway? It was great, we still collected shells, ate lunch on the blanket (with our hoods up), we raced through the boardwalk trail, opposed to slowly taking it in, and basked in the rain. The kids played rain football on the beach while the Mom's (and Dad's) took shelter utilizing the fenced in garbage corral.

It was still better to spend my day with Schmoogie, the other chaperone's and their children, who are incidentally our friends outside of school, rather than being in my office.

We hoped for fun in the sun, and turned it into fun in the rain!

Peace.

No Adult, No Pool, That's our Rule!

While rounding out the holiday weekend at a friend's house, the kids were all geared up for a fun-filled afternoon of swimming and bbq.

"The rule is no one in the pool without an adult there," the hostess reminds the kids as they run towards the pool area.

Sighs, grunts and groans come from six very anxious children all ready for a sweet dip in the 82 degree heated pool.

"Come on Mom, I am a good swimmer," declares Schmoogie.

"Not my rule, not our pool. Sorry Schmoogie," my clever response.

As I assist our hostess with the final touches, Big D steps up to the plate and steps into lifeguard mode. The splashing begins.

Noodle, who always wears swimmies and holds onto a noodle or kickboard decides to jump in with the kickboard, sans swimmies. Big D is impressed.

Seconds later, Noodle lets go of the kickboard and sinks to the bottom of the pool. The lifeguard, decked out in his party gear, cell phone in one pocket, cash and wallet in the other, jumps in the pool and retrieves the very shaken Noodle.

After the scare, the day progresses without further incident, all is well. Glad I spent all that money on swimming lessons.

A rude awakening to say the least, considering our pool will be open on June 4th. Over dinner last night, I reminded my darling children that the previous day's event could have yielded a very different outcome, had Big D not been there. It was dramatic conversation, it needed to be. I made the announcement that there will be no swimming, no children in the pool area without an adult, no exceptions.

Sure, there was a little grief from Schmoogie, then the reminder that he didn't even notice his baby brother at the bottom of the pool, and even if he had, he couldn't have done anything to help him. Grief ceases.

For the first time, I am nervous about our pool.

Peace.

Memorial Day Weekend Preview

So, it's officially summer? Not really, isn't June 21st the first day of summer? Either way, the warm weather has finally graced us here on the North Fork, and we are about to baste in it and drench ourselves with sunshine, outdoor activities, and warmth. I say, BRING IT ON!

Memorial Day Weekend, oh, yes, when we begin to relish all that summer has to offer. I cannot wait to get this weekend started. I can almost smell the hamburgers and hotdogs grilling on the open flame, hear the sweet sounds of childhood glee, and see the pollen covering my car. Well, two out of three isn't bad.

Should be a nice one, we have a birthday party, some lax practice, baseball practice, perhaps a dip in a friend's pool, and defiantly BBQ!

I'd like to get in a nice walk to see the cows and the llama around the way, a bike ride to the water just past the Meeting House Creek Inn would be lovely, and maybe a wiffle ball game with the neighborhood kids. That's my idea of a good summer weekend.

No matter what else the weekend brings, I will be perfectly happy as long as I get to spend lots of time outside, preferably without a jacket, sucking up the sun with my three favorite peeps in the world.

Love you guys,
Peace.

Spontaneity for P

For the first night in over a week, we do not have anything to do tonight. No LAX, no baseball, no exercise class, no personal trainer, no playdate, no shopping to do, no nothing. Great, you say? Then why, all day, am I stressing out about what to do tonight?

What will I make for dinner? Should we just go out to dinner?

Will Schmoogie remember that I "promised" him (3 or 4 days ago) a trip to KMart for a desperately needed triangular shaped bakugon?

Should I call my walking buddies for a walk tonight?

Maybe I can get some cold cuts, or make PB&J's and head to the beach for a picnic. Oooooh, that's a good one, the kids can play on the playground, look for shells, Big D and I could walk the beach. Oh, that's right, Big D isn't much of a beach fan. Oh well, maybe I could go with the kids, but I haven't had a solid conversation with my husband in at least five (5) days.

See my dilemma's? It's as if I have to fill my three little hours between picking up Noodle from daycare and just before bed with stuff to do. Well, I have just decided that I do not have to fill those hours with anything.

I have a feeling the spontaneity will do me some good. We shall see!

Hope you have a great night, I'm pretty sure I will!

Peace.

A Mother's Day to Remember

With excitement in their eyes, their hands filled with handmade treasures, their hearts filled with love, they jump on my bed and shout “Happy Mother’s Day!”

A handmade silhouette of my first born, the tiniest of flower pots with first week sprouting, and a white gift bag filled with pink and brown tissue paper and a gift card to East Wind Spa drown me as I awake from sleeping in, yet another gift for the day.

I gaze into both sets of eyes and admire their gigantic smiles and offer a big Mama hug to both of my adorable children. I squeeze them both, simultaneously and grin with happiness, inside and out. I lovingly look at them again, and thank them for giving me the privilege to be a Mother. I love being a Mommy, I love being their Mommy.

A buttered bagel and hot cup of coffee await my arrival at the kitchen table. As I indulge, my three favorite people and I chat about what the rest of the day has in store.

A late brunch at one of the finest restaurants on the North Fork, with Grandma and Grammy turns out exquisite.

As we finish up brunch, with nothing really planned for the remainder of the day, Big D’s cell phone rings with a lovely invitation.

“We’re heading up to Martha Clara with the kids, hoping you can join us.”

“I will talk to P, I’m sure she’ll be in, sounds like fun.”

We spend the rest of the afternoon sipping wine with friends, as our children run and play in the open fields overlooking breathtaking views of grape filled vines. Kite flying, ball playing and picnic baskets are flowing. Animals are out for viewing and a pirate ship shaped playset occupy more of the time for our children. Fresh air and warm sun nestle us as we enjoyed all that Mother’s Day had to offer.

It truly was a day to remember. I hope yours was too.

Peace.

Solution to the Shower Time Blues...

Schmoogie never minded water in his face. You could wash his hair in the bath or in the shower, and just dump the clean water over his head to rinse, or stick his lil head under the shower head and let it run down. He would just shut his eyes, ever so tightly, so no water would get in, and smile the whole time.

Noodle hates water in his face. He cries, cringes, shakes, tightens up, etc. He cannot stand to get his hair washed. I have tried all the remedies to no avail. I usually just give him showers for times sake, quickly rinsing, with dry towel in between my knees ready to dry that delicious wet face, just as soon as the water runs clear. He still cries, cringes and shakes, every, single, time. It's heartbreaking, stressful and at times extremely frustrating, until now!

Just as Noodle is getting ready to enter the torture chamber (our shower), he spots a pair of swim goggles graciously left by the Easter Bunny, meant for the new pool this summer, and Big D thinks it funny to put them on and "go show Mommy, tell her you're ready for the shower".

Genius! I think out loud, can it really work??

Well, it seems, we have found the perfect solution to the water in the eyes blues....

You have to creatively wash around the rubber strap in the back of the head, so I will need to be diligent about ensuring different placement of the straps each shower. But I figure, hell, if I can get most of those blonde strands clean without a tear, without cringing, without shaking, I am golden!

Peace.

Three Boys, Three stories, all aged Three

While engrossed in Nancy Grace last night, my emotions are all over the place.

I am elated to see the three year old from Missouri is found, safely, in the wooded area near his home. The joy and relief in his parents hearts must be overwhelming. The picture of little Joshua laying in the hospital bed eerily resembles my Noodle.

As I embrace my three year old and thank God he is safe, secure, happy and sleeping in our home, the stats for the three year old boy taken at gunpoint from his home in Southern California flash across the screen and my eyes fill with tears.

MISSING: Briant Rodriguez
Last Seen: May 3, 2009
Age: 3
DOB: The same day my Noodle was born.
Height: 3'0''
Weight: 40 lbs.
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Location: San Bernardino, California
Notes: Police say Briant was kidnapped at gunpoint during a home invasion.

Eerily close stats to those of my baby, who lay asleep, next to me. I think it must have been the birthdate that really hit home. Little Briant was born on the same day as my Noodle. To be ripped from your home in such a violent fashion, by strangers, with guns. I can't even imagine the fear in his little eyes, the fear of the unknown, while his little body must be shaking with fear, what could have been running through his mind?

With all of my heart, I hope the gunmen return him safely to his home, where he belongs.

Link to Missing Poster
Have info? 800-78-CRIME OR www.wetip.com

Peace.

Got to Love a Challenge

I stumbled upon this blog, sort of by accident, mostly because I love Sunflowers. While there, on my very first visit, I was hit with a challenge. Intrigued, I took the challenge and got jiggy with my creativity.

Here is what I came up with:

Winter has passed as the warm sun shines through giving hope for the splendor of Spring. As the cool moisture dissipates you can hear the chirping and giggles of the smallest of earth's creatures embracing its marvel.

This is what they had to say:

P!!! Love it -- just beautiful!! I love tiny pieces that sparkle and allow me as the reader to slip into the mind and heart of the writer. Both you and Metzy have done that for me. I am very happy that you both found so much to be optimistic about, too. It reinforces my basic belief that life is good. Thanks for posting and welcome to Sunflower Ranch!

It was fun, let me know if you too are going to embrace the challenge, and copy your reply to my comments section.

Peace.

Sixty Degrees of Shorts

Schmoogie would wear shorts all year round, if he could.

He would never wear a coat, jacket or even a sweatshirt, if he could.

Silky shorts and t-shirts would be Schmoogie's ideal dress attire every single day, if he could.

On the North Fork of Long Island, we experience varied temperatures of the seasons and all their splendor. Most years, from late April to early October, the temperature tends to be around sixty degrees or more. Sure there are those chilly, rainy April (and May) days, (which seem to be never ending this year) but for the most part, from Spring to Fall, the thermometer tries to reach sixty each day.

Since Kindergarten, when Schmoogie discovered that "Coach," the Physical Educator at his Elementary, wore shorts year round, the negotiations began.

"Why cant I wear shorts in the winter, Coach does?"

"Schmoogie, it's way too cold to wear shorts in December, it's ten degrees outside."

"But Coach wears shorts."

It was at that time, I became my mother.

"You're not Coach, you're Schmoogie, and you cannot wear shorts in the winter."

"That is soooo unfair, then, when can I wear shorts?"

As I reminisced about the soon to come Spring, I said, "In the Spring, when it's warm."

The ever so clever, at the time, Kindergartner replied with, "Well, how many degrees is that, because if I cant wear shorts when it's ten degrees, how many degrees does it have to be?"

"Sixty, sixty degrees to wear shorts, now that's enough, lets talk about this in the Spring."

So, just as soon as the sun makes it's way from behind the miserable clouds of winter, just as soon as that pretty sun peeks her face out onto the North Fork, the question comes, everyday. Every. Single. Day.

"How many degrees is it going to be today, can I wear shorts?"

I used to worry about it, now that he is in third grade, and NEVER, ever show signs of being cold, I have conceded that once that mercury hits 60, it becomes Spring in Schmoogie's world and the shorts come out to stay.

Here we are in May, and he wears shorts to school every day, together with a long sleeve polo (in accordance with the dress code) until the mercury surpasses 60, then it'll be a short sleeve polo.

This morning, after dressing myself in long trousers and a long sleeve blouse, complete with a cardigan for when I get a chill later, I lay out clothes for Noodle, a sweatshirt and sweatpants, with an undershirt. Just then, Schmoogie emerges from his room in his shorts. I just shake my head and continue on.

The boy will not freeze, he is comfortable, I repeat in my hear, over and over.

As I get into my car to make my way to my office, and glance at the digits reading 51 degrees, I shake my head, and again, remind myself that he wouldn't wear shorts every single day if he were cold.

Sigh. If I have learned one thing in my nine years of motherhood, it is to choose your battles, in this case I have chose not partake in a battle.

Peace.