Bobby deals with Mommy's incessant photo-taking

See my new teeth on the bottom? They're just peeking out, but they're there! It's fun getting used to having them there. Except when I accidentally bite myself. That isn't much fun at all.

Mommy sure likes to take pictures, but I'd really like to just play for a while.

She's really getting on my nerves with that camera and flash. And I've got all these funny little spots floating in front of my eyes...

Maybe if I pretend to be really busy, she'll go away...

Today I am all about spending time with Bobby. And doing a lot of catch-up laundry. But, mostly? I want to just play with the baby. He's 6.5 months now, and just cut his two bottom teeth two weeks ago. It won't be long before he's walking around, getting into things he shouldn't. Then it will be off to pre-school... Kindergarten... grade school. He is our last baby, and I think I can speak for Jeff when I say we want to enjoy him. Every last little snippet of babyhood.


When I was getting him dressed earlier, I pulled out one of the handmade onesies everyone at the baby shower made. This one was created by Aunt Stacy. Yes, it says "Live long and prosper." I married into a pool of sci-fi fans, so she knew this would be all too appropriate. And appreciated.

And here's the best part...

Yes. That's Bobby's butt.

This is why we absolutely LOVE Aunt Stacy. And her sense of humor.

Ah you ready fo' som' FOOTBALL?!

This? This is what a win looks like. And for two 10-year olds who had a bad baseball season this summer, it was very sweet.

Jack and Charlie's first game was this past Saturday. They came. They played. They won. The boys were in most of the JV game, with Charlie carrying the ball once or twice and Jack doing some serious blocking. I am not kidding. KA-POW.

The kid on the far left has the ball. The two boys in front of him are Charlie (8) and Jack (12), although you really can't see their numbers. I believe the collective thought bubble over their heads is, "Bring it." Either that or "Get outta my way." Regardless, the did their jobs.

And in a rare opportunity to multi-task, here was my view behind the bleachers:

Yes, that's the Snider Mighty Panther Marching Band practicing for their first competition, which was later that night. They won second place -- a good place to be for the first time out. I tried finding Tyler and Kate individually, but only found Kate.

That's her in the center, green shirt. Later I realized I couldn't find Tyler because I was looking for a white t-shirt (which is what I got out of the dryer for him that morning) but failed to realize he'd put on a BLUE shirt over it. Besides,... it's really hard to pick out people when all you see is the backs of their heads and their butts.

Looking forward to this Saturday, with another football game and two marching band competitions. :) I love fall!

Lest we forget... the appetizers?!?

Today is September 11.

Before 2001, it was a date remembered solely for birthdays or wedding anniversaries and such. However, in 2001, it was an awful day, when all hell literally broke loose and it seemed quite possible the world was coming to a screeching halt. Now we remember September 11 with images of fire, smoke, death, devastation and families forever changed. Correction: a nation forever changed, if not the entire world.

Earlier this week, I heard a local radio spot that began with sound bites from 09/11. They were what you'd expect -- highly emotional, confused citizens giving their accounts of the horrors they each witnessed. "Plane hitting the building," "explosion," and "people jumping out of buildings" were phrases I heard. And I am not ashamed to admit, simply revisiting those images in my own mind was enough to make my eyes fill with tears as I sat at the stoplight in my car.

Then the voice over starts promoting "a day to celebrate our freedom at [local bar], with $2 drinks and $2 appetizers..."

What. The. Hell?

Saying I was appalled doesn't even come close to touching this one.

This business has achieved a new, possibly never-before-attained level of tacky. Actually, it's more shocking and insulting from where I sit. My wonderful husband is a firefighter. I now have a completely different appreciation for what those brave men and women sacrificed that day in NYC. To rush into a building where hundreds of people are running out, knowing there is a better than likely chance you may not ever come out alive... well, that's just a level of heroism that not only reserves a seat for you in Heaven, but you'd probably also get a big hug and a high five from God himself.

Granted, the city in which we live isn't as metropolitan as New York City, it isn't a hub of international business and it isn't likely to be on a terrorist's hit list. (Although I believe a few people speculated our position soon after 09/11 to be much higher than originally assumed. Come on. Seriously? Fort Wayne?) Regardless, when Jeff is at work, I quite often send up little silent prayers for his safety, as well as his crew. Some days they don't even get a run; other days, it might be an EMS assist or auto accident clean up. On a rare occasion, they see a house fire. But things happen, and it's his job to ensure the safety of others in dangerous situations.

As for those who lost their lives eight years ago on 09/11, it wasn't only the victims and rescue crews who died. Families and friends of those people lost life as they knew it, no longer able to share it with those who perished.

So, to this local business ... that may have had good intentions in remembering the tragedy of 09/11 ... all I can say is You. Have. Failed. And failed miserably. And, quite possibly, offended many. I cannot speak for others, but I don't think I'm alone in saying I will remember the history of this date with somber reflection and respect. Not with your drink specials and half-price appetizers. Nor will I look to whichever band you have booked to play on the live stage in your parking lot for comfort. You go ahead and eat, drink and be merry. Feel free to celebrate your freedom with alcohol, greasy food and loud music.

I, on the other hand, am heading to the garage to get our American flag.

As promised...

The official 10th birthday photo:

Racing go-carts at Putt-Putt. (Charlie riding with Kate's boyfriend, Dylan)

Jack, riding with Tyler and Jeff driving Tebo (friend from next-door). Ithink there was some sort of "grudge match" going on -- but I was just the official photographer and Bobby's keeper.

Jack: officially 10 at 9:02pm

Charlie: officially 10 at 9:03pm

And what birthday isn't complete without cake? Or at least a giant cookie?

And Sam... waiting for a piece of said cookie.

A Long Night's Journey into the Day

Today, I am tired. Not just kinda tired, but the brand of tired that makes it feel like there's sand in your eyes. And you sort of float through the day on coffee because if you stop drinking it, the show's over.

Bobby turns six months old today, and to mark the occasion, he came down with a cold. His first. Let's just say it hasn't been a pleasant experience for anyone. He was up all night last night because he was too snuffly and uncomfortable to sleep. We've all been there, but when you're a grown up, you mix up your cold medicine cocktail of choice and sleep it off. When you've only been on the planet half a year, your choices are limited. Much more limited. As in, "pediatricians do not like to medicate kids under two years old." I completely agree with this idea; however, when you're walking a wailing baby around the bedroom at 4am you desperately wish some pharmaceutical research team would come up with SOMETHING for an infant to take.

So, today, after a quick visit to the pediatrician for an ear/throat check (Note to self: buy an otoscope and cut down "check the ears" visits to the doctor.) I tried to get a few things done around my desk and the house in general. But what to do with Bobby? Still somewhat uncomfortable and cranky Bobby.

Solution:

Yes. I went there. I put the baby in his rocking-seat and planted him in front of the television. At least I chose Noggin, because ... "It's like preschool on TV." (Hello, sarcasm.) But you know what? To a baby? That's just lots of neat colors moving all over the place, and some fun songs to listen to.

After a few minutes, I came in to check on him. He was quiet. He was mezmerized by whatever was going on in that big, magical box. Then I really took a look at the program that was on.

What the...?!

Ummm. Hello, visually disturbing images for children.

And who the heck is THIS guy?!

Seriously. He's, like, "Superfly" meets "Revenge of the Nerds."

So, yes, I went there. But trust me... we're NOT going back. The only thing we're going back to is bed. Goodnight!

Happy Birthday, Jack and Charlie

It's the end of an era. The era of single digits. Tonight, at precisely 9:02 and 9:03, my first "babies" turned 10. Ten. Years. Old.

I'd sigh and say, "Where did the time go?" but I know very well where it went. It passed with daily fights and arguments; with baseball seasons and hockey seasons; with school, spelling tests, reading and enrichment programs; with holidays and vacations; more fights and arguments; with video games and countless pick-up games of basketball, football, baseball, soccer, etc.

And it passed so quickly.

Each year, since the boys turned a year old, I have taken a photo of them at the time of their birth. Lucky for me it spans about two full minutes because it usually takes them that long to get situated and for me to beg them to smile a "nice" smile. Just one. Then I have to promise to take a "crazy" picture. Tonight, we had the family out for a birthday round of mini golf. As 9pm drew near, the boys were obsessed with the time. "What time is it?! What time is it?!" they asked about every 15 seconds. Then it was time. I snapped the photo, then took individual shots for a change of pace. (Photos to post later -- camera battery charging, and I am just too tired to stay up much longer!)

Jack and Charlie are growing into such wonderful individuals -- although others might see just a pair of (sometimes obnoxious) brothers who tend to fight (a lot!) and are highly competitive with each other and seem to be on the losing end of the fight to remember manners and appropriate behavior. What I see are my two babies. The two babies who got me as their mom, and who had to endure all my "first-time-mommy" moments. Many times I felt like I was failing them, but they not only survived -- they thrived.

Not many people remember where they were, or what they were doing 10 years ago on any given date. I do. Ten years ago tonight, I was wheeled into an operating room, scared out of my mind at the thought of having the doctor cut into my abdomen and pull out two babies. And when the doctor got Jack out and I heard his gurgly cry for the first time, I am not ashamed to admit my first thought was, "I am so not ready for this." Then came Charlie just one minute later, and I knew this was no time for doubt. God gave me the gift of two babies at once. He wouldn't have bestowed the blessing if He didn't know I could handle it. I have often said, in the years that followed, that God proved he has a fantastic sense of humor when he looked at me and said, "Give her two."

It's 11:40pm, and I know 10 years ago right now I was laying in my hospital bed, cradling two newborns. Early the next morning, a nurse would bring in Jack, fresh from a bath. He was swaddled tightly in his blanket, and the nurse had slicked his shock of black hair down to his head. He was the most beautiful baby I'd ever seen. (Charlie was kept in the nursery for most of that first day because he was having trouble regulating his temperature. But he joined us soon after.)

Like any devoted parent, I love my children. Fiercely. Sure, we have many moments throughout the days when we go head-to-head. Strong-willed and stubborn kids being royal pains in the butt to their equally strong-willed and stubborn mom. But that's us. That's how we are now. It's how we have been in the past, and how I'm sure we'll be far into the future. They make me crazy with their arguing, competitiveness and fighting. But they also make me proud -- proud enough to feel my eyes well up with tears and have my breath catch in my throat when they excel at the sports they love, bring home a stellar report card or make a good decision. Some of my most favorite moments are when one of them will stop as he walks past me in the house, throw his arms around my waist and say,"I love you, Mom." Just because.

So, with all of these random thoughts, I want to wish a very happy and special birthday to Jack and Charlie. You were my first babies, and you will always BE my babies. :) I love you both from here to the moon and back a million times. And welcome to the double-digits.