Music makes my world sing

Music seriously hits a chord with me. It's how I live my days. Whether I have a tune or an annoying little commercial jingle in my head, it is how I start each day. The music, the rhythm, the lyrics...they all play a part in how my mood is or how it turns out to be. I also have to feel motivated enough when I am feeling down to WANT to feel "up" enough to turn on that "feel-good" music to snap me out of it and get me back to feeling ME.

In life, there seem to be different musical themes and soundtracks. For instance, Christmas would not be right without the sweet sounding carols that are played throughout the season. Summertime is another fun, musical time of year. The latest tunes can be heard from houses, beaches, parties and from cars going by.

We all have our own soundtrack. Songs that bring us back to our past in just an instant. It has to be one of the neatest phenomenons when we feel that we are transported back in time as soon as a radio station plays a song. I wonder what songs might bring my children back to this place in time RIGHT NOW. I wonder what songs will do the same for me? Some time in the future, I might be at the grocery store and a song will come on and I will then be transported back to sitting in my son's room while he is napping and I am writing my blog. I will be in this place right at this very moment even if for just four minutes. How magical that is.

Music helps me make dinner, dance with my children and decorate for Christmas. Music makes me feel better, sing better and write better. It makes me feel for other people, share and understand another point of view and focus on feelings. Music can break my heart, make me cry and tell a story better. Sometimes, it's another writers words that helps me to explain what I am feeling better than mine can and the musical tones behind the words just drives the point home.

I love sharing music with my kids. I give them a palate full of different music to listen to. From Frank Sinatra to Dave Matthews to Jack Johnson to Justin Timberlake and everything in between. I shouldn't be surprised when I hear Kyle singing out loud while he is playing or humming the tune to General Hospital while he is taking his shoes off. I shouldn't be surprised when I hear Charlie singing at the top of his lungs "Video Killed the Radio Star" while he is having Buzz Light Year and Woody battle it out with Emperor Zurg. I shouldn't be surprised. But I am. It surprises me, makes me laugh and gives me such a warm feeling inside. I'd like to think they are picking up good habits from me and not just those bad moments I have when I shout out a word because I stubbed my toe.

Nighttime consist of stories read and songs sung by me or my husband. And Charlie melts my heart when he serenades me with the Sound of Music soundtrack that he knows word for word. The cuteness is just too much to comprehend when he is singing with such passion and emotion "...when the DOG BITES, when the BEE STINGS...when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things and then I don't feel soooo bad."

I have been told this is the time that children learn at their best. They can pick up words, songs, even another language because their brains are like sponges right now. So I teach them manners, sign language, numbers and letters and yes, MUSIC. I am in no way a musician, nor do I know how to read musical notes and cannot sing in a kind of voice anyone would want to hear on the radio. But I am an avid listener of what I would consider a plethora of good music. Someday, I would like to learn how to play piano. Who knows, maybe one of my boys will teach ME.

So sometimes you might find me drifting off to another time and space because of a random melody that found it's way into a current playlist.... but for now, I live in this moment with my children and my husband listening, dancing, playing and singing to our own soundtrack.

The mystery of the twinkle….solved.

Have you ever heard that expression; "You can see the twinkle in her eyes." What exactly IS a twinkle? What do people actually see? Is it water? A stray eyelash? That sleepy stuff that builds up? Is it really only salty tears brought on by a chemical reaction in our bodies? I suppose some Scientists and Doctors would come up with a sort of factual based reasoning. But I think it's more than that.

I just recently hosted my first Thanksgiving at my house. My Mother and I had talked about having a special separate Thanksgiving this year since we haven't really spent Thanksgivings together since I was young. I was excited and a bit anxious at the same time.

My Mother and I picked out the date and planned the menu together. I started feeling the excitement of the holiday already. It was fun for me right from the first moment of planning. Through text messages, emails and phone calls, we communicated while in the grocery store, when new ideas and thoughts crossed our minds and just to check in. I felt the bond with my Mother growing stronger. Through new technology and old traditions, I felt like we bridged across generations and time.

My Mother came over early that morning of our special Thanksgiving Day. The boys were already showered and dressed in fall colors of orange and brown and looked very handsome with their new haircuts. I, however, had not even showered yet, but it didn't matter. The excitement was in the air. My hair was pulled back and sleeves were rolled up. I was ready to rumble with that turkey, or so I thought.

My Mom and I chatted for a bit about life and current events in our lives. The boys were excited to have Nana at our house. She played with them for a little while, while I cleaned up the kitchen; picking up crumbs, old mail and other every day items from the week.

Mom kept saying "We need to get this turkey set." I knew I was ready. We we finally settled on the time that we would be ready to eat and we put a list together. My organized Mother put times, ingredients and other essential details next to each item on the list. We had a plan. We worked on different tasks throughout the morning like making the string bean casserole, creamed onions, butternut squash soup and peeling sweet potatoes. We had good talks, laughed a lot, we listened to old Christmas music she used to play when I was a little girl, we played with the boys, read books and had lunch.

It was now nap time for the boys and almost turkey time. We got the boys down to sleep and my Mom looked at me with a big grin. "You ready?" She asked. "I think so." I said nervously. We referred to the list and knew we only had a short time to get the turkey in the oven by our scheduled time of 2:00pm.

She had me do everything at the beginning and kept telling me. "This is your turkey today. You're going to do it." I took a deep breath and started cutting into the plastic netting and wrapping around the turkey. We cleaned the sink and plopped the bird in. I felt myself starting to loose the oomph that I once had before I realized I really had to stick my hand inside this BIRD. I had to separate myself from the fact that this soon-to-be main meal was once a living thing with parts and pieces that I would recognize more easily if it were alive. I started having conversations with myself about how bizarre this tradition really was. And who were the people that had the jobs of providing all of these birds to the stores in this fashion? I finally calmed myself down by reminding myself that Norman Rockwell's family did it and it's all part of the holiday season. I suddenly heard the Lion King Soundtrack in my head "It's the Ciiiiirrrrrcle of Liiiiiiiife....." I was jolted out of this private discussion inside my head by my Mother saying "You're supposed to be doing this...C'mon, shove that stuffing inside the cavity." "Awwww, Mom!" I shouted. "Do you have to use words like that? Cavity?" We laughed and she took over the dirty work, acknowledging that she did not realize how squeamish I was.

We got all the stuffing in and she rubbed the turkey with the remainder of stuffing on her hands. "This will help it to get golden brown at the end." She said. She had me do the honors of putting the turkey in. We closed the door to the oven and looked at the clock; exactly 2:00pm.

We finished up the other side dishes and I had to run to the grocery store to get more butter and rolls. While I was gone, Charlie woke up from his nap and played with my Mother; working on puzzles, reading more books, they enjoyed each other. I returned home and soon Kyle woke up and he helped out with the puzzles too. And then there it was...as all of this hustle and bustle went on, I didn't even remember that eventually there would be rewards. The glorious aroma of turkey permeated through my house. It really hit me when Charlie asked me what that smell was. "It smells so good in here, Mommy." My heart melted and I knew a tradition had been formed.

The boys were jumping around in delight, the final preparations were in full force and one by one the other members of the family came in from work. That holiday feeling was felt by all with cheers as each person came in and wine was poured. "What can I do to help?" was shouted in excitement by a few different voices. We couldn't decide who was best to slice the turkey and whether I had a big enough platter to put it on. Before we knew it, the Thanksgiving dinner was spread out in buffet style across my counter and everyone was picking out their favorites and loading up their dishes.

I looked around the room at my family members as a few different conversations went on simultaneously. The magic unfolded around me at every turn. Kyle and Charlie were so elated to have everyone over and even though they barely ate anything on their plate, they made up their own new Thanksgiving traditions like dunking their bread in cranberry sauce and playing Candyland with their Grandfather. Somewhere within all the table conversations, all the mmmms and aaahhhs about the food, I saw it. I looked across the table at my Mother and caught her eye. I saw a twinkle in her eye and words just poured out of my mouth "Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. Today was fun." I said. She looked at me with a big smile and said "This was wonderful. I am so happy. Happy Thanksgiving." And there it was, the twinkle. In my own Mother's eye, I saw that twinkle. I knew right then what it was all about. Every twinkle is a memory made, a moment remembered and special traditions created and dreamed up actually come to life.

I woke up the next morning having a mini panic attack. I realized I had not taken any pictures. I am the picture maniac in my family. I love to document my life with words but also with pictures and video. I felt sick to my stomach with this realization that there was no photo documentation of this glorious day I had with my Mother, the golden brown turkey that I made with her for my first Thanksgiving, no moments captured. So I as someone very close to me said, I was meant to write about this day and I must have been so engrossed in the awesome-ness of the day that I did not even think to take pictures. And even though a part of me believes this to be just fluff, I have these memories so close to my heart that another part of me will always remember how special it was, especially when I see that twinkle in my Mother's eye or when I look in the mirror, I will know why.

Remembering ...

I often wonder what memories my kids will keep in their mental pockets and which ones will be long forgotten.

I think about the things I can remember from my childhood. Those memories make me so happy.

I can remember cooling off in a big spaghetti pot in my Grandparent's backyard during the heat of the summer because they didn't have a sprinkler or a pool. My Grandmother would make home made bubbles for me and while I played and splashed in the pot, we would both blow bubbles at each other. I can still smell the dish soap and even the water, for that matter. I used to think my Grandmother's hands were magic. She could stick them into the hottest water I have ever felt when she washed dishes. She told me her hands got used to it. Mine never did. OUCH! She always had beautiful nails and the softest skin. The sharp distant sound of a ball cracking a baseball bat on TV with a roar of a crowd still gives me warm goosebumps. I can still remember the feeling of laying in bed in the dark, hearing the low rumble of the window fan and hearing the Red Sox baseball game echo through the house.

There are so many memorable times with my other Grandparents too. In the morning, my Grandmother and I listened to Bob Steele on her little radio in the nook. In the afternoon, we watched old movies in her kitchen on a small black and white TV while she made her sauce or soup or some other special recipe for dinner. I tried to watch my Grandmother's every move in order to remember how she did things. Reheat macaroni in a pan on the stove, water from the tea kettle goes into the pan, wipe your hands on your apron when they get dirty. I remember trying to memorize it all. I used to stand behind her while she was at the sink and would straighten her shirt for her. She always told me that was such a big help. I remember the smell of my Grandparents basement, whether it was considered to be a good smell or not, I can still recognize the smell today and again, it's a comfort to me. The silence of golf makes me think of my Grandfather. That may not make any sense to you, but it does to me. Music was especially important in this house too. And a certain kind of music makes me feel like a little girl again dancing with my Grandfather. You must have reminders or triggers of memories too that would make no sense to others, but make you feel warm and comforted.

The first house I really remember living in... A warm summer day, I remember snapping the ends off of string beans with my Mother in our kitchen. A cold, winter, snowy day, I can still smell fresh wood burning in the neighborhood fireplaces. That smell still to this day reminds me of when I was little in that house. The sound of a chainsaw in the wintery distance cutting up wood. Again, when I hear this sound today, I think about winter and when I lived in that first house. Playing in the driveway on my bike, the sound a bouncing ball made on the sidewalk that went to the back of the house. I remember long walks through the woods in the back with my father and the sound of the leaves crunching under our feet. I remember the fun little noises my Mother used to make when we were in a hurry just to make it more fun for us. I loved the smell of my Mother's wool brown coat when she would pick me up after work. I loved to cuddle with both of my parents when they were together. That was one of my favorite things and they knew it. They would say "It's cuddle time!" And we would cuddle together on the couch at night.

I think of little sayings, stories and songs from my childhood and how much they mean to me now like "Snug as a bug in a rug" "I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck" "Soups on!" "You're full of cheese" Singing Christmas songs. Singing all of the words to the Annie soundtrack with my Mother and sister. Going to baseball games and to the movies with my family.

So when I think of these crazy memories of mine with odd details, I wonder what will spark my children's memories of me and B and their Grandparents. Will they remember the good times? The crazy times? The times they fell to the floor in a complete and utter melt down because I combed their hair or put a shirt on them with buttons?

Will they remember our rides home from preschool every day? Will they remember the talks we have had about stop lights, pot holes and what exactly UPS does? I hope they remember taking walks with me around the neighborhood on warm days, playing hide and seek behind the big trees in the back yard, our daily races around the house outside, doing the laundry together, our trips to Stew Leonards, making tents in the family room and all of our wild adventures.

I hope they remember all the times with their Grandparents like Wednesdays with Nana either at our house or hers, playing hide the seven dwarves, putting up seasonal stickers on the windows and special times in the back yard filling bird feeders and swinging on the hammock with Pepa. Beach weekends with Pepa P and E in Rhode Island and playing with the drums and spider at their house. And special times at the park, museums, hiding the apples in their living room, the trampoline and yearly hayride with Memee and Papa.

Fruit snacks, puzzles, painting together, coloring books, errands, grocery shopping, recycling, the car wash, Rita's, apple picking, playing the wii, picnics in the backyard, movie night, popcorn, cupcakes with rainbow frosting, playing in the sprinkler, riding bikes in the driveway, the way we kiss goodnight in a special way, songs we sing and stories we read. Moments I will never forget and I just wonder if they will remember them too. I hope they will. What will spark those memories; a smell, a feeling, a sound or a simple word or remark? I wonder.

Gifts

Gifts are wonderful treasures in our lives. Gifts are not always just brown paper packages tied up with string or red foiled boxes with a bright green bow on top. Gifts come to us in many different ways.

A gift could be a little bit of nature, ordinary nature, but for some reason, a ladybug might catch your eye, like one did for me today. Literally, it looked like she and I connected eye to eye. Hers, itsy-bitsy little eyes looking through what looked like sunglasses and mine; squinting to see in the strong rays of the sun amongst all of the other thousand ladybugs on my front porch. But that little moment was a gift to me and made my day a little brighter.

Or gifts can be little special moments brought to you by your children. Even when they don't mean to, they give you gifts. Ahhh, so many gifts. My kids give me many gifts every day. A kiss, a hug, a smile, a cute new facial expression. No matter what it is, each gift is shared in a special way.

I was looking for a challenge. A new challenge for these boys. A new book of games, math problems, puzzles. "Hmmmm.....What could we get at the library to give us a challenge today..." Half way though looking through aisles of books, toys and puzzles, Kyle said he had to go potty. The three of us went to find the bathroom and I changed Charlie's diaper while we were in there. During this busy bathroom event, I took notice that the kids were acting wrestless, hungry and tired. We walked out of the bathroom and I was now on a mission with a timeframe. It was then that a whiff of a new challenge that I hadn't even thought of, overcame me. A red-faced Charlie looked up at me. It was a diaper blow-out in the middle of the quiet library that only came right after I changed him with the last diaper in the bag. The car was parked blocks away and I could almost hear the squishy pants as we walked quickly through the silence. I guess I should be careful of what I state out loud as the goal for the day.

One morning, on my way to drop the kids off at preschool, I was thinking about how hungry I was and how I did not have time to grab myself something to eat before we left the house. I hear a cry, a whine from the backseat. Uh oh, I thought. "Something is wrong." Suddenly, something moves on the seat next to me. I look over and before I even get a chance to see what it is, something else moves, this time on my head. Another and another hit. Pit, pat, smoos, boomph...."What the heck?" I say out loud. I realize what it is at the same time I hear a little voice from the back say "I don't WANT french toast for breakfast, Mommy!" I think to myself in pure sarcasm "Awww, how thoughtful. He must have known I was hungry." I have to say, I did scrape it off the seat, my hair and the dash for reasons other than wanting a clean car. It satisfied my hunger and yummmm, if I do say so myself.

What is a gift, really? A gift is NOT when your four year old uses kid scissors to cut a piece of plastic wrap at the bottom of his ladybug cup only to catch your hand in the blades. Even though he gave me a nice gash in my hand, this was not a gift. The look on his face was priceless. A gift? No, I don't think that would qualify either. It looked like he felt mortified. Both hands on his cheeks, mouth wide open, eyes wide and scared. He kept repeating over and over: "Oh Mommy! I'm sooooo sorry. I'm soooo sorry, Mommy." A gift IS good manners and an honest feeling of guilt and caring that I must have instilled in him at some point thus far. I asked him if he would kiss it for me and he replied "I really don't want to kiss the bleeding Mommy, I am sorry."

A gift is definitely when I was carrying my sleeping Kyle up to his bed for nap. He suddenly popped his head up off my shoulder and looked at me and said "I love you" in a deep sigh and his head fell back down onto my shoulder.

I received a gift from Charlie today when he gave his Bullseye doll to me and said the doll needed a kiss. I was so touched just with the one statement. But he went on to say "Mommy, Bullseye loves you because you rub his back at nightime and sing songs." This was just so special as I am thinking (hoping) this is really how Charlie feels!

We all get gifts. Gifts for birthdays. Gifts for holidays. The best gifts are the ones we get to give to other people and the cool thing is, it does not have to be a material thing. I love how my kids make me feel, make me laugh and melt my heart. Those are the true gifts. They have so many talents that will develop over the years that will then benefit other people. Maybe they will use those gifts to be an actor, a CFO, a publisher, a Senator or a chef ... someday.

For now.... I'll keep my hands away from scissors and work harder on potty training!

Crazy Days

Crazy Days are sometimes my happiest days and sometimes my most overwhelming days. Sometimes I think other people looking into the window of my life and only seeing a couple of moments must think I am a lunatic. But I truly love my life and every day even when overwhelming or crazy. Some days take away my "me time" and some days give me the most wonderful gifts of new wonderment, new words, new ideas and so many smiles.

Aquarium. No stroller. Excited, semi-tired, semi-hungry boys in the dark with fish. The picture I paint should give you a good indication of how it might have gone. I called Charlie "Jelly Legs" quite a few times. Camera hanging from my shoulder, backpack hanging on my other side and Charlie in the middle of the aisle on the floor laughing; thinking it's a big joke that he is not getting up. I pick him up and take him over to a bench to sit. A tampon flies out of the backpack as I am trying to find him something to snack on. I take a seat to look and sit in a puddle of water. Once in the backpack, I noticed that a bottle of Benedryl had opened and spilled into the bag. I'm a flibertygibit, a nut. Charlie spots a turtle. He hollers out "A turtle! My friend, a turtle!" and tugs my hand to take him over to say hello.

A little later, we sit together eating raisins and watch a gigantic sea lion swim about his pool. Charlie looks at me and tells me "I really like this place." About 20 minutes later, flash forward to me carrying Charlie out of the aquarium store like I am carrying a log. He is kicking and crying and yelling out that he wanted that big book. My blood sugar is running seriously low and I'm very shaky. I speed past other aquarium visitors like a Mom on a mission; hoping they all understand...my child needs FOOD and SLEEP NOW. Of course, so do I at that point.

Charlie asks me: Mommy, can I have Princess Aurora in here with me, please? I say sure and go get her and Prince Philip as well. Charlie responds as he hands Prince Philip back to me "I didn't talk about him at all. Just Princess Aurora."

I am in the car with my family, I am in the passenger seat. The car is pretty quiet. Kyle is starting to fall asleep. Charlie is playing with a doll in his car seat. B and I are talking on and off. It's a nice ride. We're going to be in the car for a bit. My phone rings. It's my Father. I had been wanting to talk with him. It's like a switch, I answer and suddenly, Charlie needs me. As I talk with my Father, I hear "Mommy....Mommy.....Mommy...." getting louder and louder. B tries to help him, but the chanting continues louder and louder. Then it turns to more of a squeal and a growl of frustration. I strain to listen to the voice of my Dad telling me somethings that I really need to hear. I respond to him as I hold one finger in the ear not on the phone, increasing the volume of my voice as if he cannot hear me. We chat back and forth as the screaming gets louder and then.....beep beep beep, the calls goes dead.

Kyle and I are talking quietly before bed. "Mommy, remember this......how funny....remember that....remember how we....." We laugh together about those memories he just brought up. He then pauses and says "Oh! And Mommy!!! Ummmm....." "What?" I asked. "Ummm." He mutters again. "Ummmm.....nevermind. I kind of forgot what I was going to say. Let me think about it again and then tell you, ok?"

It's a quiet afternoon. The boys are napping. I rush around as I usually do each afternoon; making my lunch, cleaning the kitchen, emptying the school bags and lunch boxes, making lunches for the next day, doing laundry, folding, etc. I sit on the couch to eat my lunch and watch a little General Hospital. My bottom touching the couch must sound an alarm in the boys' rooms. I hear the toys starting to come alive in their rooms, the sound effects and little voice saying "Mommy, I'm awake now!"

"Mommy, when are my friends going to come to our house? When they do, are they going to use that little TV to get here? How will they know how to get here? I want them to come here to our house so we can play together and with you."

I like to think I'm strategic in how I plan or not plan my days. And then I think is that wrong of me to plan so "strategically?" I'm a Mother at home, not an executive! But multi-tasking is my forte and it can sometimes hurt more than help. I LOVE to play with my boys. So sometimes, I am not paying attention to the realistic tasks of life that need to be done. Like making dinner so it's ready in time for dinnertime. When I don't do this, I find I end up not eating at all or rushing around still making dinner while my family is eating and then I eat alone. So I try to play and make dinner and do laundry and make it all fun. Sometimes, as strategic as it can be planned, it falls apart in disaster and I end up having two very unhappy children wishing for pasta not chicken, Daddy, not Mommy, juice, not milk, a fork not a spoon and for some reason talking is not allowed.

Keeping my sanity is definitely top on my list of things to do every day. Some days are way easier than others. The cute little moments when my boys tell me they love me or say something as simple as "Bless You" when I sneeze and big hugs out of no where keep me normal, calm and sane.

So to those people in my life that I feel like I am not able to give 100% to during this time in my life, I am so sorry. I hope you understand as you take little peeks into my world through these blogs. I have accepted that I am unable to give 100% to any one thing or person in my life, except for my kids right now. (even then, I am not so sure I give them that much) They are my joy, my fun and my now. I want to enjoy them now while they are with me....before they marry off and have crazy days of their own.

Crazy days are normal for me now and may not be so crazy. I know I will miss them some day, so as crazy as they may be now, I will still try and enjoy every crazy second. And laugh, laugh laugh at those times....after they happen, of course!

Routine or Tradition?

Dictionary.com defines tradition as a continuing pattern of culture beliefs or practices. As I go through my every day life, I think a lot about traditions. I wonder whether they truly should be called traditions or more practices, habit or routine.

Traditions are so wonderful. They are almost like our imprints from the past. As long as we can document memories and events, they can become tradition. Something that we can repeat and rejoice in every time it happens. Whether it's a certain time of the year, time of day or week.

Some of the moments that I believe to be tradition are times like taking naps every day. Is that a tradition or a routine? Even though it's so ordinary and mundane, it's a special time that helps my boys grow and stay healthy. Sleep is so important and it makes all the times while they are awake more special because they are happier and well rested.

This past week, I took my little guys to the Big E. They loved going and seeing the animals and the clowns and parades and going on the rides. They enjoyed watching the little shows and eating popcorn and treats. I wished so much that B could have come with us. But this was a memory I wanted to become a tradition for them. Whether it was one or both of us, they can count on us taking them to the Big E every year.

I also took them on a hay ride to go apple picking. They loved it so much. They were excited and had so much fun picking and eating the apples. I wish for this to be a tradition each year now too.

This is the time to establish traditions. When kids are young and impressionable. They can sense love and happiness a mile a way. They remember things better now than when they get older. I still hold some of the most fondest memories in my heart from when I was a little little girl. I remember sitting in a room with my Grandmother while she ironed clothes. I was listening to The Wizard of Oz on a record player. I can still feel a cool breeze coming from the window. As my Grandmother pulled in clothes through the window from the clothes line, I sat and watched. I watched her reel in my Grandfather's shirts and tee shirts. I can still smell the heat from the iron. My Grandmother hums and sings to me along with the record player. I can hear her voice as clear as if she were sitting right here with me now as I type this.

I want my kids to remember moments like that. I love that we go to my Mother's house almost every week, we spend time at my Father's cottage as much as we can and spend time with my in laws as well. I love that they form so many memories with me and B as well as all of their Grandparents. I hope they can hold on to those memories for a lifetime and remember what traditions are all about. Family. Happy times. Making new memories every time, every moment, every year. Not just the holidays, but normal every day moments.

Visiting Santa Claus every year with the Sicottes (no matter where he ends up this year), putting pajamas under the pillow in the morning, cuddle time, movie night, game night, noses-noses, beach days and snow days.

I love how Kevin goes into Colin's room every morning just to be with him. Kevin will go in to his room and sit on his rocking chair and just wait for him to wake up. They can play together so nicely and quietly sometimes and sometimes not so much. After nap time, Colin will also go into Kevin's room and play in his room until Kevin wakes up. I hope they always hold these memories in their hearts and they are always close brothers as they are today.

My heart is filled with joy and love. Every day I live is a memory; good or bad. Traditions are what keep us going to keep our love alive even after we are gone. To carry on our family even after only spirits are with us. So excuse me now, while I go wake my children up; a normal routine that has become a tradition I hope they always remember.

Amazement at the Small Things in Life

Kyle just started riding a bike for the first time this summer. I could not get him to ride a two wheeler bike (with training wheels) for the longest time. He would get on the bike and give it one or two pushes and then give up saying it was just too hard for him. But yet, he would always ride the tricycles at school with his friends, no problem.

It was a very exciting time one day when I said I would take out my bike from the shed. (thinking maybe that would get him motivated if he saw me riding) We cleaned off my bike together and made it shine. Then we cleaned off his bike together and made it really shine and sparkle. Kyle was so very proud. I will never forget the look on his face and how he kept saying that was his bike. But he still was a little apprehensive to ride it. So I started to ride my bike around the driveway. Kyle looked almost amazed that his Mommy was riding a real bike. The wind was blowing through my hair and my legs had a weird feeling in them...hmmm, could it be exercise? :) I felt like a kid again, myself. Before I knew it, Kyle hopped on his bike, helmet and all and started to pedal away and off he went. He was riding around the driveway like a pro! My little guy was riding a bike.

A few days ago, my little one; Charlie saw Kyle on his bike. He started to take out the other bike

we have of the same size. I told Charlie that bike might be too big for him right now. But he didn't care.

He tried and tried to get it out anyway. So I helped him and we put on his helmet. And he looked up at me

with the biggest smile and then looked at the bike. I helped him on and he tried to push those pedals

with his little feet. He tried and tried. But he couldn't get it. And then just like Kyle did, he gave up.

I told him not to give up so easily. I encouraged him to keep trying and that I knew he could do it.

I helped him by pedaling his feet with my hands and pushing the bike along. He kept saying "I'm riding a bike,

Mommy. I'm riding a BIKE!" Then he stopped off at the little inlet of our driveway; a place the two of

them fondly call Stew Leonards when they are playing pretend. He jumped off the bike, asked me to take his

helmet off and quickly ran toward the garage in such a hurry. He stopped before he got to the garage.

He quickly whipped around and put his hands up in the air and shouted at the top of his lungs "Mommy!!!!

THAT WAS TOTALLY WICKED!!!!" and he went back to his mission of whatever urgent nature it was. (that line,

by the way, is from The Incredibles) But it was still just the best feeling to see how excited he was and that he

used that movie phrase in the right context. Very cool.

Today was the big movie day. We took them to see the double feature of Toy Story I and II. It was amazing for this

event to happen considering this is one of their favorite movies!!!! They were beyond excited to hear it was coming

to the movies!!!! While in the theater, I wanted to just keep watching their faces more than the movie. They know all

the words by heart and still belly laugh at all the same parts. When my husband took Kyle to the bathroom at intermission,

he told him he was having a great time. Charlie would lean over every once in a while and ask a question or tell me something

about the movie "Buzz is sad because he's not a space ranger." Kyle would shout out during the movie with so much

excitement. I would look at him and he would put his hand over his mouth with a smile, knowing he was supposed to be

quiet. We would just smile and he would say "sorry!" Who knew the movies could be sooooo special and magical! ha.

It's these magical moments that make me appreciate life and appreciate all that I have in my family.

I used to think that magic was just about being a kid, or finding my prince charming. But now I know it's about so many

other ordinary things in every day life. A first bike ride, a feeling of accomplishment, a favorite movie on the

big screen and sharing a smile. This is my life. And ya know what? I think it's just TOTALLY WICKED!!!! :)