Climbing the Walls

Looks like it's time to get these kids into some summer activities, since they're literally climbing the walls.

(Ben, showing off his latest trick and burning off all remaining steam from a fun, long weekend.)

Batten Down the Hatches

Am I a fool (yes), or does this not look like tornado weather?

Granted, I've never seen a tornado, but it's extremely calm outside right now.* And my sources (Al Roker and the ladies in Butts & Guts class) say we have bad weather ahead. Thanks, Al. Thanks, ladies...shall we squeeze in some exercise? (You too, Al!)

That brings me to my first lesson of the day: In Kansas, apparently "bad weather" includes tornadoes. Really? In California, it means a low of 65.

(Lesson #2: When Al Roker mentions your town by name, you get a lot of calls and emails from friends & family. Nice to hear from all of you! Considering a Kansas vacay?)

Anywho, I'm keeping an eye on the weather tracker and the local news. These weather trackers are pretty incredible; they can tell you, within a few blocks, when the worst of the storm is going to hit. But, just as incredible: I guess some storms can give very little warning, like the horrifying Joplin tornado over the weekend. So, maybe a look out my window is the best gauge...

...and in the three minutes I've been typing, it's grown a few shades darker out there.

Here's the current weather tracker map. (Add this to your reasons to avoid Enid, Oklahoma.) The worst storms are in red. Red, as in STOP dorking around on the computer and consider hunkering down. Or, as the locals might say, time to batten down the hatches.

*Ah, yes...the calm before the storm. I've heard of this. If you need us, we'll be in the basement. Apparently there are hatches I must batten down.

Hawaiian Shirt Day

"Oh, and remember: next Friday is Hawaiian shirt day. So, you know, if you want to, go ahead and wear a Hawaiian shirt and jeans." -Bill Lumberg

Happy weekend!

My Eyes Runneth Over

Last week was Roman's last day at First Friends, marking the end of our family's four-year run with the fantastic mom's-day-out program.

I can't gush enough about the teachers who, for very little pay, spend Thursdays with two-, three- and four-year-olds, teaching them the things we parents sometimes forget: art, sharing, good behavior, using a toilet and bible stories.

Then, to prove they're actual angels, they manage to get 10 littles to nap in the afternoon. (On Thursday, we had the pleasure of waking up Roman before saying our goodbyes):

Anyway, just as I did in 2009 on Ben's last First Friends day, I was rendered speechless and teary-eyed, unable to eek out a "thank you" past the lump in my throat.

So, I started the mental list of "things I'm terrible at," which quickly came to include:

• Starting things
• Ending things
• Planning things
• Making lists

But, I'm feeling more positive today, after a much more successful ending-of-things: Ben's preschool graduation.

The ceremony was mostly tear-free, but for the slideshow soundtracked with "Let Them Be Little" by Sadly Sad Sack (I don't know the singer, but I do know that I'd like to poison his cereal). Even Ben got choked up, and for those of you who've seen that...well, you'll understand my Tammy Faye eyes.

So, I shall modify my list. Behold, "things that make my cup (and eyes) runneth over (week of May 14)":

• Roman's completion of First Friends
• Ben's graduation from preschool
• Ben's second soccer season - done! And his soccer skills are more like Anthony's and less like mine. (Phew!)

...And, finally, something that belongs in the first list, but finds a place in the second: Ben and Roman's  inability to behave like gentleman around a pretty girl:

What Not to Wear

"Mom, why are you wearing your jams*?" the boys like to ask.

Sadly I'm most often wearing my daytime attire, but I like to blur those lines, so naturally the boys get confused. Is she going to sleep, exercise, work or run errands? All of the above, my inquisitive little boys! And I'm going to be comfy!

You'd think, after several What Not to Wear marathons, I'd know better. Sorry, Clinton and Stacy, but I do at least take my too-casual clothes to the tailor!

Anyway, with the overnight change of seasons (our daytime temp went from, like, 60 to 100 degrees in a day), and my "in process" laundry status, the boys are blurring their own lines. And they thought it was pretty silly to wear daytime clothes** to bed last night.

A picture:

Now, off to do laundry!

*That's what we call pajamas. It was coined by Aunt Brownie, which is what we call Angey. Surely we could simplify things.
**Yes, muscle Ts do count as day wear in Wichita. And work wear, formal wear...you get my drift.

Mother of a Day

I'd long been a Mother's Day grinch. I didn't hate it, exactly, but I avoided it the same way my single self avoided Valentine's Day.

But, predictably, when Ben and Roman came along, I started to see it for the worthy holiday it is. And not because I get gifts or free time or whatever (although I'm not complaining that it's currently silent in the house), but because it's a chance to celebrate everyone who contributes to my life as a mother. It's a long list, but here are just a few people who come to mind, in no particular order: 

To my mom, of course, who set the best example.
To Ange, who avoided Mother's Day with me until we both found new ways and reasons to celebrate it.
To Viv, Linda and my grandmothers who picked up where my mom left off.
To Kari and her fam for the unofficial adoption. 
To Eileen, who raised Anthony right.
To Wendy, who puts parenting into perspective for me.
To my girlfriends, who give me advice, empathy, hilarity, pity and occasional escapes from motherhood.
To Anthony, whose fathering makes mothering pretty easy. 

And, finally, to Ben and Roman, who made me a mom. Every day, they make it infinitely better than I expected.  Now, maybe some day they'll cooperate so we can take a decent Mother's Day pic. In the meantime here's one from this morning...

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!

Chicken Soup for the Skittish

We're just back from five sunny days in San Pedro, CA, where we celebrated Anthony's Grandma Jean and Grandpa Phil's birthdays - they turned 90 and 85, respectively.

And what a party...er, make that party, after party, after party. No complaints from me, though - the town seems to be 90 percent Scognamillos and/or Mazzellas, so we never had to go far for food or family. And even when you can't see them, they're always in earshot, since they speak exclusively in outside voices.

See? I fit right in.

A few memorable moments:
Ben and Roman explore the cockpit in DEN:

Ben and Roman's little feet in the ocean:

Scognamillo family picture at the b'day celebration:

Yucking it up with Grandpa Phil on the patio:

"Appetizers" that brought me to my food-loving knees:

Roman the pirate (see a friendly parrot on his shoulder):

Grandma Jean whacks a live chicken:
(Photo unavailable.)

True story, though: there I was, chatting with the petite, gentle Grandma Jean when she excused herself to go outside because her cousin had dropped off a chicken for chicken soup. Not "dropped off chicken" but "dropped off a chicken." I opted to stay inside (and the boys were safely sleeping downstairs, of course), but she was plucking and gutting that thing 10 seconds after I heard its final cluck.

AUGH! Equal parts horrifying and admirable...these are wonderfully Old Country people, who unknowingly slap me in the face with my own wimpiness. I am, afterall, the girl who was literally brought to tears in the Trader Joe's cheese section. Then at In-N-Out Burger. What can I say?! I miss California. And I'm a sucker for inexpensive, organic treats.

Anyway, I'll wrap it up on the organic theme: I now know that the best meals come from a garden in L.A., grown, picked and prepared by Jean and Phil, this world's two most organic Italians-turned-Californians.

I can't wait to go back. I just might politely decline the chicken soup.