The Polar Express

As I mentioned in my last post, Nicholas has not wanted anything anywhere nearly as badly as he's wanted to ride on the Polar Express. he has asked every Santa, wished on every star and even prayed for a chance to ride on the magical train and head to the North pole. After much drama, we were able to score tickets for the Polar Express ride run by the Delaware River Railroad Excursion in Phillipsburg, New Jersey! We even managed to get a couple extra tickets so Nick could bring his girlfriend Brielle (and her mommy, of course) with us.

We decided not to tell Nick ahead of time about the ride. I was afraid that he would ask 9 million times a day until the day arrived. I think the anticipation of Christmas itself is about all my Nicholas can handle.

Saturday morning I sat Nick down (in front of my video camera) and told him that Santa has called me with some good news and some bad news. I told him that Santa had called to say that he knew Nicholas wanted to ride the Polar Express, but that, unfortunately, he would be far too busy on Christmas Eve to allow Nick to ride with him. Nick looked upset, so I didn't leave him hanging for too long. I then told him that the good news was that, if Nick were able to get into him jammies, Santa said he could ride the Polar Express TONIGHT! Nick slapped himself in the had and fell over in excitement. He then told me that that was, "awesome good news!"

After lunch and nap, Brielle and he mommy met us at the house. We let the kids exchange Christmas presents - Nick got a Battle Force 5 battle action Saber vehicle; Evan got a set of Dinosaur Train figures and Brielle got a ballerina jewelry box and a Hello Kitty necklace and bracelet to go in the jewelry box - loaded them all into my van and headed towards Phillipsburg.

Once we arrived in town - a long ride when you're traveling with 3 over-excited children under the age of 6 - we pulled into a parking lot along the Delaware River and loaded onto a trolley, which took us to the train station. Upon arriving at the train station, I turned in my confirmation e-mail for 6 shiny, golden tickets. Nick was just as excited about his golden ticket as he was about the pending ride. We boarded the train with little incident and immediately started searching for the bathroom. Brielle and I were waiting in line to use the bathroom when she asked the Conductor how long the train ride would be. The Conductor then showed me just how amazing this ride was going to be. She replied by taking a golden pocket watch out of her vest and telling Brielle that the ride would last approximately 1 hour and 45 minutes or as long as it took to reach the North Pole. She then looked more closely at her watch and shouted, "oh my, we're late! We can't be late! I've never been late!" She then pocketed her watch and took off towards the other end of the train in a mad hurry. I had been on the train less than 5 minutes and was already very impressed.

After potty break time was over and we were all seating, a loud "all aboard" echoed through the train car and we were off. It wasn't long before the Conductor was punching tickets. Nicholas and Brielle both got a "B" for believe (though Brielle thinks it was for her name) and Evan got a "L" for lead. Shortly thereafter, the kids were served hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies. I believe that's when a recording of the story, The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg, was played over the intercom. After the story was finished, the train unexpectedly jolted to a stop. The Conductor shouted that there was only one reason the train would stop - it must be caribou! Shortly after that, we reached the North Pole where Santa and his elves took a short break from their toy making to visit with us on the train. Santa and his elves visited with every family and posed for pictures with each child. Every child on board was given a bell - the first gift of Christmas. Brielle's mom and I visited the gift car and bought some goodies for the kids. Then Santa's elves walked through selling stuffed Santa's - of course we picked up a couple of those as well. A ride on the Polar Express wouldn't be complete without a visit from some Hobos, so after Santa returned to the North Pole, a couple Hobos climbed aboard and lead us in some Christmas carols. One of them had a guitar while the other played an accordion and trumpet (not at the same time). By the time they were finished we were nearly back at the station.

While the children were disappointed that they were not able to get off the train while we were at the North Pole, they accepted the explanation that nobody was allowed at the North Pole during Christmas time. I told them that we were lucky that Santa took a break to come and visit with us. When asked about the children in the story who were able to run amok at the North Pole, I explained that I thought that part of the story was made up.

The characters on board the train did a wonderful job entertaining us during the trip. During the lulls, Shawn was able to occupy the children by having them hunt for North Pole Monkeys by shining their flashlight out the train window into the passing woods.

While Evan and Brielle passed out in the car on the way home, Nick was wide awake the whole ride. He even continued to talk to Brielle long after she fell asleep.

This entry was written almost immediately after we rode the train, but an error with the website prevented me from publishing it right away. I then got super busy with the holiday, our annual visit from my in-laws and everyday life. Since I am finally (a month later) getting around to re-typing and publishing this story, I thought I'd ask Nick was his favorite part of the ride was. His answer - "when Santa came on the train with us!" Evan still hollers, "All Aboard" every time he sees a train. Proof that, at least so far, the kids are remembering their magical night!

A Call from Santa Clause

My son, Nicholas, has been wishing on every star he sees for the past several months for a chance to ride the Polar Express this year. He is absolutely obsessed with the movie and has been watching it year round for the past 2 years. Every time he wished for that special train ride I would have to explain that he couldn't ride the Polar Express because it's a special, magical train just for children who don't believe in Santa Clause. It broke my heart to tell him he couldn't do the one thing he was asking to do. Then, one day at work, I Googled 'Polar Express train ride' and just about had a stroke when I saw that, not only do they have a licensed Polar Express train ride, but that it departs from a fairly local train station! Tickets were very cheap and they had multiple rides every weekend from Thanksgiving through Christmas. I was so excited I called Shawn at work and told him that we could make Nick's dreams come true after all. He agreed and told me that we would get tickets. Since that was back in October, I saved the link to my favorites and went back to work.

Fast forward to mid-November. I pulled up the train station's website to order our tickets and, again, nearly had a stroke. They were sold out! Every ticket, every ride, every date. I nearly cried I was so broken hearted. I felt like parents did in 1983 when they couldn't get their hands on a Cabbage Patch Doll. I consulted sites like StubHub, Craigslist and Ebay in search of tickets. I came up empty handed. After days of desperate searches I finally found an add on Craigslist posted by someone who was selling tickets for 2 adults and 1 child. A call to the train station informed me that children under 2-years-old could ride on their parent's lap without a ticket for $1. I immediately contacted the seller telling him that I wanted his tickets, but I was too late. He had already sold them. At that point I posted my own add on Craigslist.

After nearly a week I was contacted by someone selling tickets. She had tickets for 2 adults and 3 children. I was willing to eat the cost of the extra ticket, so I told her that YES, I definitely wanted her tickets. She told me that she would like us to pay her via PayPal and that she would give us her confirmation number that the train station e-mailed her when she purchased the tickets. According to her, they do not issue actual tickets, rather, they e-mail confirmation numbers. At that point I was willing to risk being ripped off for a chance to get these tickets, so I chose to believe her. However, I am not completely naive. I also chose to call the train station to confirm that this was how they sold their tickets before completing the PayPal transaction.

As I was listening to the automated recording that you get when calling the train station my cell phone rang. I hung up the land line and checked my cell phone's caller ID for the incoming phone number. The caller withheld their number. I answered the phone and the conversation I had with the caller went like this:

me: "hello"
caller: "Jessica?"
me: "this is she."
caller: "hello, this is Santa, I'm about to make your dreams come true."

instead of asking when he was giving me a million dollars, I simply replied: "oh yeah?"
caller: "I heard you were looking for Polar Express tickets."
me: "uh huh." (said dripping with scepticism)
caller: "well, I have tickets, so how many do you need?"
me: "who is this really?"
caller: "I told you, it's Santa Clause."
me: "well Santa, I'm actually in the middle of buying tickets off a lady on the internet."
caller: "OK, well then you're all set"
me: "I do know other people who would be interested in your tickets. What do you have?"
caller: "I'm not really interested in other people. I saw your add on Craigslist and chose to help you"

I don't know why exactly, but at this point I was thinking this man had to be an employee at the train station. I guess that's easier to believe than thinking that Santa Clause would track me down at my desk. Anywho, the conversation continued:

me: "oh, well I was actually in the process of calling the train station when I answered your call. I have general ticketing questions. Does Santa know anything about ticketing?"
caller: "Santa knows everything about everything. What's your question?"
me: "the person I'm buying the tickets off of has 2 adult and 3 children's tickets. Would it be possible to upgrade one of those children's tickets to an adult ticket? And, if so, can we then also add in a lap sitter?"
caller: "which date and time are your tickets for?"
me: "December 18th at 6:00"
caller: "oh, you're buying Jan's* tickets."
me: "how'd you know that?!"
caller: "I told you, I'm Santa Clause. Jan bought her tickets over the summer and it turns out her daughter is in a play that day so they can't go." (this is all information that Jan did provide to me during our conversation the day prior)
me: "wow"
caller: "we should have no problem getting you on that train, just throw an donation in the donation jar and, if anyone questions you, tell them Santa said it was OK."

Before ending my conversation with Santa, I also confirmed that I only needed a confirmation number to get onto the train. I then hung up the phone and immediately called Shawn and told him to finalize the PayPal transaction. I explained that I just got a call from Santa himself and that we're apparently meant to be on this train.

The game plan is for us to give 2 of the tickets to my friend so she and her daughter (Nick's girlfriend) can join us. This works out perfectly because several days ago her daughter asked a teacher at her after school program if Santa was real or not. The idiot teacher told her that Santa was not real and that mommies and daddies buy all the Christmas presents. She was able to convince her daughter that the teacher was wrong - "I guess she thinks Santa's not real because she's on the naughty list and never gets presents from him!" - and that Santa is, in fact, real. I'm sure that this excursion will go a long way towards proving that he does exist for my friend's daughter. If the train ride doesn't prove it, I had a phone conversation that certainly proved his existence to me!

Empathy of a Four-Year-Old

This past Saturday, I noticed that our cat, Bullet, seemed to be quite sick. I will not go into too many details, but he had lost a significant amount of weight in a very short period of time. I made an emergency vet appointment and took him to see the doctor. During the examination, the vet found that Bullet was not only loosing weight rapidly, but he was also very jaundice and anemic. This most likely pointed towards his liver and/or kidneys not working properly. The vet explained that we had three options: put him to sleep then and there, run hundreds of dollars worth of diagnostic tests or take him home with medication and hope the meds helped. We chose to try the medication. We took him home with steroids, antibiotics, vitamins and an appetite stimulant. Unfortunately, Tuesday night, Bullet passed away in our laps.

Shawn and I decided that we were going to bury him in the woods behind our house like we had with our bearded dragons when they passed away. I think Evan's still too young to understand what was going on. It was after Nick was already asleep when Bullet passed, so we had to tell him today.

Bullet was Shawn's cat before we met, so, although he was OUR cat for the past 10 years, he was SHAWN'S cat even longer. As hard as this was on me, I believe it was harder on Shawn. I offered to be the one to tell Nick so that Shawn wouldn't have to. I wanted to be able to talk to him in the car on the way home, but I wanted to tell him face-to-face before we got into the car. When I went to pick him up from school, I pulled him aside and quickly explained what happened.

Nick was home with me when I noticed that Bullet was sick initially, so I asked if he remembered that Bullet had been sick. He said that he did. I told him that we were not able to get him better and that he died last night. Nick seemed taken back by the abruptness of my statement, but he didn't seem all that sad. That may sound harsh, but this made me happy. Of course I didn't want my son to be sad. I let him run off and play with his friends for a few minutes while I filled the teachers in so they would be prepared if/when Nick brought it up at school.

In the car on the way home Nick told me several times that he was very sad for Bullet. I explained to him that he didn't need to be sad for Bullet, that he was in a better place and no longer stuck inside a sick body. Nick and I have discussed souls before (in his words, a soul is the part that God puts in when a mommy and daddy are making a baby) so I thought he would understand that Bullet's soul went to heaven. He didn't have very many questions, but he did ask why he got sick and what kind of sick he had. The vet thought it might be cancer, but Nick's too young to know what cancer is or to understand the explanation. The last question that he asked me was, "mommy, do you know how you say goodbye to a cat?" I asked, "how?" He responded, "you just pet them on their backs and tell them goodbye." I told him that Bullet would like that very much.

When took Nick out with us for the burial. Nick said that he wanted to pet him and say goodbye. Shawn carried Bullet out to the woods with Nick following behind. We all pet him and I explained to Nick again that Bullet's soul was free to run and play as much as he wanted now and was not trapped inside a sick body anymore. When it came time to actually bury him Shawn and I were noticeably upset and started to cry. That's when my little boy said to Shawn, "Daddy, if you keep crying, you're going to make me cry too."

It melted my heart that Nick was so empathetic towards his daddy that simply hearing him cry would bring Nick to tears as well. I'm sure that Shawn and I will forever miss Bullet. I'm not sure if Nick will remember him in the years to come, but I am sure that the lessons he learned tonight will stay with him for life.

A Swarm of Bees

This year Shawn and I decided that it was high time we signed Nick up for a team sport. Neither of us ever played any sort of organized sport and thought it would be good for the kids if they had the chance to do so. We considered t-ball, but thought there was too much waiting involved for Nicholas. We would have loved football, but he's not old enough to play football in our town until next year. So, we settled on soccer.

Soccer is not really a favorite of ours. Honestly, Shawn and I don't participate in or watch any sports. However, since we figured at this age soccer would mostly be a gaggle of children running after a ball up and down a field, we thought this was perfect for our Nick.

We managed to figure out how to go about registering and even managed to request that Nick be on the same team as my girlfriend's son, but then we were left in the dark as to when the season would start, what the schedule would be like, what team he would be on... all sorts of things I thought would be important to know. All they told us was to sell this box of candy and to expect games to begin in September.

Sometime in the end of August, we got a phone call from a lovely man, Nick's Coach. Coach told us that practice would be on Thursdays and that games would be on Saturdays AND Sundays each week. WHAT?!?!? Nobody told us that we would have games on BOTH days of the weekends. We hardly have the time to get done what needs to get done as is, how are we going to handle throwing in games on both days of the weekend plus a weeknight? Coach also told us that we were playing for TSS Photography. Later I found out that our uniform shirts and socks were yellow and Nick was number 3. I managed to ask if my girlfriend's son was on our team and was so relieved to find out that she was and that I was not alone in this.

As much as we didn't like the schedule, we knew we did this for Nick, so we were going to hang in there for his sake. Unfortunately, since we didn't have the schedule ahead of time, we missed their first game. His first practice was too cute. Some of the kids were old enough that they played last year and/or last season and some of the kids were just as clueless as Nick. Coach had them playing games like "kick the coach" and running drills. Nick held his own. After practice we treated him to pizza and headed home. After running around for an hour, Nick actually seemed to be much more calm at home that night.

That weekend we were to attend our very first game. Division 7 teams play 5-on-5 with 3 offensive players and 2 full backs. Right, like any 4- or 5-year-old is really going to hold position. I was surprised to see that, for the most part, our team really did hold position. Our full backs didn't come far out of the goal and our offensive players did their best to get the ball into the other team's 'cookie jar' (Coach called their net a cookie jar because our objective was to get into their cookie jar - something all kids can understand wanting to do). Aside from holding their basic positions, this game really was 10 kids on a field and each of them wanting that ball. Since our boys were in yellow and black, it looked like a swarm of bees running around on the field. Kids were taking the ball from their own team mates without even realizing it. All they knew was that they wanted a chance to kick the ball.

By about half way through the season, the kids were showing a bit more control and patience. We won some games and we lost some games, but this is a non-competitive Division, so there were no official standings or anything. Nick did not score a goal during the season, but he did have a few really impressive plays.

During one of the games, Nick was able to get control of the ball and break away from the mob of children. He was headed straight toward the net with it. Since most of the other teams did not hold position, they had no defensive players anywhere near the net. It was a sure thing that he was about to score not only his very first goal, but the first goal of that game. I had become a soccer mom. I was jumping out of my folding camp chair, screaming at the top of my lungs and could feel my heart racing with excitement. All of a sudden, one of his own team mates must've misjudged how fast Nick was dribbling and accidentally ran over him. This boy did not simply trip Nick. He ran up his legs and across his back. Nick was laid out flat. Now, Nick may be overly dramatic (he was voted most dramatic in his class at this past year's graduation ceremony), but this time I don't think he was over reacting. Both teams took a knee and Coach ran over to check on Nick. As hard as it was to not run out on the field, I stood back and allowed Coach to do his job. Once I saw that he was checking Nick's wrist I could take no more. I ran out to the 20 yard line where my son was downed on his way toward his first goal. He had a couple bright red, cleat-shaped marks on his back, a pretty serious grass stain on his knee and tears in his eyes. After making him promise me that he would go back into the game for his turn during the 3rd quarter, I carried Nick off the field. Parents from both sides of the field applauded.

Nick really was OK, but still requested to play full back when he was called in for the third quarter. Coach allowed this and Nick was thrilled. He was doing a really good job blocking the shots on goal and didn't seem to mind that the other full back on his team was daydreaming more often that defending the net. The other team was able to make a shot on the net that was out of Nick's reach. Instead of just letting them score, my little Nick-Nick decided to jump up into the ball and block it with his chest. All you heard was the thunk of the ball hitting his ribcage. Silence from players and parents alike as we waited - what seemed like an eternity - to see if Nick was injured again or if he was proud of his awesome block. Nick simply looked down at his shirt, brushed the dirt off from where the ball hit and beamed this smile of pride that could be seen from the other end of the field. I was pretty sure he was not going to be too afraid to keep playing.

After getting run down, Nick was able to get the ball a couple other times, but as soon as he got up toward the other team's net and had to go head-to-head with their full back, he seemed to loose his steam. I'm not sure if it was fear because that's how he got hurt before, he didn't understand how to try to get around the other team, he really did get tired or just couldn't get the ball into the net. No matter, I was just thrilled that he was having a good time.

At one of the practices we actually got to have - most of our practices were rained out and we only wound up having 3 or 4 all season - Coach approached us and asked us which time slot we wanted for tag day. We had no idea what tag day was, but Shawn signed his name for a Saturday in front of a grocery store. Yes, we were to become those people who not only allow, but promote their children begging for money, with a tin can in hand, in front of a grocery store. Those people that I've always hated. Not because I have anything against them fundraising, but more because I don't usually have any cash on me and I hate the look of disappointment/hatred in the kids' eyes when I tell them that I would love to donate, but that I simply don't have any cash on me. Since we were not going to bring Evan along for the begging-for-money adventure, we left it up to Nick to decide which of us he wanted to bring him to tag day. Oh shucks, he chose Shawn. They were scheduled for the last hour-long shift of the day. Shawn tells me that Nick did fantastic. He spoke clearly and was polite to everyone. Everyone except the 2 people who flat out ignored him. To those individuals my son (yes, he's MY son here because I'm positive he learned this passive-aggressive behavior from me) shouted out, "hey, that's OK, thanks anyway" to their backs in a disgusted tone that had Shawn near hysterics. Nick was a natural. He would charm women by telling them he liked their purse and then follow up with asking for a donation. For the people who apologized but said they didn't have any money (hmmm, people like me) Nick was perfectly understanding and offered an honest, "thanks anyway". There was even a woman who claimed to not have money, Nick chatted her up and she wound up digging through her purse until she was able to find some change to give him. I was told that, during the full hour they were there, the only people that didn't appear to be absolutely taken with Nick were the two people who didn't acknowledge that he was even there. It's good to know that if our pro football dreams for Nick don't come to fruition, he has a great career of panhandling he can fall back on.

After all the complaining that I did about the schedule and the anxiety about starting up something new, turns out that we all seemed to really enjoy soccer. An old friend of mine once said to me when I first started dating Shawn that, if we were to get married and I were to take his last name, my married name would sound like a soccer mom's name. Here I am, 10-years later, driving a minivan and cheering on 10 little bumble bees while they play their hardest each weekend. I guess there is something in a name, huh?

Anyway, the season is over now and, I hate to admit it, but I sort of miss it. Coach tells us that there will be a post-season party at Chuck-E-Cheese in the coming weeks and that each player will be given a trophy for their participation. The parents will also get their children's pictures from the photo shoot half-way through the season.

Nick has decided that, instead of playing soccer again in the spring, he wants to give t-ball a try with my girlfriend's son. What the heck, we'll give it a try and hope that the schedule isn't as demanding. Then, if Nick wants to give it anther try, we'll go ahead and sign up for soccer again next fall.

I now understand why I was not involved in team sports. It is a big commitment, financially and time-wise. I do, however, believe that it's really good for the children and hope to be able to continue to allow Nick to play whatever sport he wants to play. I must admit though, I'm terrified for when Evan's big enough to play too. I have no idea how we'll manage the schedule then. I s'pose we'll figure it out somehow - other people manage and I'm sure we will too. I the mean time, I have the most adorable little bumble bee jersey with a number 3 on the back that I will hold onto forever as my Nick Nick's first every sports jersey. I may be a sentimental fool, but I'm a sentimental, proud, soccer mom fool!

Tootie Tattoos

First off, I must admit, I am one of those mothers who creates cutesy words for objects when the occasion calls for it. When Nick was a baby I started calling his feet tooties (footies but with a 't' instead of an 'f'). It caught on, with me anyway, and I've been calling my children's feet tooties ever since. I think, had it not been for daycare, Nick would still be calling his own feet tooties.

Anywho, when Nick was about 18-months-old, I decided to get a tattoo of his tooties. The hospital I delivered in does not do footprints when a baby is born, so I had to do them myself when he came home. They didn't turn out so well and I didn't want to get a tattoo of smeared ink, so I decided to do new prints and shrink them down. I thought I was being smart when I took my barefoot son into the office, stood him on the copier, set the machine to 40% and hit "copy". The image that spit out of the machine was perfect, but far from ink prints. At that point I realized that I really did have to get actual ink prints. Let me just tell you that inking the bottom of an 18-month-old's feet is not a good idea unless you're outside. Luckily I realized that pretty quickly and we moved out to the front porch. After many (and I do mean many) attempts, I finally got a set of prints I would be willing to have permanently tattooed to my body. Shawn was kind enough to pay for the tattoo for my birthday present that year. I decided to get the prints on the underside of my left wrist along with his first and middle names. Off to K&B we go and, walla, an adorable replica of Nick's little footprints imprinted on my wrist. Love it!

Now, I had decided prior to even getting the tattoo of Nick's feet that I would have to also get tattoos of the feet of any future children I might have. I even decided that, should my next child be a little girl, perhaps hand prints would be a great distinction between the two.

Well, Evan is nearly 2-years-old and I only just recently decided what and where I was getting tattooed in honor of my dear Evan. I did wind up getting his footprints as well, but decided against putting them next to Nick's or even on the other wrist. I decided to put Evan's on my back. Sort of symbolic of how much I allow this child to walk all over me. Not that Nick's not allowed, he just never did as much as Evan. Since my back if far larger than my wrist, I decided not to shrink down Evan's prints too much. They're pretty much true to size and positioned on my right shoulder blade. This time it was my brother who paid for the tattoo and, at his suggestion, we went to Mercury Tattoo. When I say this tattoo came out much, much better than the first it's like saying that the sun is hot. There is simply no comparison in the quality of work. It literally looks as if the tattoo artist dipped Evan's feet in ink and stamped them on my back with some magic ink that will never come off. It's simply amazing.

When we get home from the appointment I decided to show Nick. More so he didn't jump on my back and try to wrestle with me than anything else at that point. As soon as the bandage is taken off Nick asks, "how come Evan's are bigger than mine?" Luckily I thought he might notice/question that, so I was prepared to answer. I explained that, while Evan's are bigger, Nick's are more easily seen by everyone and that Nick's would have been true-to-size as well if my wrist was big enough for them to fit. He was happy with that explanation and hasn't given either tattoo another thought as far as I know.

Now, IF there's another baby and IF that baby is a girl, do I go with hand prints on the left shoulder blade, more footprints somewhere else or come up with another design all together? Since those questions do not need to be answered anytime soon I'm not going to worry too much about it, but I can tell you that I'm sure I will get more ink and I'm positive I will go back to Mercury Tattoo.

Happy Birthday to Me

I just recently celebrated my 32nd birthday. I honestly thought that I was well past caring for all the stereotypical birthday hoopla. I have to admit though, this year was lovely.

My anticipated plan for my birthday, which fell on a Friday, was go on Nick's annual school trip to the local farm for pumpkin picking, hay rides, making apple cider and playing with farm animals; heading back to the office after the post-farm preschool pizza party; rushing home from work for Nick's 6:00 soccer practice; grabbing dinner on the run; throwing the boys in the tub for a much needed bath and finally collapsing after a long day of running around. This is not, however, how I spent my birthday.

According to the local news channels, Friday we were expecting monsoon like conditions. By Thursday afternoon the school trip had been rescheduled and Nick's soccer practice had been cancelled. This freed up my day significantly.

When I came downstairs Friday morning Nick was already on the couch watching Battle Force 5. It seemed he had forgotten my birthday as he didn't offer happy birthday wishes. He didn't even smirk at me with that excited, knowing look he gets when he thinks he has a secret. Shawn prompted him to wish me a happy birthday. Nick then whispered his explanation to Shawn in his ear. From across the room I was able to hear clear as day Nick explaining that he could not wish me a happy birthday until we were ready to sing the song and we couldn't sing the song until after dinner when we wanted the cake to appear. Fair enough. At this point Shawn has a momentary look of panic cross his face. I guess this is when he realized he should pick up a cake - not as much for me as for the boys. After all, a birthday just isn't a birthday without a cake, right? Shawn left for work calling out his happy birthday wishes as he pulled the door shut behind him. I proceeded with my morning like normal.

I got the kids dressed, fed and off to school and even made it to my desk by 9:05! This is an accomplishment for me lately. I was greeted with home made chocolate chip cookies, donuts, philly soft pretzels, cupcakes and, best of all, a home made heath bar cake! I'm not one for birthday cake, but that cake was AMAZING! I forwent the Activia and banana in my lunch bag and dug into the goodies that were spread out in front of my desk. At lunch time I was even presented a Reese's peanut butter cake. I'm telling you, my co-workers really know my taste in sweets! Just after I finished eating my lunch a co-worker brings in a lovely bouquet of flowers that had been delivered for me. The card reads that the flowers were picked especially for me by Nick. When I called my husband to thank him for the flowers he explained that they really were totally Nick's idea. When asked what he wanted to get mommy for her birthday he told Shawn he wanted to get me flowers. Shawn allowed Nick to pick out the bouquet all by himself and Shawn ordered them for him. Shawn told me that Nick was really upset that he was not able to be there when they were delivered. This is one of the many, many times that having a daycare in your office comes in handy. My coworker took the flowers down to the daycare, signed Nick out (with my permission of course) and had him deliver them to me at my desk. I pretended that I had not yet seen them and allowed him the honor of bringing them to me himself. There are no words to explain how absolutely adorable my little Nick Nick was running down the hall, carrying a basket of flowers with a smile that wrapped all the way around his head plastered on his face. It was one of those moments that buys him forgiveness for some horrible thing he will inevitably do in the future. He was so proud of himself! He ran up to me, handed me the flowers and told me that he loved me "so much" and hoped I had a happy birthday. There were many hugs and I nearly cried - I honestly don't know how I managed to not cry. Then Nick saw the donuts and it was all down hill from there. He picked out a chocolate covered, tiger striped boston cream and chowed down. Half way through the donut I convinced him to save the rest for after dinner. I then delivered a newly sugared up Nick back to the daycare for his final hour of school. His teacher wasn't too happy, but informed me that Evan was about to have cupcakes for a party in the toddler room and that would be my revenge.

After getting home from work we didn't have to rush out the door to get to practice, so I was able to just sit on the couch and relax for a few minute. It was while I was sitting and relaxing that Nick informed me that he had to go upstairs to sign my card. Too cute! Shawn and the boys then presented me with lovely cards filled with love. They also got me a new camera to replace the one that Evan broke earlier this year. We were even able to go out to dinner since practice was cancelled. I choose a small little pizza place near Shawn's work, Cafe Dominico's, because I love their vodka rigatoni and they have the best home made bread. We took the boys with us and enjoyed a relatively uneventful dinner. Nick did however find out that pizza has TOMATO sauce on it. He declared that after the piece he was currently eating, he was never eating pizza again. I found this funny. After dinner mom came over to have some cake with us. I don't know if Shawn planned it all along, or if it was due to Nick's hint from earlier in the day, but he picked up a Reese's peanut butter pie - my favorite! Between that and the leftovers we had enough cake/pie to feed an army. Having young children in the house, they even had to sing 'happy birthday' to me. We did forget the candles though.

Don't get me wrong, I love my new camera, and I'm grateful to my mother for buying the kids' school pictures for me this year, but my very favorite birthday gift of all would have to be the memory I get to keep forever of my Nick Nick running up to me with an armful of flowers and that smile on his face. I can't be sure, but I believe it was equivalent to a parent watching their little girl walk down the aisle at their wedding. I was just filled with love and pride and I will carry that moment with me forever!

2005 Bath vs. 2010 Bath

In 2005 I was a happily married woman who had not yet experienced the joys of pregnancy or motherhood. My income exceeded my expenses (mostly); aside from my pack-a-day smoking habit, I was in relatively good health; I had a steady career; I had great, life-long friends - all in all, I had a wonderful life. However, I still needed to de-stress from time to time. In those days, when I found the time in my busy schedule for such extravagances, I would pamper myself by way of a relaxing bath. I would fill the tub with water as hot as I could stand it, dump in some bath salts, pour a glass of wine, grab a book and sink in for a nice relaxing soak. This was when I would allow all the stresses of my oh-so-complicated life to melt away. Oh how I loved those baths.

Fast forward to 2010, the word 'bath' has been replaced by the word 'tubby' and it's meaning has all together changed. For example, tonight's bath went something like this:

Mom - "It's tubby time"
Nick - "No! I wanna watch 'Battle Force 5'!"
Evan - "UBBY!!!" screamed while running towards the gate that blocks him from the stairs.

Mom - "come on Nick, you need a bath and Evan's waiting"
Nick - "I'm going up the stairs first!" - at which point he opens the gate that Evan is waiting at, hitting him in the face with it as swings open and then slams it shut, getting Evan's finger caught in it once it's latched closed
Evan - "BOO BOO" whimper "BOO BOO"

Mom - "Nicholas James, get upstairs and calmly wait for me while I take care of your brother!"
Nick - already up in his room using my large circular glass vase as a bowling ball
Evan - "BOO BOO"

Mom - "you got boo boo Evan, here let mommy kiss it better. There, is it better now?"
Evan - "yeah"
Nick - "mom, come look at the new game I invented"
Mom - silent prayers that the house is not somehow on fire

At this point I allow Evan to run up the stairs, he goes directly into the bathroom and tries jumping up over and over again in an attempt to reach the light switch. I'm happy that he's occupied by something other than toilet water. I quickly try to calculate how risky it is to let him jump on the tile floor and decide that his risk of slipping is very low since he's barefoot and let him continue because I don't want to hear the screams of protest. I peek into Nick's room to see the newly invented game involves bowling and the previously referred to circular glass vase. I compliment his creativity but remove the vase from his possession none-the-less and heard him towards the bathroom. I have a new found respect for sheepdogs.

Mom - "who's going to get naked first?"
Nick - already almost naked, "me!"
Evan - climbs into the tub fully dressed and turns on the water.

I get Evan undressed and get his ear plugs in place. Nick decided this is the perfect time to have to poop. Lovely. Nick finishes his business and climbs in.

Nick - "can we have bubbles tonight?"
Mom - "I don't think we have any left, but I'll check"
Evan - "BUBBAS BUBBAS BUBBAS!!!"
Mom - "you're in luck, we have just enough for one last tubby left.

Just as the tub is nearly full, bubbles perfectly spread around both children, I notice a piece of poop floating in the tub. Ugh. At least they haven't pulled out the bath toys yet. I drain the tub, clean the tub and then inform the children they now have to bathe without bubbles. This does not go over well. I try to compensate by giving them the hand pump of dial soap. This distracts them long enough for me to fill the empty bubble container with water, shake it and pour it into the tub. I get enough bubble to satisfy them.

They spend the next few minutes fighting for position in the tub. Apparently the best position in the tub is directly under the faucet. Nick pushes Evan, Evan falls and hits his face on the side of the tub, Evan now wants out of the tub and neither of them have been cleaned. I scoop up a hand full of bubbles and distract Evan from his throbbing cheek by blowing the bubbles out of my hand all over the two of them. They laugh hardily. I scoop up a second handful of bubbles and go to blow them at the kids again, however, Evan beats me to it and blows the bubbles all over my face. They laugh harder.

After I dry myself and the floor I get the soap and washcloth to clean the children. This is mostly uneventful. After they're cleaned I allow them to play (read this as saturate my entire bathroom with bath water) for a few minutes. Now it's time for their sinus rinses. I fill the squeeze bottle with the warm salt water and sneak up behind Evan, wrap my left arm around his head choker-hold style and, with my right hand, gently shoot the salt water up his left nostril. As he is not a fan of water boarding, he breaks free of the choker-hold and moves just enough that I squirt warm salt water into my own right eye. After I dry myself off again, I reverse the position and shoot some more salt water up his right nostril. He again moves. This time the warm salt water goes into my mouth. I don't know why, but knowing this water was meant for my son's nose makes it even more gross in my mouth. I refill the bottle and rinse Nick's sinuses. This is also fairly uneventful as he's been doing this for a while and knows that refusal is futile - best to just get it over with. I pull down the shower head and offer a final rinse off.

Tubby time is over. Both children climb, soaking wet, out of the tub and run into Nick's room. Nick's room is literally only like 5 steps from the bathtub. When I catch up with them Nick is happily, nakedly jumping on his brand new Little Tykes Race Car bed while Evan is down the other end peeing on it.

This is the point when I tell Shawn to pause his video game and get up here to help me. My husband was smart enough to have both children dry and dressed by the time I was done cleaning up the pee from the race car.

5 years later I am still a happily married woman; I have experienced the joys of pregnancy and motherhood; my income barely covers my expenses; I have quit smoking; I am in even better health, but can stand to shed some "baby" weight; my career is not as stable these days, but I feel lucky to still have a job in today's economy; I have far fewer friends, but I know that the ones I have left are the best friends a woman could ask for and I know that I still have an extremely wonderful life.

So, I can honestly say that, although the 2010 bath is far less relaxing and far more chaotic, it is most definitely favored in this house! I do have to admit thought that I would appreciate the 2005 bath much more these days than I ever did 5 years ago.