Love knows nothing about age.

Two weeks ago I witnessed my son's first love and very first loss. It was an amazing experience.

It was just the second wedding reception my son has ever been to. And maybe I should have seen what was coming when a) he asked me to style his mohawk, b) asked over and over and over what time the "dance party" was going to start, or c) when I saw him see her for the first time that evening.

It was the definition of love at first sight. Before I could say or do anything, the two of them were dancing. Holding hands during the slow songs; shaking their booties during the fast ones.


At one point, I was in the bathroom changing my daughter's diaper when I heard these two little voices in the doorway:
Her: Just stand right here and wait for me. I just have to go potty. Just wait here.
Him: Okay. I won't leave.

Sounds like I had better work on helping him "man up" a little already...

After many pictures and even more comments from friends, family and complete strangers about how cute it was and how much of a player my son is already, I was informed that it was over. Their love ended just as dramatically as it had began.

She poked him in the eye.

He punched her back.

The end...for now.

You need to keep things in perspective.

I had a really REALLY bad day last Friday. It was one of a string of 'em. You know the feeling: you don't sleep well, don't feel like eating but when you do it's all junk food, you have to talk yourself into getting out of bed in the morning...only this time, it was the end of the day. I was drained emotionally and mentally. And I was about to begin a weekend as a single mother.

Groceries was first on my list that night. And I wore really high heels that day. But I got over it, got everything on my list and made it to daycare with minutes to spare. Oh, and I actually remembered to order the pizza I promised my kids on the way so we wouldn't have to wait. (three cheers!)

They ate while I unloaded groceries. Then I ate while the movie began. It was then that I realized just how un-dramatic my situation is. How ridiculous I had been earlier in the day stewing about things. I held a very special pity party for myself and now, when I took a minute to look around at my freshly cleaned home and my healthy (and full) kids, I realized that my priorities were all screwed up. I had let adulthood get the best of me. I let the beat-down get to me and affect my real life.

And I instantly changed my perspective. Gave my kids a hug, join them on the couch and thoroughly enjoyed their movie. It was the perfect start to a great weekend full of quality time with lots of laughs, play time and bonding.

And you know what, I actually looked forward to my Monday...

We really have very little control...

We only have one neighbor, and it's a family of four. Two boys, both older than my children but still at an age where they like having a four year old tag along from time to time. The oldest is around 12, and my son thinks he's the coolest kid around. He's always scrambling to say hi and shout from across the street. It's all very sweet.

The other night as my children and I drove down the main street of our town headed home from a long day at work and school, we saw the oldest of our neighbor boys walking to the store (I can't wait until my son's old enough to get last minute groceries for me!). My son got excited and started waving and yelling hello. I waved as we drove by and my son very matter of factly said: Mom, He has his hat on backwards...he looks like a dude. That's so cool. When I get a little bigger, I'm gonna wear my hat like that and look like a dude too.

I'm sure I laughed a little but later, after he was dreaming away, I retold the story (for the second time) to my husband and we laughed together, hard and for several moments. I'm not sure if it was the dude reference, or the fact that he thinks wearing baseball caps backwards is cool or maybe it was both, but one thing is certain, he does not have his mother's sense of style. And I'm afraid it's too late to do much about it!

Needless to say, this is now at the top of my list of strange and funny things my children have learned along the way...

How much I appreciate my son's creativity.

I have an 18 month old daughter and a four year old son. She is fun and naughty and manipulative and a whole lot like her mom. He has two sides: one that's 100% boy with torn jeans, dirty fingernails and rough play; and another that's sensitive, thoughtful and cuddly.

And lately, when they're playing together, he's been bringing out the second side in an unexpected way. There are many nights and weekends I respond to him yelling 'mom' only to find out he's addressing is oblivious little sister. He's trying to play house. Asking if he can play outside; asking to help her cook, etc. And as she walks around doing her own thing, he follows her around and tries to create this imaginary world for the two of them.

When she's a little older, the game might work, but by then he probably won't want her to be the mom and he be the son. But I appreciate his desire to play house and create these scenarios. I am so thankful every time I seen my children using their imaginations. I can't help but think back to the hours I spent creating forts in the backyard. Building homes and towns for my Barbies. And playing mom or teacher to our dolls and stuffed animals.

I can't help feel that it has led me to continue exploring my creative side as an adult. To view things a little differently, and to not be afraid to pursue out of the norm ideas. I'm proud to be a bit of a dreamer and I only hope each of my kids can hold on to that part of themselves for the remainder of their lives. It's a beautiful gift.

The remember everything we say.

It's been a rough week. I'm exhausted. Emotionally drained. Need some kind of escape. But I always look forward to picking my kids up from school. They run to me every night. Seriously, there isn't one night that they haven't come running while I'm signing them out. It's great. But tonight, after they ran to me, they took off again.

My son and his best pal were comparing show and tell toys. I wasn't in the mood for 'One more minute, mom'. I really just wanted to go home and take my painfully cute shoes off and relax. And after the fifth, 'one more minute mom' I could feel my patience exit the room. We finally got out of there and I felt relieved. For a moment.

Not two miles outside of school and my son started in on what's for dinner. I want PB. I want toons...it went on and on. The demands. The inability to listen when I do answer. Seriously it's no wonder some parents go crazy.

But just as I was about to lose it, he says: Mom, I'm the boss. And I want a PB sandwich for dinner.

I couldn't help but smile. It's the line I use when I can't get him to cooperate. The saddest or most funny part is, for the most part, our kids are the boss.

Our kids need a break as much as we do.

My cold arrived the day before my husband and I got home from vacation. I had a hard time focusing and even listening to what anyone was saying. Two nights later, I needed to rest a little before taking on my kids so I laid on the couch...soon after, both kids were in their bedroom.

A giggle here...whispering there. It was enough to get me up and into the doorway. The sight was something I hope to remember forever. My son had tucked his baby sister into his bed with her blanket and his covers. He was next to her, covered up with his blanket and he was patting her back telling her what a good girl she is.

I smiled to myself, my chest getting tight like the typical overly emotional mom that I am and I quietly walked back to my resting place.

Ten minutes later, the giggling ended and there was silence coming from the bedroom. Once again, I got up and crept to the doorway. This time the two of them were sitting on the bed reading books. Nearly as priceless as the first scenario.

What I realized is that in those seven days we were gone, our two children had become even closer. My son took care of his sister and became her safety while they were visiting their grandparents. And the love they have for one another became more obvious than it's ever been before. I have never been so proud, or felt so lucky. (and I might be more easily persuaded to take another vacation sooner rather than later)

This working mom thing is just as hard as it was four years ago.

This entry is a little different than previous posts...bear with me:

I have a strong urge today to say screw being responsible. I want to leave work around five (or stay until 5:45 if I feel like it) and hit the mall. Pay some bills. Just bum around. I want the opportunity to ignore the 6 o'clock deadline that my day care hits me with every single day, five days a week. I would give anything to put the full parental responsibility in my husband's court for a full 24 hours.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a mother. I love spending time with my kids. But there are days, like today, when I just want to break free momentarily. Every once in awhile I get bogged down by the burden of responsibility. I don't wear a watch because I love the idea of not knowing or caring what time it is...but reality forces me to carry my cell phone at all times. Reality woke me up twice last night because he was scared of the dark, and reality is why I was too tired (and maybe a little lazy) to get up and run this morning.

I still hold on to the belief that I can be it all: great wife, awesome mom, excellent employee and standout fashionista. But today, I'm really feeling like none of the above.

Maybe I can find a little piece of carefree me this weekend?