People have accused me of raising them - Mama’s Boys.  And no, it isn’t meant to be a compliment in some way, it was said as a means to insult me, but doesn’t it also insult my boys?

I know that traditionally, a “Mama’s Boy” is a whiny little wuss that is still attached to mommy via umbilical cord, boob (implication here is to stop the nursing), or perhaps one of those little restraint contraptions that some of us have used to keep our kids tethered to us at a crowded mall, amusement park, etc.  A Mama’s Boy can’t speak for themselves, they can’t think for themselves, and no woman will ever measure up to Mommy.  Mommy is the best; she is never wrong; she is a genius.  Mommy’s cooking is on par with a professional chef, and her Thanksgiving dinner will never be matched.

If that is the definition of a Mama’s Boy, let me make it very clear… my kids are NOT Mama’s Boys.

The boys don’t necessarily enjoy confrontation. On the other hand, they will not run from it either.  Some of my boys are more verbal than others. Corey, Addi, and Hayden-talk A LOT; Joe and Dean, not so much. But when they have something to say, they say it.  They have their own thoughts (why else would they refuse to watch Grey’s Anatomy with me?), their own goals, their own dreams and their own desires (Corey desires an iPhone, Addi some game or other, Joe a lovely, young lady in his class).  Yes, they know I am smart, but they also know that there are things I know little to nothing about, and they are cool with that because I don’t pretend to know everything and be infallible.  Ok, Ok… Roy and I do make a pretty slammin’ Turkey for Thanksgiving, BUT that is a team effort, and while I love cooking, I have made more than my share of ‘mistakes’ in the kitchen.  Though I don’t call them mistakes… they were experiments.

If the definition of a Mama’s Boy is a young man that isn’t embarrassed to be seen in public with his mother and is proud of his mom, then, yes, I have five of them.  If a Mama’s Boy is a young man that realizes mom (and dad) will make mistakes, but she is trying to do her best, yep, have five of them too.

Is it a bad thing that my 15 year old son will come into my room at night and flop on our bed and talk trash with Roy while they watch the basketball game?  (GO, MIAMI!)  Is it wrong that my 17 year old son admires me, and isn’t ashamed that his friends know it?  Should Addi and Hayden be embarrassed about liking to spend time with us?  Dean is a baby, so I wouldn’t expect anything less of him, but the older boys?  Is their behavior something of which to be ashamed?

They talk to us about girls, boys, friends, school, work, games. Is that wrong?  Are they supposed to hide things from us?

I have said it before, and I will say it again - they KNOW who their parents are.  We are not their buddies. We are Mom and Dad, and they respect that. Punishments will be handed out if necessary.  But they also know when the proverbial crap hits the fan, mom and dad have their back… always.

Do I have Mama’s Boys?  Not in the way I have been accused, but I do have five boys that love and respect me.

Honestly, I am not sure how the rest of that song title goes. I think it’s “grow up to be cowboys.”  And I suppose that’s fitting, here’s why.

When I think of a cowboy, I think of a strong, silent man.  And while there is NOTHING wrong with silence, there is something to be said for being able to get your feelings out.

Now, I am not talking about vomiting your feelings and emotions all over the place, as I have been known to do.  I don’t think it’s healthy to bottle everything up, though i suppose there is something to be said for discretion.  Perhaps certain things don’t need to be known or should be said with a degree of restraint.  I don’t always do that.  When I am upset or hurt, I tend to talk, and then think later.  Luckily, Roy gets that about me.  When I am pushing the envelope, he does his best to try to get me to shut my mouth; sometimes it works, other times it doesn’t.

Then there are the times when he knows I am just that upset or hurt, and so he takes over.  He has the ability to get his point across (my point) without speaking for the next two hours.  The kids get what we are saying without me putting them into a coma.

And Roy is always free with his affection, both for me and the boys.  He tells me he loves me daily. He hugs me and kisses me.  He holds my hand in public or will put his arm around me. No, there is NEVER any doubt in my mind that he loves me.

But, there is occasionally doubt in my mind as to whether or not he is angry at me about something, whether or not he had a bad day at work, whether or not he is frustrated with the kids, etc.  When it comes to talking about certain things, he doesn’t always get high marks.  I can push him to a point, but then he often gets annoyed with me and that’s what we talk about, while he is left to deal with a bad day at work on his own.  What I don’t think he gets is I can read him.  Yes, after 13 years I actually have some clue as to what my husband is thinking.  (Yes, I am being completely sarcastic here… Of course, I should have clues, right?)

Roy knows me. He knows when I am mad or when I am upset. He can often get to the root of it all even before I can.  But he seems surprised that I can do the same with him.  Oh, he isn’t as easy to read as I am sure I am, but I know when he is upset, or tired, or frustrated.  I will say often he is just tired, and a hug is all it takes to get him to smile again, but once in awhile it is something more, and I wish i didn’t have to wrangle it out of him.

Which leads me to the boys.  I don’t believe in that crap about boys not being able to share their emotions.  Boys, and men, can cry. They can rage. They can be sad. It doesn’t make them less masculine.  Doesn’t mean they are less than.  Crying isn’t only for women. Men suffer losses, they become frustrated, they get angry or hurt.  If we tell our sons to suck it up, we are telling them to put a lid on their feelings.

Now, I say it.  I tell the boys to suck it up.  If they stub their toe, or they don’t get a high score on their latest video game.  SUCK IT UP!  It isn’t the end of the world.  But I don’t expect them to suffer in silence when it comes to an illness, a loss, a fight with a friend, or maybe their latest crush broke their heart.  Talking about those things is healthy. It’s good, and it’s right.

Last night we tried to talk to Joe about something rather serious.  He wanted to brush it off and stated, “I’m not sure.” I’m sure he was hoping this response would cause us to let him do just that - brush it off.  Nope, no way, no how.  And Roy told him so, and I HOPE it had a greater impact coming from him.

Roy told Joe that sometimes it’s fine to keep things to yourself.  Roy acknowledged that Joe is like him in that way, (Gee, maybe Roy DOES get that he is hard to talk to sometimes) that they don’t always share what is going on in their heads, but sometimes you have to get it out there, especially when other people are involved.  

Maybe Joe got it, because he answered our question and told us how he would handle a particularly sticky situation, or maybe he just wanted to get the spotlight off of him, but I hope he heard Roy.  I hope he got what we were trying to tell him - that being a man means sometimes you actually have to share your thoughts and feelings.

Every so often I like to take the time to thank some people, or things, in my life that I don’t always recognize.

As usual I want to thank Roy, my amazing husband, for helping me with this site. He never judges me based on what I say, he never ridicules me or changes what I write (though he might clean it up a bit, and he always fixes my sometimes crazy punctuation!), but he proofreads my posts, makes suggestions, and will occasionally find funny videos or clips to share with us all.

My boys. I realize that I tell them every day, sometimes multiple times a day, how much I love them. But I don’t know if I thank them enough. So… thank you to the older boys for offering to babysit once in awhile, thank you to Joe for taking out my dog most nights since I fall asleep early, thank you to Corey for pitching in with the cooking and clean up, thank you Addi for taking the time to learn to listen and for being honest with us (even though sometimes we get upset) when things aren’t going so well in school, thank you Hayden for putting your bike up the way Daddy showed you to, and thank you to Dean for using his frog (potty) to go potty instead of going on the carpet (we are making progress!).

Elishaa5 (a fellow tumblr) and Lifewithboyz (a new Wordpress blogger). I love to write, and sometimes when I am feeling less than confident shall we say, or just down in the dumps, I wonder why I bother.  Does anyone read what I write? Can I write? Is what I write stupid or silly? But you two ladies remind me that sometimes it’s ok to be silly, and it’s even a good thing to make someone else laugh. You make me smile with your kind words.  When I read your blogs, I laugh because it’s wild how alike our lives are, and it reminds me that none of us are alone in this whole parenting thing.  If you are EVER in the DC area, let me know.. .we have to get together and share horror stories!

Our school systems website. I am sure other counties use this system, but our public school system has something called Parent Portal.  All I need is a computer with internet access, and no matter where I am, I can check the three older boys’ grades and attendance.  If they ever skip school, I will know.  If they forget to turn in their homework, I will know.  When they ace a test, we know… LOVE technology!

Pamela Skaist-Levy and Gela Nash-Taylor, the founders of “Juicy Couture.” No, I don’t wear their famous track suits, though Roy tried to get me one (I was too lazy to try on the pants). For Christmas, Roy bought me some lotion from their latest fragrance - Viva La Juicy.  MmmMmm… it just smells so good! When I put it on, I remember I am a woman not just a mom, and it makes me smile.  

Pinkberry. I could eat this stuff for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and NEVER get tired of it.  It’s that good. If you live near one and haven’t tried it out… well, get your head checked. Or just go get some!

There are lots of other people and things I could, and probably should, thank. Lean Cuisine, Weight Watchers, Steve Jobs (or whoever created iPods [going to the gym wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without my music]), my parents, and the list could go on and on…

So, more next time…

In my quest to lose weight, one thing that has kept me going (I mean aside from the fact that I am losing my food baby) is my “Treat List.” For every five pounds I lose, I treat myself to a little something: The first five pounds was a new, supportive sports bra, the next five pounds was a new outfit to wear to the gym, and the next five pounds was a cute, spring outfit from Loft.  My goal is to lose about 18 more pounds, and when I reach my goal weight I have in mind something special.

I have tattoos, four of them to be exact: A butterfly on my foot (that desperately needs to be retouched!), another butterfly on my back, a treble clef with a rose on my back, and something special that Roy designed for me on my arm.  I love my tattoos.  They are a permanent part of me, and each one means something to me. 

When I lose all the weight I want to lose, I have another one in mind.

I love music. In the car I have to listen to music, so that I can sing. When I cook dinner, I put music on, so I can sing and dance, and occasionally I will find a song that means something a bit more than just a rockin’ dance beat.  In this case I found two, both from P!nk.  Corey loves her, and I admit she is pretty darn awesome, but her two newest hits really hit home.

Raise Your Glass: For me this is more about the video.  The song has a few lines from the chorus:

“So Raise Your Glass, if you are wrong in all the right ways, all my underdogs…”

Love the message. Be happy with YOU. Don’t try to fit into any molds. Don’t pretend to be what you are not just so you can follow the masses.  Roy and I try to teach that to our boys.  And in the video, there is just a small scene with P!nk playing at a wedding, and then it pans to the happy couple - two, smiling, excited, handsome young men.  They got her message… Raise your glass and be happy with who you are.

And that’s all I want for my boys. It took me a long time to accept who I was, to be ok in my own skin.  It took me a long time to realize that just because I had made mistakes, didn’t mean I didn’t deserve to be happy.  

And then there is her latest hit: F***in’ Perfect.  Wonderful song, beautiful message.  Strong message, and the video is the same.

In it a young girl is ignored, bullied, made to feel less than because she isn’t blonde, skinny, and blue eyed.  She struggles to express herself, but her mother has very distinct ideas about what is and isn’t acceptable.  She starves herself and ultimately tries to commit suicide, but she sees something (a little teddy bear that used to make her happy), and she pulls herself up and starts to paint.  That leads to her meeting her husband, and then the end… this same girl walks into her daughters room and sings the final line of the song: “You are perfect to me…” to her little girl.

And when I hear that song, I think of my boys.  NO, I don’t think they are perfect, far from it… we are all human; we make mistakes, BUT they are my boys, my babies.  I carried them under my heart for nine months, and they are a part of me. I will always love them, and if they want to wear their hair in a mohawk, dye it, or pierce their nose, maybe they are gay, maybe not, or they like to shower at 10pm at night (don’t ask)… I want them to be who they are.  I want the inside to be reflected on the outside. I want them to understand that we don’t fit into neat little boxes, none of us do… there is something inside each of us that makes us special, unique, and I am going to do my best to help each of the boys recognize that and show the world!  When I hear that song, I don’t look at my boys and think “Oh, perfect!” I see them and realize I don’t want to change them so that they fit into MY idea of the perfect son.  No, they are just fine the way they are.

So, my treat to myself in 18 more pounds is a tattoo on my right side: Raise Your Glass…

And I dedicate it to my boys… I want them to raise their glasses… because they are perfect to me…

With five boys, I can’t tell you how many times a day I hear this.  Ok, I can give you a rough estimate - maybe 15?  Anyways, I am always surprised when I hear other women I talk to and know say their kids are “embarrassed” by them, they don’t tell them they love them anymore (the kids don’t tell their parents, not the other way around), etc…. and I admit, that semi-cruel part of me wants to say:

“Ha, Ha, Ha… my kids tell me they love me all the time! They even kiss me goodbye in the morning!”

Petty I know.

I don’t know why, but no matter the reason, let me just say I am glad that the boys still say, “Love you, Mom.” to me on a daily basis.  I am glad that they aren’t afraid to kiss me goodbye, friends watching or not.

Monday through Friday I get up with the boys and make sure everyone puts on clean clothes, eats something for breakfast, and then makes it to the bus.  And every morning, I get a kiss on the cheek from Corey and Addi, Joe is more reserved, but I always gets a “Bye mom!  Love you!”  That makes it worth it.  I might be exhausted, the kids might have gotten on my nerves that morning, but those kisses and those “I love you” farewells make me forget the restless nights, and the silly things the kids do that drive me crazy.

At swim meets Corey will come up to me, put his arm around me and ask for advice.  Joe will yell that he loves me as he runs on the baseball field.  Addi will put his arms around me at Target, and then, of course, there is Hayden and Dean who are still my little monkeys and show affection often and without thought to where we are or who might be watching.

At Busch Gardens this past October, the older boys took my arms and told me that they would protect me from the “chainsaw-wielding maniacs” that were scattered around the park.  In one of the haunted houses, Addi threw his arms around my waist and screamed and laughed at the crazy antics of the “monsters.”

Are my boys mama’s boys? Hardly, at least not in my book.  I think they simply know that they can count on me.  They know that I adore them, that I respect their feelings, and they love me all the more for that, and because of that they don’t see showing their love for me (no matter who is watching) as something to be embarrassed about. My boys know I have their back, though Roy and I have made it clear to them that that doesn’t mean we think they are perfect.  They make mistakes, and sometimes there will be consequences, but we won’t abandon them.  We won’t turn our backs on them.

It’s my job, as a mother, to teach the boys that growing up means added responsibility.  It means not hiding behind my apron, but it doesn’t mean Mom won’t be here if you need a hand… Or a hug.

More than one person has expressed surprise at the large age difference between my boys - our oldest is 16 and our youngest is almost three (already?).  And we have three boys between those two as well - almost 15, 11, and 6. 

I started having my babies when I was very young.  I was only 20 when Corey was born, so even though there is almost 14 years between Corey and Dean, when I had Dean, I wasn’t even considered “high risk” because of my age.  (usually over 35 is considered a “high risk” pregnancy)  I am not saying the sibling age gap doesn’t present its challenges.  For instance, Hayden is at an age where he doesn’t understand why his older brothers get certain “benefits,” and he doesn’t.

“How come Joey doesn’t have to go to bed?!” is a familiar refrain in our house around 9pm.

But to be clear, there are a lot of little perks for me as well - we have two kids able to babysit on hand, and 9 times out of ten they are happy to help out, so Roy and I can get away when the rare occurrence presents itself!  I can ask Addi to keep an eye on the two little boys, so I can run up and take a shower, though this often ends in screaming matches (usually them, but sometimes me!).  And now, running out of milk isn’t that big a deal as I can send Corey out to get some, or I can ask them to watch the younger boys while I run out to get some. 

We were at Costco one day (this was before Dean was born), and it just so happened that the boys were walking in chronological order, and each was carrying a shopping bag.  An older couple stopped, and I heard the gentleman counting aloud. 

“Look, honey!  Four boys!” And they smiled at our boys as they marched through the parking lot after Roy who was pushing a full cart.  Yep, they are all mine!  I hear similar remarks at times, especially if I happen to take all five boys out by myself.  I have heard numerous times how brave I am to take them all out, and I want to laugh.  My two oldest as teens, both are bigger than I am.  The three of us each get one younger boy… trust me, it isn’t as hard as it sounds. But thanks, anyway!

I’ll admit, it can be tough to switch gears sometimes - helping a 15 year old with homework is a lot different than helping a 6 year old with homework. But we manage.

And then there are the shining moments. Dean is home with me during the day, and when his older brothers get home, he will often rush to the door.

“Jobey!” He’ll say with excitement. He can’t say Corey for some reason yet, and he still adds that “B” in Joe’s name.

And Joe will pick him up and give him a hug.  Dean will pull back and babble something to Joe, and Joe will ask how his day was.  When Addi is feeling especially sweet, he will read a book to Dean, there heads bowed together.  Corey is too cool for the mushy stuff, but occasionally I will catch him doing something sweet.  Hayden will lay on Corey’s bed, and they will play PS2 games together.  Or Corey will hold Hayden’s hand as they cross a parking lot.  If Roy goes out of town, Corey has even carried Hayden up to bed for me.  Emily is wonderful with the little boys as well.  And when she is here, she will often take them for a wagon ride or play kickball with them.

While moments like these are not really rare in our house, our house is usually loud, chaotic, and when the dogs get involved, just get out of the way.  But I love the mixture (as I often say here).  Each of the boys is hitting new milestones and two huge ones are smacking me in the face - my oldest just got his license, and my baby is very nearly potty trained.  I figure it’s just a matter of time before high school graduations hit us, then college graduations, then perhaps the boys will be carrying their own children up to bed. 

And because time flies, I find myself mentally logging these sibling interactions, because even though (as Roy points out to me) there will come a time when it is just the two of us, and we can take cruises or go to Disneyworld as a couple, I know when I am laying on those Serenity Lounges (the adults only deck on Carnival cruise ships), it is the moments witnessing the kids grow and mature together that will replay in my head, even as my beautiful husband is handing me a pink drink with a yellow umbrella.

(remembered from Winter 2008)

Joseph was 12 years old at the time, almost 13. He is almost 15 now, and continues to live in a sea of awesomeness…

Joe, or Joey as we call him sometimes, is extremely intelligent, almost to the point of being that type of socially awkward smart guy. But I think he is saved by his big heart. Some of the “socially awkward but super smart guys” I know are good people, but they have more important things going on. Empathy, sympathy, and emotions of that nature are lost on them. Not because they don’t understand them, but because they have better things to do. Joey, on the other hand, cares. If one of his little brothers is sick or hurt, he has never had a problem jumping in and helping to care for them. When Hayden was four and home from preschool, he would ask when Joey got home from school on a daily basis. Why, you ask? Because Joey would play with him and focus his attention on him. Joey let Hayden know that his big brother was there for him and that he would play and take care of him. To be honest, it was and is pretty darn cool.

Occasionally, Joey will say something so funny that it becomes a part of our family’s vocabulary. Sometimes this is intentional. Other times not so much. For instance, Corey and Joey were wrestling around one day. I think Corey was about eight, and Joey was six or seven. Corey somehow got Joe face down on the carpet, and we heard the two of them scuffling and laughing, etc. That lasted a few minutes until Joe yelled…

“OW! My face!”

Now, I know what you’re thinking - Hang on! The kid could have been hurt and here you are making light about it. So I admit, my first thought was, “Oh no! Joey has a bloody nose or is hurt somehow.” But a few seconds later, after Corey let up, Joey popped up and yelled…

“Ha! It worked!” Only to jump right back into the fray.

So, after making sure he was okay, Roy and I burst out laughing. It was the way he said it, so loud and convincing, only to then tell Corey he was just kidding, so he could get the upper hand was a hoot. So every so often, someone in the house will yell, “OW! My face!” and we all laugh about it.

More recently Joe was in the kitchen with me. I was washing the dinner dishes, and Joe was taking his turn drying. I think we were just shooting the breeze, kidding around, talking about school and friends. When Joey said to me…

“Mom, you know I am going to have to tell my friends that I am up to my neck in a sea of awesomeness.”

I stopped and thought for a second, not positive what I had heard.

“What did you say?” I asked, barely able to restrain myself.

“Mom, you heard me, I am up to my neck in a sea of awesomeness.”

And I lost it, how funny was that! Not only was that funny, it was witty. Yes, I know they mean the same thing, but in the world according to Christina, funny could be stupid funny, while witty has that subtle ring of intelligence to it. Adam Sandler funny. Stephen Colbert witty. Will Ferrell Anchorman funny. Will Ferrell Stranger Than Fiction witty. See there is a difference. I was laughing, and I think I might have snorted once or twice, so Roy came out of his office to see what was going on.

“You okay there, honey? You alright.”

“I’m fine… Joey and I were washing… hang on… we were washing dishes… and Joey just came out and said… wait a sec, he said…” I couldn’t stop laughing, so Roy turned to Joe and asked what was going on.

“Seriously Dad, I don’t know what is going on with mom. We were cleaning up and I just told her that I was up to my neck in a sea of awesomeness.” Joe said in a serious tone.

Roy stopped, just like I did, and then started laughing.

“See, I told you it was funny!” I managed to get this out between peals of laughter.

“Nope. Yeah, you’re right. That’s a good one.” Roy patted Joey on the back and continued to laugh.

Hearing the hoots and hollers from the kitchen, the other boys came charging in - Corey was carrying Dean, and Addi and Hayden came bounding down the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Corey looked lost, and Dean was just trying to shove his fingers up Corey’s nose.

Roy told them what Joey said, and while it sailed over Addi and Hayden’s head, Corey got it and the laughter in the kitchen went up a few more notches.

The laughter stopped after a few moments, frankly my sides wouldn’t take it any longer, but that was such a good line that we still use it. Whenever we look particularly hot, whenever we do something especially cool, we just let everyone else know that we are swimming in a sea of awesomeness. Meanwhile, Joey has moved on to an ocean.

(remembered from July 2009)

I hope my oldest doesn’t get all over me for this one, but it was just too cute. My husband and the boys love to camp. I am all for it, as long as I get something out of the deal. So one weekend in summer of 2009, we decided to pack up four of the boys (Joey was with his biological father) and head to Williamsburg for some fun at Busch Gardens. Now, I LOVE amusement parks, and Busch Gardens is no exception. It has four, yep four, amazing roller coasters, little rides for the kids, shows, you name it. But with four (or five) kids, it is exhausting. Corey is too cool for the roller coaster in Sesame Street Land, and Hayden is barely tall enough to ride the Loch Ness Monster (or the “big people roller coaster” as he calls it) yet - We just recently went again, and Hayden loved the LNM so much he went on it twice! In any event, to keep things fair, it always requires some bargaining, some finesse and some fussing, but we usually have a good time.

So back to summer of 2009… We got to the campground on Friday and set everything up. I, of course, was just riding Roy to hurry up. The Griffon (BG’s newest roller coaster) was seriously calling my name. Before I knew it, the tents were up, and we were on our way. What followed was about six hours of roller coaster rides, overpriced gummy treats, and lots of giggles and smiles. Too tired to go back to the campground and cook, Roy suggested we just grab something quick. On the way back to our campground, we decided to hit McDonald’s.

It was crowded. We weren’t the only tired amusement park tourists to hit this particular fast food joint. So we placed our order and sat down. I was exhausted and just wanted the boys to behave. I figured if we could get through dinner, we could relax at the campground for a little while and then blissful rest!

“What is taking so long, Mommy? I am so hungry!” Hayden whined.

“Honey, I know. Daddy is checking on things right now.”

“Dad should just shove up there and demand our food! A big bald guy would get some results.” Corey added. Corey is enamored with his dad. My husband is a big guy. He looks imposing, is smart as hell, likes video games, and let’s face it, he indulges his boys… to a 15 year old boy he is the epitome of a “cool dad.”

“Corey, who cares if your dad’s bald? I love it.” While I appreciate, and even love, that he thinks so highly of his father, the fact that he is always talking about Roy being bald is just silly.

“Yeah, shut up Corey. You’re bald too.” Hayden defended his daddy.

Corey started laughing.

“No, honey. Corey isn’t bald. Look at all Corey’s hair.” I corrected Hayden.

“Duh, dork. I’m not bald!” Corey retorted.

“Yeah, well… you have polka dots all over your face!” Hayden threw this back at Corey, and I sat there stunned - though I admit I was about to die laughing on the inside.

Corey was 15. He was and is right smack dab in the middle of puberty - and pimples come with the territory. I am sure that the heat didn’t help the matter any. I wondered if he was going to get mad at his little brother, but to my delight, he simply laughed.

“Yeah? So! Just you wait, little man… in a few years, YOU will have polka dots all over your face, and then I will laugh at you!” I didn’t miss the affection in Corey’s voice. And thinking back on it, how telling is that? His little brother embarrassed him in public. He teased him about something Corey is sensitive about, but instead of getting angry and attacking back, he laughed it off and teased his little brother with open affection and love. Those are the moments when, as a mom, I feel the best. I am trying to raise boys that can brush off the little things, even though I don’t always do this myself. And this just reminds me that, sometimes, the lessons stick.

“Ok, food is here!” Roy put down two trays, and the kids all dove for their food.

“Daddy! Corey has polka dots on his face!” Hayden shrieked at Roy.

My husband looked at me with a question on his face, “What?”

We all just laughed and ate our fries.

But being engulfed in silence.

Don’t get me wrong… my house is loud, crazy, chaotic, and frankly, I love it. BUT, there are times when I want to talk, and the noise seems to stop. Time stands still.

My husband is a quiet man for the most part. He is vocal in expressing his love for me, and for our family. He laughs readily and has no problem joking around with the boys, BUT he isn’t perfect… no one is. And Heaven forbid if I call him on that! As soon as I express my displeasure or annoyance, my anger at something, he shuts down. The arms cross, and this wall seems to go up right before my eyes. It is a wall that after almost 12 years I still don’t know how to break through. I admit that when I get angry, I can hold a grudge… BOY, can I hold a grudge! But the problem is the same issues have plagued us for years… and there are times when I just want to put some closure to them. I want a solution to the problems and issues that arise in our relationship. I hate that I get mad, I tell him, he shuts down, and I get worn out. Because the next time something happens, I remember that the last time this happened NOTHING GOT SOLVED!

My boys are very similar to my husband - though they have a tendency to get upset at times. But to be totally honest, they are all momma’s boys, and not necessarily through any choice of their own. I spoil them. I indulge them. And as a result when mom isn’t happy, it crushes them. Especially Joe. He is such a good kid, so sweet and thoughtful, and when he disappoints me, it just crushes him. As a result, he is equally hard on himself. Knowing this, I hate sharing or expressing my disappointment, but there are times when it is just necessary, and what can you do?!

My oldest, Corey, is very much like me… bad temper. So when I get mad at him, it goes one of two ways… either we argue, or he shuts down (yep, just like his dad) and stands there looking like a powder keg waiting to explode. On the rare occasions that Corey is ashamed at something he has done, he looks at me with these big blue eyes, and I am reminded of the little boy he once was. The tears start to swim in his eyes, and my heart melts.

Hayden and Addi are the same way. Dean is too little. Of course, anytime he is hurt or upset, he has six people running to see if he is okay.

As previously noted, on a day to day basis, my house is loud. It is crazy and chaotic… but I do love it. Once in awhile, I am actually home alone and the silence is deafening. I barely know what to do with myself. Don’t get me wrong… I can work on my cross stitch, my writing, or (heaven forbid) clean the house… but I would much rather hear the boys laughing with one another or hear the explosions of one of their video games. My body is used to the chaos. I can tune it out if need be, but for the most part, I soak it up… I simply love it.

But every once in awhile, momma gets mad. And when momma gets mad, things shut down. The older boys recognize the signs and are quick to remove themselves from the situation, Hayden is still young and usually responds by telling me he loves me, and I should “please not be mad.” Sometimes that is all it takes. I look down and see those big eyes staring at me with such love and trust that I simply can’t stay mad. But other times I have to take a deep breath and tell him to go upstairs, and it is then that he gets it. Mommy is mad. I better leave.

Since the end of May 2008 my husband and I have been dealing with a situation (more on that later). It isn’t an easy or simple one. In fact, it has caused a lot of problems. My husband and I have had some ugly, ugly fights. More than once I have questioned whether or not our marriage would make it. The older boys understood the situation a bit better. They understood my anger, my husband’s anger, our frustration, but Hayden heard the yelling. It scared him. And when the dust finally started to settle, and I looked into my little boys eyes, it pained me to see what I saw there. I saw a fear that his mommy and daddy were mad at each other, a fear that this entire world would change, and that he had no control over it. So to compensate for that, he clings. My anger was the loudest, and I think, in his mind, I was the one that would destroy everything he finds comfort in, so he clings to me. He has taken to repeating himself constantly as if seeking reassurance from me that I will do what he wants me to do. When I get up in the early morning, he is the first one down, even if he lays down on the sofa and simply falls asleep holding my hand. He needs that reassurance that I am there. That mommy won’t leave.

It is those moments, before the sun has risen, and it is still dark outside, and I am laying on the sofa holding my little boy to me, that I realize sometimes the quiet, the calm, is what speaks the loudest. It is in the quiet that you can take a step back and see what you have, what your anger might destroy, and you make your choice… to forgive or to stay angry. And if you listen carefully, you will always find your answer in the silence.

I think that certain obsessions can be healthy. As long as you aren’t peeping in someone’s bathroom, or incessantly stalking someone on Myspace or Facebook, obsessions are a part of life.

I will start with my husband. Over the course of our marriage, he has gone through phases. For awhile it was some online game called Counterstrike. He would play into the wee hours of the night with his friends, then he would go to work the next day with those same friends and I am guessing they would talk about the game they played the night before. I married a geek, what can I say? I often tease my husband that if he wasn’t so good looking, he would fall into the whole “Revenge of the Nerds” persona. On the other hand, he was young when we married, only 22, so perhaps I am lucky that he was only into video games. I have one girlfriend who married soon out of high school, and her husband was into cocaine and strippers. Guess who is still married? (Not her!)

There was a (very) short foray into oil painting. I think he only did two paintings, but we spent a few hundred dollars, so if he had wanted to do more we certainly had the supplies (still have them too, did I mention Roy likes to keep things… EVERYTHING!) After his painting, he took a break from his “hobbies” (that is what I call all our little obsessions). I was pregnant with Hayden, and we were getting ready to move, so no big deal. Well, then we moved and it took us some time to get the house in order. (If I am being honest, it still needs some work.) So again, Roy’s hobbies fell to the back burner.

Then in 2005, he decided to get a fish tank. Ok, whatever… the kids will like it, and I read somewhere that people that watched fish for even just a few minutes a day reported lower stress levels. And trust me, my stress levels are probably off the charts. We started with a little 10 gallon tank. It was cute, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. That tank developed into a 44 gallon tank. I liked this one… it was sort of an elongated cube, with a cool stand… but, alas, that still wasn’t enough. So, Roy decides to upgrade to a 75 gallon tank. It came with a perfectly good stand, but he found plans and built his own… this HUGE monstrosity, that once finished was great looking, but moving it into the house was hell. It took Roy, Corey and I 30 minutes of grunting, groaning, pushing and pulling. I am pretty sure the reason my back hurts every morning is because of this little endeavor. So anyways, that worked for awhile, but he soon got restless. He began changing up the configurations of junk in the tank… we had pebbles, sand, black sand. Plants and little ornaments, no plant and no ornaments. You name it, we had it. And we had my two fish… Oscar and Omar. We got them as babies, and they grew into monsters, but Roy was still bored. So, he decides to “upgrade” (I say it like that because all it means to me is more expensive and less hearty) to a saltwater tank. Again, we started with a little 10 gallon… and knowing my husband, I knew this would be a short lived endeavor.

“I think I want a biocube.” He says to me one day while I am cooking dinner.

It sounded expensive and time consuming to me, “Ok… what’s that?”

“It’s a fish tank. I think I want the 29 gallon one.”

“I assume this is for saltwater stuff, right?” I asked, and to my credit I made a valiant effort NOT to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. It’s cool, it has pretty much…”

“HOW MUCH?” I interrupted him and did my best imitation of Bill Cosby.

“It isn’t too bad. I mean, we’ll save a lot of money.”

“HOW MUCH?” I asked again.

Again, Roy tried to justify his desire, and again I cut him off. I just want to know how much the thing is, so I can budget for it. I don’t care what color it is, or what it looks like. How much is the damn thing?

“It’s about $350.” He finally answered.

“Fine, whatever.”

He looked at me and walked away. I adore my husband, but from what I read, saltwater means twice as much work, money, and the stuff seems to die A LOT quicker. But I want him to be happy. A few weeks later, he got his Biocube, and I got some fish. He is very sweet about it all, letting me pick out fish or coral. Right now, I have a little skunk shrimp named Pepe, and we have two clown fish that I have yet to name. I don’t like getting too attached to the clown fish as we have already lost 6 of them. The Biocube is nice… but, alas, it still wasn’t enough. He took $150 and bought another tank from some guy. A good deal, or so he says, but anyways… it sat in the garage for awhile, and at one point, he even put it out at one of my annual yard sales. It didn’t sell, and he decided to give it a shot and set it up. He did some touching up on the stand, built a hood for it, and it now sits in our family room. I admit it is beautiful. Roy bought an anemone, and I love it. It sits in one corner of the tank, the tentacles just flowing in the slight current, and the clown fish swimming in and out. There are some other corals and fish in there, but I usually watch Pepe (yep, he is still swimming around almost three years later!) and the anemone. All in all, we have spent thousands of dollars and many hours on his fish tanks. Now, he justifies that by telling me that some of the people on this forum he participates in spend upwards of 10k on their tanks. Which is awesome for them, but I don’t live with those people, so why would I care what they do with their fish? Now, you might think I am bitter about this, that I am not a fish person. Not the case. As long as we have the money, no problem. But I have to tell you… fish stores are BORING.

Each of the boys has their own little “thing” as well. In the past, we have seen Power Rangers, Ninja Turtles, Bakugan, Pokemon, Yu-Gi-Oh… you name it, we’ve seen it.

Right now, Corey is probably obsessed with Glee and Pink. No, not the color, the singer. She rocks though, so I’m cool with that. Glee is hilarious, so again, cool with that.

For Joe, it’s his Xbox and World War II. He has read countless books on WWII, watched movies, looked at websites, but it’s educational so I’m not complaining. His video games are another story. He saved his money and bought the Xbox on his own, with the understanding that if grades fall, I will still take it away. There was a bit of an issue at the end of last year, but after a stern talking to and stricter limits set and enforced, I think he got back on track. He earned some money and recently bought StarCraft 2, apparently it’s the coolest thing ever, so we’ll see how long that lasts.

Addi is very much like Joe. He loves video games, and Counterstrike is “the thing” for him right now. Addi gets over stimulated easily, so we have to really watch him when he plays certain games, and depending on his mood, there are times we don’t even let him play at all. It’s just too much for him, but that is the nature of ADHD. Children with ADHD can have trouble focusing, but if they are interested in the topic, they can become obsessive. I will say he is getting better at understanding the limits we try to set, and though he gets upset when we say no, it is a learning process for him, and he is slowly learning.

Hayden flips and flops with his little obsessions. Right now, it’s probably going outside to play with his friends, so I won’t complain. He has a number of little friends in the neighborhood. Right on our block there are probably eight or nine little boys that all play together in some form or fashion. He has a “best” friend that he plays with almost daily, and the boy and his little sister are sweethearts. They live with their mom and grandparents, and they are also so nice. I love that he comes over to our house, sits on our couch, eats with us, and just hangs out. But Hayden also goes through toy obsessions as well. I would say right now his thing are Lego Bionicles. He LOVES them! The only issue is putting them together can be challenging, so he spends time yelling for his brothers, his dad, or, in a pinch, me to help him… PLEASE!

And then we have our baby, little Dean and Iron Man. To be honest, I’m not sure how it got started. I think it was a rainy afternoon, and the boys decided to watch “Iron Man” on Blu-Ray. Ever since then Dean has been all about “Man, Now.” He prefers to only wear Iron Man clothing, and that includes pajamas. He knows exactly where Walmart and Target have their Iron Man toys, and I admit it’s so cute to watch that we occasionally indulge him. I think we have every Iron Man action figure at this point.

I have my own thing as well - and my tastes change and evolve. Right now, I play a game called Farm Frenzy. It’s silly, and really has no point, but I like it, and it helps me relax… except for that one friggin’ level that I can’t get a Silver Star on, no matter how many times I try, how many tricks I use, or what strategy I take. Never mind, I guess it isn’t relaxing… but it’s a lot of fun!

The point is we all have our hobbies - some are expensive, some are cheap, some are educational, some aren’t - but we try to look for something positive in regards to these little obsessions the kids (and Roy and I) garner.