Look out Mozart...

Here's my first attempt at posting a video. Two exactly. These are my big girls practicing their recital pieces. All listeners must note- we got this piano for FREE and have NEVER had it tuned (shame on us)! Also, keep in mind this is after a long day at school, so no hair brushes were obviously used prior to taping. Anyway, Mags (our seven year old) is doing Somewhere Over the Rainbow and Mairin (our five year old) is playing Alouette.

Maggie also had her first stage production today as an actress (I say first "stage production" because she is an actress elsewhere, often). She played the role of Slave 1 in the Egyptian Cinderella for her Drama Club. She owned it, folks. Owned it! Sure, she had no lines, but nonetheless, she made it hers! :0)

I love my kids...

I absolutely loathe long winters. It makes me furious when we have a glorious glimpse of Spring, only to have it nabbed away, like thief in the night. FURIOUS! Makes for a very grumpy morning... However, I adore those warm spring-like afternoons when that frigid morning air melts into a warm blanket of wonderful! That's when I drive home from work with the window cracked (Molly hates to have them down) and turn up the radio (ok, she hates the radio, too, but I'd like to turn it up...)- side note, my kid does run the show...

Today was that day. Today I came home to find the court full of little gals riding bikes, driving Barbie Jeeps, and pushing scooters. All of them with messy hair, dirty hands, and feet in flip-flops (when did those stop being "thongs"?). Pat was fast at work, emptying our home of all things winter. He had bins of winter coats, ready to pack away. Boxes of mismatched gloves, woolen scarves and toboggan hats on their way to rest in the attic for another eight months. It was a fun sight! We invited our neighbors over to grill out and we popped open a couple of longneck beers. Suddenly, I felt like it was a Saturday night in June.

Dinner was over before we knew it with baths waiting, piano to practice and illustrations to color! The girls were all bathed and Mairin Reilly donned her blue robe and hopped into my bed. While our President was giving his address on the television, I was trying to get Mairin dressed. She was not having it. She was a limp noodle with droopy eyes resting on my pillow. I said, "Mairin, come on, Love, we need to get you in some warm jammies before you fall asleep." Nothing. "Mair, sweetie, please get your jammies on so we can brush your hair." Nothing. "MAIRIN! It's time to get your jams on, now!" To which she calmly replied, "Mom- I am not sleeping. I am listening to Barack Obama!" I love that kid!

Too serious...

So, my last posts have been all too serious. I'm hormonally imbalanced these days (what's new?) and started weeping while reading them, so here's one to make you smile.

A rundown of our lame weekend, if you will...

Friday was good. Got a much needed haircut. Ate pizza- cheese pizza. I'm a good Catholic.

Saturday- Took girls 1 & 2 to piano. Took baby 3 to get mice at pet store and got call from my brother with bad news about Uncle Ron. Cried in the drive-thru line at McDonald's. No, they didn't notice. Picked up kids from piano. Kid one had best lesson EVER, Kid two may not be taking piano after next Sat... she's so persnickety! Took all kids and self to Target. Spent too much money. Took kid two to a birthday party- an ICE SKATING birthday party. - Que post

My husband somehow convinced my daughter that ice skating is the one sport where Mommy is better than Daddy! While this is most likely a true statement, I most certainly did not want to do it. After the flooding of tears and the trip to Target, I was ready for a long winter's nap, but kid two was NOT going to said party without Nancy Kerrigan (me)! So, I went. Upon arriving, I noticed that there were several moms running, broad smiles across their faces, to the parking lot without their children. Hmmm, suspect. We walked into the party and a frantic host says, "Um, I will get you a ticket and you can get her skates. We'll meet you on the ice." That's it. Mind you dear reader, Kid two has NEVER done any form of skating. She still wears elbow pads, knee pads and a helmet just to ride her bike WITH TRAINING WHEELS! I played along though, thoughts of those free mothers dancing in my brain.

We got the skates. Actually, three pairs. Apparently, the whole, "Get a size smaller, they're running a bit big," advice only applied to the offspring of the woman giving the advice. We had to go a size bigger... FUN! We marched, quite literally, onto the rink and HALT. "Mommy, you are a great skater. Why don't you have on skates?" Uh-oh...

After several attempts at bribing her to go without me, I got on some skates, erased the images of carefree moms, and took my daughter's hand. Eleven little non-skaters were at this party. Only one other mom stayed to help. I'm glad I did too because you know what? I loved it! I laughed my butt off. My daughter was really doing great after the third time around. I held hands with so many little girls and helped them around that ice. They were hilarious. One little girl told me she LOVED the Steve Miller song playing because she hears it on Guitar Hero. Another told me she's a good skater because she shakes her booty... Suddenly, I realized that Mairin's friends aren't much different than my own! :)

In the car, on our way home, Mairin was exhausted. So was I! She said, "Mom, you were a really good helper today. Thank you for staying with me!" Well, let's see how those carefree moms are smiling now. My back may hurt and my legs may be sore, but for one moment in time, my kid appreciated me OUT LOUD! That makes for a good weekend!

Rollercoaster Ride- not fantastic...

This week has been filled with ups and downs, but mostly downs. Of course, Tuesday was St. Patrick's Day, which is held in high esteem at the McAndrews' home. My Irish husband paints the town green with his Irish father and closest friends. It's a standing tradition- one which I've grown accustomed to. It wouldn't be a true McAndrews' holiday however, without regurgitation. Yes, the real kind. Not the figurative form- I'm refering to vomit and not from the Irish men in our family. Nope, from our eldest daughter who seems to be the pukingest kid in town! And because sibling rivalry comes in all forms, the youngest McAndrews girl got in on the action. One left her mark IN my bed, while the other quietly did the same in her crib. Yes, the washing machine worked hard on Tuesday!

Wednesday brought with it a round of ups and downs, as well. I stayed home with Maggie, who miraculously rebounded from a night of purging, and Molly, who slept off her ill. Maggie was bored to tears, mentioning a few times that she was well enough for school now (and oh, how I loathe that 24 hour rule). She got to work on her latest book, which I have to admit is really good. She wrote all about a cowboy named Frank and his horse, Carrots. While other girls are writing about fairies and princesses, my seven year old prefers the Wild West. I love that kid! She is also illustrating her story. She definitely has her father's hand at drawing. She's quite skilled for a young'in! BUT- Pat came home with the news that he didn't get an interview for the basketball position he was hoping for. While he was down, I'm sure this is a blessing in disguise. I think there are bigger/better things in store for him. This would have been his stopping point, while now the road is wide open. I hope he can see it that way.

Today was another day. The NCAA tournament began and my Butler Bulldogs took the gym floor with less ferocity than I imagined they would. They hung tough, but ultimately were beaten. Luckily, they are young and grossly talented. I'm guessing they'll dance again next year. Being a Thursday, I went off to Panera to do my homework in a child-free zone. On the way, I phoned my brother to tell him the painfully rude (although truthful) comment my mother made about the cleanliness (or lack thereof) of my home. He proceeded to tell me that our uncle, whom I ADORE, and whose body is riddled with cancer, is not doing well at all. In fact, it seems that the cancer is winning and Uncle Ron's body can't make it into overtime. I pray for a miracle. He is a man of all things good. He is kind, loving, generous and spirited. He took care of my father in his last days. He made a promise to look after my brother and me. He's done that and more. My heart breaks knowing that he is in pain and his days could be fleeting. He is in California, too far to get a hug. Please, if you are a prayerful person, please add Ron Murphy to your list. He is so deserving of a miracle. He's too young to leave.

I've never meant it more when I say, "Thank God it's Friday." Tomorrow, is a new day. Let's shoot for more ups than downs. Who knows, maybe I'll clean my shower...

Our good, ol' dog...

How old is Casey? Almost 11! Tonight Maggie and I got out the original folder of all of Casey's documents. I showed Mags the adoption information about Casey and the funny pics of when she was a crazy pup. Maggie was interested in why we had to adopt our pooch, so we visited the Central Indiana Lab Rescue's website and read through the stories of the sweet labbies waiting for good homes. Of course there was a "Maggie" and a "Molly", to which Mairin replied, "Why doesn't anyone name their dogs after me?"- She had a good point...

All of this nostalgia got me thinking, what will we do when Casey moves on to the doghouse in the sky? I remember with great clarity finding Casey on the pages of the CILRA website. I loved everything about her- her golden fur, her frisky grin, her long, lean legs. I was even taken by her name. When I met her she was skiddish and scared. She jumped and ran from sheer nervousness. It took her years to get over that nervousness. She was still perfect.

She had her Marley moments- far too many. Like when she ate my couch, the drywall, the carpet. When she broke the bottle of Chardonnay FROM FRANCE that I was saving for that "special occassion" to then jump THROUGH the window's screen and hop into my neighbor's waiting trunk (true story). Then there's the time she "ran away" only to wind up on my neighbor's back porch, barking to be let in (I honestly think she thought she was home- their place looks just like ours)! We made flyers and everything! There's a reason we had to drop out of obedience school...
And my favorite- the time we brought Maggie's blanket home from the hospital. All good, first-time parents do this. Take home the blanket, let the dog smell it- you know, get them ready for the impending arrival of their replacement... Casey TORE-UP the blanket. Shredded it into pieces. That was alarming...

We brought Maggie home to meet her canine sister. Through all of the uncertainty of a firstborn, Casey never waivered in her love, compassion and patience. She is a true lab. While Maggie was in her crib, Casey lay at her door. As Maggie began to crawl, Casey let her poke and pull. And when Maggie began to walk, Casey got out of the way fast. Then came Mairin. The story rewrote itself. Casey learned to find their crumbs, the crackers in their hands, the candy in their pockets. Casey learned to nudge without knocking, to take without biting, to leave gracefully. The girls learned to love.

Now we've added Molly, and Casey, old as she's become, still knows what to do. She still lays at the nursery door. She still allows the pokes and prods. Molly knows what doggies say (Oof, oof) and when she sees that yellow coat in the morning she beams! She loves her "Cakey".

As we looked at the dogs, young and old, Maggie asked if we'd get another Casey from the rescue when our Casey dies. It's hard to explain to a seven year old that there isn't one... maybe we'll get a "Mairin"!