I Shop. Therefore, I have children.

Anyone who knows me, knows of me, has met me once or even heard my name, knows that I LOVE to shop. I will shop for anything. I have not met a store that I did not love, well except for Kaufman's (they did me wrong, REALLY WRONG and they have paid the ultimate price in the end--you are welcome Macy's). When I cross the threshold of any store, it is as if I am transformed into a shopping goddess: Leighann, Queen of the Mall! People know me in stores, they help me shop; when a store gets a new manager they always seem to know who I am. It's as if they have a picture of me in the stockroom (like schools have a picture of the current President of the USA displayed in the classroom; not that I am comparing myself to the President, but if the designer shoe fits...). For instance, this past May I was in Vegas with my friends, shopping at Cesar's Palace when we ventured into the Michael Koors store and when the salesman was ringing me up, he checked my ID and remembered me from 18 months prior when he sold me a pair of shoes at a different shop in the same mall. Even gay black men with fabulous taste in shoes and handbags know me.

And anyone who knows Steve, knows of him , or has heard of him, knows that he has quite the sense of humor. He jokes about everything and anything. He can make light of the darkest situation. Like when he was hit by a car 2 years ago, he made jokes when our friend found him by the side of the road, when the paramedics and the State Police arrived on the scene. He joked when his friend called to tell me what happened and even when he was being wheeled into surgery (I have the picture to prove it). He is a funny guy. Period. It was no surprise to family and friends that when Janet was born, Steve incorporated my love for shopping into how we would explain, in the future, to our children where babies come from. When Janet was born, he told people that we got her at K-Mart; Riley at Wal-Mart and when Lucas arrived, Target. (we are still not sure where Aaron came from, aside from being the result of one too many martinis)

When Lucas was born, Riley was a little over 2 years-old and not at all pleased with the latest addition to our family. She would not acknowledge him in any way, shape or form. In pictures of the three kids, she was always doing her best pose, cutest smile, but NEVER looking in the general direction of "that baby"; Janet, on the other hand, was the proud doting older sister, smiling, happily holding and kissing her baby brother (ah, the good old days!) We do not have a picture of Riley with Lucas until he was over 4 months old...that girl can hold a grudge! when strangers would ask her what she thought of her little brother, she would look at them and in all seriousness say, "I don't have a brother". Stubborn. Cute, but stubborn. Finally, she did come around and managed to put up with him (once she realized that we were not going to "take him back from where ever [we] got him from").

Jump ahead to a year later when Lucas was one: We were out one day (probably shopping), Steve, Janet, Riley, Lucas and I when an older couple approached us; "What a beautiful family." "You must be so happy. Two girls and a little boy. How perfect." (you know the drill) The wife looks at Riley and says, "You must be a good big sister. How do you like your little brother?" And precious little Riley looks right at the lady and says, "He's okay. Mommy and Daddy got him from Target." OH CRAP!!!!!!!!!!

If you could have seen the look on this woman's face! I swear she was reaching for her phone to call the FEDS; like Steve and I were involved in some underground black market baby selling ring out of the back of the Target store. I was speechless, but my quick witted husband swooped right in and saved the day; explaining the shopping euphemism and child bearing. To this day, I don't really know if she bought the story and every once in a while, I get nervous when someone tells me I have a beautiful family...we can laugh about it now.

Steak?

When I was 24 one of the most tragic events occurred in my life; I lost my best friend, my Mom. If any of you were ever fortunate enough to have met my Mother, you would agree that she was probably one of the most incredible women to have ever lived. She raised 6 kids (her own) and there was not a weekend that I can remember that there was not someone's child or children in our house. She was kind, caring, giving and would do anything to protect her family, especially her children and grandchildren. (Oh, who am I kidding? She did EVERYTHING for ANYBODY no matter who they were) She opened her heart and her home on many occasions to countless people over the years; she is truly my hero in life. I have tried my best to model myself after her; I do what I can. I have learned the art of being a Ring Leader from her, an art form I hope to one day master.

Seven years, three months and seven days after she died, I gave birth to my first child, Janet. She is named after my Mom. She looks like my Mom. Her eyes are a gray/blue color, just like my Mom. She acts like my Mom. She even has little mannerisms like my Mom. Sometimes she says things ("good gravy"), things I KNOW I have never said in her presence, just like my Mom. It's almost eerie at times. Anyway, I keep a picture of my Mom in the living room of our house and have always told the kids about her and what a wonderful person she was and how lucky my brothers, sisters and myself were for being blessed with her in our lives. It is just something I do; maybe it is so that I won't forget her. But whatever the reason, I enjoy the stories and the kids seem to as well.

When Janet was 5 she went to pre-school and had a little friend that she would invite over for play dates once-a-week. During one of these play dates the girls were in the living room, sitting on the floor and Janet was holding the picture of my Mom telling her friend some of the stories that I had related to her. It was precious! My heart was filled with so much love and joy at that moment; what I would have given for my Mom to be there! Then it happened...because at the Circus, we can never have a touching moment that is not followed by something that breaks the "mood". Janet, in all seriousness, looks at her friend and proclaims, "this is my Nana, I am named after her. She is my Name Steak. Like the kind you eat. My Mom really likes her Mom and steak."

I swear, I laughed so hard I really peed my pants! Not nearly, REALLY! Out of the mouths of babes!

Boobs, Gumballs and Levis

This is what I know about boys: they are messy, loud, mischievous, demanding, always touching themselves and, at times, completely obnoxious. I also have learned this about boys: they are sweet, kind-hearted, comical and, of course, messy.

When Steve and I found out that we were expecting our first boy, we were overjoyed; then reality set in with me and I began to realize that I did not know a whole lot about raising a boy-child. I knew a little. After all, I did have a hand in helping Sister E raise her two boys, TD and NM (you are welcome, by the way). How hard could this be? I will do what I did with my nephews: Take them shopping and buy them whatever they ask for...every little boy, no matter the age should have the top of the line sneakers, clothes, toys, etc. (I can do this!) I know what NOT to do as well, do not lay on the ground and "airplane" lift them above your head after they have eaten (check), do not let them eat a dozen doughnuts off of the floor, no matter how cute it is (check), do not take your eyes off of them while they are playing in a room that has open windows when you are in a house that is a two-story and made of bricks so that they can climb out of the windows and scale the house (check). I CAN DO THIS! After all, when I get tired of him, I can just give him back, right? WRONG! CRAP! I am totally SCREWED! But then we were blessed with Lucas and from the moment I laid my eyes on him, I knew...I was TOTALLY screwed! The following stories are short, that is why I have chosen to write them in the same entry.

*Important info to know: when Lucas was an infant (0-9 months) the girls and I often dressed him as a girl.

BOOBS

When Lucas was about 3, he was taking a bath (don't worry, not all of my stories involve bath time, I'm not some kind of germaphobe, OCD neat-freak that scrubs my kids everyday, I have been known to go days without bathing my kids), all of a sudden he started sobbing. Uncontrollably sobbing. I asked him what was wrong and he looked at me, with his big beautiful blue eyes and with the most serious voice he said to me: "I have small boobths." It was all I could do not to laugh, I mean here he is, in the tub, hands over his "boobs", crying. I decide to try and figure out why it is that he was so upset about his lack of boobs. Thinking to myself, did I nurse him too long? Not long enough? My poor baby, he was inconsolable. Here is the little conversation that ensued:

Me: "Honey, it's okay. Boys aren't supposed to have boobs."
Luke: " I want boobths. I have little boobths. Mama has boobths." (notice he did not say that Mama has BIG boobs)
"Honey, not everyone has boobs. Boys just don't have them."
"Why can't I have boobths?"
"Because boys don't have them. That's why."
"Why?"

Crap. Eventually, I got him calmed down and out of the tub. To this day, I am stumped over this one. I am just chalking it up to the fact that until he was about 4, he would try and look down any woman's shirt, lift up any woman's shirt, grab at women's "shirts" that he was just a "boob" man.

After about a month or so of his self-boob obsession, he never spoke of it again; he was on to bigger and better things...

GUMBALLS

Around the time the boob obsession died down a new obsession took its place. This new obsession would be: The self-exploration of Luke. (This is my favorite occurrence of this phase in his life)

Lucas was in the tub (Oh come on! Quit judging me!) and I noticed he was being VERY quiet so I peeked behind the shower curtain to see what he was up to: he was just playing. He had his head down and was playing. With something, but what?

"Hey dude, whatcha doing?"
"Nuffing"
It's something.
"Really. What are you doing?"
"Look Mom. I have gumballs and I can make them go away."

Crap. I am TOTALLY screwed.

Yes. That's right, he discovered that he can squeeze his "gumballs" and make them disappear. We still laugh about that one. Poor kid. Now it's in writing...

This final story is cute...that's all it's just cute.

LEVI'S

When Steve decided to have a roof built on the wrap-around porch that we have on the house, he hired an Amish man to do the work. This man had done work for us before, great work, so it was a no brainer to ask him to build the roof for us (he built the porch). The kids were all familiar with him and knew his name and would say "hi" to him every time they saw him. His name was Levi. The summer that Luke turned two was when the roof was being built and Levi was there everyday working. One day, after I picked the kids up from the babysitters, we arrived home to find Levi taking a break on the porch; he was not alone and Lucas noticed this.

"Wook Mama! Der are two moe Webis!" (2 more Levis)

Levi had his 2 brothers helping him on this particular day. And because Amish men all dress in black pants and either, green or blue shirts, straw hats and have a beard (when they are married) this can be the only explanation as to why Lucas thought that because Levi was "Levi" that they other men that were dressed exactly the same, must be "Levi" too. Levi and his brothers all thought this was very funny. Even after Levi's brothers told the kids their names, they continued to refer to them as the "2 Levis".

These are my stories and I am sticking to them!

Where's Bill?

In the fall of 2006, Janet was in Second grade, Riley was in Kindergarten and Lucas was 3. The school that Janet and Riley attended offered sports programs and of course, Janet participated in Cross-Country Running (anything that Daddy does...). The younger kids in the school, from 4th grade down to 1st grade would run in a "Fun Run" and the older kids, grades 5-8 would run for actual times. It was the end of the season and I decided to take the 3 kids and my 7- month pregnant self out to dinner after the meet as a little treat for the kids (and a BIG treat for Mama). Janet wanted to go to the Longhorn Steakhouse (A.K.A. The Big Red Cow) because they have the "best salads and bread and a lot of cool dead animals hanging on the walls". The meal goes off without a hitch; actually it was probably the MOST perfect dining out experience that I have ever had with the kids! Anyway, after about 45 minutes or so, we are ready to go and Janet and Riley need to use the restroom. (I know what you are thinking "ANOTHER bathroom story?" No. Not this time. As Lucas and I are waiting for the girls to return to the table, he begins to get a little antsy and wants to leave NOW. I try to explain to him that we cannot leave until the girls get back and that I have to pay for dinner. Here's how that conversation went:

Luke: "Come on Mama, I want to go home".

Me: "Luke, we have to wait for the girls to get done in the bathroom, I will pay the bill and then we can go".

Luke: (standing on the seat of the booth looking around the restaurant) "I wish those gulls would huwwy up. I want to go home".

Me: "Sit down Luca. Here they are. Now I just have to pay the bill and we can go".

Luke: "I wish he would huwwy up."

Me: "Who? Sit down. You are going to fall. What are you doing?"

Luke: "Where is he?"

Me: "Who?"

Luke: "Bill"

Me: "Bill? Who's Bill?"

Luke: "You know. BILL. The guy. Bill?"

Me: " What? What are you talking about? SIT DOWN!"

Luke: "Oh. There he is."

Now I am getting a little scared. I don't know who this Bill character is, but apparently Lucas seems to and he keeps "seeing" him.

Me: "There who is?"

Luke: " Bill. You know, 'Pay the Bill'? He's right there with the check".

Ah. Of course. The waiter. You see, whenever it is time to leave a restaurant, I usually say, "I have to pay the check". This time, however, I said I needed to "pay the bill". Luke apparently thought in his infinite wisdom of 3 years that the waiter's name must have been ... Pay The Bill. Out of the mouths of babes, right?

One. Two. Bath Time

My son, Aaron is almost 3 and is slightly advanced for his age; he could dribble a basketball one-handed when he was 2 and by the time he was 2-1/2, he could dribble with both hands--two basketballs at once. He has been able to spell his name and write some letters since before he turned 2 and has a pretty expansive vocabulary, when he decides to use it (it is easier for him to point and have everyone else get stuff for him). He has also been able to identify colors, letters, recite the ABC's and count to 20, all before turning 2. (BRAG! BRAG!BRAG! BRAG!) Back in February of this year, while the other kids were at school, I had the brilliant idea to put Aaron in the tub and clean the bathroom while he was getting clean. He enjoys playing in the tub, as most kids do and I figured I could REALLY clean the bathroom, it was a plan of pure genius! After about a half an hour or so, I decided to give him some "new" warmer water and keep him in longer so that I could tackle the linen closet. You know, the dreaded place in the bathroom that holds the towels (shampoo, razors, hair products, diapers, wipes, make up, just about any kind of crap associated with a bathroom).

I get the tub temp nice and toasty for my little genius, complete with bubbles and lots of toys and begin pulling the closet apart. Let me explain something here, when we built this addition on our house several years (and several children) ago, the bathroom was not designed to have a linen closet in it, but thanks to my fabulous brother-in-law, Big Daddy, I managed to get the plans changed and the closet was built in the bathroom. This closet is big--I can get into it with the kids, close the door and have a tea party. ( I do not do things small scale) Where was I? Ah ,yes. The baby is in the tub, I decide to pull EVERYTHING out of the closet to really get it clean; towels, drawers, cosmetic cart, etc.. Aaron says to me, "Out Mama. I want out." The bathroom is a mess, I am not even close to retuning it to normal so I tell him, " Boo Boo, you just stay in a little longer, you like to take a bath." The following conversation ensues between a 41 year-old and a 2 year-old:



AA--"No Mama, I want out. I pick you up."



ME--"Boo Boo, Mama is almost done. Then I will get you out and I will pick you up."



AA--"I poop Mama."



ME--"What? You have to poop? Like on the potty? Do you want to go on the potty?" (I'm thinking: "my 2 year-old is so smart that he is going to potty train himself")



AA--"I POOP MAMA! OUT! OUT! I HOLD YOU! I POOP!"



At this point, he is standing in the tub, screaming to get out so being the ever attentive parent, I get out from the pile of crap that I have created to try and convince him to stay in the tub just a little longer...



ME--"AA what is wrong? Don't you want to play with Spiderman? Look at all the bubbles! You love to take a bath."



AA--"I poop. I----POOP!!!!!!! See? One, two POOPS. Two poops Mama. Two Poops."



I look at the heavily bubbled water and sure enough, like the Queen Elizabeth sailing through the fogged drenched ocean, I see it. Them. The two poops. And they are traveling full steam ahead toward my precious little boy...I pull him frantically out of the tub, drain it, scoop it (in the circus even the ring master has to clean up after the animals) and BLEACH EVERY-THING in sight! I am not, by any means a neat freak, but when there is fecal matter involved, I'm calling Clorox and we are having a party! After all was said and done and I called my sisters to relate the story (well anyone that answered their phone, or called me, heard the story) I managed to get the closet put back together and go on with the day--pick up the kids from school, homework, dinner, baths, bed--you know the drill. I hadn't really thought about the incident again until a couple of days later when it was time to get Aaron bathed again. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NO BAF MAMA!!!!! TWO POOPS! TWO POOPS!" The boy would not go near the tub, let alone go IN the tub. What is a Mama to do? I take him down to the kitchen and give him a "shower" in the sink. It took a couple of months, but he no longer afraid of the poops in the tub. I wish I could say the same about Lucas, but that is another story for another time...

Hooked on Phonics

In 2002, Steve and I attended my cousin's wedding in the Outer Banks in North Carolina and fell in LOVE with the area. We decided that we would vacation there as a family every Summer (or for as long as we could). So, the next Summer, we recruited my sisters and their families and my Dad, rented a big house in Corolla and had a great time; so began a new family tradition. Cut to the Summer of 2006--Lucas is 3, Riley is 5, Janet is 8 and Aaron is one sonogram away from being, well, Aaron.
Here is the part where I am going to brag about how intelligent my children are: of course, every Mother throughout history has boasted about how smart her son/daughter is and I am no exception to this. My children ARE smart and they get it from me...my husband will even tell you that this is a fact; because I told him that it IS INDEED A FACT "THAT OUR KIDS ARE SMART, JUST LIKE THEIR MOTHER". Riley, at the tender age of 5, was all about learning how to read to be just like her big sister (who could identify words at age 4) and of course, being the person that I am, I would encourage her; point to a sign, tell her what it says, she repeats it, retains it and voila! Smarty, McSmart-Smart! I really do not agree with the teachers who have told me that the only reason that my kids can read street signs and fast food restaurant signs and know the name of every Mall from here to Charlotte, is because we are always driving the same route and eating and frequenting those places--I think that is just a coincidence--repetition as a learning tool? PLEASE!
At this point, we have been back home for about two weeks and we are having a nice family drive along Route 20 in Ashtabula, Ohio. If any of you have ever been to the Outer Banks, you should be familiar with Dirty Dicks Crab Shack (for those of you who are not, it is a restaurant chain); Anyway, we are stopped at a red light in front of MacDonald's (Lucas, the 3 year-old, points out the window and says "MacDonald's"--Einstein!!!!!!) and I spot a bumper sticker on the truck in front of us and read, "I got my crabs at Dirty Dick's Crab Shack--OBX" and Riley says, "Crab. Crab starts with C". "Very good, honey.", I say. Then she says: "Wa-Wa-Wa-Wobstur. Wobstur begins with a W." And before I could correct her, my precious, delicate oldest child says: "LALALALALALALA LOBSTER! RILEY! IT'S LOB-STER AND IT BEGINS WITH AN L!" I was speechless...because I was laughing so hard. Needless to say, when Riley entered kindergarten that fall, she started speech class and now speaks with almost perfect diction...Ah, memories!

The first day

Here I go...I decided to write a blog to let the world in on my CRAZY life. Here is a little info about me and how I got to this point in my life--blogging. I am married to a physical therapist who is also a triathlete, well, he does just about everything that has to do with exercise; hence he is very good at the job he does. We have 4 children: Janet, 11; Riley, 8; Lucas, 6; and Aaron, 2 and 11/12 (his birthday is in December) and they are very good at the jobs that they do--being kids. I work part-time for Steve (the husband) and full-time for the circus. When I am not working or wrangling the wild animals, I watch TV, read, shop and eat. Oh and now I write...which is a life long dream of mine. I am going to tell you stories that will make you laugh and cry and sometimes you will cry while laughing or laugh while crying. I will try to keep them short and to the point, but for anyone who knows me, that is an almost impossible feat. I will not tell jokes, as it has been pointed out to me in the past, I simply cannot tell them (I get a little confused with the whole punchline thing). Also, I encourage anyone who has a funny story about an encounter with my kids to share it--the encounter must include the kids as this is ode to them. They are the center of my universe, the apple of my eye, the high-flying stars on the flying trapeze that is my life! Welcome to the greatest show on earth !(at least in my world)