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!