I have a confession to make...

The day we got home from Maine...Anna dressed herself in this princess outfit... complete with a tiger tail (she is wearing her pajamas underneath) and demanded to be photographed.

F calls this look, "the Johnny Depp" look. Mikey loves his rain hat. And the pink, heart-shaped sunglasses we got from Emma...yes, that is the day he colored his face with green marker.

At Langley AFB park...Luke said he was in an aerial crane, rescuing whales from the oil spill. He will be five soon...how handsome is he?

I don't think I'm ever going to make life look easy, efficient, or well-planned. I'm not really that kind of girl. I am more the girl who is slightly shocked by the situation she finds herself in and then tries her damnedest to think of a strategy for damage control. I am the lady wearing dirty sweatpants who is walking out of the grocery store, trips over a curb, loses her grip on the shopping cart (which runs over her foot), dents the car, but manages to keep her 3 kids from being flattened by a truck. (No, that is not a real anecdote, but it could be.) I am a klutz who keeps driving into the fence when I'm trying to get away from it, the girl who runs over her phone or leaves it out in the rain. I keep trying to blame this tendency toward awkward self-humiliation on my 3 kids under the age of 5, but F assures me that I was doing ridiculous things long before they were a twinkle in his eye.

I have come to the conclusion that this is part of my personality. I keep waiting to outgrow my blundering ways, but I have now realized (and this is huge)...it's just the way I am. Someone said recently that my inability to focus and carry on a clear conversation is probably "Mommy brain", but I know plenty of women who can finish their sentences, learn whole new trades/skills (then turn them into a side business on top of the career they already have), organize their homes, and shower/don regularly laundered (therefore stain-free) clothing nearly every day, even with a few young children in tow (and this is not at the expense of their kiddos...they have awesome, well-behaved, dearly loved kiddos). Parenting is difficult, but they make it seem easy. And if not easy, at least graceful. This is not a skill I have.

I do things like tote the children down the boardwalk for an after dinner stroll to listen to the free Army band concert, belatedly realizing that not only does Mikey not have pants on(lately he has been expressing a desire to end his day without pants), but his diaper is the size of his head (which comically bounces to its own precarious rhythm and threatens to fall off his body as he runs), but his legs are covered in blue and black Crayola marker stripes. As we walked through the crowd of happy families, senior citizens with their polyester pants and supportive shoes, the occasional nun, and several soldiers done up in their dress blues, I glanced down, I noted that my shirt was sweat-soaked and smeared with dirt and marinara sauce where Mikey had wiped his hands on me earlier in the day. No makeup, hair in a frizzy, sad pony tail. In short, we looked like hobos. We were under-dressed (or, in Mikey's case, undressed) for that particular event, to say the least. (As a disclaimer, F was clean and wearing clothes that matched, so I don't include him in this.)

I'm not sure my clumsiness should bother me. What can I do except laugh at myself? Sometimes I wish I was more poised and elegant. I wish I knew how to make a centerpiece and perfectly time my cooking for a dinner party (or, more importantly, knew enough to actually attempt a formal dinner party), but I'm not sure I am truly interested in that kind of thing. Maybe I think I need to know this stuff because other people do and I admire them. I'm not fancy. I'm not proper. I'm kind of a mess.

In my isolated world, I get bemused, sympathetic smiles, and the occasional dirty look when my children are acting like wild monkeys pillaging the strawberry cartons in the middle of the aisle. Whenever I have these moments of clarity, whenever I see what a mess we all are (we, as in my children and I), I feel a little ashamed. I'm fairly certain that there are women out there who could crack a whip and do what I do in a more organized, hygienic way. And yet, I sweat. I struggle. If the children are far enough way or the music loud enough, I swear. I don't make it look good, this parenting business...I wear my imperfections on the outside. I don't know how else to be.

As I age, I am probably not going to change radically...I might learn tricks like putting my phone and keys always in the same place or checking to make sure I have my wallet BEFORE I leave the house, but I'm not going to magically become a different person. I'm still going to drip ice cream and ketchup on my shirt and stub my toe on a chair I just walked around. I know that these quirks which were endearing in a 20 year old will eventually become a little annoying to people who love me. But there is the key to happiness. Partly it is realizing that there is still love for me from my family when I do these stupid things, but mostly it is seeing myself as I am with compassion and kindness. As Oprah says, it is in self-acceptance (not sure she really says that, but I thought it was an Oprah kind of thing to say). Oh well...I'm happy to be the comic relief, I suppose...now, I'd better head off to bed...

Tanks, tanks, and more tanks...

Luke and Mikey in their tank...made out of diaper boxes...

Mikey's war face... As I posted previously, Luke is enamored with tanks and armored vehicles. Also with going to battle and designating who the bad guys and a good guys are. I know boys go through this phase (maybe not all boys, but I am pretty confident that this is a common phase), but I still don't really like it. Seems odd, doesn't it? I mean, I LOVED G.I. Joes...my dad, sister, and I would take over the house when Mom went out of town and have full out wars between Cobra and GI Joes (my sister likes to bring up the time I cried because Lady J's Jeep was blown up when she hit a land mine...my dad made sure she "miraculously" survived). And of course, as you know, I joined the Marine Corps for five years. Then I married a fighter pilot and have now moved to an Army base. Doesn't mean that I didn't grow up to be kind of a peace loving hippie...

Now before I get into my parenting philosophy, let me just state for the record that I do know that war is necessary. Sometimes people are dangerous and there is no other way to deal with them than to protect yourself. Which means fighting and sometimes killing. I'm not a total pacifist, I guess...but I don't think that glorifying war or the military is the way to go, either. So when I heard Luke say to his brother, "I'm going to shoot you!" I got a little upset. Cue the lecture on innocent people being hurt and killed, soldiers dying, soldiers living without arms/legs, soldiers suffering from PTSD...cue the lecture on the sanctity of life and horror of war. I told L while he might dream of driving a tank, he must never pretend to shoot people and that his brother was his friend, not his enemy (too often, he is designated as the bad guy and people run away from him). Probably I went overboard a little. I think I ended my five-minute long monologue by saying as seriously as possible, "War is not fun, Luke. It is not a game. You should never think it is a game." I think he blanked out a little bit there at the end...he put his hand on my shoulder, smiled at me and said, "Oh, Mama...shush...I'll build a tower crane instead!"

An Army of Three (Plus Two Rad Dudes)...

Luke's tank picture we made while I was writing this post...he insisted I make a sprocket to go in the treaded tracks so that it would pull the tank instead of just having bogies (what does that mean?)...I just followed his directions...

The kids woke up and found their cammie pants (thanks to Liam for giving them to us and the Paganos for giving a pair to Anna, it certainly kept the peace this AM when L decided it was "Join the Marston Army Day") and Cevan (4) and his little bro, Falcon (2) at the park today. They were checking out the geese... Anna pretending she's Baby Jaguar in a cage (she says, "Mama! Save me, save me!") and our buddy, the sweetest boy on Earth, Cevan

Luke being a grapple/loader/power shovel. Falcon being a cutie pie. Mikey running in the background...

Luke, the truck...and Falcon the badass...

Mikey nearly getting nailed in the face for trying to climb up the twisty slide the wrong way (he kept chanting, "Mikey go in tunnel". Luke has an obsession with tanks lately. He says things like, "I LOVE the Army!" And, should the military be mentioned on the news in his hearing, "Hey, they're talking about the military! I really LOVE the military because they protect us! I'm going to join the Army for five weeks when I grow up so I can drive a TANK!" Then he cackles maniacally. He never showed any interest in the military before we went to the Transportation Museum in Ft. Eustis. Probably because he associated the military with his dad, who flies jets. Which, surprisingly, does not get him all excited. F used to ask him if he was going to fly planes like Dad when he grew up and he would look all worried and say, "No, Daddy, no! I'm just going to stay on dry land!!! I like dump trucks!" The most excited L got at Daddy's work was when he used take us out on the flight line in the huge blue SOF truck in VT. But, I digress....(you should know that I am digressing and getting distracted because I was making a construction paper tank with Luke which he is now coloring...should I take a picture and show you??)...

Anyhoo...he woke up this morning all fired up because we found a non-fiction book about various tanks and heavy weapon systems at the library yesterday. It was a fairly successful trip because we also found a non-fiction book about whales and porpoises that we hadn't read yet. I love that he already knows the library is the way to go...if something catches his interest and we don't know much about it, he always asks quite excitedly to go to the library to check out a book. I think for his 5th birthday I'll get him his own library card. How cool would he think he was if he had his OWN card? Again, I got distracted, sorry.

So...I was feverishly trying to clean the house up and clean out the cabinets for the exterminator visit this PM when Luke bounded into the room whipping his camouflage jeans over his head like a bolo...and announced that he would be wearing Cammie pants to match his tank (and the generic G.I. Joe-like character he got as a prize for being awesome at his physical appt...that is another entry for later...Luke has named this guy, "General Abrams" after his tank) today. Mikey, Luke's little shadow, started bouncing up and down, saying, "Mikey wear Army pants!" over and over again. After a tense moment, I found Luke's old pants that Liam gave him for his 1st birthday when HE was in his cammo phase (I think Liam was Luke's age, actually). Of course, once she saw how happy the brothers were, Anna wanted to join the Army, too...and luckily, we'd gotten a pair of pants from our dear friends that were neon green (with pink flower appliques)...everyone was happy, happy, happy!

After all this commotion, we were off to spend a couple of hours with some good friends from Luke's school. (Did I mention that as I was grabbing diapers upstairs to re-stock the diaper bag, L handed a container of cupcake sparkles to M, which they upended on the floor??? Literally took them 3 seconds to make a mess that it took me 5 minutes to clean up. And people wonder why I am so crazy!)

One more thing: as they were planning their Army careers, Luke stated he would be a tank commander, Mikey said he would fly helicopters, and Anna said she'd be flying a jet like Daddy (she's a little confused, I guess. At least she isn't asking people to save her when she pretends she's in the Army)....so cute! And I must admit, I did have to fight a slight urge to talk about how much cooler the Marine Corps is than the Army. After all, Luke can barely read and the twins are still learning their colors. So there is plenty of time for that indoctrination, I think.

The rest of our Maine Visit...

Blueberry picking!!! Notice that Mikey has dumped out all the green berries/twigs/leaves that he picked off the bushes on the ground (he did this by tripping and falling face first) and put the bucket over his head... More swimming pictures...the boys were pretending to be whales rescuing Baby Jaguar (Anna)

Luke...that lump in the water is his "duck-friend" who came swimming with him one day...

She let Luke get fairly close...he swam toward her yelling, "Hey, duck-friend! I like ducks! Come swim with me, duck-friend!"

Luke and the noodle which he pretended was, you guessed it...a sperm whale!

Mikey throwing rocks...Daddy & Grampy taught him to do this by accident...they were clearing all the big rocks off the beach by tossing them into deeper water or onto the shore...and presto! Mikey's new career as a rock-throwing maniac was born...

Mikey and Anna testing out "Science in the Park" at the Boston Museum of Science during our personal Road Trip From Hell. You had to see which swing had a shorter swing period...of course, I just used it to keep the terrible melt-downs at bay (which disappointed many other parents/kids for that 30 minutes we were here)

The cousins (minus Thomas) at Peaks Island...they are watching the Disney Cars movie...which is why nobody is breaking anything and why Mikey isn't giving anyone a black eye by mistake...

I guess you can see that we had a really, really good time up there in Maine. We did many things, most of which I'm having a hard time recalling right now. Of course, as I am writing this, I've just sent Luke upstairs to open the twins' bedroom door...they are all thumping around up there which means that the neighbors are most definitely awake. I'm sure they don't appreciate the kids and their early wake ups, but what can you do?

A few brief words about these pictures. They seem to have captured the calm moments (well, we really did have a lot of good days there, thanks to F being off from work and the extra people that were around)...it's funny when you look back. We have just the one snapshot from the Boston Museum of Science trip and totally misrepresented of our time there.

We took the kids to Boston because they had a special whale exhibit we thought Luke would love it (he did). Unfortunately, I realized at the top of the camp road that we'd forgotten the blue blankies back at the camp and Frank joked, "Well, now you've done it," but he didn't think it would be a big deal. So we didn't go back. As Julia Roberts once said in a movie, "Big mistake. Big! Huge!"

On the way to Boston, only Mikey slept. I think he napped for 40 minutes. Anna slept not at all. Which is a pretty good guarantee that she is going to have a complete, snotty, screaming tantrum at some point. But we were determined to have a fun, educational experience with the whales that Luke loves so much. There were many really cool things at the exhibit...none of which we could take pictures of, but many, many things that really excited and thrilled Luke. Mikey became completely obsessed with a video game in which you try to get a Hector's dolphin through a series of obstacles without being drowned or eaten by an orca or shark. Never mind that another little boy was semi-patiently waiting his turn. Mikey's fingers had to be pried off the joystick literally and he was carried further into the (otherwise quiet) exhibit shrieking, kicking, and attempting to gain his freedom by head-butting me. And so it went. He couldn't get it that we had to let other people try their hand at the various displays. The more I had to move him along, the more he got upset with life in general.

One of Luke's favorite things was a real-life female sperm whale skeleton suspended from the ceiling. He also liked learning about the various different whale songs...he loved watching a video where a sperm whale chased down a giant squid....a few other guys were startled at the moment when the whale finally caught the squid and L jumped up and down, cheering at the top of his lungs and clapping! They also had a fiberglass replica of a blue whale's heart...we crawled into through the huge arteries. I lost Mikey in there for a while because he circled back and crawled back into it...and it was full of other kids, so I couldn't fit in it to yank him out. I had to hover at the opening of the arteries and keep hissing his name (all while trying to pretend I was just another loving, patient mother watching her beloved son play) while blindly groping whenever I saw a flash of green Crocs. The only reason he came out of there was because he stood up and hit his head on the ceiling and needed a kiss.

The rest of the visit is a blur of tantrums (if any of you haven't heard Anna's full vocal range, imagine screaming that could send the dogs running for the hills), crying, hysteria, and hunger. I'm kind of exaggerating...but not by much. F isn't usually flustered by the children (most of the time he tells ME to calm down and reminds me that whatever tantrum will pass), but when he couldn't get the kiosk to register our credit card so we could pay the exorbitant parking fees while Anna was in full-screaming mode, clambering out of the straps in the stroller (which caused her nearly to fall on her head) and Mikey expressed his displeasure at leaving the museum before he was ready (this involves acrobatic screaming), he cursed. I think even Luke was crying a bit. We were that awesome family that everyone wants to share an elevator with.

The moral of this story is two-fold: 1. Never leave home without Great-Grandma Ruth's beautiful and tantrum-repellent blue blankies and 2. One should only bring 2 year old twins to a science museum if one can bring a nanny with you. That way, when the screaming begins and you can't get it to end, you can just hide in the bathroom. (As a side-note, I did get a bit of satisfaction from seeing the children shatter F's calm and composure...I had begun to think I was a little bit emotionally imbalanced...which is probably still true...but as I saw him swear at the parking fee kiosk, I had an epiphany: It isn't just me they can reduce to a raving lunatic....even F loses his self-composure sometimes (this is akin to seeing that even Superman is vulnerable to kryptonite). Well, anna is shoving various bandaids in my face asking me to adorn her, so I'd better stop for now. Forgive me for rambling once again...enjoy the pictures!

Swimming with the Loons (or the Loony)...

Anna and Grampy swimming... Grampy taught her to jump off the rocks...awesome!

Luke jumps in...

Mikey in his super-hero swimsuit...

I know this is about two weeks late, but it has been a pretty busy time, coming back from Maine. It wasn't so bad to drive up or back (although the second day of the drive both times was a little sketchy...good thing we had sticker books and a portable DVD player...one screen of which was broken when we got to Maine, much to Frank's chagrin)...forgive me if I am repeating myself. It's hard to concentrate and remember what I've written when the kids are in the background "cooking" hot dogs for each other (and me). They are also serving chocolate in their little restaurant...yesterday I was so proud to hear them pretend to make rice for each other instead of just junk food! Well, I will try to write something more significant later...

This may be what Heaven looks like (but without bats and mosquitoes)

The fire pit off the back deck...the view to the right of the back door... And to complete the panorama, the view straight and to the left-ish...

Luke standing on the stump by the swing...he was pretending to be a power shovel with a grapple attachment (his words)...apparently this entails beating trees and bushes (and the occasional sibling) with a stick...

Anna gets in on the action...

Mikey down by the little beach at our camp, pausing between throwing handfuls of dirt and leaves at me...

Anna wanted me to take a picture of her...she's so cute, you'd never know that she is going to take over the world someday...

Maine. The very name conjures up images of lounging in an Adirondack chair beside a beautiful, calm "pond" (ponds in Maine would be considered lakes in other places not blessed with so much deep, clear bodies of water), listening to the chirp of crickets and the chatter of chipmunks. Wow, that was a lot of unintentional alliteration. We spent two glorious weeks "up ta camp" as Mainers would say...in our case, beside Peabody Pond, which is near Sebago Lake (again, lake in Maine is equivalent to small ocean somewhere else). Peaceful. Beautiful. Calm. Well, calm for people who don't travel with three kids under the age of 5, I suppose. We are never calm anywhere we go, no matter how perfect and scenic.

If it felt like a little slice of paradise to us adults, it was definitely heaven to the kiddos! They swam up there every day, hunted for sticks and rocks and frogs, went swinging in a swing that felt like it launched them out over the water, picked blue berries (and ate them!), and generally were dirty 99% of the time. Which is indicative of a sublime vacation, by our kids' standards. There were trucks, a whole collection of Matchbox cars (some obviously owned by Daddy), and then the older cousins whom all the kids worship brought them some Lego sets that included a few trucks and for Anna, a Dalmatian. you couldn't have a better time, I don't believe.

I'll write more as I post more pictures...but I am so excited that we will have this camp for the kids to spend their summers in. I am sure they will have great memories as they get older and we go back every summer!