Too much!

I can’t keep up. The weather’s been so nice, and we are never home. This is my favorite season. Everything is blooming, the sun is shining, and we get to ride our bikes all over Brooklyn.

Mother’s Day came and went. It was a good one. Sometimes these days can be disappointing (such as this one!), because of all the expectations. But this year was lovely. Coffee in bed. Many cuddles.


The boys drew and wrote in my Mother’s Day book. We went for a morning walk/bike ride with the boys’ bikes, played at the playground. Then we took the big bikes for a spin and went to our favorite place, Brooklyn Crab.


After that: key lime pie on our stoop.


It was a really lovely day, and I was thankful for my people – as I am most days.

Other than that our days, and nights, have been busy. Jeff and I went to see a couple of bands perform. Here we are at Kings Theater, waiting for Father John Misty. It was fun!


I went out with some of my best friends to a restaurant in Williamsburg, Maison Premiere. It was a happy dinner for a sad occasion, because one of us is moving away.


Then there was a school performance and some very important sign holding…


….and the annual school gala/fundraiser. We got fancy! And we danced. A lot.


The kids are busy with play dates, ice cream, bikes, soccer, legos.

Most afternoons after school we all gather at the playground at the park across the school, and bit by bit many of the kids and mamas arrive. We hang out, chat, read, enjoy the sun. The kids roam around.

On Friday night, after soccer practice, we drove to New Jersey for our niece’s communion the next day. For that occasion the boys got fancy!


But then they very quickly took off their shirts and ties and put back on their soccer uniforms. Boys in their more natural habitat.


So that pretty much sums up our last two weeks. I’m so happy it’s finally spring, and on some days it’s felt like summer even. I can’t wait for the pools to open and for our many weekend bike adventures! This is our happy season.

Mother’s Day. I mean, seriously.

So. Mother’s Day. I could just post this and call it a day.IMG_9737

Or this:


And everyone looking at this would say, “Awww, she had a good day with her boys and everyone was content and she even got to relax looking at a gorgeous tree in the park. How nice.”

None of that would paint a real picture.

In reality, Julian woke me up at 6:15 this morning and screamed when I told him to go back to bed. He pretty much whined/screamed/disobeyed for the rest of the day.

I could also post this:


Or this:


Because: cute.

The truth is we barely made it out of the house. I had pictured a relaxing breakfast in bed with my adorable kids being sweet and Mother’s Day like, but they didn’t get the memo. To give credit where credit belongs, Arthur was a peach all day. He truly tried to get us all out of the slump we found ourselves in. But his brother, Julian, my darling first born son, has really been testing our patience and general understanding of sanity since the day he turned four. He is giving me a headache.

We managed to make it through the day. There were enjoyable moments, such as my little nature walk with the boys.


Jeff picked these flowers for me.


Arthur napped on me while Julian snoozed on the bike.


This would be a more real picture:


Truth is, Arthur smelled good and was warm and cuddly. But also my arms hurt because I was holding him up, my back was killing me, and I had to pee.

Also, what’s not pictured is the donut I had requested that was basically dumped in my bed this morning in a greasy bag. The coffee that was too strong. The kid that woke us up too early. The whining. The whining. THE WHINING. Also: The intense headache that hit me on our bike ride home. As in the light from the stop light sent a shooting pain straight into my temple. I felt nauseous.

So let’s just talk about expectations, shall we?

Mother’s Day is lovely. It’s a great day to remember mamas and all they do. It’s lovely to eat breakfast in bed. But in reality, especially when you have very young children and a stressed husband, it’s just another day. And chances are, it’s kind of a stupid day. Like in my case. Because not all days are awesome.

What set me up for failure were my expectations. And my whiny children. I somehow thought this day would be magical and my children would be well behaved and everything would be rose-colored and lovely.

So suck it, Mother’s Day 2015. I am glad this day is almost over. Good riddance, and let’s try again next year.

P.S. Last year was better. You can’t win all the time, can you?

Mother’s Day…

…began with little feet running across the apartment at crack o’ dawn and a little sleepy three year old who cuddled up beside me. After a week of telling him that he can now get out of his big boy bed when he wakes up (instead of waiting or calling for us like he did when he was in the crib), that was considered a success. I enjoyed my coffee in bed while admiring my Mother’s Day gift: a book in which the kids can color or write every year for Mother’s Day. Year one was adorable and included many Thomas the Train stickers. “Rheneas, it’s an emergency! Move over, Luke, get off the tracks.” This is what I hear. All. Day. Long.


I attempted to work out at home as I do every morning, but when I sent Arthur flying while kicking my leg back in some ambitious Pilates move, I gave up and shelved the work-out for later.

In the end I never got around to picking back up. Instead, we left the house in the morning and didn’t return until after dark, around 8:30pm. We rode our bikes to the Intrepid with a little lunch pit stop in between. I had been wanting to go to the Intrepid for a long time and really wanted to take Julian ever since he’s been interested in space shuttles. So we went, and it was huge, and I could have probably spent more time there, but to our boy it was “a little bit scary,” which it totally was. Also, everyone was tired.


We hung out at the Pier next to the Intrepid for a while, ate ice cream, and took off our shoes to let the grass tickle our feet. We also took Arthur’s pants off, but that’s where we stopped. No pants is only acceptable for those under, say, 23.


Then we had beers.

As soon as we got back on the bikes, both boys promptly fell asleep, heads bopping around. So we got creative:


Don’t call CPS. That’s what bungee cords were made for; trust me.

We rode to Madison Square Park and let the boys play at the playground. Then we stuffed our faces with Shake Shack burgers and fries.



We rode home over the Manhattan Bridge as the sun was setting, and it seemed like we were the only people on that bridge. Us and the rattling subways next to us. The boys were in heaven. And we shouted “Hello Brooklyn!” as we got to the other side.

We were sunburnt (just us adults because we are stupid), filthy, tired, and so so happy.

It was a perfect Mother’s Day.