Most of us don’t wear pointy, golden brassieres or sexy tight cat suits so it may not be so obvious but I am convinced that all mothers are either Super Hero’s or Goddesses. Personally, I am far from being Helen of Troy or Hestia I feel as though I am more of a cross between Hera and Aphrodite with a little Medusa thrown in.

In the past three months my superhuman powers have reached dangerously high toxic levels as I managed to  survive four birthdays, an attempted anniversary celebration and Halloween. Throw in a few child medical emergencies, struggling finances, a bronchial cold that nearly killed me and the full moon and there you have it, Goddess extraordinaire straight out of Greek Mythology. Like the Goddesses I have accepted my fate laced with imperfections and obstacles that I must overcome.

I read an article in the New York Times that said that screaming is the new spanking and I couldn’t relate more. The boys have a difficult time settling down in the evenings and the crazier they get the louder Wade and I become with our shouting. Yes, I know that yelling at your children is ineffective, most of the time, and only causes them to withdraw but I honestly feel that sometimes they need a little shout for them to actually hear my message.

On a good day I am an Opera singer, hitting a high note and holding it until they stop their monkeying around to curiously find out what the hell is making more noise then they are. On a recent predominantly bad day, I was less attractive in my mode of discipline. I had absolutely had enough of being manipulated by my incredibly obnoxious wild things and so I yelled out, “How much do you think that mommy and daddy will take of this behavior before we decide to move out?”

Let me explain for a moment. The impetus for this comment was the children’s book, The Willoughby’s, by Lois Lowry and the excerpt that I cannot seem to shake is the following:

“Dearest?”

“Yes, dearest?”

“Do you like our children?”

“Oh, no,” Mrs. Willoughby said, “I never have. Especially that tall one. What is his name again?”

“Hes’ the one I least like. But the others are awful too. The girl whines incessantly”.

“I have a plan,” Mr. Willoughby said, “It’s thoroughly despicable.”

“Lovely”, said his wife. “A plan for what?”

“To rid us of the children.”

“Oh goodness, do we have to walk them into a dark forest? I don’t have the right shoes for that.”

“No, this is a better plan. More business like.”

“Ooooh, goody. I’m all ears,” she replied with a malevolent smile.

I felt badly when all three boys broke down into tears after I said it and I tried to explain my outburst individually to each child. I was stroking my middle child, Axel’s, soft hair and looking down at his sweet face when he asked, “Why would you ever leave us?”

I wanted to jump out of the window for failing so miserably as a mother. Why couldn’t I have delivered my message without upsetting them so? I told him that enough was enough and that they needed to give their daddy and I the respect that we deserved as parents and calm down when it was time for bed.

If only I truly were a Goddess, I could cause a mini cyclone as a warning in the midst of their rough housing or maybe I am a Goddess and haven’t fully tapped into it yet. After all, I have been known to be fierce, loving, warrior like, sexual and even narcissistic at times.

So, move over Zeus and make a well deserved seat for me on Mount Olympus and while you’re at it hand me over one of your lightening bolts.

Wade and I got robbed of the opportunity to celebrate our Anniversary together so the other night I reenacted the plan, only by myself. I sat alone at the bar at Phat Thai, had a glass of red wine for dinner and then went to see the film, 500 Days Of Summer.

As I sat at the bar I imagined what it would be like to still be single and living in New York City. When an attractive young man sat down alone right next to me I thought about one of my favorite movies After Hours. Sometimes I get so depressed that my life of spontaneous adventure is oh so very OVER.

I am a day dreamer and a true romanticist driving Wade crazy with questions like, What if we didn’t know each other? What if I was your waitress at a restaurant? What if I was your boss at the magazine? What if I worked for you? Would you be able to control yourself and keep your hands off of me? Creating these scenarios sparks the animal magnetism that I have always had for Wade but he is not so keen as I to play these games reminding me that only women fantasize like that. I don’t believe him.

I love my children and care deeply for them when they are sick but their timing is lousy! With this cooler weather and the inability to have any time to myself, my passions are resurfacing full force. I am fed up with the daily mundane tasks of cooking, cleaning and caring for everybody, did I really sign up for this? Wasn’t I once a traveler and an adventurer? Didn’t I at one time in my life get on a plane whenever I got antsy?

I wrote an email to my oldest sister in Boston fantasizing our escape to an island where I pack nothing but my lap top, bikinis, flip flops, any necessary fashionable accessories and a few great novels. We wake up in the morning and take a two hour run on the beach and then fall asleep in our lounge chairs with our hands caressing the soft sand. I don’t care if I drool and snore loudly  with my mouth open because I am incognito, a total stranger in a strange land where nobody knows that I am married with three crazy boys running amuck at home.

In the afternoons we hang out at the Tiki Hut Bar and drink fresh boat drinks while talking to the philosophical bartender with a Psych degree and laugh as we objectively analyze all of the atrocities that we have to deal with in our lives.

At night we dress in our sexy sundresses and make a stir at the local dive bar dancing wildly to the local rock band and when we are through meeting and playing with all of the locals we stumble home under the warm tropical breeze and laugh until we cry, like we did when we were in highschool.

When I am not drinking, running, drooling or reading, I  write to my hearts content and figure it all out…life, marriage, kids. And when I get truly bored I return home refueled and ready to be the mother that I am meant to be.

A girl can dream can’t she???

These past few days in Colorado have been magnificent. On crisp bluebird days like these I always feel like I should be sailing. Even Tucker comments on how the air and the music make him feel like sailing.

When I was little my parents would take my sister’s and I on summer adventures which included a few sailing trips.

My father loved to sail but a sailor he was not. For a while he had a little sailboat that he harbored in Nantucket. Whenever he would try to round up his girls to go out with him we would all cower behind each other. On the one hand, we knew that if we went with him we would be experiencing my father at his best, full of vigor and tremendously positive energy. On the other hand, we were fully aware of the mishaps that were likely to occur.

Regardless, I still crave being out on the ocean on days like these. This is not to say that I don’t fully enjoy being in Colorado biking and hiking and staying outside until the air turns chilly at 9:00pm.

This past week I treated myself to a week off and put the boys into Camp Oginali, the most economical camp in the valley. I dropped the boys off and was about to sprint to my road bike for another journey of freedom in the great outdoors when I looked back and saw Brevitt and Axel shoveling dirt into each other’s faces. I battled with the desire to flee but felt the parental pull. By the time I reached them they were at it full force in the oversized sandbox pummeling each other into oblivion.

As I approached, the parenting classes reeled quickly in my head. I contemplated what my best approach should be with a surrounding audience of teachers and children. “STOP THIS”, I shouted. Whoops, so much for preparation.

I left Brevitt with a warning, “If I don’t get a good report when I pick you up than no Spaceballs for you my friend”. He had been waiting for the movie to arrive by Netflix for days and considered this a serious consequence. I walked away with Axel sobbing and begging for me to take him away from his highly energetic brother.

The guilt wore off approximately two seconds before I got on my bike. My iPod, the sparkling river replete with abounding fly fishermen and the mountain goats were awaiting. What a sense of freedom I felt as I rode away.

I picked them up in the afternoon a mass of happy, dirty little boys and I was ready to dawn my cape and become super mom again.

In the evening I ran into my friend, Gretchen, who was as exhausted as I was. To get her alone time she had been waking up at the crack of dawn to go running. Gretchen told me that sometimes being Julie McCoy was not all that it was cracked up to be. We discussed how all the moms we knew had there own insular camps going on and that it was time to unite and combine efforts.

Summer is by far my favorite time of the year and I truly wish that we had more than three months of it here in Colorado. There is so much to do with the children and even though it takes us all about a month to adapt to the new position of camp counselor and get organized with itineraries, picnic lunches, coolers, friends and sports equipment, once
we have it all figured out it can be a wonderful time to reconnect with the children and establish new rules.

Are you lonely or overwhelmed with your children this summer? I would love to hear your thoughts.