My 2009 Holiday Wish List

Shortly after Labor Day they start trickling in. One here, two there until you finally start praying you’ll actually find a piece of real mail—even a bill, in your mailbox—anything but another holiday catalogue. Of course, I can’t say that too loudly in front of my children. They consider these items very valuable property. In case you didn’t know, legend has it that anything they circle with their Crayola Sharpie’s practically guarantees that they’ll find it under the tree.
Years ago I thought this was a harmless enough way to keep them all busy and out of each other’s hair (and mine). For hours there wouldn’t be a sound in the house other than the intense swoosh of their markers and a few “oohs” and “ahhs” when something really tickled their fancy. Albeit it did seem a bit ridiculous that my girls were circling GI Joe accessories and the boys were A-OK with the pink Barbie jeep, but I think the rush they were getting over the endless possibilities, ok the greedy gimme-mine-mine-mine, blinded them from what they really wanted and would actually play with. Since this was happening at Halloween time, however, I figured they’d forget their 50-gift wish list well before the holidays were in full swing, so what harm could it cause?
I learned fast that I didn’t give my young offspring the credit they deserved. Out of the blue, hours after the last gifts had been unwrapped I overheard their 4 and 5-year old voices commenting on what they didn’t get, instead of what they did get. That was a painful lesson to learn. As I got ready to serve the roasted turkey dinner with all the trimmings—I should’ve been sitting down to eat crow instead.
Well that promptly ended the days I’d let the Toys R Us Big Book babysit my kids. Thereafter, as soon as those toy catalogues would hit our property, I made sure they were placed in the recycling bins instead of on the coffee table.
Of course, now we have something far more accessible for them to go window shopping with, and my kids are far savvier at navigating it than I am—the internet. Who needs to touch the glossy pages of a 100-page toy pamphlet when instead, all they need to do is surf the net and print their wish lists, or worse—e-mail me what they want with a CC to my husband’s business e-mail along with a text thrown in for good measure.
Listen, I’m not trying to be a Scrooge here, honest! I enjoy the magic and wonder of holiday surprises more than my kids do, but when I get home from having a root canal, the last thing I want to do is play back my answering machine and listen to my 10-year old disguising his voice as my husband asking if I remembered to pick up the Play Station 3 that was on sale at Target.
This year, I decided to beat them all to the punch. It’s no secret in the Butler household that by late October, I’m frantically searching the radio stations for those 24/7 holiday music marathons. Call me anything you like, but there is something outlandishly uplifting about hearing “Frosty the Snowman” wafting through the house when you’re stuck cleaning the bathroom that five boys under the age of 15 share!
With the festive holiday tunes blaring from the cable channel on TV, I got right to work making the very first holiday wish list I can remember since my days of wearing a training bra.
On a simple white piece of copy paper which I decorated with Save the Children stamps, here’s what I came up with.
Cheryl’s—AKA Wife, Mom, Chef, Dry Cleaner, Merry Maid, Gardner, Nurse, Dog Walker, Chauffeur, Errand Girl and Anything Else You Want Me To Be—2009 Holiday Wish List
· New Kitchen Sink Stoppers---Ick!
· New wastebaskets for all bathrooms and bedrooms—anything but wicker
· A designer Flea Collar—if I can’t beat em…might as well join em!
· One (or two) packages of band-aids that I can stash away for those times when we actually have a bleeding cut. Cartoon character brands not necessary.
· A dozen or so pencils—sharpened please Pens---double bonus
· A new dustpan and brush—one where string attaches brush to dustpan
· A new-aged wine opener—do I need to explain?
At the bottom of my list of material desires, I scrawled an addendum.

Dear Family, Please forgive my confusion. I seemed to have forgotten I already received many of these items at my bridal shower 23 years ago. Don’t burden yourself by shopping for me, instead, consider giving me something that you can’t find in catalogues, malls or on-line—a holiday season where the focus isn’t on what we think we must have, but instead, what we are grateful for already having. Love Mom
P.S. Please don’t share these ideas with your father—let’s see what he comes up with all by himself.

Jeopardy--The Motherhood Edition

(My Family Zone Column November 2009--NK Villager/EG Magazine )

I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it increasingly difficult to find decent programs that I can comfortably watch with my kids. If the content of the show doesn’t make me squirm then the commercials certainly do. I mean, how many times do we need to see an ad for Beano or feminine hygiene products? Please! Even game shows are a bit of a risk. It is quite humbling when you’re gathered on the couch watching “Jeopardy!” with your middle schoolers and have to cough or sneeze because you haven’t a clue what Alex Trebec is talking about when he states “Glycine is the simplest one of these, the essential building block of all proteins and your 6th grader shouts out “What is an amino acid?” And here I thought the answer was Sweet & Low. Not good!

That wouldn’t be the case, however, if good old “Jeopardy!” decided to shake things up a bit with something many women in my circle could relate to--say “Jeopardy! The Motherhood Edition”. I can picture it now—women all across America vying to get a spot on this show and tuned in every evening at 7:00 PM no matter how many dinner dishes were piled up in the sink.

Mom Contestant #1 “I’ll take “Body Noises for $100, Alex”
Alex Trebec “This happens every time you ask for help with the garbage, cleaning their bedroom or tell them “no” you will never have a pet snake in this house”
Mom Contestant #1 “What is whining?”

Mom Contestant #2 “I’ll take Last-Minute Chaos” for $200, please.”
Alex Trebec “It’s 10 PM on Thursday evening and your 6th grader looks at the clock, then at you and says “Mom, I forgot to tell you something I still need to do.”
Mom Contestant #2 “What is a full-blown last-minute Science Project due the next day, Alex?”

Mom Contestant #3 “May I please have “Family Members” for $500, Alex?”
Alex Trebec “They are the most difficult species of all human beings to decode. One moment they kind of like you, the next—you’re a dundering chowderhead. Staple wardrobe items may include a touch iPod, ear buds, low-rise jeans and a scowl. They can text faster than the speed of light and you must never let on that you know them out in public.”
Mom Contestant #3 “What is a teenager?”

Mom Contestant #1 “Favorite Statements” for $1000”
Alex Trebec “This question is part of every child’s vocabulary at birth. Many times you will hear this on a rainy day, but millions of mothers are attesting to the fact that they hear it even when their offspring is surrounded by state-of-the art electronics, dozens of books and games, paradise-filled backyards and lots of neighborhood buddies or siblings to play with.”
Mom Contestant #1 “I’m bored! There’s nothing to do around here!”


Mom Contestant #2 “Alex, I’d love “Losing My Mind” for $1000
Alex Trebec “The phone rings and it’s the school nurse calling. You let the machine pick up because you are dealing with an electrical crisis where your dryer and dishwasher seem to be shorting one another out each time they are used. Two of your children are already home sick with the stomach bug and your husband is out of town on business for the week. You assume your third child is now sick as well, but when you actually speak with the nurse, you learn it’s much worse”
Mom Contestant #2 “What is being told your oldest child has just wet his pants in school?”

Alex Trebec “That is not correct.”

Mom Contestant #1 “What is being told your daughter and her classroom have head lice?”

Alex Trebec “Absolutely correct!”


Mom Contestant #3 “I’ll take “Housekeeping Duties” for $1500, please”
Alex Trebec “For centuries this task has literally brought housewives to their knees. Originally mastered in the great outdoors, modern technology has practically made this job mindless, but women everywhere agree, no matter how hard they try, it’s never something they can keep on top of.”
Mom Contestent #3 “What is cleaning a toilet?”

Alex Trebec “No, I’m so sorry, that answer is incorrect.”

Mom Contestant #2 “What is laundry?”
Alex Trebec “Yes!”

Alex Trebec “Ladies, we are almost out of time. Please listen carefully to our final clues. “Her wardrobe is usually several seasons (make that year’s) behind the times though she’s known to raise a few brows when she wears her big, red cape. Sleep deprivation cannot dampen her spirits and neither can a disappointing gift from her husband like that of a toaster. She’s known as self-less, tireless and is always willing to go the extra mile (literally) for the people in her household. She collects no paycheck for the multitude of tasks she performs 24/7 and though she may not be Martha Stewart, she can kiss a boo boo better than any other set of lips in town. Throw in her ability to fend off all monsters






living under beds and gives the best hugs in the world—well, she’s truly one in a million.”

Alex Trebec “Folks—please, quiet down—I am not able to hear one of our contestants because the entire audience and every household in America is shouting the answer so loudly it’s deafening.

“What is a mother?”

“YES, you are all correct, and I urge families everywhere to never forget it!”

Now that’s a show I could watch with my kids. How about you?

I'm Definitely Not The Same Mom I Used To Be

Well, I’ve finally gone and done it—I’ve recently come out of the closet and come to terms with the fact that I, Cheryl Butler, am a middle-aged mother! No matter how many vats of Oil of Olay I slap under my eyes or how much firming cream I slather on my neck each night before I go to bed, there’s no denying it—I’m just not a 20-something (ok—30-something) young, hot mama any longer. My forties are here and they won’t be here forever…….so time to stop thinking I can still look youthful with two earrings in each ear, ribbed-knit tank tops (sleeveless is not always pretty my friends!) and embrace the fact that it’s A-Ok to own a few undergarments that boost, lift and redistribute some of my “parts” that need a little help.

I’m completely OK with this now, but back in September, I had a rude awakening when I took Annie to nursery school each day and saw the dewy faced “young mothers” flit out of their SUV’s wearing jeans that buttoned with perky breasts and fresh white T-Shirts tucked inside while I staggered out of my half-a SUV with elasticized leggings and an oversized Sweatshirt covering my bumps, dimples and post-partum pounds from many moons ago. Somehow, this just didn’t seem fair, but in keeping with the “older moms have more wisdom as well as more rolls” theory—I kept on trucking and was secretly thankful that although I had the most wrinkles….I had “been there, done that” enough times already that I wouldn’t lose any sleep just because my child innocently picked her nose in public or chose to enjoy me reading her a Curious George book rather than listen to books on tape while driving to nursery school.

I don’t know---something is just a little bit off between the new generation of moms and my 40-something crowd. Maybe I’m secretly jealous that they are so wide-eyed and bushy tailed over each and every black and purple finger painting that comes home from
school each week when my first reaction is “how can I get rid of that without her catching me” or maybe it’s the conversation out in the parking lot after pick up “Are you going to the “Mommy and Me Triatholon Class” today? “Who me? No….Annie’s coming with me to sign up for my AARP card—I qualify in a few more years and want to make sure they have all the information they need in advance!” Sigh!

But don’t you worry—you’re only as young as you feel—and I’ve certainly got that going for me. I may not have the most taut (that’s a mature woman’s word!) elasticity in my neck, breasts or thighs but I do have something far more valuable—experience! That’s right! I don’t fret over how many play dates my kids will have before she reaches five year’s old, or if she can translate more than one foreign language or even discern between the taste of organic apples or store bought—I know that a mother’s lips (young or old) can always make her boo boo feel better, that a mother’s ears (young or old) will always be the most important in listening about her hard day at school, a mother’s hands (dry or not) are always the best to hold on to when she is frightened or excited and a mother’s heart (whether or not it’s lying beneath a wonder bra or a tank top) is always bursting with love and pride for whatever accomplishment her child has accomplished that day!

I’m sure not the “younger” mother anymore—but time marches on, and as long as I’m here to see all mine grow up—I’m ok not being the same mother I was 16 year’s ago.

Never Judge The Smell of An Ailing Seagull--Ever!

Picture it—a crisp, autumn day. All of em off to school with the right backpacks, no forgotten library books and we remembered who needed sneakers for gym. After a carefree drop off at nursery school, I am headed to the wildlife rehabilitation center to do my monthly magazine interview—what a life!

I arrive without incident and immediately after I am greeted by one of the friendliest people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, I am nearly knocked off my Reeboks by the most wretched stench I’ve ever encountered (and I have 5 boys in my life!). It was the combination of ailing seagull, lame goose and tattered pigeon. Yowsa! After I wiped the tears from my eyes, I transitioned into breathing in through my mouth (a little trick I learned years ago while changing all those diapers for over a decade) and stoically conducted my interview (which, by the way, was truly fascinating). Had no idea that people kidnap baby deer and try to raise them as pets, did you? In any case, it was a delightful morning and when the gal that I interviewed sat down to eat lunch with her patients, I decided that was a great time to make my exit.

I quickly scurried (gotta use verbs like that after visiting a wildlife rehab center!) back to the nursery school to fetch Annie, only to be told by her teacher that she was not acting like the little chatterbox that she usually was and just wasn’t quite herself. Ought oh!
We make it home to the comfortable confines of our luxurious chenille sofa (or so it was once upon a time) and no sooner do I sit down to shell peas for dinner, the phone rings.

It was my long-lost travelling husband. I know how much he misses us when he’s away so I prepared to park it for a while and chat about the week, but not in this case. The school nurse had just contacted him in Poughkeepsie (don’t ask) to say that our 3rd grader had just thrown up in PE class.

I immediately have a flashback to earlier that morning when he is doubled over and clutching his stomach saying how much it hurt. I’d seen this before during statewide testing week…not a chance pal…..you’re going to school!

Off we go to get him, Annie, myself and my very guilty conscience. No sooner are we out of our neighborhood, I hear a strange gurgling in the back seat. “Annie, are you OK, honey?” BARF!! AND SOME MORE!! AND YET AGAIN!! Not only is my guilty conscience along for the ride, I’m now hauling a sick 3-year old who has managed to throw up all over herself and the entire backseat including the notebook I’ve just used on the interview at the Seagull infirmary.

The self-to-self pep talk begins. “It’s OK, Cheryl. Breathe! You’ve been through worse-- it’s only a little vomit. Just keep driving and soon, you’ll have both sickies back home, perched on the couch with his and her basins."

In I scamper (there I go again!) to the school clinic and there he is, lying on the couch—white, pasty and the first words to escape his sick little mouth are “I told you I shouldn’t have gone to school today”. Thanks kid! Say it a little louder—don’t think the principal heard you that time.

Well, payback’s a bitch. Before I can gently caress his sweaty little brow, I hear a lot of chaos in the hallway. Oh my--it’s my 4th graders class lining up behind the petition with all the puking—the nurse is now donning latex gloves and is armed with a bag of popsicle sticks. Dear Lord, she’s checking them for head lice.

She asked me why I was suddenly so pale. “I cannot go on living if I am about to have the stomach bug rip through our household of 10 and also have head lice to deal with” I gasp. “Call the men in the white suits and tell them to take me away, do you hear me?”

Am I in the middle of a bad dream, I wonder? No—this is your life Cheryl. It’s OK, Brian will be home to support me. Oh wait—no—he’s in Poughkeepsie on business, remember?

Within minutes I learn that my kid does not have lice, and I come down off the ledge. Back in the car we get, and home sweet home we go. Life lessons can be so cruel—but the two I’ve got registered now are believing my poor kids when they have green complexions on a testing day and never again will I judge the smell of an ailing seagull! Ever!

Parents as Fans--A Winning Combination!

As the mother of eight, five of them boys, I know I’ve only just begun doing my time as a loyal, supportive parent who gives so freely of one’s self when it comes to sitting on the sidelines, or in yesterday’s case in the bleachers, cheering on my children as they flub goals, miss grounders or strike out looking. It’s just part of the territory.

I’m already well trained by my two oldest sons that I’m not to hoot and holler, no matter what the circumstance, until they’ve actually made a play or gotten a hit. If I should so much sneeze or breathe too loudly causing the hairs in my nostrils to move, I am to quickly leave the area and come back when I can behave. Got it boys!

Thank goodness for my younger boys, who also call me Mom, and love it when I clap and cheer even if they’ve just been taken out of the game so another kid on the team can play. I’m showing them my love and support—and boy are they proud!

But back to the six-hour torture session, I mean Babe Ruth game, that I attended yesterday—that would be all Sunday afternoon my friends—the day of rest that the Lord intended all of us to take each week. I don’t think the gentlemen who scheduled this game got that memo, but no problem….I’m a loyal, supportive mother who will be there for those very long and painful games no matter what day of the week they are held.

Keep in mind that we are playing on our home field, and are short one player for this afternoon delight called a “Double Session”. Not only do we now have to forfeit the game and borrow a player from the other team, the manager on the other team can’t see any harm in playing two games rather than one long one—after all—that means they technically win both games, am I right?

Also, we’d hate to disappoint the visiting PAF’s (Parents as Fans) that have arrived all the way from Cranston (in droves I might add) to cheer on their undefeated team! Did I mention yet that our team TaseRight (Something to do with meatballs) hasn’t won a single game? I think it’s us, quite frankly—the Butler’s have yet to be on a winning team unless selling the most magazines in the local Fundraiser counts as a win! Otherwise, when cleats, clubs or bats are involved—we haven’t felt the thrill of victory too often.

But back to those PAF’s. Here’s where I struggle with my good Catholic upbringing—when you are the parent of the losing team (and I do have a lot of experience with this my friends) it is very difficult to digest all the rambunctious ranting and raving going on one bleacher over—particularly when they feel it necessary to do the Wave every time one of our kids strikes out or drops a ball! Not fair I tell ya! Still, I always remember that motto “Turn the Other Cheek” and try to behave like the 40-something woman of finesse that I am……….rather than sticking my fingers in the corners of my mouth and whistling like I’m calling in the dog every time the other team makes a mistake. (I hope that big mama from yesterday isn’t suffering from a throat infection this morning.).

I could go on and on but I don’t want to take too much more of your valuable time, so I’m going to end on this note………

PAF’s need to come to an understanding that cheering and being enthusiastic when your own team is doing well is completely understandable and most of us applaud you for it.
However, when the winning team is up 30 to 1 and it’s quite obvious well into the 6th inning that there’s a better chance of finding Brad Pitt working the concession stand than the losing team making a comeback, layoff the nasty remarks to the boys that are not doing so well. Yes, they do have feelings believe it or not and listening to 25 grown men and women screeching “C’mon Bucko…….show him who’s boss” at the very last out of the 6 hour game when they already feel defeated, tired and cranky is really not necessary, is it?

Do they have PAF etiquette classes anyplace? If not, yours truly would love the job!

Me......Homeschool????

I just love being taken by surprise, don't you? Last night, I attended my 100th Religious Formation Meeting for one of my kids.........this time...it was Connor. It was a parent/student meeting for the Phase 1 stage of Confirmation. A pure joy for every 15-year old Catholic boy (and girl!) in America.

Connor is closing in on the last two years of Religious Formation (CCD) classes of his blessed little life! I got him there, kicking and screaming, and then we settled into our chosen seats (about 10 rows back---not too close to the front..but not too far back to make us seem like losers). In any case.......since Brittany just made her Confirmation this past year, and I was a Confirmation Mentor (in my spare time) I already knew what to expect.

Connor is going to hate every second (and I do mean every second) of this process. It is touchy-feely and he is a boy.........a shy boy.........and sitting in a group and sharing why Jesus is important to him is going to just about kill him! But......we are Roman Catholics........this is what we do.

Therefore..........I arrived like the good Catholic Mom that I am....getting there 7 minutes before the meeting started....filling out all the necessary paperwork, and then took my seat.........rumpled hair, no make-up, wrinkled jeans and rain coat (yes, it was pouring) and a pair of top-of-the line Birkenstock sandles on my freshly painted toe nails! Go ahead people......tell this good Catholic girl, mother of eight, what she doesn't already know about the Confirmation process!

One hour into it, we take a break. Out of nowhere, and I do mean nowhere, three rumpled hair earth mamas swooped right over in my direction and began chattering up a storm. Connor made an immedite exit to the snack table as this was way out of his comfort zone.

Now, keep in mind......I was married in this parish, left for a few years because we moved, but have been back for 15 year's now. I also teach First Communion classes (for 10 years now) and somehow.....manage to wrangle up my family and get them to 8 AM Mass each weekend. I'm not bragging here, really!

The earth mamas were new to me....have never seen them before at Mass, but they must've thought they smelled granola on my breath (it was really a bad glass of Riesling!) and thought they had a live one! They cut right to the chase............do I believe in homeschooling? Yikes!! They are asking the wrong mother!

This is a set-up, I thought to myself. I was very cautious in the words I chose............but I chose them very quickly. "No".

I then went into my "cover thy ass" mode.....explaining that I think mothers that homeschool are just marvels.....but it's not for me. Why--they ask?

Why? Because I have eight kids under the age if 16 and I have never believed in eating my young. Does that about sum it up? They didn't think it was quite as funny as I did.....but I wasn't too far off. I love my kids, I really do.....but I am the daughter of two school teachers, so is my husband............and I could never do them justice if I tried to be their mother and their teacher. Some of us just know that. My hat goes off to those who want to homeschool......it's just not my bag!

They didn't hang around too long after they heard my response. I'm sure they were mightily disappointed that a woman like myself was now giving Birkenstocks a bad name.........so next time I wear them......I must remember to put on my false lashes and paint on my lips, and I won't drink cheap wine before I wear them either!

Why do I try to rush summer out the door?

It's the end of September, and I am living in a fog.
I clearly remember last month at this time--just looking longingly at the calendar for the new school year to start.

It's not that I don't love my eight children, but 10 weeks of summer bliss is just about all this mom can take.  (I say this lovingly, of course!)
In any case.......after jumping through the Back To School hoops of fire to purchase the latest and greatest lunch boxes, backpacks, sneakers, trendy clothes and of course notebooks, rulers, scientific calculators, sharpies etc. etc..., I was more than ready to welcome that glorious yellow bus back into my life again.

First day of school has come and gone.  The Open Houses have nearly come and gone.  The homework has been flowing like honey from a bees nest, field trip notices are plastered to our message board and I practically live in my car 24/7 with practices and after-school events happening at the speed of light. 

So why was I in such a rush to get summer out the door?  Beats me!  I now realize how much easier I had it to listen to their whining about being bored and "what are we doing today" because I was in full control over the schedule!  Did I mention how much I love making 7 lunches each night, too?

Well, I've been at this mothering thing for 16 year's now, and you'd think I'd learn after all these years to never wish time away--no matter what!

With that in mind--I'm going to go park myself on the couch with three little boys that are quite anxious to pick out the hottest halloween costumes we can find.  It's late September--but what the heck--no time like the present to take care of things like this!

Six of eight kiddies sick--Mom hanging on by a thread!

It's a Monday!

How do I know this? Well, for starters it's pouring rain, gray, icy cold and six of my eight kids are home sick. Add in that I can't find my brand new digital camera and today was the day I had promised myself I'd go shopping for new undergarments....I'm just a bit tired of opening my drawer and finding gray, stretched out bras and panties (yikes...does a mother of eight even refer to them as panties?) waiting for me each day. So the big Monday treat was to be shopping!

That said, no go on the new bras and undies, but I do have an unexpected day to lounge on the couch with the patients in my sick ward--so can I really complain? Does anyone really want to listen? That's what I thought!

No problem...I will enjoy what the day brings and my motto of
"this too shall pass" will have to carry me through!