I've always wanted to go to Hawaii so 10 years ago today when Gary and I got married, I told him that for our 10-year anniversary we were definitely making a trip there to celebrate.

Well, 10 years are now here and our trip to Hawaii is indefinitely on hold. Three kids will do that to you. While I figured on our wedding day that 10 years would give us plenty of time to save up enough money for our trip, I failed to consider other things. The biggest one is not having the heart to leave our kids for a week at a time.

Months ago I was talking to a friend of a friend who had just gotten back from a two-week trip to Hawaii. According to her tales, it was everything I've heard it would be. I told her that I was hoping to go to Hawaii this year but that wouldn't be the case.

Why not try for your 20-year anniversary? she asked.

Now I'm being realistic. In 10 years our kids will be 13, 14 and 16. I'm hoping for our 25-year anniversary.

Last week when I was going through a baking kick in advance of some Memorial Day weekend gatherings, I welcomed help from my kids in the kitchen. When I'm not pressed for time, I enjoy having the company and the extra hands for stirring, cracking eggs and mixing. It's also important to me that I teach the kids how to cook so they will have the basics down by the time they leave for college.

Yesterday, though, the extra hands didn't make for light work. I mistakenly got started on some cooking while Gary was reading the kids books before bed. Lucas was tired enough so he went up to bed without complaining, but Grace and Benjamin were eager to help (or just to stay up, which is more like it).

I, however, just wanted to get my two items made so I could move on to the next thing for the night. I let the kids stay up a few extra minutes so Grace could frost the cake with me and Benjamin could dust the living room.

As they were going up the stairs to bed, Benjamin said with a pouty face that he really, really wanted to help me clean. (Mark this statement on the calendar because I'm sure I'll never hear it again!)

I promised him that in a few years, the weekly dusting responsibilities will be all his.

And he actually smiled. He doesn't know what he's getting himself into!

Once of the wonderful things about this past Memorial Day weekend was being able to see friends, relax and have time to get some chores done around the house.

We were able to get the mulch done around our house, get the flowers planted and hung and plant the garden. Inside I wanted to pull the flannel sheets from all of our beds and put on the regular sheets.

In September I was getting a headstart on my Christmas shopping and ordered online the boys matching sport sheets for their bunk beds. I received them long before December and had them wrapped and ready to open.

Because the kids really like their flannel sheets, these sport sheets never saw the light of day until Saturday when I decided to pull them from their plastic wrap to wash them.

I pulled out a pillowcase and then another. I shrieked. Why would a twin set of sheets have two pillowcases? Gary asked me what was wrong.

I flipped over the packaging and noticed that the sheets set said size: full. I never had noticed that before. Not good. I no longer had my receipt, didn't know if it was my mistake or theres, couldn't remember what Web site I ordered them from and their was no information on the packaging.

I figured I had two options: Sell them for a lot less than I paid for them or adapt them to fit on the beds. I went with option No. 2.

I picked up plain white fitted sheets from the store to match the sports flat sheet and washed those. I cut the flat sheets to make them the size of a twin. After sewing the edges, they are as good as new. With a little creativity I managed to salvage my sheets. They cost me a little extra money and some time, but the boys don't know otherwise. They're excited about the new sheets.

All is good again.

For reasons unclear to me but for which I'm grateful, my kids have never thrown themselves on the floor in a store aisle protesting my unwillingness to buy them a toy they really, really want or a sugary treat that they are so, so hungry for.

Besides my daughter asking for fancy shoes or dresses when we are shopping, none of the kids has ever asked for much when we are out. They seem to be OK when I say no to their occasional requests, telling them to put it on their wish lists for birthdays and Christmas instead. Of course, they never remember this fleeting gadget that got their attention. Out of sight, out of mind.

So when Benjamin told me day after day that he really wanted a Nintendo DS, I knew he really wanted one.

He's doing what he can to save his money. On an uncharacteristically warm early spring day, he helped me do yard work, earning $1 for his efforts. Losing two teeth and visits from the tooth fairy have helped, too.

But it's not easy for a 6-year-old to earn the kind of money required to buy a handheld gaming device, and it's gotten us thinking about whether we should be giving our kids allowance.

Along the way, though, he's learning an important lesson and one my banker father would appreciate: It pays to save.

When my mom turned 40, her sister and sister-in-law decided to throw her a small surprise birthday gathering with the family.

I remember sitting around after having cake as my mom was opening her gifts, most of them gag. She unwrapped a funny book called, "I'd Rather Be 40 Than Pregnant." Everyone had a good laugh at the title. Everyone but my mom, dad, sister and me. We smiled sheepishly until my mom announced, "Well, I am pregnant."

The laughter was replaced with mouths open wide, and my mom began sharing the details. While everyone was quite surprised, they were all thrilled with the news. The cousins on my mom's side of the family are all close in age so the idea of having a baby around was cool to all of us.

Adam, now 21, was born in November. And everyone is still excited to see him.

I have always been close with Adam, even with our 16-year age difference. We've always managed to stay in close contact and see each other frequently. Now that I have children, we try to get together as often as we can because my three adore him.

After finishing his finals at UW-Madison and staying a few more days to relax with his buddies, Adam called me from the road this weekend wanting to know if he could come and visit us this week before he starts his internship in Milwaukee. (It will be the first summer he won't be home in Fond du Lac with my parents.)

So he's coming late this afternoon to join us for dinner, to go to Benjamin's soccer game and play with the kids.

It's all the kids have been talking about since he called.

Benjamin this morning said he wished Adam could come to school with him for the day and play with him at recess. He got out his football trading cards he just got on Saturday after his last flag football game to show Adam.

When I asked Grace what was happening today, she immediately said, "Adam's coming!"

Lucas wanted to know when Adam was coming and if he could sleep in his bed with him.

Just a few more hours. We can hardly wait.

I can still remember the combination to the Master Lock I had in high school. I can't recall what I had for lunch yesterday, but I know the three numbers required to open a piece of hardware I no longer own.

Maybe 36-8-24 stuck in my brain before it got cluttered with too many other number combinations, before passwords took over my life.

When calling the doctor's office to make an appointment, I have to think before I talk. What child am I calling for and what is that child's birthday? Having two kids in September and one with the same birth date as my husband doesn't help. And if you've ever told someone the wrong birth date for your child and then had to go back and correct it, there isn't much that's more embarrassing than that mother-of-the-year moment.

We have passwords to get into our computer, our voicemail at home and at work, work-related Web sites that require log-ins, flex-spending and dependent-care accounts, Blogger, YMCA class sign-ups, eBay, bank statements, Amazon.

Sure, online shopping makes buying much easier, but more accounts mean more passwords, and sometimes those passwords have to be complicated. They have to be a complex amalgamation of capital and lowercase letters, numbers and punctuation -- nothing that has any significance to me, and therefore, no easy way to remember it.

After making my way through a pile of bills recently and writing out checks, I was thinking about how I should switch to paying online. I'll need to come up with more passwords, of course.

My days are numbered.

Lucas is a big fan of babies. He loves to gently rub their faces and kiss the tops of their heads. He even carries his stuffed Elmo around like a baby, wrapped in a blanket.

Today in the van on the way to dropping him off at day care, he was telling me that baby Elmo came out of his stomach but that he doesn't have any more babies in his tummy.

I was trying to tell him that's because only women have babies.

"No. Miss Mandy and Miss Mary have babies in their tummies," he said, referring to two teachers at the day care.

"They're women," I said.

"No, they're not," he said. "They're teachers."

There are some days when you just can't wait to have a moment of quiet and peace, and yesterday was one of them.

While we do enough running around at night normally, it really seems to pick up the pace in spring.

Yesterday, I returned home with Grace and Lucas after picking them up and after making a stop at the drug store. We had 15 minutes to put our stuff from the day away, eat and go to the bathroom before heading out the door for T-ball practice.

Benjamin and Gary, who is helping coach, had a great time at T-Ball, and so did Grace and Lucas, who got to run around the playground for an hour. I got time with other moms, and I love that. Grace and I also were able to ride our tag-along bike together for the first time this season, and that's one of my favorite warm-weather activities. I like to hear her observations as we are making our way around.

Once we got home there were baths and snacks and reading. There was going to be no "American Idol" for the kids this night since they were up late the night before. We probably should have just let them stay up and watch for the number of times they were up and down the stairs.

"Did anyone get voted off yet?" Benjamin asked repeatedly. Followed by his sister and brother.

After getting them settled, I started in on the weekly cleaning chores. Because Gary and I prefer to keep our weekends for fun with the family we try to get our household tasks out of the way during the week. That means we were up until 9:30 cleaning the house, getting things ready for today, doing a load of wash and filling out some paperwork we needed to get done.

But boy did it feel good once we were able to sit down and relax.

It was a busy night, but I probably wouldn't have it any other way. It makes me appreciate sitting that much more.

Because the kids were shy of sleep over the weekend, I told them Sunday night that if they fall asleep right away and don't fool around, they could stay up on Tuesday and watch "American Idol." I had forgotten that Benjamin had a late soccer game that night so we'd have to record the show and watch it later, which would mean the kids would really get to sleep late.

Sunday night the kids were in bed at 7 p.m. and didn't make a sound. They all knew they had "won" a night of watching "American Idol."

So last night after Benjamin's soccer game, we sat down to watch the taped show. We were able to move right through the talking parts and all the commercials so the singing part was really about 11 minutes.

Lucas is enthralled by the show. His favorites right now are David Archuleta, David Cook and Syesha Mercado -- all of them.

He was sitting in the chair watching, and he turned to tell me that he is going to be on "Can Idol" when he grows up.

"Mommy, you can be on 'Can Idol' now cause you already growed," Lucas said.

I've never been one to plunk the kids in front of the TV just to keep them occupied while I get ready in the morning, make dinner or finish some other task. I figure they can keep themselves busy with books, art supplies or toys.

Because Gary leaves for work in the morning before the kids are usually up and I'm still getting ready, I admit I've been tempted to just have the TV on all morning so the kids can park themselves in front of it while I take care of the other kids and finish getting ready myself. In front of the TV they don't get into as many arguments about someone grabbing their toy, not taking turns or not sharing. They stay quiet and out of the way during the morning rush.

As a treat, I let the kids watch PBS on Friday morning before we leave. But after this morning, I'm rethinking my TV policy.

Lucas and Benjamin were up especially early this morning. Once they got dressed and brushed their teeth and Ben ate his breakfast before school, they decided they would play in the basement. I checked on them a few times and they were doing nicely with the play kitchen.

At 7:45, Grace had just woken up and was getting herself dressed upstairs so I went downstairs to tell the boys to start cleaning up. We needed to leave in less than 15 minutes. I thought if everyone were ready early, we could go outside and hang out on the porch on this sunny morning.

That idea was quickly scrapped when I got a look at the floor. There was orange dots all over the carpeting. Lucas, who turns 3 next month, had opened up the bottle of waterproof orange paint that sits by the easel -- it's his favorite color!!! --- and gotten some on his hands and his feet, which explained the dots of orange splattered about.

Of course at this time, Lucas had to go to the bathroom, Grace needed help getting the strap on her dress done and the carpet needed to be cleaned immediately so the color wouldn't set in while we are gone.

I grabbed the carpet cleaner, spraying every orange dot I could see, and Benjamin helped Grace with her clothes. I think I got all the splatters all out, except for the ones that are now on my khaki pants. Well, at least they match the orange shirt I'm wearing.

Now ... I'm out of carpet cleaner, ready to hide the paints and thinking using the TV as a baby sitter isn't such a bad idea after all.

One of my pet peeves is when women don't give themselves enough credit for what they do. Have you ever heard someone say, "I'm just a mom"?

Moms are peacemakers. When a fight breaks out among siblings or among friends, we are there to right the wrongs, instill lessons in the importance of getting along, sharing, not hurting other people's feelings. We try not to take sides, instead choosing to stay neutral because that is what we are supposed to do.

Moms are doctors. When a child's cold seems to get worse, we are there to figure out just how bad the bug might be and whether medical intervention is necessary. Sometimes our job as a doctor requires us to be a detective as well, figuring out if the child's pain is from a tooth coming in or from an ear infection. Clues are helpful but not always provided.

Moms are cooks. We are the ones who make sure our charges are well-fed, receiving a well-balanced meal that is nutritious and delicious. We take comfort in how we can feed their tummies and also feed their souls.

Moms are teachers. We are our children's moral compass and first role models. We take great care in making sure we are on our best behavior in front of our kids because actions do speak louder than words.

We are acrobats, trying to maintain a balance for ourselves and our families. We are professional organizers, trying to keep up with appointments, sports practices, school events, birthdays and special occasions.

There's no taking off from parenthood, no vacation, no calling in sick.

There's nothing "just"about any of that.

Yesterday was a rough day for so many people after hearing the horrible details about the boy in Neenah who allegedly died at the hands of his mother. It was on my mind all day and night.

I found myself kissing my kids as much as I could yesterday, watching them sleep and listening to their conversations with even more interest. Just days before Mother's Day, it's made me appreciate my children and being a mom that much more.

After being surrounded by information at work on Wednesday, I left to pick up Grace and Lucas from day care. Instead of staying focused on the toy he was playing with like he usually does, Lucas came running up to me, hugging me, kissing me and rubbing my face. "I love you, Momma."

That's all I needed to hear.

Last night we were at Benjamin's soccer game when Lucas spotted a jet in the sky, making a white line behind it.

He was talking all about the jet to me and Gary and anyone else who would listen. He must have forgotten the word an hour later because as I was tucking him in to bed he said, "We saw a gut in the sky today."

On Saturday we went to our friends' house for a really fun party in honor of the Kentucky Derby. As it came time for the big race, the eight kids and the adults gathered around the TV to catch all the action. Everyone picked a horse to cheer for, and one of the young girls picked Eight Belles as her favorite to win.

At the end of the race we were all still watching the TV and saw that Eight Belles was down on the track. Some of the kids were wondering what was going on and what had happened to her. We were explaining that she had gotten injured and was being taken care of when the announcer said that Eight Belles had been euthanized. The kids didn't seem to pick up on the word and we quickly went into the kitchen and outside to distract them.

While I would have been open to explaining the truth to Benjamin, who was the only one of my kids still paying attention to the race, but not wanting to sadden him or the other kids at the party, I let him believe they were treating the horse and trying to make her better.

He never said another word of it until after church on Sunday when we were enjoying juice and doughnuts at the gathering after service. A man was sitting next to us and joining us in conversation. Benjamin started to tell him about the horse race he watched and the horse that was injured.

"They killed that horse," the man told Ben. "They euthanized her. That means they had to kill her."

Benjamin just sat there not knowing what to say. I felt bad that I had not explained what really happened to Eight Belles just to avoid a situation like this, and I was surprised that the man was so quick to explain to a 6-year-old what euthanasia is.

With rainbow streamers taped to paper plates and decorated with happy faces drawn in marker, the kids made their way through the day care and preschool center.

"I am special, I am special. God made me, God made me," they sang, waving their colorful treasures and shaking their homemade corn-filled noisemakers. Some joined hands as they marched their way past each other, smiling and giggling.

The I Am Special Parade was the closing ceremony for the center's Week of the Young Child festivities. Excited about the mid-morning occasion, my 4-year-old daughter, who loves to dress up, insisted on wearing her "fancy" clothes for the highly anticipated procession.

Celebrations like this build them up.

When I was a child, I would ask my mom why there was Mother's Day and Father's Day, but there wasn't a Children's Day.

To that she would always reply, "Every day is Children's Day."

That didn't seem like the case then, but looking back now, I realize that life is pretty great when you're a kid. But there also is no harm in showing children just how special they are. That message needs to be heard loud and often but sometimes gets lost in the pace of the day.

That's why events like this mean so much to kids. They get a reminder of how unique and special they are. And they get to put it on parade.

Mom is starting not to rate too high when friends are near, I'm finding out with Benjamin. That's OK with me because it's cute to see my 6-year-old get soooo excited to see his pals.

This morning we were driving to drop him off at school when he saw one of his buddies about a half-block from school.

Benjamin asked me to roll down the back window. He was yelling and yelling his friend's name out the window until he got Jack's attention. Once Jack heard us, he was waving and smiling. He started running and got to our van, just as we pulled up to the school's dropoff area. Benjamin jumped out of his seat, grabbed his backpack and gave me and his siblings the quickest of kisses. He flew out the door, running with his friend to the playground.

How wonderful it must be to get that excited about seeing someone you haven't seen for 16 hours.