Honey, obviously they are your kids

There are certain times I quietly back away saying, "Honey, they are all yours."

Because obviously they didn't get it from me.

The love affair with Napoleon Dynamite, Hot Rod and Nacho Libre. It is sad that I can quote lines from these movies, even copying the dance from Napoleon. But to be fair, they can also quote lines from Maleficent, Jaws and Lord of the Rings.

The poop and fart jokes:
I honestly don't care when someone says, "but." But apparently this is cause for outrageous hilarity when it comes to my children. They don't get that from me.

Those Dad Proud moments:
When you can burp and say a word, especially "Grilled Cheese Sandwich"
When you come running out of the bathroom saying, "You gotta see this!"

The ability to not control their thoughts in public. Like standing in line in the grocery store and some poor soul "passes gas."  It starts with them looking at me, I'm busy holding my breath pretending nothing is going on.
They don't let it go from there, then lean close, whispering, "DO YOU SMELL THAT? Someone just LET one!"
When I still don't acknowledge this, they start looking around at all the other people standing in line, rolling their eyes, with a look saying, "Don't you smell that?"
Finally dramatically holding their noses.
They DO NOT get that from me.

The "sounded like a good idea" moments.
Jumping over a pole and almost skimming off the skin of their balls.
Putting the ladder next to the trampoline so they get a bigger bounce.
Waiting behind the couch, to head lock your brother dragging him across the floor.
Sitting on your brother and farting.

Sitting and watching the romantic comedy, I sigh but they hem and haw over every kiss, or explaining how scientifically impossible it is to have explosions in space due to lack of oxygen.

Walking around in their underwear, then completely freaking out when I do it.

Yes, I gave them their good looks and smarts, they obviously got all of the above from you.

How Sweet It Is - The Waiting

I am participating in a Memoir Class and had to pick an experience to write about.  This is about my Dad's journey with cancer.  It will be a Wednesday thing until the story is told.  At the end of the class we get a self published book.  I think his story needs to be told.

THE WAITING

The outside deck was filled with people.  Many with drinks in hand, others holding plates of food with their drinks.  There were many in black, but others, bucking the system added color to their outfits because it was what she would want.  “Don’t mourn at my funeral, make sure the bartender is happy,” she always said.

He sat at a corner of the deck, surrounded by children, dressed in a suit like his cousins, a Perrier in hand.  They’d already eaten, just sitting and talking about a great woman who recently passed.

“You know her and Grandmom are now fighting in heaven.” I said, enjoyed a sip of keg beer because every wake I remember from the Craig/McKeon family included a “bereavement room” translated into the bar.

“Heaven is much different now.  Let’s hope St. Peter doesn’t send them both back.” My father said with a smile, missing his mother and aunt.  Two ladies that lived a lifetime filled with arguments over everything followed by promises that they would never argue again.

“Buddy!”  All of our heads turn to the others at the party.  A family of cousins that called each other brother and sister, a family of cousins that knew summers at the beach, holidays together, and of course in true Scottish/Irish families not without its drama.

“Sing the song!”  His cousins were yelling, looking our way.

Dad looks at us, we shrug.  We were used to him singing the songs at every family gathering.  Used to watching our Grandmother and her sister cry as he sang the songs in his Irish tenor voice.  “Sing them Dad.” We say, wanting again to hear that voice.  A touching way to honor the last of the generation passing away.

Dad looks at all of his cousins looking at him, looks down at us children, then down to his bottle of Perrier.  “I’ve never sung this song sober before.”

Years before he decided that enough was enough.  It was time to stop drinking and live his life.  He survived things that drinking take away, I remembering him coming to visit me in Boston proudly showing his 3 year chip, all of us celebrating with a lavish dinner at a dive restaurant called The Port Hole.  He survived standing up to someone he loved and helping him down the same path. Survived a divorce from the drinking.  Now his family was asking the thing that was easy to do drunk, sing a song in front of a crowd.  But difficult to do sober.

He stood handing the Perrier bottle to me, smiling, started in a small voice.

Mother Machree

There's a spot in my heart,

Which no colleen may own.

There's a depth in my soul,

Never sounded or known;

There's a place in my mem'ry,

My life, that you fill,

No other can take it,

No one ever will.

cho: Sure, I love the dear silver

     That shines in your hair,

     And the brow that's all furrowed,

     And wrinkled with care.

     I kiss the dear fingers,

     So toil-worn for me,

     Oh, God bless you and keep you,

     Mother Machree.

Ev'ry sorrow or care

In the dear days gone by,

Was made bright by the light

Of the smile in your eye,

Like a candle that's set

In the window at night,

Your fond love has cheered me

And guided me right.

They cheered as my father bowed, turning to us.

“That is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”The Waiting

I’m waiting for the news as my mind swims with all the possibilities of what will happen.  I cannot control that small part of me that swings over to the worst possibility.  Stop it, it’s just tests.  Don’t jump to conclusions.

The fan in the living room travels slowly round and round, watching it I listen for everything and hear nothing.  Waiting for something to happen, something stupendous, maybe a bolt of electricity, an overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be OK.  Met with silence, no bolt of lightening.  I wanted something to announce this, something pointing out that everything was OK, some type of sign.  Instead, I’m sitting here with this sadness, this anxiousness and I can’t do a thing about it.

I’ve moved pass the crying, realizing that I am lying as it hits me again letting this wave pass through me.  It is like the ocean, so calm one minute,  full of crests another.  But each crest crashing against my psyche is less in strength than the day I first heard the news.

The party was just getting started, the bar flowing with people.  I look down at my watch, 9pm Seattle time, time to make a phone call.

“Hello?”  The voice sounded stressed.

“Happy New Year Dad!” I step outside the bar, leaving the party to talk to my Dad.  He usually spent New Years alone, divorced from my mother.  I always felt a need to connect on holidays, making him feel special.

“Where are you?” I traveled for the airlines, it was always a topic of conversation.

“Seattle, at the Owl and Thistle Bar, hear all the noise?” I hold the phone up.

“I got something to tell you.” He turned quiet.

I immediately stop everything, tuning completely into my father.  He sounds stressed. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve got cancer.”  The statement hung between us for a moment.  I’m trying to think of something to say. 

“Cancer?  Are you sure?” I’m looking at all the people partying in this bar, their smiles, thinking everything’s changed.

“I have to go in for more tests tomorrow.  The problem is I can’t sleep.  I haven’t slept in days.  It would be easier if I could sleep.” He sounded scared, thousands of miles away I am at a loss.

“Listen.  We don’t know how bad it is until the tests.  So don’t worry about it.  Everything will be fine.  Have you told anyone else?” I’m thinking of my brother and two sisters.

“No, I thought I’d wait until after the tests come back.  Why worry them? I’m sorry you called, I was going to wait.” He sounded sad.

“You call them right now.  They are not going to let you go in for all those tests by yourself.  If you don’t call them.  I’m calling in the morning and telling them, so there is no getting out of it.”  I use my stern teacher voice, hoping he will realize I mean business.

“OK, I’ll call them.  The doctor says I have to go through Keno-therapy.” Dad says, I hear a small smile in his voice.

“It’s chemotherapy Dad.  Not Keno-therapy.” I say with a smile.

“Well let’s hope I get as lucky with chemotherapy as I do with Keno-Therapy, right Kate?”  

“You will Dad, I am sure of it.” I say laughing, leave it to Dad to find something funny in any situation, even a bad one.  

“That’s right Kate.  Go have fun.  I’m going to try and sleep.  I love you.”

I hang up the phone, walking outside the bar into the damp night, my mind swirling.  Keno-therapy.  I remember sitting with my father at a bar playing the game in Ocean City.  We both filled out our cards, waiting anxiously.  All the numbers were called and we look at each other saying, “I won!”

We looked at each other in disbelief, comparing numbers.  Dad used his birthday 6-26-31 and his age 65, I used my birthday 6-29-65 and my age 31.  Irish luck at its best.  Now let’s hope the Keno-therapy luck holds up this time.  He’s only 67, we have too much life to live!CHAPTER

The sunlight comes through the window, the dust swirling with the slow movement of the blades.  I want to go back to summer, to those lazy days of warmth when I didn’t have a care in the world.  I want to go back to before the burden of knowledge shattered everything I believed in.  Back to when my Dad was strong and I didn’t have to think about life ending early, all the things I haven’t done yet, but want to share with him.  

My hand moves over to the cup of tea, my heart feels more weight.

“He’s in the hospital now.  Tomorrow he starts the tests, I don’t think that we will know anything until probably Wednesday.” My sister’s voice sounds dire.

“So do you think I need to come up?” I live a 7 hour drive away, I have a job.  My mind wondering how I could pull it off.

“No, if we get grim news can you make it in quickly.” She knows that we need to be together, I agree.

My heart speeds up at that prospect.  “Yeah, I can be there that day if you need me.”

“OK, good, he will need us.” She was always to patriarch, when I chose not to wear the mantle.  Good at taking care of everything, planning and organizing.

“So, how’s he doing?” I’m afraid of the answer.

“He’s quiet.  But you know how Dad is.” Her voice trails off.

I feel the sadness again thinking about the conversation.  I know that he’s scared, there is nothing I can do to help him.  I want to take away the pain and put it inside of me.  I’m not sure if I can handle it, but I can’t handle the pain knowing that he’s depressed and scared.  I feel inadequate because I can’t be there every day like my sisters and brother, and in my own selfish way,  I’m glad that I’m not there with everyone else, that I’m far enough away that they cannot see my pain, or my weakness.

“Are you going to call him today?” She asks.

“Of course.  I’ll call as soon as I hang up with you.” I don’t want to make the phone call, but know I have to.

“He gets excited when you call.” She says quietly.

“OK, I’m doing it now.” I say with a sigh.

Hanging up the phone, I take a minute composing myself.  How can I be positive after hearing how scared he is, how can I be strong?  It feels good my phone calls are making a difference, then I feel that stab of guilt that I’m not there and it’s all my fault.  I want to be there yet I want to stay, I’m torn because I don’t know what to do.

The sunlight is still in the living room, I can see all the dust bunnies at the fireplace.  I think about waiting on the phone call, cleaning them first, getting mad at myself for trying to do something besides call my father.  Most other people wouldn’t do something like this, only me.  I am the most thoughtless person I know.  I look toward the refrigerator thinking about getting a beer, deciding against that too.  I have to make this phone call, I have to make it now.

“Hello.”  I can tell he’s trying to be cheerful, so that’s good.  I’ll go along with it.

“It’s your daughter.” I say in a false bright voice.

“Which one.”  He has a smile on his face, I just know it.

“The beautiful one.” I reply, our usual greeting.

“Oh, Jennifer.” I love my father’s dry wit.

“No, it’s Kelly.”  I wait for a few seconds enjoying his laughter on the other line.  “How are you?”

“They gave me a sleeping pill last night, it knocked me out.” He says, I wonder if the hospital bed is comfortable.

“That’s good.  So you slept?” I ask.

“Through the night.  I feel so much better now that I slept through the night.  You don’t know how hard it is when you are not sleeping.” He sounds less stressed, this is good.

I thought about times when I couldn’t sleep.  I’d lay awake in bed thinking about things and how miserable when your mind takes control.  I knew exactly what was happening to him.  He’d go to bed trying to sleep, then the monsters would come out from under the bed.  They would start as light whisperings, planting a doubt here, another there.  Pretty soon, the spiders in the corners of the room would join the monsters whispering, “What if it is?  Could you have?  Maybe? “ Then the whisperings become talking voices, you can’t ignore them.  

They sound like the wicked witch in the Wizard of OZ.  They keep telling me everything I should have done, what I could have done finding myself agreeing with them.  Rather than ignoring them, I start looking around the darkened room thinking.  I try to reading a book but I think.  I’ve been there, I know how much it sucks.  I can feel his pain, I can use my talent, I can be positive and help him.

“You know, when you leave the hospital you should take a prescription for those sleeping pills if they are helping you to sleep.” I suggest.

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.” He likes it when we tell him what to do.

“Well, I’m always thinking.  So, how are you really?” I ask, my heart heavy.

“I’m a little nervous.  I think the worst thing is just not knowing.” He replies with a smile.

“Yeah.” I know exactly how he feels, we, as a family, feel his pain.

I am close to my father, I know he is sitting on that hospital bed, wondering what is happening with his life.  The tests tomorrow will determine how long he has to live.  How do you sympathize with someone like that?  He looks at his family sitting around him, knowing when they leave the room they are crying.  They are keeping from him the news that he already knows, that the results of the tests may not be good.  He feels our fear, magnifying his own.  He’s trying to be positive, that’s what makes me glad I am not there.  I can be positive with him, he’ll never know what happens when I hang up the phone.  He doesn’t see the fear in my eyes, he doesn’t see the redness from crying, the puffiness from the lack of sleep.

I can be positive, getting drunk after hanging up the phone.  My heart tells me that I am selfish, that I need to put my father first.  

“Dad?”

“Yeah, hon.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

I know it makes him feel better, I feel it as I say it.  “Be positive Dad.  Everyone has to stay positive.  We have to band together as a family and get through this, OK?”

“OK.”

“Don’t let anyone be boo hooing around you.  You’re going to show them that they are wrong.” I say, feeling a bit stronger myself.

“OK, hon.” He sounds stoic.

“I love you very much.  Don’t forget that.  We can do this.” I say, wanting to crawl through the phone and hug him.

“OK, hon.  I love you.” I can hear his Baltimore accent.

Replacing the phone on the hook, the tears start coming.  Why, dammit did it happen to him?  Why is it that there are some people that live to be in their nineties and he’s sick at 67?  Can’t it happen to anyone else but him?  I move to the living room, my dogs follow both sensing my sadness behaving.  Sitting down feeling both wet noses on my hands, asking for some touching, something telling them that everything is going to be all right.  But Mommy can’t tell them that right now.  She’s just not so sure.

Father's Day Ideas - WTF Style

So I ask the kids, "What should we get Dad for Father's Day?"

And their answers, yes, they were serious.

"We need to get Dad a pair of Volcom board shorts and a Billabong Tank top.  That way he will look cool like the other Dad's at the beach."

Close your eyes and picture this.  Dad, of course has hit and past the 50 bubble so a tank top and Volcom shorts.....well..

"Let's get Dad the New Black Ops Ghost game for Xbox 360.  He'll love playing the game with us."  -Uh huh, he doesn't even know what an Xbox is.

"Let's get Dad some new ski pants, the ones he has are dorky.  He needs some Neff ones."  Well, Dad probably wouldn't look right with ski pants that have a comic face on them with the label of Jenyus.

"We could make him breakfast.  Wolfgang makes good toast."  Reminds me of the year they brought him breakfast in bed, toast and PBR.

"I know.  We'll do all the chores that day.  Then he won't be mad when he gives us our allowance."  We are starting to make progress here.

"We could just be good," one says.
The other one looks at him, "For a whole day?"

Me, I think for a few minutes, look at the smiling faces of the minions we've created.

"Let's just buy him a good bottle of bourbon."

Happy Father's Day.

Father's Day or Taking One For The Family

Why do we celebrate Dads?  Here's a few good reasons:

They were the original butt sniffers.  Sniffing the butt tells them whether or not to conveniently hand the child over to Mom for a diaper change.

He can fix anything with duct tape.  Yes, a leaky pipe, a broken bicycle seat, a rip in snowboarding pants to a child's attitude.  Duct tape takes care of everything!

They love science.  Especially the Science experiments in the refrigerator.  My husband just took a plastic container out of the fridge and almost fell to him knees when he opened it.  Or the piece of meat he pulled out of the freezer, looked at us, saying, "May 26th 2001?"

Not many people can handle fishing.  Or fish hooks.  Or fish hooks in the finger.  Or fish hooks in your brother's hair.  Or fish hooks in your ear.

They take a lot of crap.  Specifically with a plunger.  Because.  Well, they do.

He doesn't mind moths.  Especially those that fly out of his wallet after summer clothes shopping for boys.

Nothing bothers him.  Dads can fall asleep anywhere.  Preferably the snoring kind, that way they drown out of the noise of the children.

The Dad telling his son to pour glitter on himself and stand in the sunlight to attract girls?

Epic.

Finally,

Who else signs on for 18 years of loss of sleep, an empty wallet, arguing and smiles about it?

What Dad Really Wants To Hear....

Jut in case you haven't looked at the calendar, Father's Day is right around the corner.  Here's a few hints of things that Dad would REALLY want.

Wife, "Honey, you are right!  That lecture about how dirty my car is has inspired me to go detail my car MYSELF!  Where's the toothbrush and Windex?"

Child, "Wow, was I raised in a barn?  Let me go and clean my room!"

Child, "Sure Dad, I'd love to go and clean out the garage with you.  And you know what, I'm not even going to complain!"


Child, "Oh, I'll go ask Mom, you relax Dad."

Dog, "Just for today, I'm not going to take a crap by your side of the bed.  I'll do that over by Mom's because she's the one that picks it up anyway."

Cat, "Father's Day?  Whatever."

Child, "Dad, I found all those tools I took out of your tool bag.  And I put them all back!"

Child, "Dad, that lecture.....it just builds character.  I get it!"

Child/Wife:  "No, we don't need any money.  It doesn't grow on trees."

Child: "Were we just fighting?  Don't worry, Max has removed the word STOP from his vocabulary."

Child, "Oh, you want to sit and relax?  OK, I'll just go up to my room and quietly finish this project I put off until the last minute alone."

Wife, "You've lost something?  Honey, I love spending time together looking for it!"

Child, "Oh Dad, here's that money I said I would pay back, with 8% interest!"

And finally,

"Happy Father's Day Dad, hold the fire extinguisher, we'll go ahead and light the grill for dinner!"

The Club You Don't Want To Join

There's a club, that takes only special people and the initiation is not that great.  No one understands how it feels to lose a parent until they have lost a parent.  Recently a great friend joined the club, and I, being a member of that club remembers how it feels.

When you lose a parent it is like you disappear into death.  Those of us in the club understand.  We know you are changed forever, that you lose your last piece of childhood.  Losing a parent makes you feel adrift, like there is no anchor still telling you that everything will be all right.  That one person, that no matter what you do, will always love you.  We are left alone, our own childhood fades, turning into artifacts around the house - pictures on the bookshelf, a faded note written by hand.  We wish we could linger as a child, not having to take control, face the reality that life really does go on and others move forward.

Losing a parent makes you wish you had more time.  As you go through effects and houses, you see pieces of them you didn't know exist and it makes you sad you never got to sit down and ask those questions.  "Who's car were you sitting on in 1953 in this picture?  or "What position did you play when you played basketball for Villanova?"  The story of their life disappears, the only parts remaining are the parts you know from your time with them, that sinking realization that they did exist beyond being a parent, and now you'll never know.

If you know someone joining the club, here's a few pointers.

Let them be the child, let them tell you all about their Mommy or Daddy, because hearing the words as they say them, gives them peace.  They did actually exist, there is a history, and it will go on.

Accept that you are just an ear piece and be simply that, if you haven't joined the club what they really need is someone to listen, to understand the anger, the fear then the resulting sadness of loss.

Take the initiative and help with the task at hand.  There is nothing more daunting than facing a closet of clothes, a storage room full of boxes, even just an underwear drawer and learning how to let go - piece by piece.  Don't worry about flowers or casseroles, help with clearing out not just the home but the soul.

Losing a parent lets us feel our own mortality, the chain is broken and it cannot be fixed.  Before you join the club:

Pick them up when they fall.
Hold your tongue when they want to talk.
Provide the shoulder AND the ear when there is nothing else you can give.

What type of friend are you?  Have you joined the club?

Do you have boys? Are you prepared?

I have two boys, those that live close to me already know that from the smells that come out of my home to the noise level at all times of the day.   Those cute little minions smelling of baby powder and running around your home are going to turn into tweens then teens!  Just to prepare you, I've created a list.

They believe in the natural smell of the human body and this prompts them to take off their shoes and celebrate in any place this natural occurrence.  The shoes come off with a silent snicker until I almost crash the car when the smell hits me.  I've been know to beg them to stick their feet out the window to keep the inside of my car from melting.




If they love the smell of their feet, they love the smell of their farts even better.  My boys love to share, they will wrestle one down and sit on him while holding that beautiful odor until the perfect moment.  The screaming coming out of my home is the rapture from the younger brother at this ceremony of his older brother.

Get used to the smell the breath game.  They will come up with every way of getting out of brushing their teeth, sometimes the yellow fuzz will give it away but most times you have to smell their breath.  Make sure you are sitting down while doing this, falling down hurts.

They detest detergent, they feel that clothing washed in detergent and smelling clean is not natural.  They will hide their clothes under the bed, in the closet, even wrapped up in their blankets.  The sign of a wrinkled shirt means the ride to school is happening with the windows down - rain or shine.

Dirt is their friend - it keeps you healthy to be exposed regularly to dirt they explain.  What they track in the home is just their way to keep the family healthy.

They can multitask.  A wet moldy towel on the floor can double as a mop.  If they spill their drink during the night, they can just move the towel over the puddle and wait for it to cement to the floor.  The polish can comes up with the towel was simply not supposed to be there.

Who needs soap when you have water?  Just the process of getting wet makes them feel clean, and the loss of smell that accompanies the onset of hormones means everyone except them needs to hold their nose.

Why does the dog pee in our bedroom?  Because it smells like a toilet.   Oh and throwing the wet moldy towel over does not constitute as covering it up.

If I tell you something is going to hurt, then don't try it on your brother.  Because it will hurt.  And then it will hurt you.

So here's the list I have compiled so far, as a mother just remember a few stinky hugs are better than no hugs at all.

What would you add to this list of boys?

Get up!

With the start of school, we mother's cherish the non pitter patter of little feet around the house.  So to be sure they make it to school on time, here's a way to make it through the first week of school, heck, the entire school year.



Day One - they usually get up on time, so set the alarm for yourself.  Because you will over sleep and then come down asking them why they didn't wake you, they will look back with a dazed expression, "I was supposed to wake you up?"  The best alarm for parents is the start of the coffee maker, makes getting out of bed that much easier.

Day Two - They have now realized that they do not want to get up early and go to school.  Setup the Karaoke machine the night before and have them running from their room for the shower or listen to your rendition of "Over the Rainbow."

Day Three - They have now turned off their hearing in the morning, evident by the alarm going by their head and they are still not moving.  Check for a pulse, if there is one, then turn the air conditioner down to 37 degrees, once the house is chilled enough, pull the blankets and sheets off of them and announce you are putting them in the laundry.  Hypothermia will get them moving.

Day Four - they wore flannels to bed.  Light a match, blow it out, then run into the room waving it screaming, "The house is on fire.  Get out!  Get out!"  Have their clothes waiting for them in the "safe spot" of your front yard.

Day Five - none of the above is going to work.  Time to pull out the big guns.  Smear their face with beef paste, put the dog in the room and shut the door.  Enough said.

Getting them out the door on time means more quiet time for your cup of coffee, your facebooking and god forbid - a little bit of cleaning.

What are your ways to get kids up and ready for school?

A Real Man - Pre Father's Day Fun

Sure I can stare at Brad Pitt all way, or send pictures of Fast and Furious to my friends.  But how do you define a real man?

Bounce a brick off his abs?  Smoldering eyes that skewer you with just a stare?  Steel arms that wrap around you?  Here's That Grey Area's Verison of a "Real Man."

Pre - K

Standing there with baby throw up down the front of his shirt and laughing about it.

Changing a diaper and forgetting to cover the money shot and paying for it.

Laying on the couch with a child asleep on his chest and not asking for a thing.

Getting quietly out of bed on a Sunday morning and taking the little ones for a "doughnut run."


Holding a small child who just learned how to use the potty all by himself and wiping his behind.

Holding that same child while he is sleeping and simply shrugging when he's peed on saying, "Well, at least it is family pee."

Putting together ANYTHING - lego ship, bicycle, grill with two willing "helpers" and actually getting the job done.


Explaining that all this "healthy food" Mommy made is "good for us" so let's go ahead and clean our plates (without even a look of disgust)

Allowing all of his T-shirts to turn into a nice light pink because "someone" was in a hurry and forgot about the red kids shorts thrown in the wash.

Standing and watching the nice temper tantrum roll around on the floor without looking at Mom and saying, "What is his problem?"

Stepping on a Lego in the middle of the night and not waking the whole house with a scream.





Not slapping the child when you ask him to do laundry and he says, "I didn't put detergent in because I didn't know where it was supposed to go."

Not killing the child because everything of his that the child touches for some reason becomes broken.

Not getting mad when every single remote in the home disappears and then reappears with dead batteries.

Baiting a hook, because this semi-vegetarian can't even kill a worm!

Remaining calm when everything disappears from his toolbox to strangely end up at the Rock Fort.

Spending every Father's Day cooking his own meal on the grill, because no one does it better than Dad.

Running behind that bike for two Sunday mornings (separate years) and yelling, "You have to pedal for it work.  Pedal!"

Taking one child  out to breakfast and "the talk" and telling you that the main point is "respect."

Taking one look at your Boudoir shots from 1929 and saying, "you still look great!"

Sitting through games of Poker and not thinking twice that teaching the kids poker is a "bad thing."

Sitting watching my family argue over end of life decisions with a parent and keeping his mouth shut.

Singing "Dixie Chicken" by Little Feat to me.

And finally saying, "That's nice."  When I said, "I love you," for the first time - always keep them guessing.

Don't MAKE me come over there! - Why I chose to have kids...

Children are a blessing.  They teach us so many important things.  Here's a few on my list:

I really wanted to see how long I could go without sleep.

I wanted to let go of my ego - childbirth - you completely let go of worrying about what ANYONE thinks about you.

I wanted an excuse to wear yoga pants.



I needed to learn how to multi-task - specifically with as many things happening at once as possible.

I needed someone to argue with besides the voices in my head.

I needed an excuse to eat Oreos, Fruit Rollups, Twinkies and Birthday Cake Ice Cream.

I wanted to go to Disney movies and not look like a pedophile.

I needed to hone my cooking skills, specifically how quickly I can make a meal with as few ingredients as possible.

I needed an excuse to let my body go to shit.  Somebody told me you'd get bigger boobs, not that they'd end up longer not bigger.

I needed a lesson in patience - rather, I needed to learn how much patience I actually have.

I need to learn how to not kill people - my kids kept me from becoming a serial killer.

They don't let women in combat, so I decided to create my own front line.

I didn't have a thesaurus - so now I have learned the many creative ways to say "butt" and "poop" and "stupid.".

I needed more mental challenge - especially trying to figure out the "why" in the "it sounded like a good idea" adventures.

I needed to add more sprints to my running workout - from chasing a toddler, to chasing a tweenie who just made a really bad decision.

I wanted to become immortal and the Fountain of Youth was just a myth.

The making the kids part - well, that was pretty cool.  Somebody should have explained the end result a little better.

What made you create your minions?

My Mom Did WHAT?

I love my kids, I especially love how uptight they are and how easy it is to harass them.  Remember as a parent we thought we were cool until we had children, then with the first humiliation of childbirth to the long list of raising kids - we have the perk now of getting back at them!    Need to cement a few memories in YOUR child's life?  Here's how:

Enunciate completely every.word.of.your.order when you are the take out window.   "YES, I WOULD LIKE A DOZEN DOUGHNUTS - THREE CINNAMON BUNS, SIX RAINBOW SPRINKLES, THREE CHOCOLATE SPRINKLED AND THREE ORIGINAL SUGAR GLAZED HOT AND FRESH NOW PLEASE."

Pack their lovey in their school book bag, guarantee they will not fall asleep in any class worrying about that one.

Make them wait with you in the food court of the mall until you MEET every friend they are hanging out with, make their friends stop and sit for a minute while you, "Get to know them."

Label their lunch box - down to writing "napkin" on the napkin.  "Sandwich," "Apple slices," "Tasty Kake."

Take them shopping with you.  Better yet take them to the swimsuit or bra department.

Show them you still have it - especially in front of their friends.  I am very proud that I can still say every word to "Devil Went Down To Georgia" including the Chicken in a bread pan pickin out dough.

Show up in your workout gear to school.  Honestly, I think this is cool because I am actually going to WORK OUT.  But if I really want to embarrass them, I wear my neon tights without underwear, leg warmers, and headband to complete the outfit.

Making them pose out in public for a picture, especially if they are with their friends.  Then make them stay for 4 more pictures because it "just isn't coming out right" or "wait a minute there standing on the fountain, my camera isn't loading yet."

Jump out of the car in the carpool line (in your pajamas) and yell, "Snuggle!  You forgot your lunchbox!"

Tell stories to their friends about the time they picked up the bagel off the floor, took a bite and told you it tasted funny.  You told them to eat it anyway and after another bite and crying realized the dog had peed on it.

Barge in on them in the dressing room and check to see how clothes "look" or "fit."  My mother always liked to grab the crotch part of the pants making sure, "it wasn't too tight."

Legal Disclaimer - author of this post is not liable for any damages or therapy needed by attempting the actions of this list.  This is a list for professional tormentors only, DO NOT ATTEMPT.  No legal action can be taken against the author of this post as she has no money due to the therapy bills for her own children.

Remember that important part of "embarrass" is that you make an "ass" out of yourself because that's the fun of it.  How do you embarrass your children?

It's Friday....Family Fun? NOT!

Ever wonder why parents always talk about drinking wine?  Here's envision vs reality of Friday Night Family Activities:

Spend a family night watching movies - reality - spending the night starting to watch several movies on Netflix before moving on because they are really bad.  Realization - there are a lot of BAD movies on Netflix.

Game Night with the Family - get out the old favorites and play Monopoly with popcorn and sodas.  Reality - a bottle of wine for Mom and another one for Dad as the kids start arguing over who gets what Monopoly piece and way.  Ending game night in the bathroom nursing a bleeding cut from one child throwing his houses at his brother for bankrupting him.

Go out to a nice dinner with the family - enjoy quality conversation with the family on a beautiful evening out.  Reality - arguing with one that he cannot order the Filet Mignon off the adult menu while convincing the second that a dinner of crackers and soda is actually pretty healthy.  Saving enough money this way to order a bottle of wine for Mom and Dad.

Campfire Cookout - outside evening relaxing while listening to nature.  Reality - fight over who gets to light the fire.  Leave hubby to do this deed, him and boys come back with partial eyebrows missing.  Evening spent sitting in the perfect spot for the smoke of the fire to continually hit you in the face, while a child argues with another continuously looking like someone will fall face first into the fire.

Arts and Crafts Night - create beautiful projects to give as gifts for grandmothers and grandfathers.  Reality - painting Inspector Clouseau moustache on your face is not funny.  Painting the dog, not even funny.  Spilling the paint, walking through it then walking through the house - definitely not funny.

Make A Home Movie - create a memory of the fun your family has making a home movie.  Reality - disgusted halfway through because all they want to do is smack their butts in front of the camera.  Then giving up when all they want to do is the Harlem Shake.  Tell them not to keep filming you drinking wine, you'd rather not have that in your memory.

Family Reading Night - sit and enjoy a good book, reading aloud to the family.  Reality - no one wants to sit quietly while you read a book, so they ask questions with every sentence so you get to a point where even you are not sure what you are reading.  To tell your friends that you actually achieved reading night - give them comics - heck, at least they are reading.

So I guess I look forward to Friday because it's one night where I can justify drinking wine - and as a good Mom, at least give a few of these the college try.  Will make any family activity that much easier.

Happy Friday!

Truth in Advertising

Let's put a few real commercials into perspective:

Benadryl - the young child parent's dream.  Need a full night of sleep - we are the answer.

Hot Sauce - Yes, you know you want to do even if you were the one that taught him that word.  So go ahead.

Bargain Toilet Paper - yes we are sandpaper, but you are buying us you cheap shits.

Disposable Douche - Take that disposable douche and throw it away - whether it is an actual person or not.

Lubricant - if she's not happy you will suffer for the rest of your life.  Make her happy, suck it up.

Pregnancy Test - if you are too young call your parents, if you are too old call your grandkids for directions.

Lite Beer - yes, we really are for wusses.

Mini Pads - young girls we're your rite of passage, old women we're your last resort.

Deodorant - we're not just for your underarms anymore.

Internet Dating - really, put your real picture up on your profile and you'll have much better luck.

Wine - because sometimes it's better than a shotgun.  And your best friend is on vacation so you'll not be able to hide the body.

Any new commercials you'd like to write?  I'm thinking of starting a company.

A kid's view of money....

There are a few differences in how I view money versus how the younger generation views money:

Son, "Can I have this book/game/piece of candy/snake/bike/motorbike/snowboard?"
Me, "No, we don't have any money."
Youngest son, "Just go to the ATM and get the money."

Me, I picture how I can accomplish this if the money really is not in my account.  I picture taking my husband's Avalanche, around 330 in the morning.  Kids and hubby are asleep in bed and the truck won't be missed.  I back up to the ATM, pull out a chain, wrap it around the machine.  I throw the car into drive, hit the gas and as the machine falls over, it immediately spits out all the cash sitting in there.  I leave not a finger print, or tire print and we all live happily ever after.  But this is reality and I don't have a chain, even though I usually am awake at 330 in the morning.

"Honey, it doesn't work that way."
Son, "But it's a money machine, it gives us money."
"Honey, it gives us money out of our account.  If we don't have any money in our account there's no money to give."
Son: "But the account is in the machine."
"Yes."
Son: "And the machine gives us money."
"Yes."
Son, "Then if there is money in the machine then there is money in our account right?"

Sigh

Maybe I'll stop and buy a chain on the way home today.

Nothing like Epic Style Notes!

Sometimes you need a pick me up for your day.  I thought I would make myself feel better by listing the things of which I have talent:

Losing my phone - I seem to be very talented at this.  My phone's been left on the floor at a New Years Eve Party, thrown out of my pocket on a epic wipeout on a ski slope, taken by a baby and hidden under a couch, and now sits in a lock box in Salt Lake Airport until said manager returns to open said box.  You never know what phone numbers you DON'T have until you lose your phone.

Saying the wrong things at the right time - Sometimes it would be nice to have filters on my mind and my tongue, but then there would be no drama in my life.  This way I can keep things exciting as I dodge the blow of my brother in law for saying something.

Pointing out the Obvious - see definition above.  Standing, not realizing your husband is behind you saying, "I got that cute Abercrombie Shirt for my son on sale for 68.99."  He then has a fit and proceeds to explain that a: they are still growing why buy expensive stuff and, b: The Target one looks exactly the same and c: Don't get him used to expensive brands early, we can't afford it.

Staining - I have the affinity for white, and usually the first day I wear it I spill something like Balsamic Vinegar, or Texas Pete Hot sauce or Easter Egg dye.  Then I find out I am equally talented at not being able to get the stain out of my shirt.  I am also equally talented and accidentally dropping a new pair of jeans in with stained shirt so I can wear it again.

Falling with style - I fall.  Yes, I fall alot.  But I've made it such an art form I've heard guys yell, "TEN" by the side of a ski slope.  Other runners stepping over me by the side of the road.  Finally, I've won the  award for quickest get up off the ground/ego check on trail running.  If you are going to fall, then fall with style is what I say.

Asking Silly Questions - since most of my family members consider the uterus to be a homing device, I'm always asked there things are when lost.  One of my favorite answer is a question, "Where did you lose it?"

Selective Hearing - I am very good at looking directly at the person talking, looking enthusiastic, shaking my head, then repeating the last word of their sentence.  Even when I have no clue what they are talking about.  This condition steps up a notch in talent when talking about number..

Stalking - I'm a very good stalker on Facebook.  Boy am I glad that there isn't an app to see who's viewed your profile - I'd be in a lot of trouble.

Embarrassing my children - this requires a lot of work, because children are very sneaky to get away from Mom when their friends are around.  My saving grace is the carpool line where they have to wait outside with their friends, I can casually stick my head (with my cowboy hat) out the window and yell, "Come on little podna!  We've got some wrasteling to do."

Being Me - finally, it's easy to conform to what other people think you should see/do/be, but I'm much better at being me.  I'd rather be unique than be a clone.  As Abraham Lincoln once said on the internet, "Be yourself, everyone else is taken."

What would you add to the list?

Great Father's Day Idea!

Father's Day is approaching and most of us know that our Dad's pretty much have everything.  They really don't need another soap on a rope, tie, pen - why not take a moment and create a really special memory for them.  Write them a letter:  here's my example:

Dear Dad:

Happy Father's Day!  Here's my Top Ten List of things that make you great:

1.  Softball - I still can't believe you coached my team for all those years - every single practice - every single game.  Sure, I knew with my coordination my best spot was right field.  You told me to do what I do best and each and every time I hit the ball and it fell in the dirt in front of me - I did what I did best, I beat the throw to first base.  You made me a runner.

2.  Diary - that first diary you gave me for my birthday made an impact on my life.  It was my place to write about all the mean 8th grade girls, and who I wished would kiss me down to how jealous I was when my sister got the EZ Home Baker oven.   You made me a writer.

3.  Summertime - Every single summer down the ocean was special when you'd come for the weekend - 6am mornings of crabbing, fishing (your lucky coins were always in your pocket) -  I'd watch you body surf all day long in the water.  I got pretty good at body surfing - well, except for the one wave that scraped the left side of my face.  You made me go long.

4.  Superbowl parties - you little condo stuffed to the gills with people for our yearly superbowl party.  You didn't care about the look of things, you simply enjoyed spending time with family and a great football game.  You taught me to keep it simple, it's more enjoyable.

5.  Danny Boy - every party always included a request for you to sing Mother Macree or Danny Boy, and you never turned them down.  Party, event, funeral, wake you stood took a deep breath and belted it out.  You taught me they won't remember if you were on tune, just that you sang.

6.  Cadillac Jack - a great testament is when one of your coworkers says, "Jack can sell ice to Eskimos."  You'd take me with you when buying or selling a family car - I got how it was done.  You taught me perserverance.

7.  Christmas - your favorite holiday, over St. Patrick's Day, you loved giving gifts, especially the "mystery gift" and even when I was older and you still thought I wore a size 0, I loved you saw me that way and everything you have me.  You taught me it is better to give than to receive, the look on someone's face with the right gift is precious.

8.  Florida - our yearly drive to Florida was full of "slap fights" tape recorded Star Trek episodes, bags of candy and cheap hotels.  I'm not sure what I loved more the drive to Disney World or the actual theme park.  You taught me patience.

9.  Keno - we both played our birthdays in Keno and it was the year I was 31 and you were 65, I played 6/29/65 and you played 6/26/31 - we both hit for a dollar because of luck!  We played again and lost it all, oh well.  I learned to

10.  Kenotherapy - there were hard times when you were sick, and I watched you joke through them even when you were scared.  I was right there by your side, and through your battle I learned to be strong, to make the memory in the now, to tell people you love them before you can't.  What I wouldn't give to hear "Danny Boy" one more time.

Thanks for being a great Dad, and teaching all these important lessons.  Enjoy your day because you are special.  Love you Dad.

Kelly

What would you write in your letter, why not write it right now and give it them so you can see the joy on their face?