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 News

THE NEWS

We arrived at the restaurant, one of my father’s favorites because being thrifty, he always felt that he saved money on the buffet, especially if my brother was there.  This was a seafood buffet, a typical Maryland tradition, full of different fresh catch of fish, crab cakes and your usual buffet fare - macaroni and cheese, salads, ribs, chicken, the whole nine yards.

“Do you have a reservation?” The host asked us.

“No.” My father answered.

“Then the wait is 45 minutes.” He said looking down his glasses at us.

We put our name in, milling in the front of the restaurant with a million other people, the air warm from so much body heat.  Sweating because we were dressed for winter and hanging inside a restaurant.

A different host went walking through the milling crowd yelling. “The Smith Party!  Smith Party of 6?”

My Dad waited watching for any sign of the Smith party.  Finally after several attempts, he raised his hand.  “We are the Smiths.”

My sisters and I, raised as good Catholics were shocked.  Has he lost his mind?  We are not the Smith party.  He looked at us and winked.  We followed him to a table in the back, large and roomy for all six of us.

The waiter came up addressing the table.  “Good morning!  My name is Phillip Yu.”

My Dad looked around the table, especially at my brother, the “bottomless pit.”  “Yes, you fill up me.”

He started explaining the procedures of the buffet, when a hostess walked up to us.  “Are you the Smith party?”

My Dad looked around the table, then back to the girl.  “Never heard of them in my life.”

She looked at her clipboard, back at the table, walking away.

We all looked at him, and a few minutes of silence he looked back at us.  “What?”

It was a delicious family dinner.

THE NEWS

“The doctor is schedule to meet with us between 12 and 1 today.  Have you gotten your plane ticket?” My sister’s voice sounds stressed.

“Yeah, I’ve got a ticket on order, so I can be there on Friday if you need me to be.”

“Let’s keep praying.  The important thing is that it hasn’t gotten to his internal organs, if it’s gotten to his internal organs than it is bad.” I hear papers rustling over the phone.  Knowing my sister, she’s already all over the internet, researching and printing out different options, treatments.

“How bad?” I really don’t want to hear the news, but I have to know.  If I am coming to see him, I’m not going to be blind sided.

“Four to six months.  If he’s lucky.” It sits between us on that phone connection, like the cancer sitting in my father.

I’m not going to believe it. “OK, let’s just wait and see what the tests have to say.  And let’s get everyone to pray.” We needed warriors, we need them fast.

“I will.  I’m sure I’ll be talking to you tomorrow.” I don’t like the sadness in her voice, she can’t let herself be down, not at a time like this.

“Be strong.  Don’t let him think that you don’t have faith.” I say to her, myself included.

“I know.” She sounds doubtful.

“I love you.”  I want to be off the telephone, off it now.

“I love you too.” The connection between us drops, but I’m still holding the phone.  It takes me a few minutes before I finally replace it on the cradle.

The conversation haunts my dreams when I actually did sleep.  It is like a broken record.  “Four to six months” looping endlessly as I occupy myself with chores around the house.  I keep telling myself that sometimes doctors can be wrong.  We are praying for a miracle, and don’t we deserve it?  He’s already been through so much, really?  Does this have to happen?  Keep positive, it won’t be in his internal organs.

I catch myself asking why, why did this have to happen to us?  I know that we are not immune to everything, but why something this terrible?  Why this much pain and suffering?  Why something that maybe I can’t handle?  I’ve always been there for him, the positive heart when things get down.  Can I do it this time? I hear my aunt’s voice again telling me we cannot ask these types of questions-the answers are God’s.  Don’t spend time torturing, focus on moving forward with the job.

I think about the warrior.  He’s in that hospital bed probably awake, wondering the same questions.  Maybe he’s taking himself to a different place, a place where he is happy.  I hope they gave him a sleeping pill, I remember him saying how hard it is facing things when you are tired.

He’s the one living through this, he’s the one with the fight on his hands.  I just don’t want it to be him, I don’t want him to have to go through this pain.  He’s the greatest person I know, he wouldn’t hurt anyone, now he’s the one hurting and there is nothing I can do about it.  

I try accomplishing things but distraction makes my efforts in vain. Each time I look at the clock I think, “3 more hours until the meeting,” or, “two more hours to the meeting.”  I call him once in the morning, when I know he is alone.

“Hey Pops, how are you?” My voice sounds falsely light.

“Better.  I was so tired last night.  The sleeping pill knocked me out last night.” He sounds like himself, I am glad.

“Good, I’m glad you got to sleep.” I’m pacing my living room.

“I tell you, I am so happy that all those tests are over with.” He does sound genuinely happy.

“So it was hard.” My heart reaches through the line to him.

“It was murder.  I started at 8 o’clock yesterday morning and went until 730 last night.  God, I was exhausted.  I am so glad that that’s over.” I can hear his smile.

“You are a strong person.  You made it through the tests, you can make it through anything.” I am proud of him, he simply moves forward, finding something positive.  

“I hope so.  I just want to know.  I hate this waiting part.” I feel his sigh.

“Yeah, me too.  But the meeting is today and at least you will know.” I am telling myself the same thing.

“The doctor did not make it sound too good.” He is back to sounding stressed.

“Screw him.”  I hear laughter.  “Just wait until you get the tests back.  Wait until we know everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah, I know.  It’s just hard.” We both hate waiting.

My heart breaks to hear him say that, but I’m not going to let him hear it.  “Are you eating?”  Typical Irish comment, in the face of crisis make sure there’s enough food.

“I ate all of my breakfast.  I just wish that I could get my appetite back.” There is the sound of movement in the room.

“One thing at a time, the only way you can keep your strength is to eat.” What else can I say, focus on something I can control.

“You sound like my mother.” There is the smile back.

“After all that hospital shit, you’ll be ready for a big steak, huh?” I can see him in his favorite joint, Steak and Ale (“Kelly don’t you love restaurant names that make sense, Steak and Ale, why name it anything else?”)

“Uh huh.”  His silence is telling me it is time to go, his attention is elsewhere.

“OK, I’ll call you later on this afternoon.  I love you, Pops.” We each have our pet names, he is and will only be the person calling me Kate.

“I love you too Kate.”

I can hear the conversation in my head again as I walk around the house wondering what to do.  I can’t work, every time I sit at my computer my fingers poised over the keys, nothing comes to mind.  I go and hold my dog, or I wipe down the kitchen counters again and again.  I think about washing clothes walking up stairs throwing them in.  I sit at my computer again, check my e-mail, the writing that I need to do ,scaring me because it is not coming.

Three hours until they call me.

There are encouraging e-mails from everyone in the family, I feel strength in their support.  

Texting - the Mom Edition

Since I am no stranger to my iPhone, and I thought I've become pretty savvy with texting, thought I would share my Momisms when it comes to texting.....

WTF - Wow, that's fantastic.
WHTF, Wow honey, that's fantastic.


DYHM - Did you hear me?
DYHM :-?  Did you hear me AGAIN?

ALBTM - A little bird told me.  As in, ALBTM WTF!

WUYFCH - Wait until you father comes home!

:-( )   You're not wearing that to school, stop sending out selfie pictures.

BC Because as in BCISS Because I said so.  :-()  BCISS

(^^)   Did you brush your teeth?

MILF - mother I'd like to friend

( *  * )  I't going to snow today

TAIN  - The answer is no.

IDK - I-denta-Kid  Awful picture on IDK, (^^)

LOL - Little Old Lady.  Met a MILF she's LOL

JB  - Just because.

CYA - See Ya!  or some Moms say Cover Your Assets

JBISS - Just because I said so  as in.  JBISS WUYFCH

E - E  - enough is enough

FML - Family Medical Leave - as in, Did you FML?

1....2....3   :-(  I'm going to give you to the count of three.....

SAM  - stop annoying me!

ROFL - Reaching Our For Love as in WTF ROFL!

ILY - you should know this one.


Do you have any new Momism texting Terms?

WTF - Sibling Edition

Recently I watch my two sons get into a WWF showdown type of smack down over the last jawbreaker.  I also watched several people within sighting distance watch my two sons in horror.  So I'm asking, am I raising serial killers or when you were a kid did you:

Sibling Game Playing:

Older:  "Where's going to play the pillow fight game."

Younger, "Yay, that sounds like fun."

Older, "OK, you hit me first with your pillow."

Younger, "OK."  Light tap in brother's face.

Older then proceeds to smack the crap out of the younger.

Older, "OK, now it's your turn again."

Younger, "Uhhhh."

I played the "Slap" game with my siblings.  This was a game in the car where we would slap each other's exposed thighs and who ever screamed lost.  Mainly because this was on long car rides and the child screaming not only lost but got the car pulled over and well, you know what came next.

Sibling Sharing.

Older:  "There's one brownie left.  Do you want it?"  Proceeds to spit on it.

Younger, "Uh, no thanks."

Sibling exercise program

Younger goes and flicks (we called it plucks) the Older's head.  He then runs as fast as he can from mad chasing sibling until he is worn out and caught.  Wrestling then ensues.

Bathroom Rules:

When someone has to go to the bathroom, some like the World Championship 100 foot race ensues, whoever gets in their first, then locks and door and hangs out-for a very long time.

Sibling Boundaries

If sharing a room, the masking tape goes down the middle.  The younger has one side, the older then says, "If you cross into my territory then I'll have to beat you up/"

The younger looks around at how the room is divided, "But I have to cross your territory to get out?"

The older smiles.

Sibling Negotiation

Younger nursing a goose bump on his head.

Older: "You don't need to tell Mom, you are fine."

Younger, "But I'm picking rocks out of my head. Why did you push me down the hill on the tricycle."

Older, "It's your fault.  You didn't hold on.  I'm going to tell on you."

Younger, pauses.  "Oh OK, I won't tell.  I don't want to get into trouble."

Finally one of my favorites:

The older is finally enjoying a quiet moment on the couch, watching Spongebob, of course.

The younger come and sits next to him.  

Doesn't watch the TV, just stares at him.

I watch from the kitchen mesmerized.

The older ignores the younger, continues to watch the television.  The younger doesn't move.

The tension in the room increases.

The younger is frozen, like a statue, watching the older.

The older finally can't take it anymore and looks at his brother.

All the younger does is smile.

The older then proceeds to wrestle with him.

When I am asked later by the younger why his brother wrestled him, I reply, "You're really asking?

Oh, the joys of family.  Hopefully the therapy bills won't be too expensive for both them AND me.

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!"

What did you say?

Just to help you out.  Here are how some comments in my home are tranlated by my Mom Brain.

Significant Other - "Good Morning Sweetie."

Translation - "Why are you standing there eating that Krispy Kreme doughnut, don't you know it goes straight to your waist?"

Child - "What's in my lunch box?"

Translation - did you give me something good or ANOTHER peanut and butter jelly sandwich?

Child - "Why do I have to go to bed now?"

Translation - "I really want to be a jackass in the morning and going to bed early is foiling my evil plan."

BFF - "Would you like a taste?"

Translation - "I know you hate what you ordered for lunch, but you cannot finish off mine."

BFF - "I'm not sure about that one."

Translation - "Those white leggings look like sausage casings on your ass, actually, they may be cutting off the circulation to your cankles.  And believe me the looks you would get wearing that?  You'll thank me for giving you advice."

ME - "I was up all night reading my book."

Translation - "OK, I ending up in a marathon on Criminal Minds, but reading for fifteen minutes before going to bed cancels that brainless activity out."

ME - "You'll eat it and you'll like it."

Translation - "Sure it tastes like shit, I made it.  But someone has to eat it, AND it's is healthy."

ME - "Because I said so."

Translation - "I have no answer, and I'm pissed off.  You'd better stop now before things get ugly."

BFF - "Did you see the new tunics at Bella Nova Boutique?"

Translation - "Obviously you haven't been working on your sit ups - you're gonna need those."

It is easy when you have the translations to understand either:

a.  The look you get from your wife, mother, other.
b.  The slap from said person, or
c.  That silence when you ask "Are you OK?" and they answer, "I'm fine."

Translation - someone is sleeping in the dog house that night and it's not her.

Do you have any translations you would like to add?

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Today is St. Patrick's Day, a holy holiday in the McKeon family.  A wonderful holiday for me full of sweet memories.

My mother always had a green milk for breakfast, and for dinner.  Sure we had corned beef and cabbage, but the green milk was always the highlight of our day.

My father loved to sing Irish songs, my favorite was Mother MaCree, the most poignant time when my Aunt Marie passed away and everyone was sitting around at her funeral.  They started with, "Buddy, sing Danny Boy."  Then it was "Buddy, sing Rose of Tralee," until finally, "Buddy, sing Mother Macree."  He could never finish that song without a tear in his eye, and my grandmother blubbering.  Since both of the Kelly sisters had departed for the sweet hereafter, my father sang it for both of them, the rest of the family doing the blubbering for him.

I traveled to Ireland with my father and my Aunt on the "trip of a lifetime," both of them finally getting to a place of their dreams.  I'll never forget standing on top of the Blarney Castle, my father laughing and saying, "You don't need to kiss the stone Kelly, you already have the gift of gab!"  We traveled downtown Dublin, making sure to stop at the Guiness factory, my father happily taking the extra tickets from our travel group to the "tasting room."  My Dad was the only person who ever called me Kate, I have a card for my birthday in Gaelic, saying, "We'll never have this again, our birthdays in Ireland, Kate."

I went back to Ireland with my family and my Mother.  I will never forget the flight to the Aran Islands in a small aircraft prompting my mother to say, "My Volkswagon has more aerodynamics than this plane."  She wasn't happy when they weighed all of us before deciding where we sit on the airplane, something about distribution of weight ("Why am I in the back," my mother asked.)  The plane flew off of a cliff, dropped then came up slowly over the ocean before starting toward the island.  I will never forget the look on my mother's face when the plane dropped.

For my 40th birthday, the family went to Ireland for a week.  One of my fondest memories, was Wolfgang, 3 at the time, going into a hole with his Shilelagh trying to find a Leprechaun to "Bop" on the head and take home to be his friend.

Now we create our own St. Patrick's Day Memories, just like my Mom, no holiday is complete without the green milk, green pancakes and a visit from Buddy McShae, our resident leprechaun.  He's a grumpy old fella, who short sheets the beds, leaves green glitter AND doesn't flush the toilet.

Make your memories now because they become your favorite memories later.

And old Irish proverb once said,

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?

How Dads Lie - and why!

How can you say no or parents are really good at lying….

Parents must take acting classes as part of the secretive manual everyone is not talking about.  What manual?  Oh, if you haven’t gotten the manual yet then you are not part of the club.  There is an entire chapter to getting away with those lies that preserve the sanity of the family.

Our was on a trip to Florida, where the family would pile into the cadillac (my father was a Cadillac sales man, we were that family with no money but a brand new cadillac parked in the driveway) and drove down to Florida for our yearly Disney trip.  Mom and Dad in the front with us kids piled in the back or sometimes, Mom and Dad and my littlest sister in the front, with us three kids with ugh! Grandmom in the backseat - I think this was done to keep us in line.  (She always threatened to touch us with her dentures if we didn’t behave on the trip)

Which made us little angels.

For a little while.

My father’s acting skills were called into question on one of those Florida trips, sweating on the leather seats, playing the slap game, pulling each other’s hair until our parents couldn’t take it anymore and the shining oasis of the highway appeared.

The roadside zoo.

As kids we didn’t notice that technically, it was in someone’s back yard, and most of the animals look like really tired farm animals, but everybody grabbed the brass ring and piled out of the car for “the zoo.”

This obviously was before the days of PETA because two of the major attractions for at the zoo were the “drumming duck” and the “dancing chicken.”  The only two in the zoo that cost money, of which we begged my Dad for money, over…..and over….and over...again.  Now, as an adult, I kind of feel sorry for the chicken because obviously he was standing on a hot plate and each quarter fed into the lmachine, turned the plate on and made him “dance.”  The road side zoo was probably some place for washed up street performing animals thinking they were going out to pasture but ending up on hot plates and such.

I found the monkey while my brother and sister were up to $16 on the “dancing chicken.". The monkey was in a little cage hidden in the back.  A small spider monkey, brown, with very sad looking eyes, sort of like a little squirrel but with a much longer tail and better agility.  He looked so excited to see me, he jumped from a tree in the back of the cage to the front.

It was almost like serendipity because just as he reached his little hand between the bars of the cage and touched my hand, I looked up and noticed the “For Sale” sign.

We were meant to be.  I could see it now.

We would be best friends.  He could sleep next to me in the bed.  Ride on my shoulder on my bike.  I’d teach him how to use the toilet, he could sit next to me at the dinner table.

In that single touch I saw an entire future with Toby and me - my new best friend.

One problem.

I had no money. 

But I had parents.

I ran and pulled my Dad over to the monkey cage, “Look Dad!  He’s for sale!”

My Dad looked in the cage, watched the monkey take some feces from his butt and fling them to the bottom of the cage, then look over to me.  I’m sure my Dad for a second, thought, “well, $20 in pretty cheap” but then common sense took over, he could see the monkey throwing feces around the car, wiping it on the leather seats, biting us, spitting in my mother’s face.  I only saw my best friend.

“I’ll take care of him, I’ll do EVERYTHING.  You don’t have to worry about anything! I’ll clean him, and make clothes for him, he’ll sleep in my room, you won’t even know here’s there!  PUUUUHHHHLLLEEEAAASSEEEE?”

The monkey, as if on cue, reached out and his tiny fingers wrapped around my finger as if sealing the bond.

At this point most Dads who haven’t read the secret parenting manual would think, “I am screwed.  This damn monkey is going to ruin my vacation because said child is going to be crying about how evil I am for not freeing him from his cage for only $20.”

I’m watching my Dad, thinking that I may have an “in” that he is mulling it over.

He’s thinking of a way to get out of it.  “Let’s go look at the other animals.”

Thinking I need to be an angel to get my monkey, I follow him through the zoo.  Looking at some very tired bears snoring under a tree.  Petting a miniature horse, I say, “He’s too big to put in the car, see the money is so much smaller.”  My Dad sighs.

We end up back at the monkey cage, and I am pulling out all the stops, I am not crying about how we are already best friends, and I can’t leave my best friend behind!  My brother has finished his $20 in quarters with the chicken and is walking over, “Cool!  A Monkey.”

Toby, throws some feces at my brother and I’m saying to my Dad, “He’s just kidding with John.  I told him that he won’t give me any of his candy on the drive.”  I look over to the monkey, “Toby, be a good monkey!”

I’m thinking maybe I have him, that I am taking my best friend home when my father pulls the white lie out of his butt, sort of like the monkey pulling the feces from his own.  But it the perfect lie, it dashes my hopes, gives him a reason for not buying the monkey, and keeps everyone happy.

“The hotel down in Florida doesn’t allow monkeys, honey.  What would we do with Toby for 2 weeks?”

I stop crying and think for a minute, hmmm, what will we do with him for 2 weeks?  Friendships like the ones in Middle school sometimes are not meant to be, “Oh man, maybe we can stop here on the way back and buy him?”

My Dad brightens up, “Yes, maybe.”  In his mind he’s thinking, “hell no.”

I grab his hand, loving my Dad for thinking about buying me a monkey, wave goodbye to Toby, “Goodbye Toby.”  He’s too busy picking his nose, he turns away.

That’s how Dads do it, they preserve the family dynamic with a small lie here and there.  They want to give their children everything but are the voice of reason, thinking through all those things that us Moms just jump right into.  The ying to our yang.

As we walked out the front of the zoo, my brother looks into the chicken booth, “Hey look!  The chicken laid an egg!”

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.

What were you thinking? Boys logic

I like to think little boys minds are in the growing stage, that explains some of the logic they use for things they do.  Here's a few gems from my boys that make me scratch my head.

The reason the empty carton of orange juice goes back in the fridge is to remind you to pick up OJ.

The wet towel on the floor actually cleans some of the dirt away as you pick it up.

I like tuna fish, let's see if the dog likes it as much as I do.

If you can't find the dishes then technically they don't need to be cleaned.

I am dirtier than you because I am closer to the ground than you.

There is this magical place in our room, it is called the floor.  You drop clothes on in and the very next day they appear back in your drawer folded and smelling very nice.

If you can't smell it then it never happened.

Someone said the orange in Cheetos is real cheddar cheese.

What comes out of the dresser drawer, never goes back in the dresser drawer.

If I open a cabinet drawer, why waste the energy to close it?

If I hit my brother and you don't see it, then it was an accident.

Why can't you check my pockets before you wash the clothes?

If you didn't see the dog eat it, then I finished it just like I said I did.

Why brush my teeth if I'm just going to ruin them by eating breakfast?

Law of Attraction - if my brother has it, even if I threw it away, I want it back.

Girls?  Who needs them - all they do is break your crayons and cry all the time.

That shrug?  It means, "yeah I love you too, now don't make me hug you in public."


What other types of logic would you add?

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.

Truths about kids....

10.  If it is expensive, they will break it.

9.  If you really like it, they will lose it.

8.  If they lose it, it is before you get the enjoyment of using it.

7.  If you buy another, and tell them not to touch it.  They will wait one day until they use it - and break it.

6.  They will not know how they broke it.

5.   Blame usually consists of siblings pointing at each other.

4.  Even if it is not supposed to come apart, they will find a way to take it apart.  And break it.

3.  If it is a secret, they will say it.

2.  If it is embarrassing, they will say it loudly and in a crowd.

1.  If it is a drink and in a restaurant, it will be spilled, and in your lap.

Do Your Children Play THESE Games?

My kids have made up their own games.  In case you have younger children, here's some insider knowledge on how to play their games.  These are the same children that pose angelically next to me in all the photos I post to Facebook.

The Wrong Answer - My youngest will ask the oldest a question.  It doesn't matter what the question is, "How are you," "Do you want me to give you twenty dollars," or ,"Is your hair really on fire."  What does the oldest come back with,

Your face

Seriously, he answers everything the youngest says with Your Face.  My first thought is, what does that mean?  Your face.  Then as he says it over and over again, I start to get annoyed.  The youngest continues to ask the same question over and over again, always getting the answer, "your face."  I turn in the car and look at both of them thinking, "How did they get such good grades at school, when they probably answered every question on their test with Your Face."

Stonewall Game.  They will be sitting RIGHT NEXT to each other, usually in the car and my youngest says, "Wolfgang,"
He doesn't answer him.
"Wolfgang"
Yes, they are sitting right next to each other and he acts like he doesn't hear him.
"Wolfgang."

Does the youngest stop and do something else?  No he continues to sit there saying his brother's name over and over again until I swerve the car off the road, avoiding the ditch and turn around and scream, "PLEASE ANSWER HIM."  Say anything, even Your Face just acknowledge the kid!


Come And Get It - this game they play involved anything they both are trying to get to.  Elevator buttons, Wii controllers, certain chair at the breakfast table (yes, we do have four)  When it becomes apparent that we are going to the elevator, table, car - there's a WWE smack down right in front of me as the older one throws the youngest to the floor as does a Carl Lewis type sprint to the desired object.  Periodically he can be tripped by the youngest along the way, but if the youngest makes it to desired object, then the oldest will throw him out of the way with a "your face."

MINE! - The youngest will have a desired object - pencil, paper, DS, dog - and if the oldest one wants it, he immediately takes it out of his hands.  The youngest will scream, the parent will scream, "give it back" and then the wrestling begins.  Usually the only object that survives this game is the dog, and she's gotten smart enough to hide when she sees a child coming toward her to pick her.

The Room Key - this game is a lot like a combination of Keep Away, and I want it.  The room key hits the front desk and usually the taller one has the advantage of grabbing it first.  They then wrestle to the elevator with the younger one crying that it was "his turn" to use the key.  I stand in the elevator acting like I don't know the children as they fight all the way up to the floor.  Finally down the hallway to the door, where the oldest attempts to use the key and it doesn't work.  I wait patiently as he continually says, "I got it," and the door will not open, luggage digging into my shoulder.  Finally we realize the key has been de-magnetized in the fight and someone has to go back down to the desk and get a new one.

I Dare You - this is a game my husband and I play.  I've gotten very good at this one.  They boys will start with an argument, that then turns into the sounds of elephants playing downstairs, with a lot of grunting.  My husband starts by looking at me, then going back to his computer.  Looking at me again, as I am oblivious to the noise (yes, I know it's another one of their games) Finally like me playing the Stonewall game, he can't stand it anymore and says, "Shouldn't one of us go down there?"

To which I answer, "Your face."





shouldn't you go stop that


Tell your borther to get up, son screams, "GET UP