Dog Days

So here we are, August 11th, and summer is coming to an end.

When I flip through my pictures and memories of the past few weeks it is a blur of sand, salt, seaweed, chlorine, over-priced ice cream pops and suntan lotion.

There was a lot of this:

And several days of this:

Probably too much of this:

Sometimes you gotta throw in a little of this:

Add a bit more of this:

A few afternoons ended like this:

And while it is not over yet, it is starting to get old.  I have to admit it.  As I have said so many times before on this Blog, I appreciate all 4 seasons, and never do I appreciate the next one more than when the current one is coming to a close.

When Spring has sprung, I long for lazy days of beach and pool.
And now, as my bright summer annuals are getting overgrown and under bloomed, my grass is growing slower, my car is sandier than the beach and the kids are so tan that people ask me where they're from...
They get on each other's nerves, which gets on my nerves.
They're bored, I'm bored.
We're ready to get back into our routines.  We've been bouncing, shopping, watching, swimming, sunning, riding, running, visiting, partying, sleeping-over, over-indulging and generally doing nothing productive or useful and enjoying every minute of it.  But we're done.

We want school and weekends and sports and dance and pumpkins, mums, boots and sweaters.  Birthdays, Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.We're ready.  Because summer will come again, it's good like that.  And I am so ready to organize closets and make handmade Christmas cards, finish that cork garland I have been talking about and maybe even that Kissing Ball I bought all the stuff for 3 Christmases ago...

We have a few more great things on our Summer Bucket List.
Next week we will head down to Ocean Beach in New London.  Summer is not complete without soggy fries and soft-serve ice cream cones.  Abby has it in her mind that she will conquer the "big water slide" this year and Wyatt just really looks forward to the Motorcycles.

The Motorcycle Ride, Ocean Beach Park - 2011

It's a Day-cation, for sure.  One I really look forward to as much as the kids, if not more than them.  Just blogging about it right now has me all revved up thinking about it.  What a great way to spend a summer day.  The boardwalk, the "waves", the white sandy beach and of course, the splash pad.  I can't wait!!

The week after next we'll have a whole week of Daddy-Time.  A whole week off of work to hang with us.  Last year he tried this and Hurricane Irene stopped by.  Assuming we don't have a repeat of 2011, we're really looking forward to spending some quality time.  We'll hit the beach, drive up the shoreline a bit, maybe go see that new Disney movie about the plant-boy.  Eat some good stuff, play some fun things and just send summer off in style.  Beach, pool, firepit, movie nights, popcorn and icecream.

Because, really, without the sand, suntan lotion and tanned bodies - what would the point of summer be?

The Lost Art of a Ham & Cheese.

Growing up, one of the simple joys we had was "going to the deli".  We could walk.  When I was very young, I had to go with Christine or Edward - and probably their friends which meant having to be ridiculed or ignored the entire time - but when I hit the ripe old age of about 10, I started going by myself.

Sometimes I'd just go simply to go.  I could go by myself, so why wouldn't I? 
If I had enough money, I might buy a Chocodile.  {If you don't know what a Chocodile is just throw yourself down the stairs right now,  you haven't lived anyway.}

If I was having an especially wealthy day - read: my Dad left money in his jeans pocket, unattended and probably a few cigarettes for the walk but that's for another post - I might be able to afford a sandwich, chips and a Pepsi.  Perhaps even a Chocodile on top of that.

Sometimes it was just candy.  The Gabriellis always had buckets of candy ranging price from $.01 to $.25 so you could really load up with a dollar or 2. 



**Sidebar - When did we lose the symbol for the word "cent"?  If I could have written 1c instead of $.01, wouldn't that have been cute and more to the point?  Why do such simple, happy things have to become so complicated?  ** 



When I was about 13 my Dad decided I needed a job he said it would "keep me out of trouble".  Perhaps he was right, in theory if not practice, but really - it made cash & cigarettes even more available.
Anyway. 
He was friends with Mr. Gabrielli and Mr. Gabrielli was kind enough to hire me for $4 an hour after school.  The sisters and Mario taught me all about food, stocking, sweeping and quick math at the register.  I never dared eat anything they didn't offer me directly and I was always on my best behavior.  I basically worked in their home and was the only non-Gabrielli there so to be anything other than humble would have landed me on the sidewalk outside.
The only real workable skill I took from that job was how to peel a potato quickly and easily.  Boil it first.  The skin will come right off while it's hot...  if you can handle the heat on your fingertips.  The 4 fingered (total.  on both hands.  4.) Mr. Gabrielli taught me this neat little trick while he laughed at my young, soft fingertips and said a bunch of stuff in Italian about how I was spoiled and/or lazy.

After that stint at Brewster Hill Deli I went on to work for Sal & Mike at the North Brewster Deli for several years.  I would work, quit, get a "real" job - probably at the mall - and then come back.  I learned how to fry cutlets, marinate mozzarella, pronounce supressata and mortadella, cook on a gas stove top, slice meat thin and quick (while managing to keep all my fingers in tact), stack a sandwich with more deli meat than you would buy for a family of four, pour bottomless cups coffee for the sleazy mysteriously-jobless-but-wealthy men of Brewster that would ask me how my mom was doing but never my dad...  the hours spent at that deli are some of the happiest, most gratifying hours of my youth.

That is where I learned that hard work paid off.  I learned that smoking 52 cigarettes in a 6 hour shift is completely normal, even if you are only 15 years old.  I learned that no amount of Dove or Tide would get that dried meat and fried oil stink off of your jeans or out of your skin & hair.
I could not eat coldcuts while I was pregnant with Abby.  Michele brought me a sandwich from NBD in the hospital after I delivered.  And it was good.  It was very good.

Anyway.
Jay is always saying that what our town needs is a good deli.  We should get a small-business loan and buy something on Main Street and get a good deli/bakery going.  If there was any small business I feel qualified to run, it would be that.  I know good food, I know good customer service and I know what people need from a good deli.
Quick Service.
Quality Meat.
Delicious, home made food.
That's it.

Wanna make hot lunch Mon-Fri?  Good.
Wanna add a Soup of the Day?  Go for it.
Cater to large groups?  Absolutely.

But the bottom line is this:  Serve delicious, quality food quickly and affordably.

That last word is where this state seems to get it wrong.  Maybe it's a sign of the times.  Maybe it's a population thing.  Are there not enough people around here?  Are we so conditioned to trust a Subway or a Panera or a Starbucks with our needs?
Can we no longer get a ham & cheese on a roll with lettuce, tomato & mayo and a pepsi for $5??
I love Panera Bread, but it's not a deli.
I love this local joint, Rein's, but it is SO not a deli.  It's a diner with a take-out counter. 
Delicious?  Absolutely!  But over-done, the whole place is just over the top.

I don't want to wait an hour to sit at a deli.  I want to walk in to the crowd of hungry people waiting, shuffle around till I find a place I am comfortable waiting - not in line, not at a table, not with a hostess who has taken my name, just with my body language and stance will anyone know I am in line and not being waited on yet.  When a counter person is ready they will yell "Who's next?" and I will yell "Ham & Swiss on a roll, mayo, lettuce, tomato."

No one will ask me what kind of ham.  What kind of ham!?  There is only ONE kind of HAM.  I did not say Virginia ham, I did not say prosciutto, I said Ham.  That only means Boars Head, thin.  There is no room for interpretation.
Maybe I will add a "potato salad" or "with a pickle".  That's that.  2 minutes later, I am out the door.

I want fresh bread and a whole Mozz, salted.
I want a "combo" - there is not question what I am asking for.

Today I drove into a place called Max Bibo's Delicatessen.  The location looked promising, it wasn't flashy or fancy.  I wondered if there was a good deli right her, right on the Silas Deane and I was missing it, all these years in Hebron complaining about bad cold cuts & packaged breads and here was this deli, right under my nose!!
So, I pulled in.  I wanted some soup and a fresh bread to bring to Jay's Gram.
$30 later, and without bread, I drove away.  Enough Chicken Noodle soup for -hopefully- 4 people and a handful of homemade Mac & Cheese made me $31 broker and 100% surer that CT, in fact, knows nothing about delis.

I know how many hours Mike & Sal poured into their deli.  I know there was a bed in the 5x5' office and that their wives and kids visited them in the deli probably more often than they visited together in their homes. 
I would not want to be the proud owner of something I would never have a minute to enjoy.  But I desperately wish someone would.

There is prime real estate on Main Street right now.  My brain flies into motion every time I drive by that old Mobil - vacant - on the corner of "all high school kids walk by here" and "all moms drive by 4 times a day".  It's crazy ripe for the business.
I just don't have that kind of dedication.

And that, my patient readers, is likely the exact reason that a good deli is so hard to find.  That might be the very sad realization this blog post just brought me to.

One resolution too many...

As a twenty-something I often scoffed at things done by people that were older - and wiser - than me.  Believing I was smarter (cooler, prettier, clever-er) than anyone else was pretty much my full-time job.  And making a New Year's resolution was something I was definitely heads & shoulders above doing...  I mean, really, why do you the calendar to force you to change something that needs changing?
If you want to lose weight, be nicer, watch less tv, read more, eat better - just do it!
And that's true, you can "just do" those things.  But I am sitting here, surrounded by the decimated remains of Christmas - more trash and recycling than can be picked up in one week, more food thrown out than consumed, more food consumed than ever should be, more dusty decorations to clean up and put away and more tight jeans and sweaters that have mysteriously gotten too short than I care to count.
So, the reason for choosing January 1st has become very clear to me now, at the wise old age of 35.
It's a fresh start.  The chaos of December, the disorganization and unchecked to-do's of the previous 12 months is completely behind you.
If you use a paper calendar (as I do) you literally cannot even see the year behind us.  Anything I wanted to do but never got around to?  Vanished!  Stuff I promised but failed to fulfill?  Poof!
This day, Monday January 2nd, is my fresh start.  My opportunity to do everything the right way, once and for all.
This year is going to be different, people.
I will get healthy - once and for all.
I will stop yelling at my kids - completely.
I will be kinder and more patient - all the time.
I will treat my husband better - he deserves it.
I will sweep every day and keep those hairballs from flying around - I'll make time!
I won't baby the boy and I'll stop over-expecting from the girl - quick turnaround!
I will get to the gym 4 times a week.
I will stop shopping impulsively.
I won't buy candy or cookies.
I won't bake and eat it immediately in moments of weakness.
I will quit drinking and mean it this time!
This is my year, people...  this is it.  No looking back.  No worries, no fears, no doubts...  I am going to be the greatest human being to ever walk the Earth...  or at least Connecticut.
You watch...  You'll see.

*****************

In all seriousness...  I do plan to work on most of those things  but eating right, exercising and keeping my house in order are all I really expect to accomplish.  And by "house", of course, I mean the whole kit & kaboodle, not just the floors & walls - it includes occupants, their lives, schedules, needs & demands.  That's my role, yo.

Happy New Year to you.  Make it everything you want it to be, but don't force it.  2013 is right around the corner...

Are you blogging?

If you are blogging, I'd like to know about it.  Because if you are reading this than it is very likely that we know each other and I would be interested in what you have to say in your blog.
And, by the way, thanks for reading.

I have been inconsistent, at best, but I've missed it.
I rarely "tweet" and I quit Facebooking.  I manage to stay in touch via those old stand-bys like phone calls, text and email.  I know.  I'm so old fashioned.
But even with the occasional touches that phones (of whatever variety) and email I still feel like I am somehow "off the map" and while I am personally ok with that, I worry that my friends think I am out of touch.
That is not the case.  I still want to be friends, and be in touch, and get together, and hear how you're doing.
I just resent that we all seem to think that Facebook is the only way to do that.

I can be a responsible, caring, loving friend without the crutch of hourly status updates.
And it is our jobs, as friends, to reach out.  Friendship requires effort.  You have to pick up the phone, share your news, put out the energy to stay friends.  You have to be a friend.
You don't need Facebook to be friends.  It's a mirage, people.  You only talk on Facebook?  You hadn't talked in 20 years but now you're BFFs on Facebook?
No, you're not.

I made some connections on FB that I missed and that I have since maintained and enjoyed.

I stayed in touch with a ton of my local friends through Facebook, keeping up with where and what was up.  Somehow, though, I still know what's happening, where, and with whom.  And what I don't know, I don't miss.
And I managed to throw together a pretty fabulous holiday party with most of them (sans Facebook) via text message.  I didn't even have a MacBook to email with at that point. (She's home now, all recovered, poor baby girl.)  As much as I loathe the telephone, sometimes I have to use it and I don't usually regret it when I hang up, smiling, after a conversation with my friend.

I made some connections on Facebook that allowed for closure that I didn't need or want to pursue further.

I made some that were people I genuinely cared for and was thrilled to reconnect with.  But without Facebook we will go our separate ways again.  But that's ok.  It's ok to think fondly about an old friend, workmate or acquaintance from your past.  That's what your past is for.  You're not supposed to collect every single person you ever knew - liked or disliked - in one room.
People come and go in life.  Everyone leaves their mark.  Appreciate it.
Then, when you run into them at Olive Garden one crazy, cold, wet afternoon and you both look like shit and you're hungry and grumpy and you have a "20 minute" wait for a table then you can go on and on about each other, then you can tell each other how awesome you look, how much fun you used to have, how happy you are to be together and then  you can go sit and enjoy your endless salad, breadsticks and chardonnay with a pleasant smile and a peaceful memory.  That's how it's meant to go.  You're not supposed to hear about every time their new baby shits or their spouse gets the flu or their boss is a donkey.

I do not miss Facebook.  Sometimes, I miss the connections here and there.  But honestly, if our paths are meant to cross again, they will and in the meantime, we will all go on with our lives and smile fondly when a great memory passes by our conscious.

*********

Have you read any good books lately?
I have been on an Autobiography kick for a while now.  Maybe I have always liked them.  I am a nosy girl.  But it seems they have become more popular to write so they are more available and I am more aware of them.
Rob Lowe's book was great.
There is a lot more to him than hotness and that was nice to learn.  I said it then (or I tweeted it) and I will say it again - if Charlie Sheen writes a tell-all, I will be in line to read it.
They grew up together and there were a lot of stories that involved both Charlie and Emilio and their dad, Martin Sheen.  It was not a name-droppy kind of book.  The fact is that Rob Lowe grew up with a lot of the guys we watched him star in movies with.  That was his life.
If I was rich and famous and wrote a book I would have lots of people to tell you about, too and if they were rich and famous I might sound name-droppy...  but they're not, and I'm not, so I won't bother. 
(Hi, Katie & Melissa!)  xo
Anyway....
I read Smashed and really enjoyed it, though my husband thought it was pretentious and aggravating.
And a few months after that, I stumbled upon Loose Girl in a Borders that was closing so I picked that up for about $2.  (btw, did you know that Borders was originally a little book shop started up by 2 brothers?  How very You've Got Mail!)  It was good, in the same way that the drunk book was good. 
I could totally relate to both vices but I was never that drunk or that slutty, so my arms length judgement was intact.

Right now I am reading Ellen's latest book, which is her third I've learned since opening it.   Seriously, it's awful.
I like her.  I like her show.  I would be interested in hearing her story of being a woman in comedy, a woman in business, a lesbian, a cat lover, a fake blonde...  any of that.  I like her.  But this book is not more than schtick and the only reason I haven't quit it is that Jay bought it for me and I don't want to hurt his feelings.
I am also reading a little Nora Roberts on the side.  That takes the edge off.
Chelsea Handler, Jenny McCarthy - both female comedians, both wrote at least 3 books (that I read, anyway) - both managed to keep it real and interesting and hilariously funny.
Sorry for expecting more than blank pages of "meditation" and some coloring pages.

I read the first of the 4 stories in Stephen King's latest (?) and while it was a very good story, very King-y and scary and gross and creepy it was also very scary, gross and creepy which, I realized as I wrapped it up, just is not my thing anymore.
I know that at least one of the next 3 stories involves rape and torture and I can't imagine there's another Shawshank or Stand By Me in one of the other 2 so I shelved that one.

My mom is reading Regis' latest and Jay is almost done with Jim Breuer so I look forward to both of those in the upcoming months.

*******

Winter is upon us.
Christmas is all but over. 
New Year's Eve is tomorrow.
I enjoy the peaceful hibernation.
We'll celebrate Abby's birthday quietly - a Ballerina Dance Party for her little friends and maybe a nice restaurant dinner for the little princess ...  nothing major, no house party, no pinatas.
We'll head south in February for a break from the cruel, cruel world.  Snow & Ice be damned, we'll be in the pool, strolling along the beach and screaming through Space Mountain!
And we'll carry on with Kindergarten, Pre-K and the day-to-day of our lives while Jay travels to the icy mid-west and we all wait for Spring and summer to return.

Life is Good.
And it's good to be back.

Pumpkintown is for the Bees...

Today might have been our last foray to the land of the Pumpkin.  I love Fall.  I love the smells, the sounds, the flavors...  I love Wyatt's birthday and how it kicks off the entire holiday season.
What I don't love is aggressive, stinging bugs coming at me with a purpose - only made worse when they aim for my kids.
Call me a ginat baby but the bees literally chased me out of Pumpkintown today.
No, thanks!  No, way!

So, our visit was cut short but we really could have tried harder...  the truth be told, we didn't care that much.  Pumpkintown was a fun, enjoyable, season-y thing to do when the kids had pretty much nothing else to do with our time.
Now, with school and activities we had to squeeze it in.  And squeezing in a fun activity is hardly a good way to start out.
To add insult to injury, we had to pay admission.  In previous years, when it was a random weekday that we decided to head to Pumpkintown it was free.  Today, being Columbus Day Observed, we paid $4 each.  So, $12 to get chased by bees in blazing sunshine while sweating in line for a pumpkin bounce house that, according to Abby, had too much air and was not very bouncy at all.

Perhaps we'll put P-Town behind us.  It seems we've outgrown it.  But it will forever be a fond memory of my tiny kiddos' Fall line up...

2009

 

Today, 2011

Today, 2011

2010

2009.  Where's Wywy?

How Tall in 2010?

Today, 2011

School.

Tomorrow is the first day of school.  Tomorrow should have been the 6th day of school but, as you may have noticed, Irene had other plans.
So, tomorrow I will put Abby on the bus and send her off to Kindergarten.  She will be driven by Mrs. C, who she knows as Tyler's mom - not scary.  And being that she is going to Afternoon Kindergarten the bus will have only other afternoon kindergartners on board.  PM-K is good for so many reasons.  Many of which I never considered and am now so grateful for.  Not getting rushed in the morning and not having big kids on the morning bus are only 2 of those things that I never knew I would value so much.
Once I get Abby safely loaded onto the "D" I will then head up to Gilead with Wyatt loaded up in the Bu, ready for his first day of Pre-K.
He is very, very excited.  If you ask him, he will carry on about playing with toys, being with his friends and Mommy dropping him off and leaving him with Mrs. Aubrey - but coming back to pick him up - but not staying with him.
The very thing that has him the most excited - Mommy dropping him off and leaving - is the very thing that leaves me without breath and very sweaty.
I have never left my baby boy anywhere - to do anything - without me.
Yes, he goes to "daycare" at the gym.  It's never more than 2 hours and I am never more than a few feet away.  And if he cried or needed me, they could get me within 2 minutes.

Once I drop him off tomorrow I have to Drive. Away.  I won't see him or what he's doing.  I won't hear the funny things he'll tell his teacher or the conversations he'll have with his little friends.
He will be on his own, in a group of his tiny little peers, all by himself.  For the first time ever.

It's only 3 hours, 4 days a week.  And I couldn't have asked for a better school or teacher.  And Abby went to the same program for 2 years.  I have nothing to fear.  No legitimate concerns or issues.

I am just very, very attached to my baby boy.

I don't love him more than I loved his sister when I sent her off to Pre-K 2 years ago.  I cried that day, too.  But I didn't have this anxiety.  My heart was not racing and my stomach did not feel feathery.
He is not less excited than she was.  In fact, he might be more excited because he has been waiting and watching for 2 years and now it's his turn.

I am not worried or anxious for Abby to start Kindergarten.  There are 14 kids in her class and her teacher is seasoned, kind and confident.  I can't say more than what my first impression told me but I already like her.  Abby would do well either way, though - that's her personality.  I don't worry about the situation she is heading into, I know Abby will adapt and be awesome.

I will just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.  My friends tell me that by the end of the month I will be thanking the heavens that they leave me (almost) every day for a few hours.  They tell me I won't know what to do with them over Christmas vacation or *sigh* summer vacation next year. 
But I know I will know what to do.  Enjoy,  Every.  Moment.

I will be in their classrooms.  I will be on their field trips.  I will be here when they get home and hear all about whatever they want to share with me.
My house will be decorated with artwork and projects.
And when they want to watch tv, I will happily turn it on because I will know that they have had full, productive days and deserve a little downtime.
I will make hot soups and crockpot dinners. 
It's almost holiday season - ghosts, witches, pumpkins, mums and corn...  followed by Santa and Angels and Christmas trees...  followed by the lingering snowflakes and snowmen..  all homemade and full of glue and sparkles!

Hurricane Irene

I have taken so many pictures over the past 4 days, I can't imagine my camera will hold much more, but I have vowed to unload them all at once, when it's all over.

And while the storm came and went in less than a day, her effects are still lingering and likely will, for a very long time.

Some observations:

• Hurricane Gloria was fun.  Because I was 10.
• Hurricane Irene is an adventure for my kids, who are 3 & 5, and have never experienced "no tv" never mind no lights or no cold food.
• People surprise you.  We know when to step up for each other.  We can be reminded of what's important.
• No one should have to live without electricity for 4+ days, not when it's not a planned camping vacation - and even then, you have running water.
• We may have to cancel Jaybor Day.
• My neighborhood is awesome.  I don't know how we wound up in Hebron but you can't pick a better town to raise a family.  Especially if you're lucky enough to live in The Heights.
• Q is one of the toughest cookies out there.  I saw her broken bones moving around under her skin and she was holding it together like a soldier.
• My husband's life of luxurious hotel rooms and restaurant meals is not nearly as luxurious as I once thought it was.
• Looking forward to planning our 1st Annual Hurricane Irene Reunion Party for the 'hood - it can't only be when the power's out that we all walk around and mingle.
• Realizing that Jody and her kids are our family, even though we always knew it.
• Mother Nature, in all her glory, is a force to be reckoned with.  And I reckon she kicked our ass.
• Hotels are for vacations...  relaxing, prepared and budgeted-for vacations.
• The pool water is fine for flushing and washing dishes but you can't drink it.
• My husband's preparation for this storm was legendary.
• Cleaning up the yard, smelling the fresh mow and the burning branches, grilling and sitting at night with AM radio by candlelight have never sounded so good.  I can't wait to go home.
• That said, the Hyatt has treated us better than well and I would look for this place on any vacation I planned and looked forward to!

When power returns and the pictures are uploaded, I may return.  But for now, that's all I got.

Happy Mother's Day

Today was Mother's Day. 
Not my first but it felt like the most special thus far.

I woke up around 7 to the sound of my husband ushering Abby & Wyatt out of my room so that I could sleep a bit longer.  I am always up by 7 because that is when the children wake up.  Even if they get in bed with me, it usually pushes me out.
They got out, got dressed and went outside to help Daddy open the pool.
May 8th and they were out there pulling the cover off, scooping the leaves out and dumping the chemicals in.
At about 8:20 I rolled out of bed, into the kitchen and poured a big, hot cup of coffee.  While Jay is on the road I usually make a quick Keurig cup and rush out the door.  But when he's home (Mother's Day or not!) he almost always makes a whole pot.  And while the K-Cup is better than Instant and more convenient than making a pot for one person, it is neither big enough nor hot enough to truly satisfy that coffee luxury in the morning.
With my big, steaming cup of coffee I stepped out on the deck.  The trees are filling in with green leaves, the grass is getting borderline long, the fresh mulch is perfect and brown and while there are not a lot of colorful flowers yet, I can see where they're planted and picture how they'll look in a few weeks.  This is the most beautiful time of year because everything is fresh, new, gorgeous and full of anticipation.  What's to come...  warmth, sunshine, playtime, swimming, cold beers on hot nights and relaxation.  (Oh, and the weeds haven't taken over yet!)
Taking it all in, I see the kids running around the yard screeching and laughing.  They're playing with Wyatt's car and just basically giddy for being giddy.  That's the kind of pure joy you wish you could bottle and save for adulthood.  They know nothing of stress or worry, they only know the here and now - and the here and now is awesome.

Jay was playing with the filter, adding chemicals, scooping crap & bugs, doing his best to avoid scary spiders and other heeby-jeebies in the pool storage box.
Maybe it was 60 degrees, the sun was shining but the ground was still wet.  It was a perfect morning.  I might as well have been in a Folgers commercial.

We had brunch reservations at 11:00 so I had no intention of eating at home.  An all-you-can-eat-buffet was about to meet it's match and I wasn't wasting an calories with food I had been staring at for a week.

The Bagen Family at the Hotel Thayer, Mother's Day 1984 or 5, I think.
This is the last time I went to a Mother's Day Buffet Brunch and I still remember it, the chocolate mousse, specifically. 
The mousse, and my disappointment at arrival when I saw "thayer" while hearing "fair" the entire car ride there. 

The kids got dressed in their fancy clothes, I showered and got ready in peace (thank you again, dearest husband) and we were actually out the door on time.

At the Brunch we were joined my in-laws (of whom I took no pictures, let the record show I am so sorry I missed the opportunity to get a picture of them with the kids while everyone was dressed so nicely.  Why didn't anyone remind me?) and my very good friend Jody with Q & K.  You may remember previous references to these friends/neighbors who have become so much more than that over the years.





The food was delicious, the company was delightful and I was so at peace and happy with my life, my decisions, my friends and the people (friends, family & community) that I choose to surround myself with and be a part of my life.

This brings me to my initial point, that this was my best Mother's Day thus far because I spent the majority of it reflecting and truly appreciating what I have in my life.  Not the stuff, the stuff. 

 Sometimes I worry that my kids don't appreciate how fortunate they are, I worry that they don't realize that their daily blessings are not the same for every kid.  Then, on days like today, I realize that while they don't walk around with wings on their backs and halos on their heads, they do hear us and they are learning.  I see their manners, their composure, their innocent sweetness that makes all the sweat and tears disappear and only pure joy fills my heart.  The pure joy I wish I could bottle.

It's obvious from my recent blog entries - or lack there of - that I really love summer.
I love the beach.  I love 'no school'.  I love being tan, having fun-filled days for next-to-no money spent.  We swim, we build sand castles, we play on the swings, take walks, play with friends - whatever - it is the weather that allows for, inspires such activities.  And while it is only August 11th, I know our days are numbered.  School starts on the 30th of this month.

We'll have a week of school and then head to vacation where we will indulge in one more week of fun-filled summer vacation.
But when we get back I will be ready for Mums in pots, Autumn transplants and Pruning, Crock Pot cooking and preparing for the holiday and birthday season.  I love Iced Coffee but I look forward to brewing a hot pot around 3:00 as I see the sun beginning to drop, hear the school buses groan through the neighborhood and get ready to start dinner.

I have always said that God graced me with October & January babies to help me kick-off the holidays and then wrap them up.
After Wyatt's birthday we start prepping for Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  And after Christmas, instead of being depressed, I start prepping for Abby's birthday.  And now that she is old enough to help me with that, it's that much more fun.
We're already putting our heads together and shopping clearance sales for her big 5th birthday bash.  It will be a Beach Party Theme.  And why not?  Why can't a January baby celebrate her love of summer?

There is a movie about Beezus & Ramona coming out.
Ramona Quimby, Age 8, was my best friend growing up.

Ok, maybe Beverly Cleary was.
Either way – I read like a maniac when I was a kid. If Dell or Apple published it, I read it.
This movie is a must-see for me. I would like to take my daughter to see it. She may be too young to understand it completely, but I want it to be a nice mother-daughter date for us.

That provides a good segue, actually – my daughter has many privileges thrust upon her and the other day, after a full day at Ocean Beach in New London, I realized I need to scale them back.

My father always used to say “there’s a difference between being spoiled and being a spoiled brat” and today my little angel was a spoiled brat. I actually had to pull the car over and take deep breaths before I turned around and very calmly told her to shut the fuck up calm down, breathe deeply and think about her day, what she loved what she looks forward to for next time and what she’s thankful for.

We have good times. We go places, shop for things, eat at restaurants, visit our friends… we basically do what we want, when we want – within reason. I know that I am so lucky to have a husband that works himself near death to provide for us while I hop around the state (and neighboring states) calling myself “done” as long as the sink is clear, the fridge is full and the laundry is folded. We’re tan, we’re happy and we have 750 pictures to prove it. Sometimes, we’re even luck y enough to have Daddy join us on our little adventures.

We have good times. We know it, we appreciate it.

But do my kids? Does my daughter, specifically? Wyatt’s still pretty small for this sort of worry but I am starting to become more aware of how Abby views her life. We talk about privileges and consequences. We talk about how hard Daddy works and how we appreciate and support him. We clean the house, cook the dinner and generally maintain order, cleanliness and other “wifely duties” around the place but maybe that’s not enough. Maybe I need to have her dig a ditch, move the dirt, then move it back again and fill the hole.

Maybe I need to appreciate what a smart, well-spoken, clever and imaginative girl I am raising. I need to step back, think more before I speak, listen more before I answer.
My mother tells me this is a battle I will be facing for years to come. I need to be better prepared.

I haven't blogged in a while and I have a lot on my mind.

First of all - I find "The Fresh Beat Band" beyond irritating.  I used to think Max & Rub were anoying.  Well, they could move in, frankly, if it meant I never had to hear or see the corny, campy freakishness of the former-Jumparounds.

I have not weighed myself in 2 weeks because 2 weeks ago I weighed myself and found myself "broken through".  At my heaviest, around Thanksgiving from my estimation, 2009 - I weighed upwards of 230.  I don't know specifically because I was too depressed to weigh myself, nevermind attempt to lose it.  But since then I have begun to exercise regularly (work out, even!), eat well, all but eliminate meat from my diet and visit with my doctor on a regular basis to keep an eye on my cholesterol, heart and blood - a lot can happen to your body when you're not paying attention.  And while it is very easy to find lots of reasons (read - excuses) for those things, the bottom line is this:  if you don't take care of your body (and mind, but that's not this topic) it will fall apart.  You have to be aware of what you consume, how often you consume it and how you burn the fuel you have chosen to consume.  It's so simple it's stupid.  There is no magic bullet.  Being healthy is hard work but oh, so worth it.  I have never felt better - body or mind.
Anyway, 2 weeks ago I weighed in at 199.
This is a major breakthrough for me.  One I was not sure if I was going to share publicly - but the support and feedback I received thought Twitter and Facebook made me realize that I am SO not alone.  There are so many women my age (and men) out there that had their fatbacks creep up on them in their 30s.  I want to help.  I want to inspire.  I want to share so that no one feels like they are the fattest, grossest, ugliest person out there.  You're not.  Nor was I.  But I feel better that it is behind me.
And I still have about 20 pounds to lose before Christmas to reach my 50 lbs for the year, but I feel so close to that.  Like, I have the formula, I just have to maintain the discipline.
I will get on the scale this coming Friday and set a goal for August 1st.  My goals have to be smaller, I can't drop 10 pounds a month - I am building muscle and frankly, the first 20 pounds are always the easiest.

Today is Independence Day, July 4th, The 4th of July.  I love today.  It truly kicks off summer.  We have at least 1, possibly 2 Beach days planned this week and 1 each week for the next few weeks.  Plus playdates, pool time, swimming lessons and perhaps an over-nighter at my parents' house.
Today we head to my In-Law's and I'm really looking forward to it.  It's been a while since the whole family has been together and with a few of us heading north and south after this weekend, it will be really nice to just float in the pool, have a few drinks and lots of laughs together.

When I was a kid I remember waking up beyond excited for 4th of July Fireworks.  I heard on the news this morning that more than 15% of all fireworks-related accidents are from Sparklers.  And yet, when I was as small as my own kids are now, I can remember walking around the beach pretending to smoke those things.
Those were the good old days...  We'd swim all day, eat from the big grills that the Dads were working up near the horse-shoe pits.  And the Dads would be at the beach, not just the moms!
Then, around 5 we'd head home, put on dry clothes and get right back on our bikes and go back to the beach for more grilled dinner, bug spray, games of tag and while our parents drank Vodka & Tonics, we'd suck down store-brand soda and wait for it to be dark enough for the fireworks to start.
All the kids would have to stay on the grass, no one but the fathers were allowed in the sand.
Mr. Henry, Mr. McKee, Mr. Chiaro, Frankie, Mr, Clarke, Mr. Rice, my Dad - whoever - would dig deep holes, set up buckets of water and light off fireworks that are definitely illegal now and may have been back then, too.
Lightshows you would pay admission for these days.  The smell was fantastic and you could barely see your hand in front of your face for all the smoke in the air.
Good Times.
Great, Awesome, Priceless childhood memories.

God Bless the USA.

When we first bought this house, I was amazed at the enormous closets, the hardwood floors, the fireplace, the 5+acres, the laundry-off-the-kitchen, the huge finished basement, the 2-car garage.  I felt like we hit the jackpot.  We got a great house, in a great neighborhood, for a great price.
We are so far set back that we weren't worried about being bothered.  Weren't worried about the dogs' craziness being an issue.  We loved that we had this house, in this neighborhood but were able to maintain our privacy and keep to ourselves.

Now, 6 years and 2 kids later, our needs have changed.
We actually have a desire to be involved in our neighborhood and community, with our kids' friends' families and school activities.  A difficult desire to fulfill while living 325 feet down the hill from this "Desirable Neighborhood" we occupy.
We can't see anyone or be seen.
We feel isolated and uninvolved.  Our property is large and beautiful.  And if it were flat we might go out and play some ball on it or teach our daughter how to ride a bike on it.

I had an epiphany the other day when my friend was talking about replacing her carpet with a wood laminate in her basement.   I suggested avoiding "Pergo" and opting for a lesser brand for price reasons.  She rebuked my advice even after I reminded her of the 2 basements I had floored in my homeowner-ship stating "I'm in this house forever. I'm not cutting corners, I am never leaving."
Rather than snort and roll my eyes I felt sad.  I have yet to feel that way about a house.

I want to feel that way about my home. 

I want to "wait" on a project until we have enough time and money to do it "right" rather than rush through it or cancel it, hoping to find what I want in "the next house".
I want to plant perennials and trees that actually mature while I'm around rather than wonder about stuff I planted years later.
I want to invest in White Resin Picket Fence rather than Natural Wood because "who gives a shit about 5 years from now".
I want the house that my nieces and nephews will know the smell and feel of when they visit, like a second home, consistent and comfortable, like 28th Ave was for us growing up.
I want my kids to have "the house they grew up in", one home for all of our memories and traditions to live.  A place to come home to.  After school, after vacation, after dates and home from college on breaks.
I want to plant roots in a small, country town with integrity and character.  I want real community and school pride because our inevitable move is no longer in the back of my mind at the Board of Ed meetings.

My next house does not need to be a McMansion.  It does not have to be new construction.
It has to have good bones.

Because our next house is going to be our home.  We will find The One this time.  And when our needs or wants change, let their be room for growth and change within our home because I won't move again until we downsize as Empty-Nesters.  (And chase our children to wherever they end up because I can't stand to be away from them more than an overnight never mind let them leave me forever!)

Rachel got married yesterday.

I know it's blurry but this is Rachel and her husband, Angelo and the other picture is my kids - completely mesmerized by the Bride and Groom's first dance.  They were totally awestruck.

This was my kids' first wedding.  They were beyond excited.  

I don't think they had any idea what it would entail but they knew that mommy & daddy had gone to a few without them and that they were included in this one was a thrilling adventure.

I love that it was Rachel's wedding that they saw their first bride, their first groom, their first wedding cake, their first dance floor with loud music.  They loved every minute of it.

When we sat down in the church (the packed-standing-room-only-church that was about 400 degrees) Abby was perfectly up straight, hands in lap, waiting patiently.  Wyatt was hopping from my lap to Granbear's lap and stage-whispering "Where's Wachel?  I can't see Wachel!"

They sat still for about half the ceremony and we went to the back of the church with about a dozen other little kids and crying infants for the last half.

It was beautiful and meaningful and all that, but kids in hot churches aren't always the best pew-mates.

Rachel was a beautiful bride.  Absolutely stunning, really.  

And how many people do we say that about and actually mean it?  

A beautiful bride is a beautiful bride.  

You take a pretty girl and dress her to the nines, mix in some bliss and voila - a beautiful bride.

But Rachel is an absolutely beautiful woman in jeans, t-shirt and no makeup.  

She doesn't even need to shower to look hot.

So, add a bridal gown that accentuated her amazing body, throw some makeup on an already ravishing face and add in the most joy I have ever seen in that woman's face - and voila - a beautiful bride like you have never witnessed.

Compounded by the fact that Rachel was still Rachel, not a Bridezilla.

She laughed at herself and her father and her groom on the altar.  She welcomed and loved, hugged and was genuinely thrilled to see every single person at the wedding.  

She was herself, magnified.  She was magnificent.

And her groom wasn't too shabby, either.  He is a very handsome guy, a very loving guy and he, too, was surrounded by his loving, doting family and friends.  

And considering the two have known each other his entire life, the whole party was basically a family reunion of friends, family and every person that they love.

We were seated with some high school friends.  Women that I see now and then at showers, weddings and the like.  I always love to see them, we always have a great time and last night we joked that we'd see each other "next year at Rachel's Baby Shower". 

That may or may not come to fruition but it's fun to think about.

The other thing that our table and some others (there were close to 300 people there at my estimation) made me think of is this - Rachel is a good friend.  She has good friends.  

Friends that came from far and near to celebrate her day with her.  Friends that absolutely love and adore her.  

And the reason is that she gives of herself, everything she has and is, without asking for anything in return.  

She has character.  Integrity.  She is forgiving, understanding and loyal.  

Rachel epitomizes Grace.

And as I watched her become Mrs. Sarna yesterday, I cried.

I cried because in the 20+ years we have been friends, we have seen so much.  We have seen each other through so many experiences.  The ups and downs, the joy and pain of our lives as young women.  

And now, I see my friend with a man that loves her so much.  A man that will protect her, comfort her and love her as unconditionally as she will love him back.  

I am grateful to Angelo for that.  

Congratulations.

My husband already blogged the mood very well, so I will stick to the facts...

American Museum of Natural History...

  

 

John's Pizza for dinner...

A good, snuggly night's sleep...  (well, a few hours anyway - before they were both in our bed!)

Easter Breakfast...  Room Service Style!



Egg Hunt at Auntie Frannie & Uncle Carlos'...

In short - it was a weekend of family, tradition, good (really good!) food, memories made and remembered and so much love.
I don't have the words.  I just love my family so much.  I am so blessed, so grateful and so, so happy.