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Son number three moved out a couple of weeks ago…
He has inhabited the converted (large) fourth bedroom for years.

Secretly I’ve been coveting that space for a very long time…
I don’t think anyone knew it though, because I am really good at hiding these kinds of emotions…
A year or two ago I might have mentioned my plans for that room some-day…
I may have said something along the lines of ‘When Jared moves out someday, don’t any of you get any ideas about that room because its MINE!’

Okay, so I guess that might have clued a few of the gang in…
But I swear, that half the time no one listens to me anyway, so perhaps not…

There comes a time in every young mans life when he needs to spread his wings and fly to new horizons…
In this case, it is a house that he is renting with two buddies a couple of miles from here…

He seems to still be basking in the glory of his newfound adult life…
I’m sure that will keep him feeling all warm and fuzzy…

That is, until the utility bills start coming in.
Maybe then he will finally grasp the concept of why we have wailed and gnashed our teeth over the length of the showers that he always enjoyed here… while WE were paying the electric and water bills…

By this time next month, he’ll probably be taking army showers…
You know the kind –

Water on and get wet…
Water off…
Soap up…
Water back on and rinse…
Water off…

These will begin once he gets a load of the fact that long showers may cost him money that could take away from funds spent on “fun stuff”…

Like food…

My husband tried to comfort me with a few words… ‘He’ll be back’

Those words only fueled my fire.
I knew that I needed to kick it into gear and hurry to try and fix up that space, so it would no longer even remotely resemble a bedroom …
I was now on a personal mission to convert his old room into what I like to call My family room/den!

Our boy stopped by a few days after he had officially moved out, to pick up the rest of his things that he had left behind, only to find me getting ready to paint…
’What the heck?!’ was all he could say…
I told him that I would have been doing it even if he hadn’t moved out… and I think he believed me…

One day…

That’s all it took me to transform that space into a wonderful new space…
I painted, hung pictures, spread an area rug out and rearranged the room complete with love seat and the entertainment center that he left behind…

I was so proud of myself and so was my husband…
I don’t think he knew how much I could get done in a single day…
Which I now realize could make me look bad when I experience an “off” day, and don’t get very much accomplished!

In the meantime, we have a new room in which we can thoroughly enjoy ourselves and our son has his own abode.

These days, you might find me out there, just sitting with a grin on my face…

I’m enjoying every moment of it, because I realize that down the road, all that wing spreading could prove to be too much for my little bird, and he may flutter home one day…

Our flock always makes room for one of it’s own…

So I hope son number four, won’t mind having a roommate…

Because My family room/den is OFF LIMITS!

Don't Make Me Come Over There...

I’ll give you something to cry about…

Ever hear that one when you were a kid?

My Dad used to use that little ditty on us all of the time…

I was never quite sure what he meant by it, because after all, he would say it to me when I was already crying…

I never dared ask him to clarify…

I might have been confused… but I wasn’t stupid!

I vowed to never, EVER use that kind of line on my children, but somehow, somewhere in between then and now, I turned into a parent of five and though I always have tried my hardest to be reasonable and fair, occasionally, I have had a “moment”

By “moment”, I mean ugly, ridiculous, unreasonable, rant and rave fest that, truth be told, is quite embarrassing!

In the past, I have sent out a warning message to all, when I feel I am reaching the threshold to my ‘point of no return’…

It’s a simple phrase… just five little words…

It’s-about-to-get-ugly!!!

That should be fair warning to get the heck out of dodge or at the very least to stop whatever they are doing that is causing my patience to wear thin…
‘Should’ is the operative word here.

In reality, for some reason, my children were all born with an off switch in their brains that short-circuits with regularity.

When they were still standing in heaven, they must have thought they were in the ‘sense’ line, but been in the ‘dense’ line… instead.

In actual fact, all of my offspring are quite intelligent; so don’t get me wrong when I say that they lack sense.

Come to think of it, they don’t lack common sense…

Their problem is directly related to the lack of ability to know when to stop drop and roll when they have pushed either of their parents to the brink…

Picture this – you are camping and your fire is smoldering (this represents me and my patience) and it happens to be time for lights out…

You (this represents my kids) have in front of you two items and it’s within your power to choose which to use…

One is a bucket of dirt…

The other is a bucket of gas…

Do I really have to spell it out?!

This type of ‘moment’ happens less than it used to, because in actual fact I am down to only two teenagers left at home to deal with daily.

When I had all five still living at home, ‘it got ugly’ all the time…

In truth, I have used the old ‘give you something to cry about’ line more than once…

There.

I’ve said it…

Guess what?

I feel better for getting that off my chest.

We are all only human after all…

So next time you have a moment with one of your kids and blast out one of your own lines from the past, remember not to be too hard on yourself…

Don’t close yourself in the bathroom and weep with guilt…

Because if I need to, I’ll come right over there and give you something to cry about!!

If it's not broke...

In the spirit of better living, I tried a new recipe last night. It was for baked macaroni and cheese (from scratch) which is something that evokes all kinds of ooo’s and ahhh’s from my crew…

As well as second, and sometimes even third helpings consumed at a rapid rate… Usually…

When I took it out of the oven, it was a beautiful sight to behold!

I was so excited that not only was I about to serve a family favorite, but I had found a way to make it healthier for them and the secret ingredient held a promise, and I quote, “Don’t tell and no one will ever know. They’ll just thank you for making their favorite cheesy comfort food”

I had thoughts of telling all of my friends that I had discovered a better way…

They would gather round with anticipation written all over their faces and scrap paper and pens poised to record history.

That would come later… After it passed the taste test of professionals, a.k.a. my husband and kids.

I’m sure you are at the edge of your seat wondering what this fantastic health tip/miracle compound is, so I won’t keep you waiting any longer.

Frozen winter squash.

You know, the kind that comes pureed, is packaged in a frozen block and if you were in a pinch and were stranded in the arctic with no tools, but happen to have a duffle bag full of these babies, you could build yourself an igloo to escape the elements.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure that I could actually build an igloo because the round-roof- shape-part, puzzles me and I wouldn’t even know how to begin to construct it.

I would probably make a square-ish shaped fort, because THAT I can do. It would be roofless though, and I would probably freeze to death (hopefully before the polar bears found me)

Where was I again?

Oh right… squash.

It made perfect sense to me and quite frankly, I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought of it myself. It’s the right color, and the perfect consistency to mix right in there with all that cheese and be totally camouflaged!

PLUS – BONUS! I love squash! Perfect!

As I mentioned before, it did look beautiful.

I served it up with another, not so healthy favorite. Baked cheese-stuffed hot dogs wrapped in crescent rolls.

I tried not to think about the hot dog part and why I love them so…

My friend tells me that they contain eyes, lips and another ingredient that I will spare you from hearing
(but it rhymes brass-poles)

I tell myself it must be the seasoning I love, and not all those disgusting ingredients.

It makes me wonder why they can’t just sell it in a bottle with the rest of the McCormick spices so that we could season chicken or any other more palatable meat with it.

Back to the subject at hand.

We sit down to eat and I try not to look too anxious as everyone takes a bite of their mac and cheese. They usually will mistake me looking at them eating, as an invitation to critique the meal, which never goes over well with me, so I purposely look at my own food and proceed to eat.

‘Hey Mom… what’s in this mac and cheese?’ my daughter inquires.

“LOTS of cheese and stuff”

Notice how I say ‘and stuff’ instead of ‘squash’…. I’m so tricky!

‘I thought I tasted something different’ she adds.

More looking at my plate without making eye contact…

We all eat without any more discussion about the meal.

I’m the only one who goes back for seconds…

Because I love squash-

and that’s what it primarily tasted like, with barely a hint of the $8.00 worth of cheese that was in there as well.

The claims made in the magazine where I found the recipe were inaccurate.

I didn’t tell, but guess what?

They knew.

My husband quietly came to me after dinner and said “the mac and cheese…” and pointed his thumb towards the floor.

He did say it was worth trying though, and that it could have been a success,

if it hadn’t tasted so bad.

I wasn’t offended… which is weird for me, because I am quite sensitive about my cooking skills. But I knew that it was his way of being supportive.

I won’t say that I won’t keep trying new things, but I might think twice about changing up something that everyone feels so passionate about.

So don’t even think about sending me a new & improved recipe for something my family already loves.

As my mother always said, If it’s not broke – don’t fix it!

But now that I’m thinking about it, does anyone have the address of McCormick Spice Company’s R & D department?

I’ve got an idea to share with them!

Slight misunderstanding...

I overheard a lady talking yesterday about her daughter who was in a gymnastics group and needed to make up a class because she had missed one due to illness…

The little girl was maybe 4 or 5…

Apparently she was very excited about the thought of going to her class …

She found herself quite disappointed when she arrived only to find that it was just a regular old gymnastic class….

She started crying and wanted to know where the heck the makeup was?

She thought it was an actual ‘makeup class’…
you know, of the lipstick, blush and eye shadow variety...

I HATE when things like that happen…

It can ruin your entire day!

Looking For Something?

Has anyone lost his or her shoulder chip?

My daughter has found one and is attempting to call it her own.

Please give me a call ASAP, so that it can be returned to its rightful owner...

And the Nominee ISN'T......

The following story will serve to explain, why my submission for 2008 Mother of the Year was rejected -

My son has a car that he built himself. It’s his pride and joy.

He always calls it ‘butter’ (because he says it runs smooth)

I like to call it ‘parkay’ because it’s always breaking down or puddling some kind of fluid in the driveway

Perception is everything…

He constantly worries that someone will steal it, and if possible, always tries to box it in behind the other cars in our driveway at night.

I say ‘Who’d want it?’

He says ‘are you KIDDING ME?!’ (…. He’s so touchy sometimes!)

It’s his baby…

I understand…. He built it himself

He’s a guy….

Boys and their toys… isn’t that the old expression?

Okay, so one night, after spending several long days in the hospital with one of my other sons, I came home, totally exhausted with a horrible headache. I rifle through the medicine cupboard and the only headachy-type medicine that I could find was Tylenol PM.

THANK HEAVENS!

I Pop two, with a big glass of water, slip into bed and immediately conk out

When I say conk-out, I really mean, slip into a coma…

I dream all kinds of crazy, very vivid dreams that seem to go on and on and on…

I wake up at some point because I can’t figure out why the person whom I’ve just met, and is apparently my neighbor in the mansion next to mine, calls me Mom… over and over again. (that’s really annoying!)

My dream slowly disolved and I awoke in a puddle of drool, to hear my son saying “Mom, MOM! Someone stole my car out of the driveway!”

Now the next part of my story is going to make me sound unworthy of any awards, but at that moment in time, the most I could muster was to lift my head three inches off of the pillow and respond with

“Aww - that sucks!”

I guess that was pretty bad, but in my altered state, it was the best I could do.

A few milliseconds later, I was back in the new neighborhood where I had moved-on-up to and was reveling in my new financial status!

Flash forward – 7 am and I hear the front door shut…

I jump out of bed to greet my sweaty, out of breath son who said he was returning from his 5-mile walk/run home from where the police dropped him off when they found his car.

It started up, so they left him there.

He got in and headed home, but only made it 100 feet or so before it died due to some wires that had been tampered with.

I asked why he didn’t phone me to come and pick him up.

He answered that he knew I was tired and didn’t want to bother me….

What a guy! I love that kid! (See! I did something right!)

But the fact remains that while my boy was going through all of that, I was tripping and drooling (and lounging by my dreamy new pool) and of absolutely no help to him whatsoever…

Since that day, I can’t call his car ‘Parkay”

I feel too guilty…

After all, it is his baby….

Additionally, his conspiracy theories regarding the heist were right on the money….

So that cinched my rejection for sure! But I firmly believe that if I had not been under the influence of TPM, I may have made it through to Hollywood…

…. Or wherever they are holding this year’s competition.

It’s actually good that it worked out this way, because it will give me extra time to work on next year’s acceptance speech!

Linguistic Contributions....

Have you ever heard an expression that seems so dumb, you can’t believe that it actually ‘caught on’?

“I put my pants on one leg at a time, just like you…”

Can’t you just picture the look on the face of the person who

received those pearls of wisdom for the first time?

(He was probably wondering how long someone had been spying on him while he was getting dressed each morning)

His facial expression probably looked something like this-

Or how about,

“So Didn't I!”

I can never get my head around this one…

Does it mean you didn’t or you did?

I’m not sure….

It’s always confused me…

I’m going to try and come up with a cool new expression (I hope it catches on!)

It may take a while, but I’m willing to wait…

It should be used when you are completely exasperated with picking up after everyone in your house and it seems like no one is listening and you are totally ready for a ‘Calgon Moment’

It will be something along these lines:

“You people are killing me! You are going to feel soooo bad when I drop dead of a heart attack from all of the stress you are causing me, and then you are going to have to explain to your father why I’m laying dead on the floor and there is a big mess of your stuff still scattered all over the house!”

On second thought, that probably wouldn’t be considered a catchy phrase and it's kind of long to remember….

And it’s not really that cool either….

Plus, I don’t feel very confident that it would catch on….

Unless….

Wait a sec!

You say that you said that same thing to your kids yesterday?

SO DIDN’T I!!!

Maybe there’s hope for my contribution after all!

Celebrate!

Erin go brah!

For those of you who haven’t a clue what I’m talking about, I’m not telling Erin that she needs to give ‘the girls’ more support….
It roughly means “Ireland Forever”

Why, do you suppose, folks jump on the Irish bandwagon when March 17^th rolls around?
I, for one, always pause and listen, when I hear ‘Tura-Lura-Lural’ and also wonder about this boy, Danny, for whom the pipes are calling.
And, come on! Who can resist downing a couple of pints of green beer?

Okay, I guess I do get it.

It is interesting, though, that people will “tap into” ….no pun intended… the part of their bloodline that suits the situation….

St. Patrick’s Day - March 17^th – I’m Irish!

Cinco De Mayo - Can’t remember when that one is (JK – which is cool teenager talk for ‘just kidding’ in case you didn’t know) – I’m Mexican!

Boxing Day – December 26^th - I’m English!

Etc…

I’ve noticed that my sons do it too. For instance, on St. Patty’s Day, they are WAY into their Celtic roots, which if you do the ancestral math, probably comes close to being the largest branch on their family tree…
but do they cling to that crest for the other 364 days of the year?

NO!
If anyone asks, they are Italian… and they aren’t lying. My father-in-law was pureblooded Italian. His parents came over on ‘the boat’ (not ‘a boat’ but ‘the boat’ - which honestly I’m not exactly sure what that means, like, is there only one boat that comes over from Italy….EVER?) That is the ¼ of their heritage that they seem to hold on to.
Maybe it’s the food, or the cool flag, or maybe it’s just because that was their Grampys birthright, and that they truly adored him.
I, personally think it’s the cool slang…
‘Fuggetaboutit’ (extra points for using heavy Brooklyn accent when saying)…
Oh yeah, and the cannoli’s… one can never have too many cannoli’s!

Parts of our bloodline we may ignore.
No disrespect, but maybe we just don’t identify with it.
(or there aren’t cool slang terms that we can use and call our own)

Some of my Dad’s people were Swiss and as we were growing up, he used to love to embarrass us by telling our friends that his grandfather was the admiral of the Swiss navy, to which most guests would politely reply, “Oh Really?”…
We would cringe, and then feel embarrassed for them.
I’m sure that you have figured out the whole, Switzerland-land locked and non-existent navy thing, but some of our guests weren’t as sharp, and fell into the trap easily.
Maybe, that, as well as the lack of coolness of holey cheese and chocolate bars, is the reason that I usually don’t ‘get into’ the Swiss vibe.
(Or it could be that I am still traumatized from the whole Admiral thing)

I’m a MUTT, is what I like to tell people.
I think that they might believe that I am, in some way, putting my ancestors down.
I’m not really.
I love every little twig on my family tree.
But there is a method to my madness.
I stick with my story, so that way, I can get in on ALL of the celebrations.
All the food, all the fun, the festivities, the lingo… and am I worried that someone might be offended by my lack of foreign flag waving?

FUGGETABOUTIT!

Happy Thoughts....

I once heard a comedian describing the wonder he felt, as he watched his son looking out the car window with a satisfied smile across his face and inquired ‘hey, whatcha thinking about?’
He said that his little boy replied,
(still grinning) “candy”.

It made me think that it’s been a lot of years since I had the time to ponder the simple things that made me smile… Nearly 28 years of marriage, 5 kids and 2 grandsons, 1 blind dog, 2 dead hamsters, 2 dead gerbils, 1 dead cat and I’m guessing, at least, 38 dead fish later, my head is completely cluttered up with all kinds of stuff,
both important and not so important.
(The other 95% is taken up with the in-between kind of info)

For example, the important list might include,
names of all immediate family members as well as birthdays...
and also my family’s favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe…

The not so important (aka: useless information) would be…
Oh, I don’t know….
The lines to all of my favorite movies
(Hey! I don’t ASK for those to be in my brain… they just ARE)

The largest portion is filled with a big messy mixing bowl of random ideas and memories…
the in-betweens….
For instance, the time that I got the giggles really bad at church.
We aren’t talking a chuckle here….
We’re talking shoulder shaking, tears flowing,
and a couple of snorts for good measure, kind of laughing attack,
and to make things worse, every time I thought I had it under control,
I would make eye contact with Tony (my husband)
and fall apart all over again!
(In retrospect, I don’t think that anyone really believed
that the holy spirit had moved me...)
Another in-between, is my quest to find the missing remote
(I’ve wasted 4 hours and completely tore my house apart….
And yet, my brain-space is still holding on to it, 9 months later,
and continually wondering, where the heck it could be….)

Could it be, that maybe, I just don’t make the time; you know, clear out some old junk or at the very least defragment and optimize my gray matter. (That sounds really gross!)

But, you know what?
I‘m going to do it today…
I’m going to take some deep breaths, clear my head
and ponder some things that bring a smile…

Like my husband,…
and my five great kids…
my grandsons…
awesome camping trips…
the beach…
and, oh yeah…


CANDY!

Holes...

Is it just me or does anyone else find the infatuation people have with celebrities a bit over the top? Okay, right about now, my closest friends are thinking, 'Are you KIDDING me?!' because I do have an “interest” in pop culture that includes all the 'hollyweirdos' as my husband would say.

I’m interested, but not infatuated….. there’s a difference….right?

Take Tom Selleck for instance. Attractive? Undoubtedly.
Probability of having a delicious scent that makes standing in a long line at the DMV in back of him strangely enjoyable? High.

Women are naturally drawn towards a guy like that….when their life seems tough they think to themselves “If only I had Tom, HE wouldn’t ask why he has no clean socks and what exactly I did all day! HE wouldn’t call me out for spending $20.00 on really great deals from Target!”

For all the wrong reasons we hold famous folks in such high esteem, considering the fact that the majority of us don’t technically know them.
For those of you who think you do, there are most likely some things that you might find surprising. For instance, he is not actually a private investigator, as many of you might have believed.
He’s a regular guy
(who does probably smell REALLY good….I know, I don’t KNOW him, I’m just guessing) who happens to have a job that puts him out there for all to see.

Food for thought, have you ever pondered that Tom (or fill in the blank to include Johnny Depp, Harrison Ford, Brad etc..) may actually have some extremely annoying habits…. Maybe he’s the kind of guy who leaves his mustache whiskers in the sink when he’s done trimming. (he probably has loads of them from the looks of that mustache)

He could even be one of those men who forget to put the toilet seat down intermittently - which is actually worse than a habitual leaver-upper because at least with those you can train yourself to always remember to put it down….

Or even worse, he may be the kind that enjoys correcting your grammar…. Especially in front of others. That last one is definitely a deal breaker for me.

Rinsing whiskers down the drain I can do.

I can even put up with the occasional “wet seat” at 3 am as unpleasant as it is to experience (especially at 3 am) and it might even cause me to get a bit cranky.

But correct my grammar and my claws come out. Who cares if I occasionally say “prescription” instead of “subscription”? I’m intelligent - even if I did once pronounce quesadilla, “case-a dealia”. So sue me because my only experiences south of the border were on I-95 when Pedro beckoned me with his signs like "eef you follow pedro's signz, ze treep seem MOCH shorter!"

A good friend of mine has an expression that she always uses which sums it up beautifully “We all have holes” Don’t get the wrong idea about her. She’s not talking about body orifices. (you went there first….get your mind out of that gutter!) The kinds of holes that we all have are the sort that makes the world go round.

“We’ve all got something” she’ll say to me.
She’s so right.
I have ‘em,
my kids have ‘em ….
my husband Tony even has a few.

But want to know a secret?
Our holes feel comfortable.
Like a pair of jeans that are broken in just right.
They feel like home.

So Tom, I’m sorry, but if you do happen to be in the line with me at the DMV, I probably won’t see you quite the same way anymore.
I won’t try to act like I “know” know you…
I’ll just stand quietly and breathe deep!