Monday, March 12, 2012

#Don'tforgettofloss

 Today I took Jet to the dentist for the first time. Because of my love for teeth, I have been talking up this visit his whole life. To say he was stoked about going would be an understatement. I showed him pictures on the website of the different dentists and let him choose which one he wanted to see.


I don't have a smart phone, mainly because I don't deem it a necessity at this point in my life, so I was not uploading tweets, status updates or Instagrams(aka in this household as pictures
looked like snapped after a nuclear holocaust). But if I did, my tweets would probably go something like this:

-Been here in the waiting room at the pediatric dentist only 2 minutes and the whole place smells like a sewage waste plant. #perfecttimingBenjamin

-You are Correct. The hysterical laughter coming from inside the dentist office bathroom while I change Benjamin's diaper is because he has discovered his penis and continues to yank it. #boyswillbeboys

-Why can't I get away from the smell of poop? #stench

-Got it! I just remembered that I have a diaper full of caca poopies in my purse because OSHA requires you not throw away soiled diapers but place them in a bag and dispose of them yourself after you leave the office. #defacationismylife

-I thought Jet was just practicing some new dance moves but realized he was about to pee all over himself. Sprinted to the bathroom just in time. #cleaningpeeoffthesidesofthetoiletandfloor

-Sitting in the consult room wishing my children would stop interrupting so I could talk to the dentist about Veganism and food documentaries and ethnic hole in the wall restaurants that are the balls. #FoodMatters

-At the reception desk talking to the woman to check out when my youngest started dry heaving. Sprinted back to the consult room because I remember seeing a small white trash can in there. Poor baby got his vomit on.
#Secondsoiledbaginmypurse

Anywhosies, we got out of there safe and sound. Jet got his tokens and picked out prizes and was just beaming. While we were walking out he said, with a kick in his step, "Mommy that was so fun! Dr. Jason is AWESOME!". My cup runneth over. "I knew you would love it baby, I just knew it". When we got to the car, I noticed I parked right near a dumpster and was able to dispose of the poop and puke. Six months couldn't come sooner for Jet. Next time I won't have on a short dress in case there is as much manual labor as there was today. But honestly, that is nothing. It's the life of a mom and nothing to be exasperated over. I wouldn't trade my job for anything. #thankyouJesusfformykids

So I just browsed some photos to add on this post and I came across these that made me laugh because they look like Instagrams.

#HowImisslivinginCaliforniawhat'supwithmyface

#howhemissessurfingeveryday

#SouthernItalianskinVs.NorthernItalianskin

#myhusbandcracksmeup

#Can'tbelieveit'sbeenayear


 PS. I need to add that I don't understand a tweet. have no idea what the number symbol with unspaced words after it means

I just wrote a song. I'll call it...
California Dreaming

all the leaves are brown
and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk
on a winter's day

I'd be safe and warm
if I was in L.A
California Dreamin'
on such a winter's day

stopped into a church
I passed along the way
well, I got down on my knees
and I pretend to pray

you know the preacher likes the cold
he knows I'm gonna stay
California Dreamin'
on such a winter's day

all the leaves are brown
and the sky is grey
I've been for a walk
on a winter's day

if I didn't tell her
I could leave today
California Dreamin'
on such a winter's day


Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Life of Pi

I write on this rainy, gloomy Wednesday morning by my lonesome sitting staring out the window in Dilworth coffee. My husband has taken off work solely to tend to the children and give me a break. How sweet is he?(I just reminded myself of the Barefoot Contessa as she all too often says, "How easy is that?", "How good does that look?". If you are not an Ina viewer that's ok, but I encourage you to make a dish or two of hers. She has yet to let me down. But please remember, never use the amount of salt she dictates. It will leave your fingers swollen and may give you a minor stroke) But let's be honest, he had an extra day that he would lose if he didn't take off before the New Year. But let's really be honest, he is sweet, for he could be spending this day doing some kind of masculine activity by his lonesome.

Nothing really on the agenda today except I want to appease my husband. He has been getting on my case lately about not having kept records of the boys "milestones" and events and such. I thought all the pics and videos would suffice.(And P.S. I learned the hard way 3 years ago  the word "suffice" after reading it aloud to bystanders pronouncing it "suffis") But apparently those do not suffice. Benjamin started saying "Jet" the other day. Julius asked when Jet's first word was. I said, "How the beep would I know?" He says "You are the woman, you should know these things." Then I punched him in the face. Ok I'm fibbing, I didn't really answer the question that disrespectfully. But he has asked me several times since then, so we have agreed to put a journal on our blue armoire and document more from now on. But we haven't done that yet and so I write it in a public forum sharing things that probably should be kept to chuckle at in the privacy of our own home. I share my children's innocence here. So in your face Julius.

Jet is approaching 3 the end of this month. Benjamin will be 1 the day after Christmas, or Chrimus as I like to say. (If you want a laugh, have Julius sing you "Oh Chrimus Tree" in his ghetto uneducated lazy voice) Here are their present lives. Boys will be boys.

The oldest child likes discussing body parts. I was cleaning the kitchen last week when I heard Jet say out of nowhere to his father, "Daddy, is your penis large?(pause) Or humongous?"

He is into the whole "kiss it better" phase, but(pun inteneded) sometimes does not get his way, like in these recent instances:
-Yesterday morning he said, "Daddy my butt hurts, kiss it."
-He was standing naked while I was getting him dressed and he pointed less than 1 inch away from his penis and said, "Ow this hurts. Kiss it Mommy"
-He stated his  upper right molar hurt, and then opened his mouth wide for me to kiss the back of his mouth.

The boys have been bathing quite a lot recently especially after naps and before dinner because it's the only place I can keep them confined and occupied without destroying the house. Benjamin has the biggest, meatiest yet muscular tush I have ever seen. He fell out of the bath last week. He disobeyed and stood up after I told him countless times not to. He leaned over the side and face planted out of the tub. His rump and legs in the air caught on the tub. Had he broken his teeth this would not have been as humorous as it was. Lessons learned and they don't come cheap.

Every morning when Jet arises from bed he sits on my lap and our dialouge is as follows:
Me:You is
Jet: kind
Me: You is
Jet: smart
Me: You is
Jet: important
Just a little something I made up. Ok shut up, just read or watch 'The Help' if you haven't. But it warms my heart because he says it is a "Semi- Southern Drawl". I have also taught him how to talk in a thick Southern accent, he is so talented.


Benjamin has a thing for older women. He tends to have the hots for all of Jet's friend girls. Jet and Elle had a sleepover for an advent activity. Benj wanted to be wherever the little lady was. He also has a thing for Jet's friend Ivie.


I thought it was a good idea to take Jet to a Christmas concert at church for a mother and son outing. He tends to do great one on one. My mother, Jan, was singing in the choir along with hundreds of others. Every few minutes he would declare loudly, "Where's Nona?" Then he started standing in the pews. Then he started dancing in the aisles. Then he started pissing off the people trying to enjoy the music. Then he started saying loudly, "I gotta go pee pee, I gotta go pee pee!"  Needless to say we got the beep outta there after about 45 minutes. This is a situation that I would have witnessed and wanted to drag the kid out and teach him a lesson. Being the parent I acted angry but was really laughing histerically inside. Mainly because of the way I had him dressed, and how else would I expect my 2 year old to act at his bed time and having not taken a nap that day?
The only reason Jet was laughing was due to some comment dealing with farting and butts made by his male parental who was taking the picture.




We often find the camera with images snapped that we did not take. Last week we found about 40 images snapped. Although Jet had the camera in his hands, I didn't realize he knew how to turn it on and take pictures. Just a few I found, probably only funny to me.

Anywhosies, I should wrap this up and go get some final stocking stuffers for my boys. My closing statements are these, I really want to urge you to have yourself a Merry little Chrimus. Please don't forget the birth of our Savior. And also something I have been thinking recently after seeing a live nativty the other night. I am sure it was heck of a lot less glamorous then we think it to be. For anyone who has had a baby, you probably aren't just standing all pain free and fresh after having just birthed a babe. Mary's lady parts had just been throught the ringer and most likely she had cracked and bleeding nipples from a suckling babe, who was perfect so probably latched on no problem. Let's hear it for our girl!

I don't know what song I am signing off  with today. I will choose whatever song comes on next on Pandora.
Ok I kid you not, Bob Dylan and "A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall".  How perfect is that for today's weather condition?(Ina)

"Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall..."

Friday, November 11, 2011

11/11/11

This date, in our home, not only means we will be remembering the Veterans that served our country well, but also it is to us, an Italian, salt and pepper haired, hottie, turning 29. Salt caused by yours truly. "Alright already woman! Enough with the birthday tributes!" Well I hear ya, but I just had to give a shout out to my faithful, loyal and patient as crap, husband, Julius Silvio Milani, born November 11, 1982 in Eugene, OR.

Ja'Rulius is his street name, and sistas, can he flow. I often remember the time we were driving back from Camp Pendleton to San Clemente and I had to ride smashed against the door in the back seat because the surf board was taking up the whole car. We had music on with no lyrics. He flowed non stop for the 25 minute drive home. No stuttering, no hesitation. It was dark and all I could see was the back of his head, and for those 25 minutes, I was riding in the back seat of a brotha's car, and I was proud. We often rap together present day riding in the car as a family. I can't compete with his skills and most times when I'm at a loss for lyrics, I revert back to the flow my  mafia sister Dawny and I wrote together in S. Fl. when we were 14, while smoking cigars and drinking O'douls.


Before Julius and I started dating, we were great friends who had a ridiculous and hysterical time together. Because we are both 50% Italian, we used to have a plan called "OPERATION RELATION".  We were going to trace back our heritages and find a link that made us somehow related. When we started dating, the plan came to a halt.
We want a lot of children, and Lord willing, I will give Julius the basketball team he desires. He is an amazing father who is constantly wrestling and fighting the boys and throwing them around. Benjamin's new name for everyday is presently Karate Benjamin. When the 3 of them are not getting out aggression, they are hiding under forts and searching for dinosaurs. Outside they catch bugs and pick things up that if I came in contact with, I would freak the freak out. While I taught Jet to stomp and smash any bug he sees, Julius has done a good job reversing this habit, and now Jet only smashes bugs with my permission. While I have a shorter fuse for tolerating whining and crap, especially by the early evening, I rest assured knowing that the little boys will be in good hands because "Daddy" will be done working soon and they will have a man and a fresh set of hands to hang with, who will show them nothing but love and patience. The other night when eating dinner, Jet was only wearing a shirt and socks and was moving from chair to chair at the table. His tush went in Julius' pasta bowl. His bare butt was then covered in a bolognese sauce and grated Parmesan. Had it been my plate,  my hand would have been covered in sauce and cheese from a nice swat to the behind. But Julius was unaffected and just moved his plate calmly to the side and dealt with it appropriately. He doesn't put up with crap either, he just is more slow to anger than this B-ya.When I tell Jet I love him, his response is, "I love Daddy." 

He has a past of bringing home living things. When we first got married, we got an ant farm and a fish tank. Then we moved to Cali. In the beginning he had to work one Saturday a month in San Diego. I take it he had time for Craigslist because every time he worked that Saturday, he would come home with a new living something, without my consent. Iguana, Chinchilla, Zebra Finches, Iguana, Kitten, oh and another Iguana. Shoot me. Nothing stayed long. We also got a puppy almost 2 years ago off Craigs list. One he really wanted. I agreed to getting it but was firm in my word when I said I was not taking care of it. Less than 24hrs. after bringing it home, it was back on Craigs. (Don't worry animal lovers and activists, he went to a good home).
I don't even know where to begin on telling you about his skills in building things. Chicken coupe, mirror, island top, end tables, piano bench, trellises, stairs and the list goes on. I mention we need something. He says he can build it. He prints out a 15% off coupon. He goes to Lowe's. Spends a few nights out in his workshop, and then bam, he presents it. I scream and sometimes pass out from being blown away. He just built a beautiful stone fire pit and benches out back. Talk about being impressed. I often catch him staring out the window into the yard, proud of his work, a little too proud.
He also is an exceptional painter and many of his artwork is on display on our walls.

I love this man because of his love for gardening and crop production. Sometimes I call him Adam from the garden of Eden. Actually I've never done that. While I appreciate flowers, my true fondness is for fruits, vegetables and herbs. What is better than having fresh, organic, home grown goodness? Since we bought this house a year and a half ago, he has planted 3 apple trees, a fig tree, a pear tree, a peach tree, a mulberry tree, a cherry tree, a pomegranate tree, kiwi, blueberry and raspberry bushes and I know I am forgetting something.  Because of my love for cooking, nothing is better than going out to the herb garden and grabbing a handful of free, fresh herbs to accompany the meal. Summer is a time of vegetables. I am presently waiting for the lettuce and other greens to make an appearance for the winter crop.

In the past, I have enjoyed when we've watched the Notebook together because his love for me is kicked up a notch for the next few days. What also does it is, "Return to Me." We watched that the other day and we are obsessed with each other presently. We keep saying things like, "Please never die". And just the other day he said, "I want to punch your freaking face in so hard right now". Ah love.

When Jet was younger and barely talking, when he would get angry or frustrated he would scream , "JULIUS!" not knowing it was his father's name. He knew it to be a word, that he learned from his mother, to yell when you were angry or frustrated. Bless my husband's heart.
He and a couple of his BFF's have "band practice" on Monday nights out in the workshop. And how creative, they call their "band", "The Workshop." Fortunately it is far away from the house where I don't have to hear the jam session. Occasionally though, I go out there and listen from outside and dance under the stars by myself holding up my lighter. I am the groupie. It makes me laugh and smile to hear them having so much fun playing music and singing. I love his loyalty to his friends. They are like brothers to him and he would do anything for them. He also has a "surf club" with those guys, and they call it JAD (Julius, Andrew, Daniel). Once again, I am so impressed by it's originality. They made T-shirts displaying "JAD".
The newest member of JAD. 

Speaking of music, Ja'Rul does a mean Ray Charles impression. While on piano, he plays the same Ray and Elton songs over and over and over again. He also plays some banjo, mandolin and whips out his harmonica sometimes while playing guitar. We have many a time recorded music together. This typically ends in a fight because I can't stay serious long enough and always end up breaking out in opera-like singing and therefore ruining the recording.
                                                       Karate praising the Lord.
Many things that start off as jokes with us, become our reality. Examples: From the start of our marriage, 6 1/2 years ago, we used to mock couples who would always call each other "babe" after any statement they said to each other. But not just a regular sounding "babe", a fast and peppy way of saying it,  like "beb". The mock became a regular part of our lingo, and for years now we constantly call each other "beb", not even in a jokingly manner. Another joke turned reality is "Boom Boom". Anytime we would see a black, loaded, tinted window, big SUV, like an Escalade, Tahoe, Suburban type, we would always say "Booom Boooom" and do a type of bounce with our bodies. We would do this because this is the bass you would expect to hear coming from the car with some form of rap/R&B playing. Well this also became reality. Julius sold his car that he loved and had the fondest of college memories in, and as of a month and a half ago, I now am the proud owner of a Boom Boom.  After we bought the big, black, loaded, tinted window Suburban, we drove home separately from the dealership. Julius got home before me. When I pulled onto our street, I put on Power 98, turned up the bass on the Bose and creeped down the street so he could hear me coming. This is now my warning I'm almost home so he could  come out and help unload the groceries.
                                 Our final pictures with "Montey" before he went on to a better home.

And just to stop myself for a minute, I just read this over. Please forgive me for talking about myself, as this is supposed to be about my lover. This is his salute and I am a selfish creep and can't keep myself out of this. Moving on.

This man pursues the Lord daily. He keeps Christ the head of our home. He gets his confidence from his Savior. I love watching him evolve more and more into a man of God. He prays with us, and for us. I pray my boys will turn out just like him. I thank God for giving me a man able to put up with me and all my junk. For sticking with me through my times of depression and insanity and never loving me any less. His love for this family is unconditional, and for that, we are BLESSED!

  Julius has Psoriasis. I have Vitiligo. We are a match made on earth.

Happy Birthday Beb! I love you muy muy mucho! Meet me in the bedroom in 5! Raar!
I'm kidding. That was to make any bystanders uncomfortable.

The song I leave with today is one of great meaning to us both. A few months back, we heard the music to "Oh Danny Boy" in church. On the drive home, we sang in opera the song from the Saved by the Bell episode where AC Sladers chameleon, Artie, dies and Jessie Spano sings at his funeral. She sings this song, with the "Oh Danny Boy" tune. Thank you and Enjoy.

 "Oh Artie boy
 the bugs, the bugs are buzzing
               There's gnats and ants, mosquito's and the fly
And they'll be bugs for breakfast, lunch and dinner
In that great chameleon banquet in the sky."

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Oh Dear

Julius got Benjamin ready for bed with a diaper and pj's after his bi-annual bath the other night.

In the morning, Benjamin let out his usual roar, informing me to come get him from his crib. Each day he longs desperately to grace the world with his presence. The room reeked of pee. He was completely soaked, and his sheets were completely soaked. I took him into the other room to change him. I looked down. His diaper was fully latched and on, but sticking out to the side were Tony and the twins. His diaper was dry as a bone.

I told Julius the story. His response was something along the lines of, "How did you manage to do that?"

Male models. Speaking of Zoolander...

"Relax don't do it
When you want to go to it..."

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Time To Say Good-Bye...

Only the most glorious song, but you already know that.  In case you need a refresher though, please knock yourself out. And even if you don't need a refresher, knock yourself out. Literally no matter how many times
I hear it, I get knocked to the floor. Goose bumps, glossy eyed and hands raised high, this is me. Many of Andrea Bocelli's songs do that to me, but this one in particular does a special thing in my heart. Listen and I'll tell you why. Go on, I'll be here waiting for you when you get back.

I

I had my Father translate this for me many years ago, but now unfortunately, I cannot do the same for you. Listening to the lyrics, "Time to say good-bye" and the beautiful instrumentals, I can't help but think of leaving this earth. This song plays hard on my emotions, that when listening, I think, how awesome would it be as I am taking my final breaths, to hear this song. I  imagine angels singing this, telling me to say good-bye to this world, and that I am on my way to glory. A beautiful ending, only to the start a beautiful eternity. Amen? Or Amen?

Having said that,  I love Andrea Bocelli for a few reasons. He is Italian. He is blind.  Starting long ago, my old man would give me a CD of his every Christmas. Listening to his music makes me think of my family. Whenever he sings duets, I close my eyes and pretend to be the girl he is singing with. His voice is raw and spectacular.

I went through a phase 10 years ago when I was 18 and attending UNCC, where I tried to be sophisticated. How moron can one get? I would drive in my black Nissan Altima, wear a low sleek bun,  listen to Andrea, crack my window, turn on the AC and smoke those long slender capri cigarettes. I felt...oh so classy  Seriously, I felt it. Now if you knew me in high school, you know that I was never a smoker. Although a lot of my friends smoked back then because it is so hip to do,  I never really partook, mainly because my parents spent money at the dentist getting my teeth bleached. I never wanted to yellow them, so vanity kept my lungs crystal clear. This "classy" phase lasted a good 2 weeks. As much as I wanted to continue in my sophistication, I really didn't enjoy the sticks of tobacco(or tobacal as a Sunday school teacher kept calling it, shout out to you Erin!). I now enjoy Andrea just as much, if not more, driving in the car drowning out the complaints of 2 little ones.  Jet enjoys it as well and tells me to "play it harder, mom". Meaning turn it up, probably so it drowns out his mother who is singing loud jumbles of made-up Italiano.

Speaking of, yesterday was Jet's first whole day of school. Because he is in the 2's, the first week was a transition week with half days only. Let's just say the first week didn't count and I have my act together after all. I cut the handsome boys hair the night before and got a picture the morning of. Question is, can the Joneses keep up with me?


And then what the heck, might as well throw in one of the beast.


Yes that is food matting down his hair. And no, the slight tint of orange isn't a case of the jaundice, or shall I say, jaundi. Food again. And yes, he is fat. 

I felt bad tonight because he was jumping in his jumper and I went to pick up a toy with my feet and put it on his tray and he jumped right into my toe and it scratched the crap out of his eye/nose, he screamed. I felt awful. Yesterday Jet and I were playing catch in the backyard and I threw the hard ball and it  hit him in the nose, he screamed. I felt awful.

Becasue my hands and feet have been doing more harm than good to my children, I will leave you with Sandi Patti's 1989 "Beautiful Feet", one of my jams as a child. And please, do me a favor and don't even bother reading the lyrics.

There are feet that skip and play
There are feet that run away
There are feet that love a race and win or lose
There are chubby feet and small
And strong feet to kick a ball
But beautiful are the feet that bring good news.

There are feet that sleekly swim
Through the water wearing fins
There are feet that shimmy up the tallest trees
There are happy feet and sad
There are aching feet and mad
But beautiful are the feet that publish peace.

Those are beautiful feet
Beee-uuu-ti-ful feet!
Dutiful, cute-i-ful lett!
Tried and true-ti-ful feet
Me-ti-ful
You-ti-ful
Do you have beautiful feet!
Do you have beautiful feet!

Feet climb mountains, feet climb stairs
Some wear shoes, and so go bare!
There are feet of every shape and every size
But when feet run with the new
Jesus loves me and loves you
Then no matter what they look like - realize…

Beautiful feet
Beautiful feet
Beautiful, beautiful feet!
Tried and true-ti-ful feet
Me-ti-ful
You-ti-ful
Do you have beauti-i-ful feet

(Walkin’ with my Jesus down a one way street - with my beautiful, beautiful feet.)

Thursday, September 8, 2011

I don't even know what to title this...

Because I am not even sure what I am going to say. I sit here disgusted after eating a dinner which consisted of me eating 6 pieces of bacon before we even sat down to eat. That only left one for my husband, and one for my firstborn. The bacon was supposed to be a garnish that was to lay upon the frittata in a somewhat crisscross pie top pattern. It ended up being a frittata accompanied with an out of place piece of bacon on each of my boys plates.

So if you are so disgusted Carey, why even sit down to write? I sit down to write because my littlest one is in bed already and my bigger one is wrestling with his father. I will do anything to avoid cleaning the kitchen right now. I usually don't mind cleaning the kitchen if the stuff in the dishwasher is dirty and I can load it up right away. But right now the stuff in the dishwasher is clean, and I do not want to even think about unloading it, just to load it up again. We will start watching Dexter at 9:30 as usual, so I will cram in the clean right before this takes place.

I also write because it's been awhile and my sweet friend Carly, who I used to live across the street from and babysit when I was 13, put on my fb wall, "I am craving a new blog post from you", so I thought I owed it to her. After all, she captured some spectacular images when Jet was a mere 9 days old. Check them out under little miracles. She takes a mean photo. But now the pressure is on and I don't want to disappoint her so I am a nervous wreck.

Having said all this nonsense, let us get down to business. Jet started preschool on Tuesday. Perhaps I am not the conventional mother. Perhaps I am. As we rolled out of bed, me not having showered since Friday night (husband was out of town for 5 days so why bother?) we (ok let's be honest even if he was here that would have still been my shower schedule)got ready (I mean seriously, who has time to shower with little kids?) and got  (ok let's be honest, I didn't shower all that much before children) in the car( but I will keep on having kids just to use that as my excuse not to shower) and drove to school. As we walked up to the building, I watched all the children in their new crisp school clothes with fresh haircuts holding new lunch boxes and wearing new backpacks. Pictures were being snapped left and right documenting this joyous occasion of the first day of school. My poor child. He shows up wearing gosh knows what(really I don't remember, something he normally wears I guess) in desperate need of a hair cut. His lunch box is one I found in my parents garage that they got free from the YMCA or something.  My 8 month old  who is with us, is covered in baby food. Just the night before, my mom saw Benjamin wearing a bib while I fed him and said, "Oh, that's good thinking Carey" praising me for something I should always put on him, but never do. Poor baby. Of course the teacher wanted a family picture. I also am wearing gosh knows what, with grease pit hair and swollen eye lids. I have not yet had coffee, my liquid crack, my boyfriend joe.

I live at peace within my soul knowing that I will never keep up with the Joneses and do not try. I can't even keep up with my own self. What this means, I don't know. Maybe I am a little too secure for my own good. Once again, I don't know what that means either. In the Bible Study I just started going to, we are studying Esther. At the beginning of the group, the leader asked, "What is so tough about being a woman?" My mother made me LOL because she said to herself, "I don't think it's tough being a woman." Which to her, is true. She just lives in peace. No matter what the circumstances are around her, she always stays laid back and calm. Yeah whatever, things are hard, but she just doesn't let things get to her and isn't concerned with nit picky crap. I know I get my carefree and secure spirit from her. I need to grab some of her humility as well. I will add though that, she is disgusted with the fact that I don't shower daily.

So you may be saying to yourself, I was reading this, waiting for a point. Truth is, it now is almost 9:30 and Mr. Dexter Morgan is waiting for me in the living room. This should have been done a long time ago but Benjamin woke up because Jet doesn't know what a quiet voice is. Then I had to angelically sing and console him. Then I had to have 2 bowls of cereal. So to make everyone out there happy, I will now close with this: Earlier, I referred to my kids as "poor child" and "poor baby" Frankly, that just is not true. Those little boys have more love than they know what to do with. After all, it is all you need... and nutritious food.

Please sing with me and The Beatles.

Love, Love, Love.
Love, Love, Love.
Love, Love, Love.

There's nothing you can do that can't be done.
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.
It's easy.

Nothing you can make that can't be made.
No one you can save that can't be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.
It's easy.

All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Ruby

To quote my husband: "Behind every great man, is a narcissistic woman." But really, take away the narcissistic, replace it with great, and know that the great man we are talking about is my father, and we end up with Jan. My mother, who is a gem. And until this very moment, I had never used the word gem.

2 1/2 month old Jan

 Today, Mummy Dearest turns the ripe age of 60. And correct me if I'm wrong, but 60 never looked so good.


Janice is quite the beauty. Someone who also thinks so is Sidney Poitier. He asked her out, but a certain someone was already in the picture, so he got served the rejection card. Oh snap! I call him Uncle Sid.


Good choice, Mommy.


Janine is from Miami, Fl. She was quite the ballerina in her day. Her knees are feeling the repercussion of her days of dance. A few surgeries later and she still complains.



She also rocked the tennis court.


Mother lived in Italy for 4 years after marrying my dad . She learned how to cook from Father's family like the Barefoot Contessa. My palate growing up, was that of a spoiled one. She is fluent in Italian and taught English to Italians right across the street from Christopher Colombus' house. Yes, I am name dropping. And if he were alive then, he probably also would have asked her out.

Present day, Miss Jan works at a pre-school. I would be the luckiest tot if I were 3 and had her as my teacher. I would get to hear the voice of an angel daily.  Fortunately my little ones get to benefit. They witness the dramatic presentations of children's songs preformed for them. It halts a crying baby mid scream.

Unfortunately she was not around for this episode.

 She is the reason I sing. All the time. Not stopping. Never allowing silence. She has been in the choir since I was little. She has had many a duets, quartets and small solos in her day. All of her performances have been on my tongue for years and years. Especially the one from 1991 where she got the words wrong but improvised. I still sing the song with her incorrect lyrics.
Judging by the outfit, I'd say this was about 1991.

Oddly, Janet and I have always gotten along. My teen years didn't bring on the tension that many a mom and daughter run into. Or maybe it was because I never got caught. Nevertheless, I'm not saying she never had to get her discipline on. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Or in our home, it was the wooden spoon. I remember in my teens "talking back" to her. She took after me. I ran around the dining room table so she couldn't get me. She picked up the closest thing she could find, which happened to be a brush, and chucked it at me. It didn't hurt. What did hurt was what she did last summer. We were at a waterfall. She decided she was going to skim rocks across the water. She used everything she had. The rock flew and slammed me in the collarbone. I don't know how, I stood opposite direction of the water.

The only negative thing about this woman, is her ability to make everything into worst case scenarios. I'll give you two examples that make her chuckle. I was 10. We were on an overnight train traveling from Deerfield Beach, Fl to VA. Before we checked in to our sleep cabin, we would go watch a movie in another car. We had to walk through quite a few to get there. One was an empty dark one. She spotted a black briefcase sitting on the seat by itself. She exclaimed, "It's a bomb!" And took off. Without me. Secondly, I was 12 and kept trying to open my bedroom door. I'd get it open almost half way and then it would slam shut on me. I called for Mummy. She came upstairs. She tried to open it. It shut on her. She exclaimed, "There's a man in there!" And took off downstairs. Without me. Needless to say, the man who planted the bomb on the train was now hiding in my bedroom.

I wish I was like her in so many ways. Growing up, I never heard her complain. I never heard her speak poorly of anyone. I never knew her to not get up earlier than the rump crack of dawn to spend time with the Lord. If I ever have any question about anything Biblical or Spiritual, I call the lady. She always has a response similar to, "Well Carilou Caribou, if you read Zephaniah 53, you will have your answer."

Her nickname is Ruby. Oh I guess she really is a gem.
Please notice the ruby on her finger. I also wore this ring in my wedding.

One time many years ago when I was a young lad, I remember saying, "Mommy we are friends." Almost before I could get that sentence out, she responded, "We are not friends, I am your mother." That is the best response I could have ever gotten. She was very  loving and nurturing to us growing up, but her role was my mother. She didn't try to be "cool" or be my friend. She was there to raise me and point me towards the straight and narrow. I knew the most important thing in her life was Jesus, not me thank goodness. She had a huge role as a mother, but she also had a life apart from her 3 kids. She still had her identity. She still had hobbies. She still had  friends. She still loved her hubby. Knowing that I wasn't the center of my parent's universe, gave me a great independence and confidence in life even as a young child and a great respect for them. Today things have changed. We are friends. The best of. And we live 2 miles away from each other. Praise Him! Happy Birthday Mommy! I love you!


The song I leave you with is from Boyz II Men, from the 1997 album, Evolution. For Mother's Day when I was 15, I put on their song, stood up on the mantel in a homemade dress, and lip sang it to my mom. She teared up. Ha! The song is as follows: Oh and before we get to it, there was no man in my bedroom. It was just a shelf that had fallen and was leaning in front of my bedroom door causing it to shut. And yes, I am aware that Zephaniah only has 3 chapters.
A Song For Mama

You taught me everything
And everything you’ve given me
I always keep it inside
You’re the driving force in my life, yeah
There isn’t anything
Or anyone I can be
And it just wouldn’t feel right
If I didn’t have you by my side
You were there for me to love and care for me
When skies were grey
Whenever I was down
You were always there to comfort me
And no one else can be what you have been to me
You’ll always be you always will be the girl
In my life for all times

Chorus:
Mama, mama you know I love you
Oh you know I love you
Mama, mama you’re the queen of my heart
Your love is like
Tears from the stars
Mama, I just want you to know
Lovin’ you is like food to my soul
You’re always down for me
Have always been around for me even when I was bad
You showed me right from my wrong
Yes you did
And you took up for me
When everyone was downin’ me
You always did understand
You gave me strength to go on
There was so many times
Looking back when I was so afraid
And then you come to me
And say to me I can face anything
And no one else can do
What you have done for me
You’ll always be
You will always be the girl in my life