Daily Report

 Other than some cantaloupe martini that my spouse thought it would be funny to let Benjamin taste (yes, I ripped him a new one), my Benjamin has only had milk. But this week I thought I'd let him try some new tastes. I started off with an avocado and breast milk mix for a few days and then moved on to a broccoli and breast milk mixture.

I wish my forehead had the tautness of a 6 month old baby.

Tonight I could not get away from the smell of poop. After checking diapers multiple times, and asking Julius if he knew where the odor was coming from,  I realized  the staunchy stench was coming from Benjamin's neck rolls and cheeks. I guess as a negligent parent who doesn't wipe down her kids after they eat, I should expect nothing less than to find broccoli residue hidden in the chunk.

 Just before I put him down, he, like his mother does, got the giggles right before his bed time. He was laughing so hard right in my face. If I closed my eyes, I would have thought I had a 48 year old large Italian man in my face. His breath was pure garlic. As an Italian woman, I make everything with olive oil and garlic thrown in, even the baby's food. What kept me laughing, was that the breath did not match the tiny body I was holding.

Sorry Mom for what I'm about to say, but I have to share how innocent my firstborn is. Earlier today, Jet was laying on his back on the floor in our sunroom. I walked in, and stuck my gluteus maximus out and pretended to flatulate in his face. He got the biggest smile on his face and said, "Oh thank you Mommy!"

Jet's daily sunroom activity. Just like puppies, little boys are bad unless they exert energy. I encourage him to jump off everything in the house. The more dangerous, the better.

Julius always makes me laugh, but tonight over cheeseburgers, what got me chuckling was when he said, "You know how at Chica-fil-a, they always say 'My Pleasure' after everything? Well I am going to make a restaurant where instead of saying that, the staff has to say, 'You Betcha!' after everything." We then sat over the course of dinner coming up with different phrases that we would make the staff use for each day. Customers would come in just to see what phrase was in use.

So what is the point of this entry you might be asking. Nothing. I am just sitting on the couch waiting for Julius to come in from building something in the workshop so we can watch a Criminal Minds. Dr. Spencer Reid is my favorite. Sometimes Julius talks and sounds like him, not on purpose. I always say that he looks like a grown up nerd version of Jet. Thank you for your time.

"I like mine with lettuce and tomato
Heinz 57 and French fried potatoes
Big kosher pickle and a cold draft beer
Well good God almighty which way do I steer for my
Cheeseburger in Paradise"

Oh Jimmy B! You never disappoint!

Annie

June 11, 2011 meant for my hubs and I, 6 years of marriage down, 2 little boys to show for it, and a stupid, in a good way, time.

Early in the day we made up a very long song driving in the car where we took turns roasting each other about some times we've spent married;  the hard times and annoying habits. I was crying I was laughing so hard. The chorus was so catchy, Jet was singing it after we got home. If a famous singer were to have written and preformed this song, I would say it sounded like it could have been a Lionel Richie 80's hit.

My In-laws came over at night to babysit while Julius and I went out for Sushi. After we were sat we asked to move tables because we were near a table with children, and when I am away from my kids, I sure as heck don't want to be near anyone elses either. Dinner was nummy nums. My wine got me thinking.

Whenever I am pregnant, all I have is this incredible urge to push, I mean to drink. All I talk about is, "When I am done being knocked up, I am going to drink like a fish!" Let's be honest, after I had Jet until the time I got pregnant with Benjamino, I had one glass of wine. Anniversary night that was going to change.

After we got home, said good-bye to the grandparents, checked on the little ones, we made a decision as a married couple, to get our drink on. JaRulius picked some mint outside for me and I threw it in the simple syrup I was brewing on the stove, then poured it over some ice, vodka and lime juice. It was no mojito but it would do. Julius made his own special drinks. We sat in our front room by the big window, watching it rain and lightning and having the best conversation. I mean deep and philosophical and spiritual, the kind that only alcohol can induce. Julius was talking about something close to his heart and then all of a sudden, mid sentence, he couldn't talk anymore and started tearing up. Uhhhh.... I just sat there not used to seeing him cry. Then all of a sudden, mid tear, he stopped and was like,"I'm not even sad, that reaction was 90%  from the alcohol."  Then we started to laugh. Then we started to take shots. Then things turned goofy. The night went on. As we sat in bed drinking straight from the bottle of Captain Morgans(you might be a redneck), I remember Julius kept saying, "This is the funnest anniversary so far!" And I kept saying, "We need to do this once a month!"

After the festivities were over and Julius was sleeping, I thought it would be a good idea to start a blog about my past PPD. This is all I got:

"klet me break ir down, it is 11:42 PM on June 11th. TodaY Is my 6 year anniversary, and i am drubnk. i probably won't get much written but I need to start somehingI have been putting off. have i wanted to write this? freaking no to the way! I hate reliving this but I would say I have gone thru this in vain if i dont write about it and let antyone else know the thingsi went thru and perhaps heklp another suster anolng the wqay. off tyhe subjecct, tonight wAS A a fun night. lots of sushi and some alcohol back at the hoouse and some suga. now my 3 boys ee passed out and i need to use this drink awake tie to be oprocuctive. I just read tghis ad laifhged, my hNDS are a little numg making it hrad to type. should i erase this and starty over? i'll decidee thqt when i prick this up."

It's funny how when you drink, time slows when you're having fun. Anyway, it's probably a good thing I stopped my writing there. Bottom line is, it was a fun night.  I woke up to an empty bottle of rum at the foot of the bed, dehydrated with a headache. My first thought was, "I am never drinking again". My second thought was, "I need a McGriddle. I need a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit.  I need a hash brown.  I need a scalding hot coffee, stat". I grabbed one of my kids, left the other with their father, and headed straight to the McDonald's drive thru.

Back at the breakfast table, Julius and I just looked at each other thinking, "What did we do last night?"

So what's the moral of the story? I guess it's that it's ok to do something out of the ordinary every once in a while, esp. in a controlled enviroment. Next time I drink like that will probably be at our 20 year anniversary party. It wiped me out for the whole day and I have no desire to do that again anytime soon. Second moral of the story, be responsible. Baby # 3 on the way? Time will tell, but I shall call her Annie, in honor of our anniversary. TMI. Good Bye.
"He drinks a whisky drink
He drinks a vodka drink
He drinks a lager drink
He drinks a cider drink
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the good times
He sings the songs that remind him
Of the better times"

Oh Chumbawamba, thank you for your 1997 annoying hit.

Snap, Crackle, Poop

My life is poop.

I can see my mother now, 60% chuckling, 30% embarrassed and 10% nervous about where I am going with this. At family dinners, especially when non-family members are present,  I tend to whip out "bowel" talk .To which she always responds, "Gosh girl, I don't know where you learned to talk so uncouth."  To which I always respond, "I learned it all from you Janet." Or "Janice" or "Janine." Her whole name is just Jan with no middle name; hence the reason I always spice it up. And no, I learned it not from her.

Mom.

Shamefully I tell you, we are a divided household...Julius does in fact say "fart", all the while I say "toot". We do not agree with each other's lingo. Fortunately, Jet sides with Big Mama on this. Benjamin can choose when he is aware of the gas coming forth from his chunky and cellulite infested hiney. Speaking of the beast, it's absolutely astounding to hear the powerful gaseous combustion that can come from a wee baby. It can shake the house and last for what seems like minutes. All the while they are sleeping or staring off, having no clue that they are the reason for the roaring laughter.

The older I get, the more and more I find myself acting like an 8 year old boy. If you were a fly on the wall in our home, you would think you had 4 young boys living under the same roof. If I ever do anything that Jet is proud of me for, he responds with, "Good boy Mommy!" I keep thinking to myself,  "Self, you are a 28yr old woman, when will you become ladylike and prim?" I don't know.

What I do know is, everything in this house always gets brought back to poop. If there is a foul smell, no matter how it smells, the question, "what smells like poop?" is asked. If someone has bad breath, the comment made is, "Your breath smells like death mixed with poop." Popcorn is poopcorn. Soup is poop. Poptarts are pooptarts. You get the picture. Having 2 little boys in diapers, we are always dealing with poop, and there are always musical toots being released into the atmosphere. Don't worry, not from me. Although the 3 boys rip them left and right, I will not in front of Julius. I need to keep some attraction going. I stick to belching. I make up for the lack of intestinal gas with esophagus gas. I strive to be like my sister who can burp like nobodies business.

I cannot take credit for the title of this blog. I received this in a text from my sister Rachel's boyfriend, Daniel.

Daniel trying to kill me.

 Although he is in a different walk of life from us, his life also revolves around poop. I dedicate this blog entry to him, and to my Uncle Buddy who owns Appalachian Pumping in Boone, NC. Call him for all your septic tank needs.

I very much enjoy hanging out with Rachel and Daniel. My sister is the youngest one, yet she is the most mature acting and usually doesn't add much to our convos on poop and toots. We have come up with many fun phrases for these activities. We often refer to tooting as "cracking joints." So in this case, you can always blame the gas on your arthritic knees, stiff neck or misaligned back. Last weekend we all ate Indian food together. What text did I receive from Daniel that night? Great question, I'm dying to share. "My curry left in a hurry." Did appreciate this text? Absotootly I did.

The lovely couple.

A few weeks ago at the dinner table, Jet sat there tooting. The kind that keeps going and going. We were laughing hysterically because A. it was funny and B. we were impressed. Then he turned red trying to get more out because of our reactions. He then said, "Mommy now you toot." So I made a fake sound with my mouth. To which he responded, "No mommy, toot from the penis." Now we know where he thinks they come from.

Jet trying to toot from the penis.

I am going to leave you with "Linger" from the Cranberries. This was a music video we made in 2007 while living in San Clemente,CA. I do hope you enjoy. Thank you.

 P.S. Janine, I kept it clean and vague, all for you. I love you dearly.

.

Buon Compleanno

Can you guess who this hunk is?

You guessed right! It's my favorite full blooded Italian man, my father.
Papa' as his children say.
 Nonno as his grandsons say.
Lovey as his wife says.
A.C. as his friends say. 
Uncle A as my friends say.
Andrinano as the telemarketers say.
Adrian or Adriano for anyone in between.

On April 14, 1947, in the Province of Genoa, Italy, in Isola del Cantone, Adriano was born. This was a very good day. Today he turns 64; he barely has any gray to show for it.

Nonno and his 3rd grandson Benjamin.

Some facts about this man:

 His accent is still as thick as when he first learned English.

He loves soccer.

He is very funny without trying to be.

He loves flannel shirts.

 He became a U.S. citizen in 1983.

 He is the most generous man you will ever meet. He would give you the shirt off his own back. If  he wasn't wearing one, he would somehow still give it to you. I wish I was like him. Sometimes he calls me stingy or the "bag lady" because of my cheapness and frugality. I can't help it, my 3 role models are Robert Kiyosaki, Suze Orman and Dave Ramsey. (In another post I'll tell you how I am going to be a millionaire by the time I'm 30)

I've been a bag lady for as long as I can remember.

He is the best cook ever. I'm not talking about your generic Italian spaghetti and meatballs. I am talking about real authentic from the motherland food that nobody can duplicate. If you asked me where my favorite place to eat was, I would simply reply, "The Conti home fo shizzal." If you enter that house, you will not leave hungry. If you were full when you got there, you will leave disgustingly full. No matter if you say you've had enough, you will not get heard. Another heaping of food will get loaded on your plate. When you are done, you will hear espresso being made in the percolator and will be served a latte that Starbucks cannot compete with.

1999 making homemade ravioli. Our family tradition at Christmas time.

He gets words frequently wrong and has us cracking up often because of the misuse and phrasing. He has no idea he's being so hilarious. Some examples(read in Italian accent): Trader Joe's is always Traders Joe. Squirrel Lake park is Lake Squirrels. He adds H's where they don't belong and removes them from where they do. Eggs and ham would be heggs and am. When asking Julius about the Wii he said, "Julius, are you going to go play with your Wii?" When talking to him about the Geek Squad he said serious and matter of fact, "I always see these geeks driving around. So what, do I call them and then the geek will come to my house?" Or when talking sincerely about their neighbor who lost her job he said obliviously, "She got laid" to which my mother replied, "Laid off Adrian, she got laid off."

He is the best vegetable gardener out there. If you go to Renfrow's in Downtown Matthews and ask the owner if he knows my father, I bet you he would reply, "He's the most knowledgeable man out there when it comes to gardening." Thankfully we get to benefit the reaping of  his plentiful bounty. Swiss chard, endive, arugula, peaches, figs, green beans, tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers to name just a few. Lots of herbs as well. "Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme." Yes I'll be going to Scarborough Fair.

Myself displaying some crops that were yielded in our backyard in South Florida.

Giving a speech at my wedding he said (in accent again please), "Sometimes Carey,  she can be a little, how you say, bitchy..." And to say the crowd and I were rolling would be an understatement. And yes, he can get away with it because he is foreign, has an accent, is my father, and sometimes, it's true.

He has always been the most hard working man and has done everything and anything to make sure we were provided for and taken care of. He has never put himself in front of any of us.

A.C. and I hanging on a bench in Ronco Scrivia, Italy.

I could go on for days talking about this great man but I must wrap it up somewhere. This all to say, HAPPY BIRTHDAY FATHER! I love you! We all do!

I know it's predictable but if the song fits, sing it!. "...Doing the garden, digging the weeds, Who could ask for more? Will you still need me, will you still feed me, When I'm sixty-four?..."
Grazie' Paul McCartney.
 Ciao.

Pipsqueak: Mothering a preemie

If there are any lessons I've learned from birthing a premature baby, it's pack my bag as soon as the pregnancy test reads positive, and check myself into the hospital when I get a sore throat because with my history, it probably means I've gone into labor.

In labor. 

But seriously, In the words of Nora Jones, "You humble me Lord." Why did he humble me?  I'll tell you. I had the best experience with labor and delivery with my first son. While in the hospital he barely left my arms. I nursed him, changed him and loved on him every second. It was an instant bond. Deep in my mind I always thought, "Sucks for those women who don't get this same experience, I guess I am just a strong woman who has strong healthy babies, the NICU is for weak mamas who have weak babies." COL. Pride comes before the fall.

When Benjamin was born and taken to the NICU, I felt very weird. Now what the heck are you supposed to do? I had this uneasy pit in my stomach. When I wasn't pumping, was I allowed to just go to the NICU and hang? And then what was I supposed to do when I was in there? Talk to him while he was slept in his "cage"? And about what? It's way more natural to do that when he's in your arms, but another when there is a glass separating you and your sweet tiny monster.

"Uhhh, is this right?"

And don't worry, I got my nappy hair cut the day after I left the hospital thanks to looking at this picture.

Fortunately we had lots of good folk come visit and  it helped pass the time. I did feel guilty for not being in with him when I was hanging with friends, but like I said, what was I to do in there? I hated that I couldn't hold him anytime I wanted, and that I was not the one feeding him and changing him. I felt worthless to my child, he had no need for a mother when he had nurses taking care of him. It was weird that he was my baby, yet I felt like I needed to ask permission before I did anything for him. Example: On his third night on planet earth, I went to see him and hold him skin to skin. At this point they were feeding him my breastmilk through a tube that went down his nose. Instinctively he started slamming his head against my chest in search for a boob. He found it and went to town sucking away. Nobody ever gave me permission to breastfeed him. I was so scared the nurse was going to come behind the curtain and we could get caught, and then we'd both get in trouble. I fessed up to the nurse. We didn't get in trouble after all. They removed the tube and he's been a boob man ever since.

My sweet friend Casey who came bearing gifts of what I needed most, coffee, turquoise earrings and lip gloss.

The first time I went to see him in the NICU I felt a bit low class. Having stated in a previous post, I showed up at the hospital with only boots and no socks on. Before I walked to see him, I changed out of my gown into comfy pants, the last thing I wanted to do was put those stupid boots back on to walk down the hall. So, I tried to go in barefoot with my pants covering up my feet so they wouldn't show. At soon as I stepped in, in a matter of seconds, I was caught, semi made to feel like trailer park and given surgical slippers. I promised the nurses I had shoes on the way and I wouldn't do that again. When I went back later that night, with rainbows on, I got to hold him skin to skin for the first time, he was so stinkin sweet and small weighing in at a mere 4lbs. 8oz and 18inches long.

I pretty much had it together while I was in the hospital because I was distracted. My last day there, I went in to say good-bye to Benj and tell him that I'd come back to see him tomorrow. I felt ok until a nurse said to me, "Don't worry dear, this day is the hardest." Oh shoot, I'd been too busy to think ahead. My heart started to race because it hit me, I was going home, without my baby. I wanted to get out of there before I started crying. I speed walked out to the parking lot, as fast as you can walk 2 days after having a baby. Julius had pulled the car around for me and when I saw him, I had my first breakdown.

I proceeded to visit Benjamin twice a day. I had many great people come to the rescue and watch Jet so I could go see him. It got way more comfortable fast. When visiting him, I would change him, take his temperature, nurse him and snuggle him skin to skin and sing to him. With all the songs constantly in my head, I only had 2 that ever came to me while rocking him. "Jesus paid it all, all to him I owe, sin had left a crimson stain, he washed it white as snow." And one my mom always would sing to us. It's John 3:16 with her own music, and you fill in a name. "For God so loved Benjamin, that he gave his Son, that if Benjamin would believe in him, he would not perish but have everlasting life."

I felt torn because when I was at home I felt like I needed to be with my baby. When I was at the hospital I felt like I needed to be with my husband and toddler. At home, I was hooked up to the pump constantly. The hospital had asked me not to bring anymore of my milk up there because they had enough, and my freezer at home was overflowing. Yes, the overflowing freezer that everytime you opened it, a milk rock hit your foot. The overflowing freezer that when you saw your spouse go to open it, you would cover your ears because you knew something would be spewing from his mouth. The overflowing freezer that you sent your guests to get something out of just to make it awkward for them as they try to fit everything back in there that fell out. Anywho, I started dumping my milk because I had nowhere else to put it. Until I thought, "Why spend lots of money on organic milk for Jet when he can have something much better, and free?"  And so it was routine, as soon as Jet saw me sit down in the chair in my bedroom, he would literally sprint to the drawer in the kitchen to where his sippy cups were, grap one and run straight back to the bedroom. He would wait patiently while I pumped and as soon as I was done, he would grap the pump bottles, unscrew them with my help, and pour them into his cup so intensely. It was hilarious everytime. Call me the Dairy Queen. Jet would walk around holding the pump parts to his chest saying "Boobies boobies." One time I caught him doing it with kitchen funnels.

So, ten days after Benj was born they told me he was doing great and would be going home in just a couple of days. We were shocked. I had pictured us bringing home a bigger and chunkier baby. So that Saturday morning, when he would have only been 34 weeks and 5 days in the womb,  he got to come home with us. We had a nurse come out and check on him every few days for a couple of weeks to make sure he was growing and maintaing his temperature.  I wasn't supposed to take him out because it was RSV and flu season, but poor Benj came home to a house full of three sick people. Within days he caught a cold too but got over it pretty quickly. Nothing brought me greater joy than getting to suction his nose with the bulb syringe.

Holding his hermano for the first time. Don't worry, Jet has had a haircut as well.

In just over 2 weeks of being home, Benj was 7lbs and not so preemie size anymore. I still wasn't supposed to take him out too much, but that was fine with me because it gave me an excuse to not shower or put on make-up and stay in sweats all day. Unfortunately I can't seem to break that habit now and it's been months, except I do go out in public. Poor husband.

The king at 13 weeks. He obviously doesn't miss a meal.

So there ya have it. "This is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long...!

I love him so much!

How to look years younger

Before.

.

Someone old and decrepit almost in her 30's.

After

Young and fresh ready to shop at 5-7-9 for all the latest fashions.

But seriously, when we lived in the O.C., I worked at Iverson Orthodontics. Favorite job I have had. Best boss in the world! What's up Dr. I! One day I decided to make a set of retainers for myself and bond braces to them. Best thing I ever did.

                                               Some of my faves. Taken in 1976.

Sometimes I would wear them around the office just to show the patients that, heck to the yes, braces are freakin hot. Another good time to wear them is when you are pregnant. You take off your wedding ring and go out in public and see how many adults shun you for being a pregnant teenager. These days I just wear them around the house when I have nothing else to do. They are in right now.

 And yes of course, I had Julius come in so I could make him a pair too. I made his with gold braces. They bring out his blue eyes.

Speaking of teeth,I have to brag on my 2 yr. old for a minute. He can locate his molars, cuspids and incisors. That's the child of an ex-ortho assistant.

And all this to say, I miss you San Clemente! My girl Joni Mitchell sings it best.

"But my heart cried out for you, california
Oh california I’m coming home
Oh make me feel good rock’n roll band
I’m your biggest fan
California, I’m coming home"

It's a blog eat blog world

Question if I may, what does this picture depict to you? Now hold that thought, I will come back to it.

Had I not seen that Modern Family a couple of months ago, this blog entry would have been titled "It's a Bloggy blog world". Thanks to Gloria's mistake, I now know the correct phrase. But what does this mean anyway? I don't know. It's the only title I could come up with for this post, which is going to be about my small frustration with the blogger and social networking world.

To quote the title of one of the best written books, "Everyone Poops" by Taro Gomi, basically sums up what point I would like to get across. We are all people. Not one person is more special than the other. God made us all, He loves us all the same and we are all just as equally important.

My problem with these blog things or FB is that I feel as though when telling stories or posting pics, it is a lot of times for us to say, "look at my really great life". Well let's look at the facts, we are all living in the same broken, sinful and fallen world and things are not, and I repeat not, perfect for anyone. If I do read about something or look at fun pics, it doesn't phase me because I  know things are not always as they seem. Having said that, I know people, especially girls, compare themselves to one another in general.  FB pics or what they read in blogs may make it worse and have them thinking "Well shucks, Buffy's life is way more exciting than mine, she gets to travel to far away places." Or perhaps "Wow, Marcy sure is looking good these days. I wish I had the money and creativity to buy and cook all clean, vegan and organic. Maybe I would look that good." Once again, the bottom line is, we are all just living beings and we are all just as special as the next. Do not let a blog or some pics or dumb status updates have you thinking differently. During a very difficult time in my life about a year and a half ago, I remember a good friend of mine telling me that someone she works with told her that she was jealous of me because she had seen my FB pics and thought I had the "perfect life." I was pissed at that because in true life, I was miserable.

The Tofts came over for a fondue dinner Saturday night. A joke comment was made about how we could take pictures of us fonduing it up and write a blog about it and we would look really "cool." You would see smiles and wine and delicious food and friends having a chummy time. What you wouldn't see is the reality. Me, the host, pissed off, stressed and yelling at my husband for asking one million annoying questions. The husbands having to run to Lowe's to buy the correct fuel because right before we were supposed to eat I realized we had none. A fussy 3 month old who didn't know if he wanted to sleep or eat. Two 2 yr. olds getting into the dirt of the palm tree in the living room and spewing it on the floor, then doing it again after being told no. Being a little grossed out because the meat looked lavender after it was cooked. Snapping at Jet over nothing and then feeling guilty. The flame continuously going out. And the grand finale of the table catching on fire. So this is just an example of how pictures can be deceiving. Don't get me wrong, twas a lovely evening with good friends, but not perfect, because nothing is.

So let me please explain these pictures to help with my point, which maybe nobody cares about.

                                       I was 12 weeks pregnant with Benjamin.
                                       I did not want to be pregnant. I wanted to have gotten "better" first.
                                       I was averaging 2-3 hrs of sleep at night.
                                       I was constantly dealing with anxiety and panic.
                                       I thought I was fat.
                                       I was in a constant fog and could not think rationally.
                                       I wanted to go to sleep and not wake up.

Is that what you thought when I first asked the question? Thought so.
Or maybe you just thought, "What a vain girl. Who does she think she is putting up a pic of herself in a bikini for the world to see?"

 Honestly though I wish I looked like that now and could enjoy my physique. I don't. Tonight after I made a healthy dinner consisting of broccoli, salmon and salad, the 4 of us piled in the car to go to McDonald's to get a shake and fries. We then went straight across the street to get another shake from Cook Out to do a taste test. McDonald's definitely won.

And of course, you already know what song I am leaving you with. "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard..."