Ramblings of a 40 year old

I have always wanted to turn 40. By God's lovingkindness yesterday I did. I've thought being able to tell others I was 40 would earn me respect. Some say maybe if i stopped acting  like a 12 year old boy then maybe it will. 

Every morning when I rise out of bed I'm hopeful that a random woman in distress has put her baby in a basket on our doorstep overnight with a note attached asking me to raise him or her.  I'd get a baby without having to go through the pregnancy or the whole adoption process. I thought possibly that would happen my birthday morning since it was my 40th and the mother would have respect for me because of my age. Naturally that's why she chose me(and maybe because I am obsessed with babies). I will continue to wait.

Someone asked me what I thought about entering this new decade and I told her grateful because I didn't think I would be around this long. Being the morbid worse case scenario woman that I am I thought by now something would have taken me out. Yesterday walking to meet 2 of my best friends for lunch I thought if a car would strike me and I entered into eternity, headlines would read "Young Middle Aged mother of 4 hit by car on 40th birthday. Weather was in the 70's unusual for this time of year. The sun was shining and the birds chirping. If there was a good time to go I'd say this Valentines Day was the prefect day" I guess I think of death a lot not in a fearful way but because it's basically unavoidable. I was talking to Julius's 98 year old grandfather a couple weeks ago and he said he doesn't feel a day older than 40 in his mind. I guess our souls are eternal so that only makes sense. I still have a hard time with people introducing me as Mrs. Milani when I still feel 16 (except wiser and not so stupid and naïve). I usually whisper "Please just call me Carey" and wink and then their mothers intercede, scold me and tell me their children will address me as Mrs. Where I grew up everyone we interacted with called each other by their first names but I should probably try and act more southern mannerish since I am living in these parts. Whatever, when in Rome.

I've never understood why you can't ask someone their age. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You did nothing wrong but were gifted more precious time on the planet. I hope a stranger this week has the balls to ask me my age. I will thank them for asking me and tell them I'm 40 and continue with a story about when I used to be in my 30's. I am always looking for opportunities to spread a little obnoxious wisdom. 

One of the biggest blessings of gaining years is going through it with friends. Getting the fine lines together and hurting joints and all the stuff you used to hear older people talk about. Now it actually starts to slowly happen. It lessens the blow to experience it with friends especially laughing about it together because what's the point in crying. After I had my last baby at 38 is when the falling apart started to happen. Throwing my back out more, not recovering from workouts fast enough, my vision going, throbbing varicose veins, looking in the mirror saying "Where did you go young one?"  It's gives me a challenge on finding ways to combat aging and I am always up for a game. One that I will lose because well, we are all heading out of this world. I started researching menopause years ago so I know what I am up against one day. If I make it that far in life I feel semi equipped. Until then I will be eating more protein, keeping up with the resistance training and throwing my back out while lifting the baby out of her crib.

If I had to sum up the past 15 years of my adult life I would say it has been a battle for my sanity. Having babies messed me up hormonally and it's been a really fun rollercoaster. Also our bodies just aren't perfect. There are times when I am flying high and times of despair mostly brought on by nothing but a hormonal imbalance. While I am holistic in my approach to life there have been times of medication to keep me afloat and balanced followed by times of don't put it near me if it's not fermented, organic, non gmo, cold pressed and raw only to be followed by driving across town searching the black market for narcotics that can stop my racing heart and help me sleep at night. A good night sleep can heal a lot of crazy. Insomnia mixed with crazy is a recipe for disaster. I can feel my absolute best by being in prayer and the Word of God daily, taking the right supplements, getting good sleep, eating whole and healthy, cutting the caffeine and alcohol, exercising consistently, getting in the sun, being in nature, not having any stress, yada yada yada. With all that in perfect place I am conquering the world. But life. Life doesn't always allow for all that. Case in point I love coffee too much with Julius every morning which wrecks my cortisol and adrenals glands. Once the caffeine kicks in we are throwing around new business ideas and planning vacations. I am sending out text invitations for dinner parties and river dancing to start the laundry and breakfast. Then comes that crash of tired but the heart still races making me feel anxious and nervous over nothing. Now that I type this out I think I'll start the coffee weaning process again starting tomorrow. And don't get me started on the alcohol, that wrecks my sleep to no end which messes with my hormones and mood. It's such a social thing it sneaks in out of nowhere though. But drinking an IPA on your 40th birthday sitting on a patio with your best friends when the weather is in the 70's and unusual for this time of year, the sun is shining and the birds chirping. If there was a good time to drink I'd say this Valentines day was the perfect day. Did I read that once in an obituary?

 Anywho, recently I have experienced days of so much joy and have been filled with delirium overtaken by the giggles. I have not been able to stop laughing at times when something funny has happened. Tears streaming down my face, shaking convulsively. Sometimes it is the most blissful feeling and I wonder if this is how happy you are in heaven.  Probably just another imbalance I'm experiencing. Also recently there are times that I am overwhelmed by the goodness of God and His presence in my life. The reflection of all He has saved me from. Then I have to go in my closet and cry and pour out my gratitude to a loving Father. Not an imbalance. 

Well I'm 40 so I better wrap this up. Until next time. And with my track record next time will probably be my 50th if I'm still alive. Today I just thought what the heck, let me sit for a moment and elevate my right painful varicose stricken leg and strain my eyes at the computer screen and get out some thoughts. Having said all this I do hope I get to stick around long enough to see my children's children. That would be a gift. I sure do love them even though they are all naughty.

Life as we know it

One of my first memories of my husband was in 2001.  He walked out of his friends dorm room wearing a fairy princess outfit. I was dressed as a "pregnant just rolled out of bed mom" and what I didn't know was those 2 outfits were a sign of things to come.

19 years later

 In late October, I was standing at the kitchen sink washing dishes listening to Kayne West's album Jesus is King because it had just been released and my kids had it playing non-stop.  I looked out the window to see my neighbor violently fly off of his bike into the bushes. As I started pulling off my purple rubber gloves to run outside to preform whatever medical intervention was necessary, I saw my 8 year old son step out from behind a tree wearing a Carolina Panthers cheer-leading outfit holding a camera and realized they were just shooting a film.


I've been pondering recently how much I love my boys getting older. I love watching them mature and be more responsible(ish). I love to watch them learn from their mistakes when they make a dumb decision. I love watching them cultivate relationships and be discerning about who may or may not be a good influence. I love seeing what we've taught them come to fruition(and of course the good comes with the bad). But the real reason I love them getting older is because of the humor factor. They've got jokes. If anything we have taught them it's humor(and street smarts). All I ask out of the relationships I have in my own life is make me laugh or laugh with me. But for the love of all that is good, just see the humor in things. However, if you can't do that, at least be able to hold a 30 minute minimum conversation with me about any MacGyver episode that was aired 1985-1992. If that can be done, we can also be friends. I love that the kids pick up on all our ridiculous phrases and insert them at precisely the right time. It used to be my husband and I only finishing each others sentences usually with something totally absurd and uncalled for. We used to be shocked by the fact that we both were thinking the same exact twisted and immature content, but now more times then not, the kids are finishing our sentences.

 I am a 6 on the enneagram so I spend most of my life contemplating death and everyone else's death around me. I have a tendency to think of the future and all the hardships that will come. I can start to mourn the loss of things which haven't happened yet. I always have this countdown where I think only 7 more years of being Jet's mom until he goes to college and I have to say goodbye forever. I often have to check myself while I am in the process of wrecking myself.  First thing I do is remind myself that 1. In the words of Arnie from "What's eating Gilbert Grape",  "I can go at anytime". And 2. So can everyone else. Another breath is not guaranteed for any of us so think like today could be your last one. But also you could have 50 more years so stop thinking it's all going to end in the next hour. Then I come back to the moment and enjoy what's in front of me until the morbidity creeps in again. I need to remind myself that it has been joy watching my kids grow thus far and so I will probably enjoy watching them as adults too. Anyway, as part of my 6, I am shocked whenever good things happen, unlike my 7 enneagram husband who is shocked when bad things happen. When I was a child there was an episode of "Are you afraid of the dark" where the parents left their daughter home and went on a date. A few minutes later the girl got a call from the police that her parents were killed in a car accident. Needless to say that episode has shaped my entire life in so many ways.

My youngest child is now 6. We treat her like she is 4. I think because she's the baby of the family we give her a pass at everything. We all don't expect much so when she does something that is age appropriate we all praise her like she is a prodigy. Then I go back and watch home videos and see my other 2 preforming those same tasks at age 3. I am definitely tougher on her than my husband. What Hazel wants Julius delivers. When she was 4 she had her birthday parties planned for the next several years. Her 5th she would have ponies, 6th would be at Great Wolf Lodge, 7th would be a cruise, 8th would be Disney World, 9th ponies again and 10th California. She doesn't demand it, but in her lollipop and gumdrops fairy tale glitter land she lives in, she truly believes it all will happen. But why wouldn't she? Her 5th she had ponies just like she told us she would, a unicorn even made an appearance. Her 6th I had just planned on having a low key party at home. However, one week before, she was convinced she was going to Great Wolf Lodge. We just rolled our eyes whenever she told us. Expect then my better half said a few days before her birthday "Why don't you make a reservation at great Wolf Lodge, we can just take everyone out of school" And so, with a reluctant finger I clicked and made the reservation. And like every aging woman, I went down one of the slides backwards while it twisted and turned, throwing off my equilibrium, making me dizzy and nauseated the rest of  the time there. I then randomly came down with a low grade fever and head pain and all I wanted was my own bed. Instead I spent the night in the room while the kids listened to Kanye West's album Jesus is Lord playing on repeat. I now can't listen to him or hear the words Great Wolf Lodge without feeling head pain, dizzy and ready to vomit.

Another thing vomit worthy is turning on the news and seeing that Iran has launched missiles at al-Asad airbase in Iraq where your brother happens to be. Fortunately we all know how it turned out, but in the meantime I spent the next several hours checking every 5 seconds to make sure there were no American causualties. Praise Him everyone lived but it just got me thankful for this country. I can't not say how thankful I am for all the service men and women who defend our country voluntarily every day risking their lives. I do not take my freedom for granted. I know it is a privilege to sit in my warm and cozy home while gagging down my personal concotion of a  detox smoothie safely behind a computer screen rambling about nonsense. I know it's not how the rest of the world operates and only freedom makes it possible. And freedom that makes it possible our kids can dream their future plans for unnecessary birthday celebrations. It's my job as a mother to make sure my children know how fortunate they are to live in the United states of America. Other moms have often told me they don't know how I deal with my husband traveling for work. In comparison to military families, there is no comparison. I know at the end of each week he will be home to make out with. Unless of course his plane goes down, which is my thought process each time we say goodbye. Our country isn't perfect but it's the sacrifices that those who have gone before us have made and the people who continue to, that make our country what it is, free. So any active military, veteran or family member of those serving or who have served, thank you for your service. May God bless you and your families and may God bless America.

Update from when I first wrote this: I've now been informed Hazel is getting a golden retriever puppy for her 7th birthday named Salsa to marry our neutered dog Chips and have puppies with. And as Chips sits by my feet presently, I just got scolded from my husband for shouting downstairs to everyone saying "Maybe Chips likes me the most and always wants to be near me because I have cancer and he detects it. He just wants to be near me in my final days" My poor kids don't need an episode of "Are you afraid of the dark?" to scar them when they have me. Fortunately in my death, I know that's when living really starts. And all God's people say Amen.

Chips, our "outdoor" dog, asleep in my bed on my pillow. Bad dog.

                                                                       Way maker
                                                                    Miracle worker
                                                                   Promise keeper
                                                                Light in the darkness
                                                                        My God
                                                                 That is who you are

Have you seen that new movie Constipated?

It hasn't come out yet.

Last night as I stood in a parking lot 2 1/2 hours after I had adamantly planned to leave a surprise party, my friend Kalle told me I never blog so I said "Fine then watch me, I'm going to write one tomorrow." So I sat down to write this morning and found this one I started 7 months ago and never posted so I think this counts...

Just ask my husband and he'll tell you my favorite food is butter and my favorite word is sphincter. I can throw back some Kerrygold and inappropriately throw "sphincter" in just about any conversation. However, that's not what I'm here to discuss. I want to semi talk about birthdays. I love getting older. I have never understood why some are ashamed of their age. I'm going to always be proud no matter what decade. With each year I gain wisdom and yet I  still feel as young and immature as a prepubescent 8 year old boy. I plan on feeling this way until the day it all ends for me. My husband reminded me on my 36th birthday that I always said I was going to die young and now I can't say that anymore. At my funeral I always pictured the people in the pews whispering to each other "But she was so young" and "What a shame, she had her whole life ahead of her." But alas, I made it another year and now I'll have to come up with new dialogue for my funeral attendees. Having said this, every year is a gift and I am  grateful God has given me one more year to be a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend and psychopath.

Having a 17 year old exchange student has really shown my husband and I how out of touch we are with today's youth but makes me appreciate the stage of life we are in. These days nothing turns me on more then when Julius and I whisper things early in the evening to each other about the things that we want to do with each other that night. One may say "I can't wait to get you upstairs, put on some cozy clothes make Sleepytime detox tea and read together" I also in my stage of life appreciate nothing more than a good walk. Like take me on a walk and I am your forever friend. When we eat out we prefer to go out around where we live so we can walk to and fro dinner.  On my birthday we were going to a restaurant 2 1/2 miles away and Julius asked if I wanted to walk. You would have thought I won the lottery because of the joy that ensued. Not just because that would mean I'd have to wear comfy shoes and casual clothes, but because it would also aid in digestion and in balancing the insulin levels.

About 7 months ago we got a puppy named Chips. I mainly wanted a dog for the nights we ate rice so he could clean the floors up after the kids but also for a running/walking partner. My love for him is very conditional and I spend the better part of the day verbally abusing him in a loving voice. He does fulfill the role of a walking partner and on my birthday we were able to walk together and listen to my usual podcasts on health and nutrition. The day before my birthday Chips killed one of our chickens. It was the first time he'd actually gone through with it. He likes to chase them but he's never ripped one open as he did this one. It all took place on the driveway. Nobody took it upon themselves to clean it up so it stayed there the rest of the day(I did have thoughts about making bone broth with it's remains). In the morning Julius said he heard the coyotes going crazy last night and when we looked the chicken was gone from our driveway. I was relieved they got rid of it. I went in Hazels room and opened the blinds and gasped as I saw the corpse of the chicken in front of my face on the basketball court and Chips proudly staring at me like a cat who has brought his master a mouse. The day went on and again nobody took it upon them self to dispose of it. Later that day the boys and I played a few games of knockout and the chicken lay in the middle of our game. Benny who had cried the day before because it was his hen who lost her life, was completely unfazed as we played around the deceased creature. My 5 year old daughter had a friend over that same day and as they stood examining the dead hen I heard her friend say "My mom once told me that this chicken is the same kind of chicken that we eat" To which Hazel responded " She was lying to you" And then it all made sense that she doesn't know the chickens we eat and chicken we raise our the same creatures.

Anyway, our little homestead is a good place to toughen up children in preparation for the hardships of the real world. One of my favorite times was watching Hazel play with the squirrel we watched fall from a tree to it's death. After researching that squirrels rarely carry rabies I deemed it safe as a toy. Until later I felt something on my leg and realized that scratching sensation was from the stiff leg and nails from the squirrel. I snapped and then called a mandatory nap for the squirrel and chucked it behind the garden garage and sanitized hands and leg. Anyway, I always thought I hated animals but deep down I love them, especially watching them in their natural environments. They all have a purpose and they know their roles. It's really such a beautiful thing to watch what God has orchestrated in His creation. Oh and then there's the role of the dog. To destroy the packages that the USPS drops by your front door at Christmas time. Only to realize the package was dropped at the wrong house and it belonged on the street behind you.

Dreams really do come true.

I'm not sure if the squirrel lived a better life in living and breathing or in its death.

In the words of Billy Joel, "Only the good die young"

I suppose I will live forever.

Be still my soul

I wish I wrote more, but to know me is to know about the big stick that resides up my butt. Unfortunately a side effect of the stick is having to have everything perfect and in it's place and washed and wiped down and folded and paid and checked off until I can sit down which means i can never sit down. My father has always told me to relax and my husband gets annoyed at me for constantly having to be on the move. Family movie nights are torture because the rules are I am not allowed to fold laundry or do push ups. I.have.to.sit.still. Tonight I don't have things all done but I got a text from my new friend in Sacramento who I met last week and I thought that's a sign. I have been wanting to write about my recent trip to California and that was the nudge I needed. Fortunately my youngest is sleeping, Julius is reading Harry Potter to my oldest and my middle is "grounded" and in his room as of 2 hours ago for being disrespectful. He thinks being grounded means we are not going to feed him any food tomorrow. He also got his door handle taken off tonight so he can't lock it anymore and sneak out the window. Perks of being 6 and having your bedroom on the first floor.

So last week Julius and I went to California because he had a conference at the Ritz-Carlton in Lake Tahoe. I was not going to have him go and soak in that kind of beauty without me. He had a cocktail reception the first night of the conference which I couldn't go to so first we had a drink at the bar. He then he told the bartender Brad to take care of me and not let anyone hit on me as he walked over to his dinner. Brad succeeded in one of those areas and failed in the other. I sat chatting with him, drinking my vodka and water and ordered the Trout. It was amazing so I obnoxiously and dramatically told him to compliment the chef because it was the best piece of fish I have ever had. Meanwhile I met two girls at the bar, Megan and Virginia who were having drinks and dessert. They were from Sacramento and in town checking on a Megan's vacation property remodel at the Lake. Having finished our addition and remodel this past June, we were able to commiserate and bond over the frustration and the toll it takes on your mental health.

Had this been taken during our renovation process I would have jumped over this ledge

Side note: This is a whole other story but for many reasons I had a food sensitivity antibody blood test thing about a month ago and I tested positive for having a sensitivity to many foods. I was told to eliminate these foods for 3 months. I am talking gluten, dairy, vanilla, bananas, shrimp, spinach, kale, almonds, green beans, etc...I know it sounds bizarre especially if you are not familiar with autoimmune disease and all that goes with it but it has helped me like crazy to cut these out.

Anywho, back at the bar while I am talking to my new friends, a waiter comes up and gives me a piece of chocolate cake. I say I didn't order this. Brad pipes in and says he did and it's on him. What nobody around me knew and what I didn't feel like explaining because let's be honest nobody cares, is my new food sensitivity testing diagnosis. The problem is, if someone gives you a beautiful piece of warm chocolate cake it is extremely rude to not eat it. I was praying Julius would pop in like he had been doing so I could feed him the cake. I started to sweat. I found a cocktail napkin and devised a plan. I took a bite, chewed it up, acted like I was wiping my mouth and spit it in the napkin. Shoved the napkin in my purse and looked for the next nearest cocktail napkin. Bite #2 in my purse and my plan was working. I continued to talk to the girls when a man sat down next to me. We will call him Mike, mainly we will call him Mike because that was his name. I could feel him looking in my direction as I was turned to the left pretending I didn't know he was there and staring. A few seconds later I hear "Wow, well that's some willpower you've got, not finishing that cake." Rolling my eyes all I could think was he has no idea how much willpower I have and the cake that is missing is really inside my purse chewed up in a napkin. He asks if I am with the conference and I tell him no but my husband is and right through those doors. He must have selective hearing. My new friends go up to their room and another girl named Becca sits down. I met her the year before at the Ritz in Laguna at a conference because once again when my husband stays at the Ritz in a pretty town Big Mama is going with. Mike joins in our conversation and his friend also hops up and stands in between me and Becca. We now have a little unwanted foursome conversation where we are trapped with fist bumps included and where we get to hear about all of his properties and the vineyard in Napa he bought that morning. He shows me a picture of one of his houses in California but I tell him that house is in Texas because I have it pinned on houzz and used that as my inspiration when remodeling my own house. Julius has now entered the bar and is sitting behind us on a couch talking to some women from the conference. I keep looking at him like please come help me and he doesn't budge. The women he was with told him to come save me but he told them no because he liked watching this transpire because I don't get out much. Finally Becca pipes in and points to Julius and tells the men, "You know that's her husband right there looking at you" Then finally my prince charming comes to my rescue after having just had his cheap entertainment at my expense.

Now about that stick up my butt. I haven't always been this way. Before I was married or had kids I was super chill and calm and rolled with the punches. With each passing day it has gotten worse and  the injuries, the fighting, the missing children, the complaining, the busy schedules, has got the best of me most days. And then there is my husband who travels most weeks for work. I get in the groove of parenting without him and have it down. Then he is back so I adjust to having him working from home. I settle into a routine of screaming at everyone to keep quiet because daddy is on a call. You can bet your bottom dollar on his very important conference calls I will come in from getting the mail and all hell has broken lose and the screams from the children are blood curdling. It's routine that I sprint and swoop up the injured or fighting child covering their mouth with my hand and take them to the farthest point away from his office. Often when he comes out of his office I am usually laying face down on the floor pretending to be dead. He usually just steps over me and I am offended he doesn't stop and try to resuscitate me. Then he leaves town a few days later so I am back running the ship. But then there is Vacation Carey. Vacation Carey comes to life and doesn't give a crap about anything and the stick temporarily disintegrates. I don't think about my kids, responsibilities, my to-do list or school projects that are due the day after we get back that we haven't had time to start. It is good for me to see what I used to be and know that I have still got the chill factor in me somewhere. I am free.

Lake Tahoe exceeded my expectations. The first day was like summer and we got to walk in the water and bask in the sun. The second was like fall with it's crisp air. slight morning chill, afternoon sun and  beautiful changing leaves. The next day was like winter. I opened my hotel curtains to find a white blanket covering the once green earth. I freaked out a little bit and like a kid on a snow day quickly got dressed without anyone having to tell me to. I woke my husband up because we needed to get the coffee and get outside in the splendor.

 At the hotel I started writing about my soul friends I have had for 20 years . That is a different post I haven't  finished yet because I have 15 unfinished posts, but I want to say leading up to this trip I was starting to feel anxiety and fear. I had crippling fear years ago about me and Julius dying and having my kids grow up without their parents. I was so scared to leave them even for the weekend in case we would get in a car crash and die. Through getting on my knees in prayer, the Lord broke me and these fears like crazy and had me trusting in him wholeheartedly. Next thing you know I am hopping on an airplane 2 years in a row to Europe for 10 days with just my husband not concerned with thoughts of the future and what if's.  Anywho, I started feeling these feelings from years ago creeping in and felt attacked with lies from the enemy.  I honestly did not want to go to California. I reached out to my soul sisters the night before I left and told them what was happening to me. They touched my soul with their responses. From prayer, to scripture, to cognitive behavioral therapy tips to affirming words I felt the Lord at work through these women in my soul. I woke up the day of the trip calm as crap and slept the entire way there which is nothing short of a miracle since insomnia is my middle name. When we live in fear we miss out on so much good.

                                                          Including really good food

And creation

And snow bunnys

 I love listening to modernized hymns in my kitchen. I live in my kitchen. Fortunately it's my favorite place to be. It's my creative outlet and I love concocting new dishes, fermenting foods and being challenged to come up with a meal for someone coming over with food restrictions. Feeding people is my love language. A few days after coming home I was listening to music and was reminded in song of why I can backtrack and get myself in old patterns of anxiety and fear. Such simple words that speak a weighty truth.

Oh, what peace we often forfeit
Oh, what needless pain we bear
All because we do not carry
Everything to God in prayer

As I feel the need to bring my all over the place ramblings with no point to a close, I rest in these words,
Leave to thy God to order and provide, in every change He faithful will remain...

Oh be still my soul.

Why take your kids to Disney...

When there is Whole Foods?

My birthday is on Valentine's Day, or Valentimes as I've often heard people say. I always appreciate when others incorrectly pronounce words. As attention starved as I am I don't like to celebrate things pertaining to me. I have always hated wedding/baby showers and birthday parties thrown in my honor. I feel uncomfortable. Having said that, my husband always plans something special. However this year I just wanted to be with my family and not make it about me. A few birthdays ago Julius and I were on a date and we saw a family of 6 eating together enjoying each others company. I thought that looked like the best way to celebrate this commercialized "love" holiday. Simply being with family. I just had to wait several years until my kids were old enough to not be so psychotic in public.

                                                  "Hazel, will you accept this rose?"


We kept it low key. Julius dropped off my sons and I at Village Tavern for dinner because I often need Prime Rib. Prime Rib is in my top 10 favorite foods and it's always on the menu there. Meanwhile, Julius took Hazel to the American Girl doll store at the mall.

Rumor has it this is an expensive hobby and not a road I plan on encouraging my child to venture down.

Benny literally got up 6 times during dinner to pee. It's like he has the bladder of a woman who has birthed three children. I feel his pain. During dinner Benny licked the salt shaker. I told him I was going to tell the waitress so she could wash it. He immediately threatened me. He picked up a knife and told me he was going to slice me if I did. So maybe I did speak too soon about the psychotic behavior.

Here, after getting scolded for threatening me, he is trying to explain to me why I would have deserved getting sliced. He is always the voice of reason.

Jet ordered Prime Rib too. One of the reasons I love him so much is because of how obsessed he will get with good food. He pounded the steak and slurped down the fat just like his mama does. He had been talking about Prime Rib nonstop ever since.

He got cold so of course I did what any gentleman woman would do and offered him my coat.

Julius picked us up and we went as a family to Whole Foods for dessert. Watching the children joyfully take countless trips up the escalators and back down the ramps in their fancy clothes was the best birthday gift this undeserving woman could ask for.

The boys wanted sushi because they had just had dinner so of course they were starving. We also got a cake from the bakery. Call me a cake snob but it wasn't anything to write home about. Trust me, I know cake. It is also in my top 10 foods.

                                            Alas, the children are in dreamland.

 


The next morning Benny sat down at the kitchen table and tied a balloon string around his neck and threatened to pull it harder if I didn't make him coffee immediately. I feel his pain every morning and suppose I am raising a psychopath.

Two and half months later I had some "life" goals. I told the boys I would take them on a date when I reached my goals. When I hit my first goal and it was date time with the oldest, Jet said he wanted to go eat Prime Rib with me. I love one on one time with each kid because it really is there time to shine. There is no sibling rivalry and the child eats up all the attention. Needless to say we went to Texas Roadhouse only to find they don't serve Prime Rib on Wednesday nights. I tried to talk Jet into a Filet or Ribeye so we didn't have to drive all the way across town to Village Tavern but his disappointment broke my heart and we hauled butt over to the Tavern. We played Uber driver on the way and his little heart was full of gratitude and he kept telling me thank you for driving him all the way there and he's sorry it's taking so long. I assured him the pleasure was all mine and the longer it took the more money I was getting. We got to the restaurant and got our Prime Rib and all could relax.

He got cold so I did what any gentlemen woman would do and offered him my coat.

   
                           He told me he'd sign the check since Daddy wasn't there.

Here I "Uber" my date home. 

You should have heard how he opened up to me that ride. I have found when you are a "stranger" the kids really open up about how they feel and what happened in school when otherwise you'd get no information. The things they tell me when we play restaurant. I am the 26 year old waitress Linda. They make Linda give a description of everything she serves. For example, if they wanted to order a Stonyfield smoothie it could not just be handed to them. I'd have to describe it like this "Today's snack feature is an organic strawberry smoothie from a local farm. No pesticides and only raw milk that was fermented an extra 3 days to get an extra boost of probiotics was used. I am not exactly sure the name of the cow who produced the milk but I'm almost positive it was a female and would be more than happy to call the farmer and ask for more specific information"

Once Jet asked Linda if she was married. "She" told him she lost her husband Steve in a plane crash. Jet on the verge of tears responded with "I wish I didn't ask that question, I didn't like that answer"  Anwyay, the boys will tell "Linda"  true stories about their life and mom and it always makes my heart overflow because of the things they tell me, even about me. The things they remember that we've done together and that I've never heard them talk about. It makes me feel like they adore me when often times I feel like they probably just see me as a stressed out dictator. 

 I always used to question if people who had watched my chidlren were making up how well mannered and delightful my kids had been. Ever since Linda evolved I finally got to see what others get to see. I get more respect as Linda and while the pay isn't great, even though Jet always makes sure he signs the check and writes in my tip, there is nothing else in the world I would rather do. And for this opportunity to raise these children I Praise His Great Name! Thank you Jesus.

Ode to the Fitbit

My friend Hope wrote a poem in 10th grade. I believe it was called "Ode to my bagel" I have wanted to "Ode" something ever since. Seventeen years later and I can finally cross that off my list.

Julius and I are Fitbit wearers. I am a huge advocate for all the basic reasons, but it is also so fun and adds a lot of excitement to my day. I originally got it to track my sleep because of all my issues but fell in love with everything about it. I love to go back and look at what my heart rate was for the day, seeing it spike around 7:30am and 4pm. I then reminisce about the yelling and screaming I was doing at everyone during those times, trying to get the kids out the door for school or breaking up the afternoon fights.

Benjamin has been asking for a FitBit because he really wants to track his steps. The boys love to see who has more, Julius or I. I want to invent a KidBit. What's that you say? They already have that? It was on 'Shark Tank' last year? Then I am afraid I am late to the party again. Or wait, you said that's a good idea and now you are going to steal and patent the idea and the product will be on the shelves late spring? Whatever your response is, I respect.

I let Benjamin wear mine every once in awhile to bed because of his desire for his own. I also wanted to track his sleep because when we check on him at night he usually is not in his bed. He usually has found a more uncomfortable spot to sleep. We oft hear him in the middle of the night coming out of his room and he is always the first to rise in the morning, no matter how late to bed he went. I just wanted to know what his deal was. The first time he wore it I tucked him in and said good night. He was so excited I knew he would not be able to sit still. I shut the door and  heard him marching for an hour back and forth in the room and cheering to himself on as he was accumulating steps. We have since let the boys wear both of ours for an hour or so during the day and it promotes a little healthy competition. For me, it gets them out of my face. They literally do not stop moving. It's actually hysterical to watch them power walk and run in place and come inside very seriously and walk across the house and back out. They both come up to me every once in awhile to see who has taken the lead.

Kidbit would help promote movement in an otherwise generation that sits with bad posture staring at an electronic device. Each child would have a goal per day and there would be severe consequences to a child who did not reach his goal. Maybe no dinner? Throw his or her favorite toy away? Make them pay a fine? I'm kidding. But a little healthy competition against yourself never hurt anyone... Or did it?

All roads lead to...

Rome Il Duomo.

Hey big girl.

My husband is 50% Italian as am I. It is only fitting we go to Italy for our 10 year anniversary. So we decided to leave the 3 kids behind for 10 days with the Nonni and flee. One night before we left, I wrote each child a letter just in case the plane went down over the Atlantic and we'd never see each other again. I woke up to my 6 year old the next morning in my face crying saying. "I had a dream you and daddy died." To assume I may have been a little apprehensive about leaving the country after that would be a correct assumption.

 On the day we left, the same kid who cried over our death, came running into our room and exclaimed "I'm so excited! You are going to Italy today... Can you leave?" You can imagine his disappointment when I told him our flight wasn't until the evening. Our 4 year old on the other hand doesn't grasp time yet and was asking us to relay the information to his grandparents on what restaurant he wanted to eat at for his birthday. His birthday was in 5 months and he didn't think we'd be back in time. The 20 month old child didn't have a clue anything was up, she's always too self absorbed or busy doing her beauty treatments.

I will say once in Italy, they didn't really cross my mind until 5 days into the trip. So, we called on the 5th day to check in, not because we really wanted to, more so out of obligation so my parents wouldn't think we were dead beat parents. The kids didn't want to talk to us either. Needless to say we were two young lovers having the most ridiculous, gluttonous and self indulgent time, savoring every second and fortunately documenting every detail with 1,577 pictures to show for it, which gives me a panic attack when I think of making an album.

In preparation for our trip we had to set some rules and guidelines. We love food and coffee. Obsessed. I love to cook and I love to eat. Starting June 1st we were to abstain from coffee or pizza until we landed in Rome July 18th. No big deal for some, but for us this was cruel and unusual punishment.

We left Charlotte on Friday at 6 pm and landed in Rome Saturday around 9:30am which was really 3:30am for us. Fortunately I had some Xanax and a beer on the plane to help me get a couple hours of sleep for the night, otherwise this insomniac would have never nodded off. We went straight to the Waldorf Astoria Roma Cavalliri to drop off our stuff and headed straight back out for our tour of the Vatican. We had some cappuccinos and pizzas to break our fast right before the tour started. Right then and there with the celebration going on in my mouth, I knew this was going to be an amazing trip. As I was thinking these thoughts I looked up to see our waiters face as Julius was in the midst of offending him. Julius was speaking Italian to him but was not saying the right thing which made Julius come across as totally rude. With a little guilt and a lot of laughter we headed to meet our Vatican tour group.

The tour was good. If I had feelings towards Michelangelo before, which I'm not sure that I did, they sure did change, for the much better and slightly worse. All the artists were brilliant. The sculptures and statues and paintings and detail on everything was insanity. I did have a bit of strong emotion at St. Peter's Basilica  grasping that Peter was buried underneath. This disciple, someone who knew Jesus personally, walked with Him, lived his life to bring glory to His name, who chose to be crucified upside down because he felt unworthy to have the same death as his Savior. If Peter could do this to me, I don't think I would be able to hold myself together if I took a trip to the Holy Land.

Moving forward we made a rule that every statue we saw we had to say who they resembled of someone we knew, it helped keep our minds stimulated when the jet lag wanted to sneak in. The main thing I was paying attention to was the accent our tour guide had. I studied it with all my heart. She was an Italian woman speaking English and I think I had an intuition that later on in the trip in Florence I would be playing a "foreigner" and needed to get an accent down. We went back to the Waldorf afterwards and have never been so obsessed with a pool. Whatever temperature it was, I am pretty sure they don't have it in America.

Arrivederci Roma! Off to Florence...

We took one of those fast trains to Florence. We hauled our luggage from the train station through the cobblestone streets until we arrived at our apartment where Antonina our 70 somethingish landlady was waiting for us. The staircase was not for the faint of heart, even without luggage. We hiked up several steep, concrete, sketchy, narrow flights of stairs until we made it to the top, the 5th floor. There we were faced with the Italian angel waiting for us with a bottle of wine and a tour of our apartment. We were a couple blocks from Il Duomo and were able to walk everywhere. No matter where we went in the city we could see that big beautiful voluptuous cathedral. All the roads lead to it, so we always knew where we were. And by we, I mean my husband. I shut my brain off for the trip and didn't know my right from left.

The summary of Florence was exploring our hearts out. We ate and ate and ate some more but were always starving an hour later because of all the walking, which made us happy because it would mean it was time to choose a place to eat again. I wouldn't consider myself a shopper but we shopped until we dropped. We had not a care in the world, which is not like me. I even welcomed all the smug and disapproving looks I got from the older Italian women who worked in the public market because of my short running shorts. I suppose I left the stick that's usually up my butt at the Charlotte Douglas International airport.

One night at dinner, we were sat with a family from Spain. After they left, they sat a mother and daughter duo at our table, Barb and Annie from Kansas city. We hit it off with them. I got up to go to the bathroom and remembered we were almost out of toilet paper at our apartment. Because it was so late at night I had no idea where to even buy it. I took a small wad and discreetly put it in my pocket just to last me until morning. So we continued chatting it up with the Americans and the subject of 'where does one buy toilet paper in this city because we are out' came up. Unbenownst to Barb, she completely jokingly said "Is that why you have toilet paper stuffed in your purse?" I then  had to shamefully pull a wad from out of my pocket and say, "Yes". Your sins will find you out. All to say we followed Il Duoma to find our way back to our place and then I ended up finding a package of toilet paper in the cabinet.

I am in awe of you, you big beauty.

Before this trip I rarely consumed any alcohol. The past 7 years I have either been pregnant or breastfeeding or dealing with some sort of hormonal imbalances making me anxious, crazy, insomniatic or sad that I didn't have any desire to go near a drink unless there was cause for a celebration of some sort. On occasion I would have a glass of wine but usually would have a headache the next day. One night we were sat with some lovely Norwegians at an outdoor trattoria. We ate a delicious meal and drank a bottle of wine. Shortly after dinner we walked around some more and decided we wanted a pizza and tirimisu. So we found a quaint restaurant and got more food and decided to try grappa. Grappa is made from the leftover grape after it's been pressed for wine. According to my father it's what the poor people in Italy used to drink. So one grappa led to another and another. Soon we found ourselves at a bar that we randomly walked by. It was a cute bar on the corner and inside we found drunk American college girls all gathered around the one male Italian bar tender. Never have I been more embarrassed for people's behavior as I was then and there watching typical American drunk college girls act like typical American drunk college girls around this Italian. I know he was in heaven. While Julius and I stood at the bar watching the scene we were only conversing in Italian/Spanish and broken English with each other. My grappa was making me feel overly confident so I decided to approach this group of girls. I put on my heavy thick accent that I learned from my tour guide at the Vatican and asked them if they wanted me to take a picture of them and their bartender boyfriend. Well wouldn't you know, these Americans love someone with an accent and soon they were gathered around me and I was all the rage. I introduced them to my husband who also had a killer accent and we made up an entire story of our life in Spain. Several times I had to pinch him under the bar to come up with an answer because I was drawing blanks on cities in Spain and the names of my 3 Spanish children. One of the girls lived in North Carolina and another one from Orange County, CA, two of the places we have lived. So of course we talked about several places there, making them excited because these Spaniards actually knew about unpopular places and knew directions on how to get from point A to point B. I told them my husband was a geography major, which they bought, and that's why he knew of all these places in the states. They begged us to go to the Lions Den which was a totally touristy American bar full of college kids. So we went, because when drunk American college girls invite you to party with them and you are parents of 3 filled with liquid courage turning you in to con artists, you accept the invitation. We told our female bartender before we left that we were really Americans, because she also bought that we were from somewhere other than America. She looked like she needed some comedic relief since she had to carry the extra load of her bartending partner who was swarmed by inebriated girls. We went to the Lions Den which was also full of drunk male and female college students studying abroad, definitely no locals. There was a boy wearing a Chapel Hill shirt so Julius started telling him players that the typical common folk from Spain wouldn't know, and of course once again, every drunk goes crazy when a foreigner knows something about their homeland. The boy was extremely excited, however not as excited as when I took it upon myself to tell him  "You looka like, how you say, Leonardo Dicaprio" winking and walking away. Being foreign, that is the only American actor I knew. And yes, he was a red head and looked nothing like him. He immediately told his friend and they clinked beer glasses. Julius and I eventually stumbled home arm in arm laughing hysterically like a bunch of school girls back to our place. Fortunately we could see Il Duomo and found our way but obviously stopping for a slice of pizza first. It was late and we had to get up in a few hours to ride vespas around Tuscany. I was laughing so hard in bed to myself and could not stop that I had to take a double dose of xanax to relax and fall asleep. Do as I say not as I do, but when in Rome Florence...

So a few hours later we awoke and hopped in a van and rode to Tuscany. "But Carey," you say "didn't you feel crummy after a night like that and only getting a few hours of sleep?"  Thank you for your concern and to answer your question, No. The quality of everything is actually quality, unlike we have here. In Estados Unidos I can't eat bread without feeling like I need to take a nap or it giving me an uneasy pit in my stomach. There I ate bread and pizza and drank wine to my hearts content without ever feeling bad, but that is not what I am here to talk about. Back to the rolling hills. We drove our vespas all over the country side and then went back to a Castle winery and did a wine tour and tasting. After that we went to Piazza Michelangelo back in Florence and hiked back down to our apartment to get ready for dinner. Our whole trip everyone kept asking us if we were on our honeymoon. Everyone was shocked when we told them it was our 10 year anniversary because we "look so young." They clearly didn't get close enough to see the crows feet and years of sun damage.  We decided to up it a notch and start telling people when they asked if this was our honeymoom that it was really our 20 year anniversary and that we got married when we were 12 and slept in bunkbeds for the first 6 years of marriage.

Oh Florence, you have a piece of my heart.

The next day we took a train and headed to the coast. We got dropped off in Vernazza, the fourth of the 5 towns in Cinque Terre. We ate lunch on the water and then went swimming because it was blimmin hot and I felt like I was going to pass out during lunch. Everything is outside and Italy was having a crazy heat wave. We climbed on rocks and jumped off cliffs. The first time I jumped I needed coaching because as I got to the ledge I would get panicked. And by needing coaching I mean I was getting coached by my better half but really wanted him to leave me alone because I didn't need a pep talk. I just wanted to jump when I wanted to jump. Anyway we had dinner in the square and met a couple from the Netherlands to which we hit it off with. Wednesday night they have live music so we danced the night away in the square and it felt like a dream.

My cousin Isolda who I hadn't seen since I was in Costa Rica 12 years prior, was now living back in Italy and on her holiday in the same region as us. Her and her boyfriend Luca took a train to Vernazza and we spent the day together eating, drinking, swimming and climbing to the top of the castle. T'was so good to see her and meet him. After they left. Julius and I wanted to paddle board. Unfortunately it was too choppy so we had to take out a kayak. This was lovely, that is of course before I felt like I was going to throw up as the water got choppier. The older I get the easier I get nauseated and dizzy. Can I get a witness? Anywho, we ate dinner and walked around a little bit more and found an alley stairway we wanted to explore. Who did we run in to in the alley but Barb and Annie from our restaurant in Florence. It was so exciting. Just when we were about to call it a night, a turn of events had us at a little bar conversing with our favorite Americans.

Here one may look upon our pink apartment and also upon the yellow kayaks in the water which had me nearly puking my brains out. The castle in the top right was used to keep a lookout for Turkish pirates, back in the day. Everyone would flee to the hills.

One day we hiked from Vernazza to the next town over, Monterossa. The hike was incredibly beautiful. On the trail we found an old man who was squeezing oranges and selling fresh squeezed OJ. Another man had a table set up selling jewlery. I am pretty sure both those men were set up illegally on the trail, but my jewelry I wear daily holds near and dear to my heart and I will thank the men for breaking laws. We came back and went swimming. That night we ate at a restaurant right off a cliff, it was pretty crazy amazing. After we got in for the night there was an incredible thunderstorm. Our windows were open and since our apartment was in the middle of the square every time the lightning struck you would hear the old Italian men hootin' and hollering. It was very moving to watch all the people working together to help each other bring in all the boats and shut down the places and take cover. The next morning it continued to rain and the setting seemed like a completely different place. We walked to the train station in the pouring rain and hopped on the train back to Rome. It was a good day to leave Cinque Terre.

 We trained it back to Rome and had a night time Colosseum tour set up, but we missed it because our hotel shuttle was running behind. It was ok though, I think by this time we were worn out. We enjoyed walking around that part of Rome, saw the Colosseum but did not endure a 3 hour tour. Besides, we were going home and out of time to mimic anyones accent again on the trip. The next day we said sadly goodbye to the Motherland. The last time I was in Italy I was a child who was attention starved and all I cared about was putting on a performance for my Italian relatives. This time, when I first arrived all I had cared about was the food. As I left, I was even more obsessed with food and craving to know the crap out of  history. I was in such awe of every beautiful thing I saw and I was not satisfied just looking at it, I wanted to know who built what and for what reason and the story behind everything. Maybe I am not as shallow as I presumed myself to be.

If I am going to be vain and put skank bathing suit pictures up, then expect to see ugly sleeping pics as well. Also, we may have kissed our way across Italy but I am also happy to report that we did have one major knock down drag out fight at the end. I should expect nothing less, we are Italians and it's what we do.

Once landing, reality quickly set in. We had envisioned our children running up to us as we walked down the arrival international ramp. We got nothing from them, except fighting over who was going to help push the luggage, which led to screaming. I was used to quiet and calm the previous 10 days that I literally couldn't take it. I needed one child introduced at a time. The drive home I told my parents I needed a vacation and contemplated jumping out of the moving vehicle.

Julius and I fought depression over the next week because it seemed like we had just lived a dream. Living so lavishly and selfishly was easy. We could not except reality, I could not pick up my purse even to just move it onto a chair without my daughter screaming thinking I was leaving her again. But alas, as with everything, time heals all wounds. I was drawn to anyone with an accent and wanted all new friends who were not from the states. I followed some Russian women around Costco trying to befriend them because they weren't speaking English. I loved my dad even more because of his Italian accent and wanted my mom to only speak to me in Italian. I respected our Danish friends here even more. Eventually though, we were back in the groove and so thankful  to have had the opportunity to have gotten away in this busy stage of life. Literally I saw the entire trip as a gift from the Lord. We were blessed with this amazing experience and totally undeserving. So many things could have gone wrong but the trip went so absolutely smooth. My parents sacrificing their life and time is also something I feel overwhelmed with.

Anyway I wanted to write some tidbits from this trip because I have had many a friend and neighbor ask me about it and it's been too overwhelming to talk about that I want to change the subject. But honestly, I have an issue even posting this. There is so much poverty and tragedy and evil and sadness in our world that I feel like a spoiled rotten brat talking about some stupid vacation as if it has any importance. I know this world is not my permanent residence and I don't want to ever hold my grip too tight. True joy only comes from the Father in heaven. Hallelujah this world is not our final destination.

Even so, come Lord Jesus come.

Arrivederci Roma...

If you are in Charlotte and want a pizza as close to one from Italy as possible, we have found that the Margherita pizza from TRUE crafted pizza gets it. For that I love and support them.