LIVE. LAUGH. TOOT.

One day, with my mother's permission, I will share a story about her on this blog. One that I love to share in social gatherings. One to break the ice at parties. One that humiliated her, and me, and almost got Julius thinking twice about marrying me. She actually may never agree to the story, so use your wildest imagination. And yes, there may be some tooting involved. Sorry Mom.

I will share some small tidbits from today in which my life mimicked this title. My parents came over for a quick dindin before my mom and I had to leave to see October Baby(Please see my disclosure statement). We had beans for a side. It dawned on me that we eat beans all the time and I have never taught Jet the "beans beans their good for you heart" song. That must be changed. I started off with the "musical fruit" version first since I'm partial to the T word instead of F. My mother sat there and said, "I don't think kids are supposed to learn these types of things from their moms". Au contraire Mama, au contraire. I want my kids well equipped and up to date on these important things. Miraculously, two minutes after singing these songs, Jet tooted. I think he may have gotten a standing ovation from us. He was so excited he started shoveling more and more beans in his mouth. He then was a little disappointed as he was not able to produce anymore. I told him he probably would in his sleep tonight and I was sorry we all couldn't be there to hear the music.

As a  child, I used to get very upset when listening to my mom talk to her sister about colon cleanses and fiber intake and too many things along these lines. On the drive there I was telling her about this Chinese laxative tea I have. She said she would like to try some. After the movie we were standing in line for the bathroom. Her co-worker Beth was standing in line in front of her and said, "So you gonna go out and party after this?" She simply responded, "No. I'm going home to drink some Chinese tea so I can use the bathroom". And then it hit me. I am my mother. As an adult I thrive on these conversations with my girlfriends. There is nothing more exciting. What was not exciting is when it was finally my turn for the bathroom. I squatted as I do in public restrooms(and always at home). I went to stand, and I couldn't. My hip wouldn't allow me to. I started panicking. I thought I would have to crawl out of the stall. Eventually I was able to stand in pain and limp to the sink. I limped to the car, but nobody wants a sob story, so enough of this.

The drive home was filled with discussion about the movie, but also with the inevitable. Had I not sobbed out every last tear in me from the movie, I would have been crying from laughter. One thing Jan said flatually, pardon factually, "You know Martin Luther from the 1500's? Not only was he known for the Protestant Reformation but he was also known for tooting. Frequent ones. Loud ones. It's true.". And then we talked of an Italian/French movie called 'La Grande Abuffatta', one I've never seen but know that in it a man lets out a long, loud, powerful toot and then falls over dead. We got home. I ran in and grabbed her the tea.

So this is my disclosure. To be serious for a moment, the real reason I'm writing is because I want to encourage you to see October baby. I know it's no Hunger Games, but please.  Yes, at the beginning it is a bit cheesy, but then it is heart wrenching and beautiful and will have you in tears. This movie is for those pro-life, pro-choice, contemplating abortion, post abortion. If you watch it, please stay til the credits so you can see the woman tell her abortion story and how she has found healing. God loves you, and so do I. And I love your unborn baby.

So I thought this song was annoying until I had babies of my own. Now the words are truth.

                  Benny

       And the Jet

                                                         Pissed to be...
  "In My Arms"

Your baby blues
So full of wonder
Your curly cues
Your contagious smile
And as i watch
You start to grow up
All I can do is hold you tight

Knowing clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash all around
But you will be safe in my arms

Story books are full of fairy tales
Of kings and queens and the bluest skies
My heart is torn just in knowing
You'll someday see the truth from lies

Knowing clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash all around
But you will be safe in my arms

Castles they might crumble
Dreams may not come true
But you are never all alone
Because I will always
Always love you

Clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
Rains will pour down
Waves will crash all around
But you will be safe in my arms

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

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.