Results tagged "Holidays"

Do you lie to your kids?

No really. Do you? I mean… just LOOK at Ann Curry’s face.

You’re lying RIGHT NOW. And she T-O-T-A-L-L-Y knows.

Because, according to the Today Show and some rather swarmy ladies from Todaymoms.com, you are just oozing with lies. LIES.

YOU BIG, FAT LIAR.

Personally, I try not to lie to Will — but not because lying isn’t fun (because it totally is!), no. Will is way to smart and tends to figure things out… He spends a lot of time and asks A LOT of QUESTIONS…. taking the fun completely OUT OF THE LIE. Santa Claus was suspect for weeks before Christmas. There was a lot of concern over how he gets onto the roof… “He doesn’t use a ladder, he doesn’t NEED a ladder.” We were three steps to polishing off the liquor cabinet with his series of investigations, but it all ended when Mr. Claus paid off big time Christmas morning. Thank you VERY much, John Deere.

And, didn’t you know, this is a heated topic. Why, it was just a few months back that I was perusing Facebook when I came across a post from fellow blogger, Jaime Lee, who had written a nice little HONEST post about ’6 lies moms tell kids’. For the most part, these 6 categories of dishonesty are all based in keeping a child happy and protected. You know — ‘The Tooth Fairy’, ‘Let’s not talk about sex yet, the baby came from a stork’, ‘GYPSIES’.  All rather harmless, and in all honesty, easy enough for a child to understand and quickly get over once the real truth is unveiled. But as I read on to the comments section, I found myself all stressed out and twisted up in the world of someone that DOES NOT LIE….

“As Life Gets Better says:

Today is Will’s 4th birthday.

And while we spent the better part of the morning analyzing all things associated with the number four, I started to get a little choked up. Because it seems like yesterday that I was in the hospital 2 weeks before my due date thinking, wait — maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, I’VE CHANGED MY MIND. Only to realize that every aspect of my over-controlled life was about to be out of control. Because he’s going to be taller than me tomorrow. Because, every time he says, “Mom, can I tell you something?…” I know that the something is going to be well thought out and packed tight with observations. Because whenever he catches me dancing in the car to The Police he gets mad and insists that he doesn’t need for me to be so silly — as if I need a four year old to set me straight, as I ignore him until he can’t take it anymore – “MOM, STOP IT!!!! I can’t think with you dancing like that! It’s making all of me hurt!” And the knock knock joke begins with “Knock Knock” and ends with “Orange Banana” — which makes no sense but leaves him rolling with laughter… Who cares that the rest of us are only laughing because he’s so cute that I CAN’T STAND IT. While he stands up halfway through Thanksgiving dinner to tell everyone that they only have 2 minutes left and then they have to leave and go home so that he can have some peace and quiet. Because, good GAWD, time goes by too fast.

Here we are… on the other side. How are you? Have you put the holidays away? Gone back to where you were three weeks ago, or has everything CHANGED? Did you make life altering decisions that are going to effect EVERYTHING? If so, really?

Do resolutions really resolve anything? I mean…  If one can determine what deserves improvement or evaluation, does life improve or are other issues unearthed as if a behemoth excavator is reaching into the past to say… HEY, you never thought about THIS, did you?

Because I’ve been looking around the past few days and honestly, I can’t think of a better way to get it all going again than to simplify and move on. And what is it of  basic self inflicted torture via the wisdom of others that may or may not know the same as I do about… well, anything? In looking for answers, I am always ready for enlightenment…  And as I sat down to start my research on the matter, I realized that my glasses were missing. Misplaced. Nowhere to be found.

It was then that I abandoned the quest, forgetting while turning a blind eye — staring off into the blurred distance among the glare of blinking Christmas lights combined with a mess of disgruntled, snow bound New Yorkers… Losing sight of the task, but more importantly, the details at hand.

Because, you see, I’m not really blind without my glasses. I can still see… I can still read – although due to a condition involving CONJUNCTIONS, when I concentrate my vision on something for too long my eyes slowly start to head inward… towards my nose… creating cross-eyed havoc that only a cyclops would be envious of. And of course, this comes with consequences… like tear ducts that decide to close-up-shop for the season when crossroads are met… it’s all very snobbish and high maintenance… kind of like Vineyard Vines — you know you want the pink whale spouting “Yay, 2011!” embroidered repeatedly on your navy blue pants, but what will the others think? This is my tale, and I tell it well. When given the chance, my friends, blink.

And so, while I was busy reading with one eye — blatantly ignoring the fact that this was bad for me, I started to grow tired of the bullshit that I was encountering. There I was, reading blogs that I had never read before — treading among the thoughts of strangers, wasting tens upon tens of minutes looking backwards at the past 365 days, wishing for improvements and suggestions but really just ending up with half empty cups of Everything is just so HARD. Where are the self-promises of weight loss and clean lungs? The new hobbies and the no more apologies? Why is everyone taking it all so seriously? Can’t we just watch Judge Judy and realize that it’s all for SHOW anyway? WHAT IS WRONG WITH BEING HAPPY, DAMMIT? It took a heafty dose of multiple viruses and a few afternoons of extreme dehydration to pull me back to reality. And I suppose I should thank the 5 and 7 year old niece and nephew (respectively) that smeared their germs of death love all over me…. because otherwise I may have been found wandering the streets agreeing with those believing that the past needs to be reckoned with in order to find peace and serenity now. Serenity Now… Serenity Now….

But I don’t believe it. Hype never sits well with me… The past is back there… and looking at it can cause my neck to strain in awkward and really unbecoming positions. Not to mention that there really isn’t much back there to see… other than a few empty containers and neurotic albino bats–suffering from turrets but still drinking from the East River. The behemoth, by the way, is an actual mythical beast that keeps showing up throughout history… what are the chances that a New Year’s resolution involving that monster is going away anytime soon?

And so… with this post finally out of the way, and clearly not making enough sense to be worth the time it took to write… I hope that you had a great holiday season… filled with all kinds of moving forward… looking the other way, and yes — even turning a blind eye to making changes in the name of “it happened ONCE, but now it’s fixed and we can finally move on”. Because without paying attention to the details of what is happening now, the past is still going to be back there… playing Go Fish or Peaknuckle… perhaps.. Chess… Connect Four… or who knows… Maybe even BOGGLE.

It’s been 10 years.
TEN YEARS.
Think about it while I try to not make this post last until 2020.

Sidenote: Normally, I wouldn’t write an “end of the year” post over a week before the end of the year… but honestly, if I write about the holidays it might just equal talking about the holidays — of which I’m a little over. Don’t get me wrong, Christmas will be tons of fun, but I feel like its taking forever to get here on top of  not really being in a fa la la la mood this year… more like OKAY ALREADY. I know, so eloquent.

I actually thought to myself last night that it’s a good thing that I didn’t decorate too much because MY FOOT I don’t want to clean it all up once ALL THIS is over and done with. And please… Depressed? I have no reason to be… Hormonal? Like a train wreck…

So while I’m petitioning to skip over the next four days and wake up tomorrow with Santa squeaking right back up that chimney, AND perfecting the “It’s not you, it’s me” excuse… Please know that everything should be returning to normal in about 2 weeks…. just in time for 2011 to make her grand entrance…

swans remember everything...

In 1999, 2000 was kind of a big deal. I can remember… we were living in Portsmouth, NH — planning to fly down to Burke, VA to visit best friends for the New Year and Turn of the Century (echo echo echo). I was at the eye doctor getting diagnosed with chronic dry-eyes – aka: inability to produce tears without extreme pain when my Optometrist — a young little female Doogie Howser sat stunned when I told her that my boyfriend and I were planning to fly somewhere to celebrate…. ON A PLANE. But wasn’t I scared? Wasn’t I worried that some cosmic switch was going to flip causing our plane to enter into another dimension? To which I calmly replied – “Well, no…. I hear that 2000 is nothing compared to what 2012 is going to bring.” To which she replied by staring at me blankly — as if her mind had become like dilated pupils all fuzzy dark only to reemerge from the fog in Shangri-La, where I was no longer her patient and she could move on to lighter things… like Beenie Babies and the hideously addictive lure of the food court outside her office walls. Those crazy Druids.

And it would be completely inappropriate to go on and on about the first 10 of the 2000s without making mention of 9-11. None of us will ever forget where we were, what we went through and of course — who and what we lost. Just thinking about that day — which quickly turned into night and then weeks of torture that followed… just thinking about it makes me want to take all the insignificance of the other 9 years and cram them into one of these hideously decorated gift boxes I have laying around — only to be peered into if you want to see extreme happiness and selfless adoration of life… But then I have to slap myself in reminder that life goes on — as we were all able to prove to the universe… Life goes on, and apparently, so does this blog…

Interestingly enough, because we’re back to the really important issue at hand… My current eye doctor is perhaps the 5th most attractive man on the planet, so I’ve never had the gumption to discuss the END OF THE WORLD or flash in the pan collectibles with him out of sheer humility. Our friends from Burke, however, are beyond outgoing– no longer live in VA and now have FOUR KIDS UNDER THE AGE OF TEN. Yes that’s right, and I’ve mentioned them before in unabashed wonder… Which pretty much brings us up to date on where TEN YEARS can lead you. But not really.

The past ten years have been pretty huge for me… as I’m sure they have been for you too. No — I didn’t do anything earth shattering… but each time something changed since 2000, it’s been pretty major… And I could go into a detailed time-line, highlighting each breath and thought process that occurred, but that would just make you feel trapped… in a 10×10′ red room… without a door or window. So, you know what, I’m not even going to get into any of it… ‘It’, of course being the ten years in which I’ve moved between states, gotten married, had a child, become a dog owner, homeowner, opened and closed a mildly successful business, hung out with the devil, learned how to cook, finally grasped the understanding of the term ‘patience’, made incredible new friends AND started the journey of bringing another life into the world. And if that isn’t enough, aside from me… (because I am aware of others when they talk loud enough) many friends and family members have fought and won against life threatening diseases and physical struggles that I can’t even begin to comprehend.

It could be that there are so many things that happened within things in the past ten years that its too hard to fully grasp the enormity of it all. I mean — I’m 35 — I’ve been through three and a half ten year periods and, honestly, the other 2.5 seemed so silly… all premature and childish… Like the word ‘Decade’ is just a fly on the wall of ‘Century’, so WHATEVER, who cares. Once you’ve witnessed the turn of a century, a decade is so 1800s. And with that thought of complete senselessness, I leave you with the thought of ten years (give or take a leap year). TEN YEARS. That’s 5259600 minutes of 3,650 days… Did anything happen?

It barely snowed.
It took Mr. Sal almost 5 hours to get home from the city last night because of the snow.
How many of you think that I actually call him Mr. Sal?
The babysitter showed up today.
Bluedog loves the snow.
The snow is almost gone.
I kind of wish Christmas was this weekend.
Carrot Brownies…. yeah, that’s right…

So here we are! I can just hear you… Gushing with anticipation.

Thanksgiving is upon us. And I know that sounds as heavy as it really is. Heavy — food, family, home, food, friends, relationships, news, football, politics, food. I know, WHATEVER. Almost everyone has that stuff. Or if it isn’t blood relation, its a family of friends — its a group… but most importantly.. its a COMFORT ZONE. I, in particular, have only spent one Thanksgiving really really away from my family. I mean there have been years where I have sat among in-laws and or other additions to my family — my zone-o-comfort, but only once was I really far away — and dudes, it sucked.

Yeah, no. Not going to sugar coat this one. Years upon years ago — another lifetime, even — I spent a college break over Thanksgiving with the family of a boyfriend… the ever DOOMED relationship that every other girl in existence has locked away somewhere… only to pull out for gasps and shrieks of OH MY GOLDEN BAKED BIRD, WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?. But that’s all I can say about that….for now.

I spent this one Thanksgiving among a group of über dysfunctionals, while my own family, displaced for a brief year-long stint in Atlanta, enjoyed in splendor among each other. And whatever — I’m sure it wasn’t awesome — both of my sisters were at great ages in Jr. High & High School… TONS OF FUN, right?!? But had I known what I was in for, I would have driven nonstop from Philly to be there with them… Instead, I went to New Jersey (and I’m not knocking, Jeerz). I’m not going to lie. I couldn’t eat. I didn’t want to — everything was gross to me — AND I was hideously uncomfortable — calling every friend I could think of on the phone… if only to interrupt the fun they were having with their own families. Tears burning behind my eyes, and this had been MY CHOICE. I’m sure there are pictures out there somewhere of me at this affair… my hair standing on end, hives all over my body — shoulders resting at complete tension by my ears. The very brush of another’s arm against mine made me flinch… just forget about the nice hello hugs and cheek kissing… I was completely standoffish and impolite… which, given that GRUNGE was so IN — I was probably way hot.

But that was then, and this is now. Now is when I get so juiced up about Thanksgiving that I run outside and cut dried berries to decorate the front door wreath (above.. — shut it, Martha.)… Imagine if I had allowed more experiences such as the one non-family Thanksgiving into my life… Just think about how balls out freaky I’d be. I allowed myself to think about this over this past weekend while my husband and I celebrated our 6th Wedding Anniversary… I know, SIX is so nothing in the scope of a lifetime… but when you add on another 10+ non-married years, things start to sound a little more permanent. We celebrated by actually GOING OUT TO DINNER, which — if you haven’t heard, is this new trend where you leave the house, sit down in a public establishment and allow someone to wait on you… There are a few bumps in the road… like having to sit near OTHER PEOPLE, but as we giggled our way through the idea of being adults, we were able to drown out the others… that is with the exception of the woman looking for dental floss. Now that was just unforgivable.

In short, the weekend was really nice. We had lovely guests — who were gracious enough to allow us out of the house… I remembered my hideous nightmare of a Thanksgiving on the eve of Thanksgiving… while on our Anniversary — making me beyond grateful for where I am now… and (OMG!) where I most certainly AM NOT. And while it all comes and goes so fast — Christmas is next week, right? — It was so nice to just think about the comfort of  what’s to come this week — even if it equals something… heavy.

Happy Thanksgiving my Friends!

Home alone last night, I was flipping stations between The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown and Saw V when it dawned on me that there really isn’t very much “spooky” about being scary anymore.

While being scary comes in many shapes and forms… MySpace, burnt toast, pollution, seeing a family with young kids walking down the highway… everyday seems to take the cake when it comes to realistic fears. And while I can assume that there isn’t anyone out there plotting to saw my body into bits and pieces — in as much as there is such a thing as the Great Pumpkin. I found myself thinking about what is really scary. Like chill me down to ice… through to the inner. Like a barely-there-being sitting right next to me, agreeing that this post is silly and should come to an immediate halt. But aren’t everyone’s ghosts smarter than they are anyway?

I have a blurry memory of being really really frightened as a little girl, riding through Disney World’s Haunted House… That shit may have been mechanical — but dudes, so was Chuckie Cheese at one point in time… and almost equally scary. I don’t remember who I was on the legendary ride with, but when our car turned to face a mirror there was a ghost sitting on my lap in the reflection. There may have been a scream… and I’d like to say that I dove off the ride and hightailed it straight over to Universal in search of some sort of ghost hunter… But this was the ’80s and no one really ‘believed’ back then. Which is probably why my parents thought it was so funny, and why I’ve blocked my reaction out.

Scary can be fun. As I also remember many many a Halloween where my Dad dressed up in a gorilla-suit to sit on the front porch with a bowl of candy in his lap… while I hid in the bushes listening to kids reason over whether it was a trap… but who cares… reaching for the sweets as my dad grabbed their wrists… screaming and running… Good times. He also was known for popping out of a large antique trunk with a stocking on his head in an attempt to get a rise, but that ended when, then BFF, Mary lost control of herself on the front steps–also a worthy memory if not for the popularity contests that ensued…

Scary, scary, scary… and who’s to say if it is or isn’t. I thought The Exorcist was hilarious… but the original black and white version of The Haunting had me sitting up in bed for nights wondering if there were child-aged ghosts playing with my toys. Ouija Boards by Parker Brothers, Witches… Teenage Vampires… Is it scary enough to believe in the supernatural — or is it just our imaginations gone wild in a world of nonstop, real life scary, bombardements?… Someone in Brooklyn tried to abduct a 4 year old boy… planes are being escorted by the military, and it has nothing to do with the extraterrestrials… 1 in 1.5 has a life threatening, contagious, disease… the Mac & Cheese is overcooked… I’m someone’s parent… But this is about spooky scary, right?

About 10 years ago I was walking our then puppy of a Bluedog at about 11pm. We lived in a rather sketched out historical district of Portsmouth, New Hampshire (circa 1623). It was winter… snowing, freezing ice droplets on my mostly scarf-covered face… The neighborhood was filled with seriously old homes turned new, fab apartments and lofts–Mostly tenement buildings that had at one time held multiple families who worked at the docks or in local factories. Colder than cold, there wasn’t another person in sight as we turned up a road that ended in the opposite direction with old, unused train tracks and the Piscataqua River. Bluedog suddenly came to a stop… I heard him growl so I looked up from my boots to meet a man with white hair and equally white skin brushing past me — literally, his sleeve touching mine. I stared, at first worried that a transient homeless man had just approached us… but he was wearing a rather impressive tuxedo with dress shoes that seemed oblivious to the icey conditions. He never looked at me… moving unbearably slow as if in a timed march, his eyes set straight down the road, never once showing signs that a dog was growling and sniffing at him… never once flinching at the salt encrusted ice wind that was blowing several miles an hour. Tightening my grip on Blue’s leash, I watched the man walking down towards the tracks, only a few yards at best until he faded before our eyes… into the snow, under the bright street lights.

Happy Halloween my friends, don’t forget to be spooked!

I never used to shop at the big box stores.

(they’re just so white.)

Even when we lived in New England, it never occurred to to me to save a little money here and there by shopping in bulk. But then we moved 40 miles shy of the end of an island, and our options diminished to that of nothing. Either go to the local market and spend, for example, $6.00 on a box of cereal, or drive thirty minutes west and spend less than that on three times as much. It really isn’t that out of the way, and with only one trip every few months or so — it doesn’t seem like that much of a hassle. Today, however, as I wandered the towering aisles filled with corn syrup and genetically modified soy… tires, mattresses, televisions, printer cartridges, DVDs, Barefoot Contessa books piled high next to The Winners Guide to The Biggest Loser…  I not only felt taken advantage of… but also completely common — which is the opposite of unique. The same. Just like everyone else… Because if you make it cheaper, we will buy it. And when religion enters the picture… insinuating that God is involved… should we also believe that He doesn’t mind being cheap?

Because that is which the “holidays” are based, right? Religion? Or have the marketing geniuses of the universe finally succeeded in making it okay to spend just short of $300 on a nativity set… in October. Because didn’t you notice, that one aisle over… frosty is trapped in a plastic snow globe and one more over… the Celtic festival of Samhain–aka Halloween, is in full swing… come one, come all to the Secular celebration.. Oh and pick up a plastic Christmas tree and faux headstone on your way…

I really don’t care what you believe in, and I mean that in the nicest possible honey dripped way. Or even, if you choose to not believe in anything…. at least you have an idea in your head and faith in such. I have several beliefs that have mish-moshed themselves into one giant IDEA that keeps me going and believing in the greater good of something. And although the scene that these images are depicting really does make it harder and harder each year to believe that there is SOMETHING beyond the dollars and cents being generated on the masses in the name of economics and all things that encompasses….

It only means that we have to try harder to find something genuine to appreciate about each other, our world and the truck loads of interruptions that are being thrust in front of us on an almost daily basis.

I stopped short of posting something rather unpleasant yesterday…

And it’s a really good thing that I ended it when I did because today is July 28th, which is Annie’s birthday. As we all chime in … HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOOOOO YOOOOOUUUU… And this is the birthday time of year… because my Mom’s birthday is in a couple of days and then my other sister, Kate’s birthday is the day after… But that isn’t the point, because despite today being someone else’s day, I’m going to be THAT sister and write about me first... Because today is also Jackie O’s birthday (thanks to the birthday girl for that little factoid)…  And what would Jackie have done had she been me yesterday?

I’m not a mean person… And this blog is certainly not a forum for me to vent about my inability to forgive and forget… But after bumping into someone that wronged me long ago, I did not hesitate to abuse the power of the internet. I think I was able to hold off for about 3 hours after the spontaneous reunion before I started shaking and grabbed my ipad– making it all too easy to log on… my fingers were haphazard and typos were being flung about like the grunkle in my gardens. I was upset… confused… deranged. And, had my son not demanded that I get on the floor and build the world’s largest block gas station, IMMEDIATELY, you would have all sat back and read my little fit of rage and thought to yourselves… WOW– She REALLY needs to GET A LIFE.

Because what happened years ago was really horrible. I was thrown under possibly the largest dented and dirty, inner city-dun broke garbage bus imaginable by someone that I thought was a friend. Granted, I was suspect about what was going on at the time, but being the somewhat-naive-to-what-people-are-capable-of person that I was… I didn’t see it coming. And yesterday, in the hours that passed where I didn’t finish the post about my experience… I started to actually hear the knives… ranging from pocket-sized to kitchen to machetes… that have been lodged in my back for 2 1/2 years hitting the ground. And with that, I find it breathtaking and symbiotic that my Sister and Jackie O’ shared this day on some level… because there is no way that Annie, who was born in Washington DC on the hottest day in the history of the world until this year, would have even lifted a finger when faced with the enemy. Happy Birthdaaayyyy Toooooo Youuuuuuu……