checking in…

So whatcha been up to? Hope you’ve been having some Christmas fun.  Here’s what we’ve been doing – non sequitur.

  • Started my Christmas shopping in September hoping to get ahead of the game, but the game won. I am still not done and it’s 2 days after Christmas.
  • Went to the ER the day before Christmas Eve (long scary story with a happy ending, all is good).
  • Made 12 dozen cookies. 12. Dozen. 144 cookies. Know what I learned? Even after making 144 cookies I still want to eat cookies.
  • Headed to NYC on Christmas Eve and came home with tons of great gifts and happy memories (and saw a truly ugly sweater, thanks Aunt Stacy).
  • Hosted a neighborhood gathering at our house a day after finishing my first week at a new job. It sounds stressful but it was so much fun. It was the perfect way to kick off our holiday fun – and I learned how to make eggnog. And I also learned that you can only drink about 2 cups of eggnog before wanting to throw-up!
  • Had some killer Chinese food on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Fa ra ra ra ra, ra, ra,ra ra.
  • Decided to cave in and get the kids a trampoline for Christmas. Look for future posts titled, “Why did we buy a trampoline?” and “Were we nuts when we bought the kids a trampoline? Yes!”.
  • Dropping off my girl for a session of winter camp today, sniff…sniff. It’s only 4 days but I really don’t like it when she’s gone.
  • Went to see The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. Don’t listen to all those Rotten Tomatoes. It’s a sweet, visual, musical movie. Does it have anything to do with the short story? Nope. But it does make you want to visit Greenland and Iceland – so there’s that.
  • Only watched A Christmas Story 3 to 8 times, much less than last year.
  • Santa brought our son some more inappropriate Xbox games. What can you do, that Santa is a crazy mofo.
  • My girl wanted a saxophone for Christmas and we decided to go for it. Instead of buying it outright (incase she changes her mind like the guitar. or the ukulele. or the harmonica. or the…) we decided to rent it from a music and arts store. What happened next was a tragedy of errors that resulted in us going to that store 4 times. I have only one thing to say to the 8 dudes that work there,” dudes, wearing a skinny tie and having a hipster beard only makes you look smart if you aren’t completely incompetent and stupid. You morons.” Sorry. That is all.
  • After we drop off my daughter at camp, we head directly to my parents house for Christmas Part Deux. Time to push aside the figgy pudding and make room for the garam masala.

To go with the bullets that make no linear sense – here’s some random photos from the past few days! I’m sorry the boy has no shirt on – but that’s how he rolls in the house. Just keepin’ it real. xoxo

 

Here’s me wrapped up in a blanket reading my new cookbook (Pioneer Woman!) and my son looking like an angel playing a killing game. I have guilt. Can you tell?

IMG_7809

 

Can you guess which plate of food is mine? Hint: it’s the one that burns going down.

IMG_7811 IMG_7812

 

Even in her “ugly” sweater she looks beautiful!

IMG_7807

 

Here’s my two favorite men. I think next year they can switch places in the picture :-).

IMG_7815

She loved her saxophone, no thanks to the dopes at the music store. Sorry.

 

IMG_3060

 

This is my kids exchanging gifts they bought for each other. Is there anything better than that?

IMG_3055

Tess McGill Moment

Day one of my new gig. Here’s the view from my office.

Image

 

I almost broke out into my favorite Carly Simon song, the one from “Working Girl”. The one I think about every time I see the Staten Island Ferry cause I’m a dork. Anyway all went well and I didn’t get fired. The commute wasn’t that bad and my family did just fine back home. 

On the other hand, I’m exhausted. So I’ll keep this short and sweet. Gotta get up tomorrow and do it again!

All so they can play chopsticks at a dinner party when they’re grown-up

photo

Two years ago my husband found an old-school, Russian piano teacher. He did this how he does everything. Complete tunnel vision until objective is achieved. There’s no giving up in parenting!  The first year was a comedy of errors full of Three’s Company type of misunderstandings due to her very thick accent (which my son calls her volume).  I’d sit in the other room and hear a lot of, “Svweetee..vould you try zat again?” “what? oh. try it again? ok.” …..”zank you” “what? oh. you’re welcome”.  She’s like the nicer, gentler, Natasha from Rocky and Bullwinkle.

It’s gotten better. But every summer we take a couple of months off.  To give the kids a break. To give Tatyana a break. And let’s be honest, to give me a break. But summer is officially over when she walks in at 6pm on a Tuesday night. Homework, projects, parent-teacher meetings all follow quickly after.

I snuck in the room tonight and recorded the below. This is what I will hear from 6pm to 7pm every Tuesday until next June. Help me.

Gaga does Gorga?

It’s been a busy week and I have had no time/energy/ambition to post. I’ve spent a large chunk of time in my car commuting back and forth for work – in fact I’ll be on the road again today!

I usually listen to Howard Stern in my car. If he’s on repeats I listen to CNN or NPR. If nothing’s happening there, I listen to 1010 WINS (those of you in the NY Tri-State area will know what this is. AM radio at it’s best). When I’m tired of hearing about the traffic on the GWB I give in and switch to a music station. Music isn’t always my go-to (my daughter and husband are screaming at the screen right now) – sorry.

During one of those music moments this week I heard Lady Gaga’s new song, Applause...

http://wifemothereventplanner.files.wordpress.com/2013/08/01-applause.mp3

I’m not crazy about it. You know why? It sounds an awful lot like another song. A song by one of my horrible reality show Housewives. Last year, in the New Jersey edition, Melissa Gorga came out with this hot mess called On Display...

http://wifemothereventplanner.files.wordpress.com/2013/08/01-on-display-main.mp3

If you brave it through both songs, and it’s hard to do, you’ll notice they are very much alike. The main is chorus is the same!! No? Is it me? Have I just been trapped in my car for too long?

Please stay tuned.

oh hi. It’s me. Remember? Did ya even notice I wasn’t writing for a bit? Like a long bit?

I had some technical issues. Technically I decided to spend all my free time sleeping instead of writing this blog.

In defense of me, I have been sick.  Is it a cold? Allergies? Who knows, and I’m certainly not going to a doctor to find out.   To add to the fun, life has been a tailspin of activity.

But things are slowly unwinding. School is almost over. All major religious rights-of-passage celebrations have come to an end (for now).  Work is still insane, but lately it’s taken a turn for interesting, which makes me less likely to daydream about being a coal miner (seriously. have you ever thought about it? Aside from the life threatening aspect – it sounds perfect. Solitary. repetitive. One singular goal. No need to shower in the morning. That’s my kinda job).

May was a blur, but it’s June 1st. Time to get back on the blogging horse.  I can’t make any promises, I have to be honest. I’ve enjoyed sleeping.

Here’s some random pictures that could and should have been blog posts but I was in deep REM mode instead.

This post would have been titled: 17 years of marriage yo!  See, child brides do make it work sometimes.

IMG_5298

I would have called this post: I-know-you’re-obsessed-with-karate-and-doing-a-perfect-split-but-I’d-really-like-grandkids-someday-so-please-be-careful

IMG_5276

The below photo was taken by my girl at a concert that she’d  been waiting to go to for months. All her favorite bands were going to be there. It started at 1pm in an outdoor venue by the water. The day before the concert we found out that all the bands that she wanted to hear weren’t even coming on until 9pm. On a Sunday night. And the concert wouldn’t end until closer to 11:30pm. On a Sunday night. What happened next cleanly, swiftly and neatly explains how different my husband and I are, not just in parenting, but also down to our core.

When she told us her sad tale, my reaction was,” bummer. guess you’ll be missing all those bands since we’ll be picking you up at 7.”  My husband’s reaction was,” ok. So I’ll buy a ticket and go to the concert with you so you don’t have to miss those bands.”  WTF?

This post would have been called – Lucky Duck

IMG_2052

Kiss this week goodbye!

This clip may make you as happy as it made me this morning. Peace out.

This is how I know I’m old aka Happy Friday!

Here’s the cycle of events that went down last night that forced me to confront my impending fall right into a nursing home. And how I’m actually looking forward to it.

  • My daughter records a show call Tosh.O – which is highly inappropriate but highly hilarious. After I’ve caught up on all my cooking shows, I sometimes(always) watch it.
  • During one of the commercials (sometimes I forget I’m watching a recorded show and can fast forward) Tosh announced the line-up for Bonnaroo. 
  • Bonnaroo is a cool, outdoor music festival in Tennessee. My sister and her man went, camped and loved it. She told me all about it. That’s how I know.
  • Anyhoo. Tosh announced the line-up. Paul McCartney. Tom Petty. Wilco. Wu-tang Clan.
  • 3 days of music, fun and revelry. I decided we were totally going.
  • After the show ended I immediately went online to get tickets, look up details etc. Maybe I’d surprise my hubby with the whole thing all planned out. A cool off-the-cuff weekend for just the two of us!
  • The website offers a lot of info. It’s very tongue-in-cheek. Lots of cute jokes sprinkled in with the directions and stuff.
  • Then I read that the festival is on a farm, on rolling hills. Most people camp there – which I didn’t want to do. So I googled hotels/motels in the area. Maybe a nice bed and breakfast, I thought. I did find a Days Inn about 30 miles away.
  • Then I read the “safety” section of the website. Heat exhaustion is a rampant problem. “Communal” was a word used often and generously, as in, whatever you bring to the festival is communal and you should share and share alike. hmmmm.
  • Then I read a section called “traffic” about the miles and miles and miles of jammed cars leading up the festival.
  • I decided to leave that site and go to the travel site for the town. Surely we could have a nice stay there and enjoy the festival by day no?
  • No. It’s too far and too complicated to leave the festival and come back. According to all the chatter on the web anyway. And there’s a lot of chatter.
  • And then there was the weather. Last year, around that time, it was about 101 degrees. No joke.
  • Heat. Crowds. Traffic. “Communal”. Ok then. I’m out.
  • I went through a few minutes of mourning. Was I so rigid? Couldn’t I have a good time? Crowds aren’t just for mobs – they could be fun. So it’s warm. So what. So what?? So EVERYTHING. Was I nuts. Not one thing about that time sounded good. I shut the computer off in disgust.
  • I was so mad at myself for even considering it. I’m a granny. I’ve been a granny since I was 22.
  • When my husband came home I told him about my tortured plan and took him step by step through my thinking. About me grappling with trying to make this plan work, and then finally, realizing it wasn’t for us. I was hoping he’d say something like,”let’s make it work! It’s worth it for the music!”.
  • He actually said,”I’d sweat the whole time. And I hate people.”

Atleast I won’t be alone in the nursing home.

Hair Apparent

It was the 80′s.

That’s my defense. I was so young, I didn’t know better. All the popular kids were doing it.  I was lured into it.

And by the way – where were all the parental figures in my life that could have saved me from this fate? Turns out, they were right next to me doing the same thing. Oh well. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger – that’s what Kelly Clarkson told me. Anyway, it’s time to come clean now. To open up all my cobwebbed secrets and get them out of my head – or off my head.  It’s time you all know about my deepest, darkest time. Although back then I thought I was happy. I thought I was rockin’ life. I thought I was cool. Sigh. Don’t judge me, just learn from me.  I was addicted to my…

PERM.

Not a long, flowing ringlets perm. This was a short, tight, helmut head perm. And I loved it. I was 10 and delusional.

With all this Michelle Obama bang talk I started thinking about my hair through the years. I rocked my hair styles yo. Sadly, some of the those styles were hideous and scary in hindsight. But that’s normal right? Right?

Listen, I had dark black hair. I couldn’t bleach it or lemon it or turn it funky colors like my blond haired pals (I’m talking to you Kelly Jensen), the most drastic thing I could do was curl it. And boy did I.

Because I’ve been absent from writing for a bit I feel like I owe you all. Big time.

To you from me PinkyLee (any Grease fans out there?).  I added a recent picture of myself so you see that bad 80′s perms really do grow out and because I do not want that picture to be your lasting impression of me. Although it’ll take a while to shake the image from your mind’s eye. Trust me.

IMG_4853DSC_0667

Sorry the old photo is a mess, I had to dig it out of my drawer of shame.

Phew. Now I feel better. Now we are even. All debts are paid. In full.

Ode to Saturday

Here’s what our Saturday morning sounds like…times 10…

Meatloaf memory

There’s a few posts that have been stuck in my brain – one of them is about my J.O.B – but it’s Saturday, and I really don’t want to think/write/delve into work right now. Even though I love my work to bits, we’ll save that for another day.

I’ve been meaning to tell you about the awkward, long, frustrating courtship that my husband and I had in college. To clarify – I consider “courting” everything that happened before we got together.

Let me set the scene – I was 19, he was 21. I think I’ve told you all that I met him through a friend, who had grown up in the same neighborhood. The only thing she’d told me about him was that he was….quiet, a loner. She was surprised he was even talking to her then – but apparently they were in the same class and he needed notes.

It turned out that he lived in my dorm – on my floor – across the hall from me. We started hanging out, going to lunch, going to dinner, walking to class, meeting up between classes etc. We talked about movies, family, music. He couldn’t believe that I had never listened to Neil Young, Led Zeppelin or any of the classic rock he considered Bible. Back then he was Elton John obsessed – the Springsteen obsession happened much later, during his 30s.

He made me tapes upon tapes upon tapes. I considered each one a secret message conveying his love and desire for me. But weeks, months into the talks, the walks, the chats, the meals – nothing. Not one little hint that he liked me.

I decided it was because we were never alone. My roommates, friends, etc. were always around when we were together. So I started plotting “alone” time. No go. Nothing. It was like I was stuck in a French film – all we did was talk. I was pissed. I didn’t even like all that music I was being forced to listen to – and I couldn’t deal with one more conversation about why The Godfather was the shit!

It was time to let it go. Almost.

At the end of October we heard that we’d have a concert on campus. Someone named Meatloaf was coming to perform. Huh? Who? Never heard of him. But the campus went crazy – apparently he was a corny, cheesy classic. All my gal pals started singing his “hits”. Paradise by the Dashboard Lights, I’d do Anything for Love, etc. I chalked this up to a New York thing.

Then something crazy happened – the boy told me that he’d buy me tickets to the concert because I had to go, I needed to hear him live. Now ladies, am I crazy or does this sound like a date to you? I was thrilled. Like a bat out of hell yeah I’d go (sorry).

What I didn’t realize until that night is that the loner, the shy guy, the dude who was really on his own for the most part – decided to go with 80 other people. I’d never even seen him talk to all these people – where did they come from??

Thank goodness that one of the peeps was his sister. I’d find out later that they were (and are) very close and nothing made them happier than sharing a concert together. She was the opposite of the boy. Like oil and water opposite. She was easy to smile, laugh, and be silly. I immediately loved her. She made you feel like you were her best friend the moment you met her – unlike her brother who had you go through a long, slow interview process to earn his time.

By then I was so over the weirdo courting/hanging out that I decided to just let loose and have some fun. There was cheap beer involved. We all went to the concert (where he DID NOT sit next to me, I’m just sayin’) – and then back to his room. Again – who are all these people? His sister and I spent most of the night talking – and I spilled my beans. Everyone knew I liked her brother – except her brother.

She was giddy with excitement. She begged me to tell him – she begged me to let her tell him. And because I was tired, and had just sat through the most heinous concert (where an actual meatloaf was thrown at Meatloaf) and again – cheap beer was involved – I gave in. Fine. Tell him. What did I care. Nothing was going to happen. Trust me, besides jumping him, I’d tried everything else.

So she told him. And it turned out that he liked me too. The very next night he kissed me and it was all over, for me. He told me that all those days, weeks of talking he just didn’t know. And that he wanted to be sure, really really sure that he wouldn’t be rejected. Dummy.

This is us – circa Meatloaf concert.

Previous Older Entries

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 400 other followers