Times they are a changin’

Last week we decided to make what seemed like a few small changes. We have a playset in the back yard that hadn’t been used in years. With a 17 year old about to graduate and a 12 year old boy obsessed with his trampoline, we thought it was a safe bet to get rid of it.

But as it was being taken down, piece by piece, I had a sinking feeling. I don’t remember being that emotional when we moved them from the crib to the bed – maybe because the rest of their room was still covered with toys and they were still a version of land locked with us at home.

The other change was a much needed refresh of my daughter’s room. New paint, new dresser, new bed. It was time to say goodbye to Ikea furniture that lasted her for more than a decade (held together by glue and prayer). But even when we were cleaning out the room it still felt like she would be in it. She picked the colors, the furniture, etc. It didn’t feel like an end, just the next step.

When the kids went from carseat to booster to nothing, we celebrated. When the training wheels came off, we celebrated. Even when my son left his elementary school last year, we celebrated. Our babies were amazing but we have a lot of fun with our kids. We live in a neighborhood that let our kids bike around, walk around and now drive around. We always felt so happy when they made another, brave step. Maybe because at the end of those steps they came back home. It didn’t feel like an end.

The playset being taken away felt like an end.

I know it’s normal and parents all through time have done this. I know there are bigger moments to come, graduation, weddings, etc. But this feels like a big movement. A home that doesn’t have little feet that’ll climb the slide. A home where I don’t stand at the kitchen sink and watch them play. Truth be told they haven’t touched it in years, and it’s a great big eyesore, which is why it was so easy to decide to get rid of it. Still it stung.

Here’s a look down memory lane and then the memory being demolished and taken away. Just kidding. Not really.
 

   
    
    
  

 

TTYL

For almost every single weekend this summer, we’ve been on the go. It’s been so much fun. Visiting friends and family, celebrating milestones and plain old hanging out with them has been a blast. Loads of fun in the sun. In between all this, work has sucked up the rest of my time. Which is normal I guess. Work hard, play hard is a family motto. But when you spend a few months in a whirlwind, somethings get dropped. Spontaneous meet-ups. Sleeping in. Spending a day “putzing” around, as my father-in-law would call it, that stuff falls by the wayside. This past weekend, the official end to the summer, was no exception. We had planned on fitting in everthing we committed to. A housewarming, a surprise party, dinner with old friends, furniture shopping, etc. What we didn’t account any time for was the following:

  • taking my daughter out for test drives so she feels ready for her driving test. But between the obligations of a 16 year old and the stuff we always need to do – we never seem to find the time
  • my son had asked for weeks to go to a trampoline park, but it was 30 minutes away – in the oposite direction of everywhere we needed to be.
  • spending time with the kids when they were done for the day. You know that time? When they’ve had their fun with friends and they come home, tired, hungry – ready to zone out. It’s the time when they are most likely to tell you stuff. But I’m always the first one asleep because I run around like a looney all day.

It’s so hard. Because we want to do all of these things. We so wanted to be there for Corinne’s housewarming. She’s starting a new life and I’m so proud and excited for her. We wanted to be there for Marcello’s surprise 60th. I don’t know anyone who is more full of love and life than he is. Maybe his beautiful gal, Lorraine, the one who surprised him! We wanted to meet Rachael and her new beau for dinner in Philly. We met Rachael when we first moved to Yardley, she watched our kids for us for a couple of summers. She was/is the best! We really wanted to do all of these things. But instead, we said no. Even though we’ve said yes for weeks, we said no. We said no and hoped that these folks would understand and invite us again. We said no so we could do random, unplanned, unaccounted for things.

And here’s what we got out of it:

  • My son’s face when I told him that our plans had changed and I could spend the entire day driving him around.
  • My daughter’s excitement at being able to spend the afternoon driving (and then fighting about her driving)
  • Having two days where my husband and I were home base and the kids were able to bounce around from friend to friend and know we were home if/when they needed us – or that they could invite friends over to our house.

Seems small. Seems like no big deal. But it was exactly what our little family needed. We plan on making it up to everyone! But not next weekend. We’re busy.

Don’t read this before, during or after a meal

There was a smell. It was coming from my son’s room. Not the usual shoe smell that I’ve come to terms with. Or the pee-like smell that I’ve also encountered. This was much much worse.

Rotting eggs. Throw-up. Someone throwing up rotting eggs. That’s what it was like.

I am going to be very honest here. I haven’t been to his room in about a week. I wasn’t avoiding it or anything – but he dresses himself (when he wears clothes) and I say goodnight to him downstairs (because it’s the summer and he doesn’t like to go to bed at 9:30pm like I do).

I may not have actually gone into his room, but I know I’ve passed it these past few days – like when I follow him to the bathroom to watch him brush his teeth or when I do a spot check when he’s in the shower to make sure he’s actually standing under the running water. See, I parent.

But this morning I walked past it and almost passed out. You know when you can taste a smell? Like every good mother of an almost 12-year-old I told him to go in there, bring down all the dirty dishes and figure out what the smell is, while I stayed safely downstairs. He said,” what smell?”.

I bit the bullet and went with him. Into the room. It was a sight to see. He lives like a squatter in there. A well dressed squatter with cable.

We took out all the caked on/baked on/tried up dishes that he collects like a hobby. We stripped his bedding and took out all the trash (in the actual trash can and all around the room). He felt very satisfied after this decided to take off to the pool. I was in a daze. Feeling guilty for obviously neglecting this kid and his living situation for so long. How could I let it get this bad?

I decided to go downstairs and pretend we did everything we could. I told myself I hardly even smelled it anymore. Then my daughter walked by it and said,” what happened in Jack’s room? It smells like throw-up and it’s coming into my room”. Great.

I went back up to his room and got on my hands and knees and started smelling parts of the carpet. I have no dignity.

Under his desk was the bag he uses to take to the pool – he must have forgotten to grab it when he escaped. As I picked it up, white curd dripped onto my hand. I would have screamed but my mouth had shut itself from fear. Inside was the bottle of milk I had given him to take to the pool last weekend. Not last weekend as in yesterday. The weekend before that! I quickly took the bag into the bathroom and put it in the sink until I calmed myself down. Why don’t I own a hazmat suit? Or a mask?

I decided there would be no “cleaning” it. I went and got a garbage bag – it was time to say goodbye to the pool bag. It was over. DOA. As I put it in the trash – I noticed 3 dollar bills in the inside pocket covered with the horrific white curd. I could hear my mother in my head,” just clean it off, its money. You can’t throw out money.” I also heard another voice. The one that said,”pretend you didn’t see it. It’s not a $20 dollar bill. Give it to the universe.” I liked that voice better.

Once the bag was out of the house I hosed down his room with Lysol. And then Febreze. And then I put a layer of baking soda on the carpet. Pray for me.

Thanks for letting me get that out of my head. Don’t have milk with dinner. Or cottage cheese. Or Gorgonzola. Sorry.

P.S. – you know it’s bad when I can’t take a picture of it. I’ve taken pictures of cat poop. This was worse. It was a crime.

Instagram plea

I was about to post this picture on Instagram and I realized I have like 4 followers. Ok, maybe 5. So here’s my ask, IF you want to and IF you are interested… Follow me on Instagram at nk1928.

I promise to post often. Things like this….

  
This was a bowl I found in the fridge this morning. Not only did someone decide the cantelope  was better than the pineapple – but they decided to burrow through the top vs uncovering it. And I’m guessing by the size of the hole, it’s a certain 11 yr old I know who just shoved his hand in the bowl like a monkey. 

Go about your day. 

Music and Mud

If you know me at all – you would not think,” there’s a gal who would enjoy a 4 day music festival”. Maybe you would think,” have one less carb today”. Or,” I’m not sure those big hoop earrings are appropriate for your age.”
Nevertheless I’m at Firefly Music Fest in Dover, DE. We are here for my daughter (well I am – my husband is here to rock out to bands because he’s cool like that).
She got the tickets as a gift from a favorite aunt – and has been waiting for this all year.
A few initial observations:

– music festivals are muddy. Why doesn’t anyone talk about the large quantities of mud? Articles should be written about the amount of mud on the ground.

– only old people like me had issues with the mud. Everyone else incorporated it into their ensemble.

– although I’m sure she would rather be here alone with her pals, my girl seems happy to have us here. Parents come in handy for Dunkin Donut runs.

– we are now parents of a senior in high school. I am trying to squeeze every living moment I can with our first born. The little, smiling baby is now a funny, kind, smart, lovely girl. You’re welcome world.

So thank you Aunt Dee for the tickets – thank you to my husband for dragging me here and thank you to my sister for telling me not to wear my good flip flops.

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Internet traps

I’m stuck on a plane for 5 hours. Even worse, I have wifi so I can’t miss one work email. To take my mind off work for a nano minute I decided to surf the internet. Which for me means the following in this order:
– People.com
– Huffington Post (entertainment section)
– Us Weekly.com
– D Listed.com
– CNN.com (week in photos, travel)

I can usually do all this in about 5 minutes or less. I retain nothing, but I’m quick.
But sometimes something online pulls me into a black hole. Usually that black hole is called Pinterest – but sometimes it’s not a fun ride. Sometimes it messes with my emotional state.
And I’m already half nuts.
Maybe it’s because I’m leaving the family for a week long trip but the photo below got to me. Actually it killed me.
A mother tried to smuggle her kid in a suitcase to Spain.
She sent him through the X-ray machine.
I don’t know the full story. Maybe she couldn’t buy a ticket. Maybe she didn’t have a visa for him. Maybe things were so bad at home that all of this was worth the effort. Maybe this was the last option they had.
Maybe I’m tired and overly sensitive. Maybe it’s because I’m pretty sure this little boy has been through worse. I dunno. I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about this picture.
You know what I do know?
I have no problems. Zero.
This is what happens when I try to read things other than crap online. Lesson learned.

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Mother of the Year?

It’s been a very busy few weeks. There’s so much stuff to catch-up on with you.

Let’s start with…Bruce Jenner. What can I say. She’s a keeper.

And there are tons of other fun TV moments. Mad Men is two shows away from ending. How will I justify my Sunday night Bourbon drinking now? And Game of Thrones. I could geek out for hours talking about that – and The Walking Dead.

I could tell you about my husband’s unnatural obsession with fixing the grass in our front yard. How he’s been a little Amityville Horror about it. Watering it. Staring at it. Loving it. Is it possible to be jealous of grass?

But there’s been sad stuff too. The earthquake in Nepal. The shootings around the country and riots that followed. All very sad.

Although I have to say something about a video that is going viral. You know the one. Mom in yellow finds out her 16-year-old son is a part of the riot and starts berating, hitting him etc. She’s being called,”The Mother of the Year”.

She’s smacking his face, swearing at him, pushing him. I know she’s mad. I know what he’s doing is utterly wrong. He’s wrong. She’s right to be mad. I get it. But I get really sad watching that video. I start thinking about all the other times he’s gotten hit, kicked, and pushed.

There’s a reason these kids are acting out. They’ve been put down, beat-up, called names, pushed around, hit, and bullied. And not just by the police.

Mother of the Year? Not so sure. Take a look.

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