I’m like a pillow

Atleast that’s what my son told me last week. His exact words were,” Mom, I love leaning on you. You have no bones. You’re like a pillow.”
My daughter and husband busted out laughing. I cried I think.
But he’s right. I am soft. And not just in the thighs.
I’m a scaredy cat. A wimp. A chicken. Basically I’m yella.
Forget coasters and fast rides, I don’t even like fast escalators.
This weekend we are heading to see family and we got an email saying there will be mopeds for us to use. As if. Mopeds. I’ll have to come up with a decent excuse to steer clear.
Sometimes when I’m on my way to work on the subway, I try and not hold on to something. To just balance. Inevitably I fold and grab the bars. And if there’s a seat. I sit. I’ll always sit.
I didn’t get the adventure gene. The thrill gene. I didn’t even get the kinda exciting gene. I’m not going to go speeding down a snowy mountain or diving in deep blue waters. Nope. I’ll be the one waiting for you when you’re done. Probably with a snack. Because you know what, I like to be cozy. And safe. And out of harms way. Anything wrong with that? Ok, as you were!

This is what summer looks like

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This is also what “I’m 9 years old and don’t have a care in the world” looks like.

This is also what “Going to the town pool at 6:30pm after a rain storm” looks like.

You know I could go on. I have, like, 10 more of these things in me. But I won’t. Happy Friday.

Like a fish

I taped the above after he’d already done it 100 times. I had said, “that was awesome.” a 100 times. Is that how I sound in real life? I thought I had more of a sexy, smoky voice. No?

We are blessed with a very cool community pool.  Lots of fun slides and high dives to hurt yourself on.  But no one does get hurt. Because the pool is literally overflowing with lifeguards. You have to work hard to have fun there without a whistle going off and a high schooler yelling at you.

My girl is pretty much over going there and hanging out – unless she can bring a gaggle of girls with her. But my boy, he loves it. And since she’s away and I ignored him all morning with work calls – we ran to the pool this afternoon.

He loves it there. He told me today that “the pool is my home mom”.  He’s in Phelps/Olympics mode (minus the bong).

He’s got the bug. Just like all helicopter parents in the world, we usually try to capitalize on these fleeting fancies. Who knows – this may be his thing. His passion.  Or not. And in reality, I’m no helicopter parent. Shocked? Didn’t think so – although I try.

Here he is pretending to be a diver – except landing on his back, with a thump. It’s the anti-olympics – the person who makes the biggest splash wins! He’s golden. (sorry about the grainy shot).

A girl named coconut

I need to share some important personal truths with you…

  • I am obsessed – OBSESSED with people watching. You could drop me off in any major city on a corner and I’d be fine staring at people for hours.
  • My husband has called me coconut since the first week we met.  There is no cute story. No cute connection to the fruit. It’s very disappointing to people.  I’ll just always be coconut for no good reason.
  • I did not have these foods until I got to NYC:  sour cream, mustard, cream cheese, bagels, Chinese food, Brie, Cheddar, or any other type of cheese that wasn’t fake American cheese slices, mushrooms (ewww, wasn’t missing much), broccoli, any rice that wasn’t Basmati (Uncle who?).
  • I cannot ride a bike. Calm down.
  • I’ve never broken a bone – I was an “inside” kid.
  • I can swim but don’t love the pool (yes, even on hot days). I’d never swim in the ocean (I need to know there’s a bottom somewhere underneath me)
  • I just drank my first mudslide at 40 (not my thing yo)
  • You know all those reality shows you see advertised on TV and you shake your head and say,” who would watch that crap?”. That would be me. I would, could and do watch that crap.
  • I’ve never been on a date. Why? Because I wasn’t allowed to date growing up, and then I met my husband 2 seconds after I got to college and then I married him 5 minutes later. Thus! No dates.  Ok – one date.  I’ve been on one date.  A few years ago, I left my husband and kids at home, and met a dreamy, steamy man in NYC for a hot night out.  He was single at the time, now he’s engaged to the man of his dreams.  Usually when I’m with him he’s pointing at me – laughing.  But not that night.  Unlike the other men in my life (my husband and my then 3-year-old son) – he figured out the formula to make me happy:  Wine+Flat Bread.  And so we went from one joint to another.  He found every restaurant that served flatbread in NYC and we hit it hard.  No tofu veggie places. No vegan haunts. Not for me. Not that night.  It was lovely. After he dropped me off, he went out for his real night out.