Jamie

For those of you who read my blog, you will have heard mention of a certain someone named Jamie. He is my husband. We've been married for twenty years, together for twenty six years and I love him and miraculously still like him. I'm not being mean here. It's just that after so many years together, we really do like each other! That's big!

Today is Jamie's birthday. He doesn't like to celebrate his birthday. We are total and complete opposites in that respect. I LOVE my birthday, Jamie not so much. We have different viewpoints on life. I tend to be a glass half full viewpoint, Jamie not so much. But that's not the point of my blog today. Today I celebrate Jamie being Jamie. He loves me. He likes me. I know he would do anything for me and has and will always be there for me. He adored James from the moment he was born and didn't think it was possible to love someone as much as he loved James until the day Joseph was born.

I had never had a dog and begged to get one after a few years of marriage. I brought him to Canine Corral in Huntington and he fell in love with Jake as fast as I did. I've proceeded to bring home Sammy, Joba and JJ successively. He falls in love every time. And I love that about him.


He loves baseball. He loves NASCAR. He loves cars. He loves his puppies. He adores me and he adores his kids. If you're a "friend," consider yourself lucky. He'll give you the shirt off his back.

He was determined to coach his son in baseball all the way to a District 34 championship. He knew it would take two years to build a championship team and he did just that. He freaking did it.

You have to admire a man who sets a goal and reaches it; whether it's winning a baseball championship, raising a family or being a good friend. Jamie met his best friend at the age of five who became his partner in crime, his best man, godfather to each other's first born sons and his friend whom he texts or talks with a couple of times a week, if not every day, some forty-seven years later. That speaks volumes for the kind of man Jamie has become.

He has traveled to White Plains for work for the last 20 years. I don't know how he does it. I'd have thrown in the towel a long time ago. His work ethic was ingrained in him by his parents, especially by his dad who worked for Grand Union for over 50 years. His dad gave him the very sage advice saying you'll never get rich working in the food industry but you'll always have a job. People have to eat. Jamie's stable profession allowed me to get involved in industries that were not as stable but gave me some great professional and personal experiences. I thank him for that.

Jamie is always striving to do more, to do better. I always like to remind him of the amazing accomplishments he has achieved...a long marriage, two amazing children and a good life. In the words of Clarence from It's A Wonderful Life, "Dear George, remember no man is a failure who has friends." In that and many other respects, Jamie is not lacking, to say the least. 

So today I celebrate Jamie on his birthday. Happy birthday, my love. Thank you for being a great friend, life traveler, husband and parent.

Snowberia

At 11 pm last night, I knew there would be no school today. It was thundersnow. Seriously. The dogs went out and took a while for them to come back in. Got the call at 5 am that school was closed. Settled back into sleep. Up at 7:30 to let the dogs out, grab a cup of coffee and kiss my husband goodbye as he headed off to work.

There's a couple of things that made me go Hmmmmm today. My 14 year old headed out with the snow blower in his entrepreneurial spirit to make a few bucks. Snow fatigue must be setting in with the locals. The last time he ventured out, he got one customer. That's when he told me, "You know, Mom, people in Dix Hills must have a lot of money. Everyone has a service to plow their driveway!" For the record, we don't. We invested in a snow blower. I believe it was an anniversary present from my husband to me on our second anniversary???? We had a long chat after that. I've not received any sort of maintenance equipment since then unless specifically requested by ME. Does a Dyson count as maintenance equipment? I digress. You can finish that sentence, Stephanie ;)

James had three customers today. He worked hard with his buddies Matt and Cameron. The younger boys, Joe and Logan, helped me dig out Jamie's car for which I compensated them (a whopping $10 each) but they were thrilled. Back to the big boys. They are polite, young gentleman. Cam came back looking for water because they were all hot from snow blowing, a seeming oxymoron, I know. He knocked on the door and asked for water. When James and Matt came back, I made cheeseburgers for them. Matt thanked me over and over and over. He helped us re-shovel the end of the driveway after the fabulous town plows plowed over the end of my driveway for the third time today.

It was a snow day today and I succeeded in making it my version of a snow day. I always dream that on a snow day, I'll bake and the house will smell amazing and I'll watch old movies. So today I baked bread, baked cupcakes, watched the Big Chill (ironic, I know) and grilled cheeseburgers. Not bad for a snow day.

Today's snow day proved true a proof. Water seeks its own level. And that makes me happy.

I can see Alaska in my backyard!

Of late, I have been feeling a bit Palinish. Let me explain. I feel like I live in Alaska. Last night, I was in my pajamas and my big fuzzy robe at 9:30 pm. I like to stay up a bit later at night than the rest of the family so I can get a little unwind time. However, this cold weather has me in hibernation mode. I do remember this happening last year as well when the bitter cold settled in. I just don't want to move, go out, bear the bitter cold, do anything. I'm becoming a polar bear and if you had seen me in my big white fuzzy robe, you would think I'm starting to resemble one as well!

So I settled in upstairs in my big fuzzy robe to watch Housewives and catch the big Nene vs Kim battle continuum. Except that Jamie decided to go to bed early as well. Scratch those plans.

Headed downstairs to my chilly living room (58 degrees on a 9 degree night makes for extra chilly) and caught the end of Housewives as well as Big Love.

Still made it to bed by 11 pm and was up at 5:30 to do my daily run. I'm going to try to fight night time hibernation by getting up earlier and moving.

Another foot of snow possible this Wednesday/Thursday is not helping the cause but I am up for this sisyphean task.

Relax, Jamie and anyone else who has not heard of Sisyphus but has heard of Sparknotes. Parents with middle school/high school aged kids know of which I speak. Here is a helpful link:

http://www.sparknotes.com/philosophy/sisyphus/section11.rhtml

Wow, I'm deeper than I thought. 

F**K!

I love my children dearly but I'm having some issues dealing with the teenager. Generally, he's a good, polite kid. He does really well in school and I really don't have to nag him about cleaning up his room. I do have to nag him about putting away his laundry. It does eventually get done.

The moods are what kill me. The grunts for responses are just not acceptable. The eye-rolling, which I see through the back of my head, destroys me. The "How was your  baseball clinic?" with the non-responsive "fine" slays me and utterly maddens my husband.

I've ignored it for the last few days but today he said just the right thing in just the wrong way. And I wigged. The dogs ran for cover, Joseph made sure everything was done when I asked him for something and I dropped a few choice words on my teenage son that were ever so much more descriptive than "fine" or a grunt.

He knew how I felt. I'm the yeller in the house. I admit it. Jamie gets really quiet and I get really loud. It's why we work, I suppose.

If you want to know what I said to James, watch the end of the Jets game and read Rex Ryan's lips as Big Bad Ben got the first down.

Review

It's been an interesting couple of days, some of which I can't talk about right now. But the activities of the last few days have involved reviewing my professional career. I have an unbelievable rolodex. I was and still am a bad ass.

Sorry I can't say more that that right now but I am very cool. You don't get to stroll around the lot of Twentieth Century Fox in Hollywood just because...

It's been fun looking back at my professional career but the achievements I am most proud of are asleep upstairs in their beds right now. The J Crew. Night, everyone. Love ya, mean it :)

Winter's Grip

We are deep in the grip of winter and I'm not liking it. Today was a particularly nasty weather day...icy streets, pouring rain, piles of snow. I'm tired of piling on layers of clothes and feeling like the Michelin man every time I leave the house.

Tonight I sat down to check email and do a little unwinding and turned on the Oprah Winfrey show. She is in Australia with a lucky group of viewers. I have had the great fortune to have traveled to Australia three times in my life and hope to travel there again sometime. She was in Queensland, spending time on the Great Barrier reef, a place I was lucky enough to travel to as well. It was one of the most unique and fantastic days of my life swimming on the reef. I snorkeled despite my fears. I was determined not to miss out on one of the 7 wonders of the world. The colors and kinds of fish were the like I've never seen before and hope to see again, next time with my sons if at all possible.

One young lady on the show today had never set foot in an ocean. She literally was wonderstruck at the feel of the salt water on her body and sat down in the buoyancy, fully dressed, just reveling in it.

I've had the great fortune to have traveled to many, many foreign countries and experienced some of the most wondrous times possible. I've had amazing times here at home, home being New York, as well and across these United States.

The simple pleasures that we take for granted are wondrous experiences to others.  I can dip my feet in the ocean any time I like. That thought makes handling the cold that much easier.

Changed my mind

I have a draft of a scathing post about Cablevision and their suck-ass service that they've provided over the last 6 months. I've shelved it for now and want to tell you instead about a few products that make me happy. I like them and I think you might like them as well.

I love lavender laundry products. The aromatherapy lavender provides makes me smile every time I put on a freshly laundered piece of clothing. I stumbled upon a new softener at Walmart made by Purex. They are crystals that you put right into the washing machine, not in the softener dispenser, but right in the basket. They work in HE (high efficiency) machines (and regular machines) and don't leave that goopy mess that liquid softener can sometimes leave behind. Lavender blossom is my favorite fragrance followed by fresh spring water. Try it. You'll like it!

http://www.purex.com/products/softeners/purex-complete-crystals

I am a big proponent of skin care, especially in the wintertime. Your skin is the largest organ in the human body and probably gets the least amount of care! Hot showers and cold weather will takes it toll before you know it. Vaseline has come out with a new line of moisturizers called Intensive Rescue. My favorite is Repairing Moisture Lotion. I like a moisturizer to go on easily, not feel greasy, have a lasting effect on my skin all day and be reasonably priced. Repairing Moisture Lotion fits the bill. It comes in a pump making it easy to apply. Clinical Therapy is a great product as well but Repairing Lotion is better bang for your buck. Costco has it as well as Walmart.

http://vaseline.com/Carousel.aspx?Path=Consumer/OurProducts/IntensiveRescueRange/Home

Loreal has come out with a new line of skincare products called Youth Code. I purchased the Kit at Target for $29.99 with travel size versions of the three products - Day/Night cream, Day Lotion with SPF 30 and an eye serum. The products' average cost is $29.99. I used the products for about a week, liked the results of the cream and lotion but will pass on the eye serum. I really wasn't that impressed with that one product but have purchased the full sized version of the Day/Night cream. Kudos to Loreal for putting together a sample kit.

http://www.lorealparisusa.com/_us/_en/default.aspx#/?page=top{userdata//d+d//|diagnostic|main:youthcode|media:_blank|nav|overlay:_blank}

http://www.target.com/L%E2%80%99Oreal-Youth-Code-Kit/dp/B0047F9622/ref=sc_qi_detailbutton

Stay warm and safe tomorrow.

J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS

Growing up with two brothers and one television in the house, I grew up a sports fan. Not a huge hockey fan but a huge fan of baseball, football and basketball. Now I'm a mother of two boys and I have a husband so I continue to be a huge sports fan. It's one way the whole family bonds.

I grew up in New York City so I've pretty much been a Jets fan all my life. If the Jets aren't in the playoffs, I'm happy to root for the Giants. But I'm a Jet fan. I remember Joe Namath as quarterback and his commercials on TV for Noxyzema (with Farrah Fawcett in her first national commercial), for pantyhose and his Broadway Joe persona. His electric personality made me a fan for life. So I've suffered for many years as a Jet fan, a situation that my friends who are Met fans are very familiar with but I don't have to suffer as a Yankee fan.

But tonight I was right. I knew the Jets could win. They had to overcome the humiliating 45-3 loss of last month. Rex Ryan had to put his money where his mouth is. In the last few years, Tom Brady has proven that he is beatable. There's a new kid in town and his name is Mark Sanchez.

So on a frigid Sunday in January, the Jets warmed everyone's hearts in New York. Special thanks to Shaun Ellis, a fellow Dix Hills resident, Santonio Holmes and Mark Sanchez for making me proud today. Go JETS.

The Auld Neighborhood

My mom is known to her ten grandchildren by the moniker of Nanny. James and I went into my old neighborhood for my dad's memorial mass today. I grew up in a little neighborhood called Inwood. It's at the tip of upper Manhattan and if you've ever seen the commercial for the Circle Line where they pass the big C rock, then you've seen my neighborhood.

James enjoys going back to my old neighborhood and meeting up with Nanny, Uncle Thomas, Aunt Mary Ellen and his cousins, Connor and Hunter, where he is regaled with stories from our childhood as we pass particular points in the neighborhood or as we sit eating lunch at the Piper's Kilt, our favorite lunch spot in the old neighborhood. For example, at mass today, I pointed out Mrs. Brady who was my fifth grade teacher. She is 91 years old. We were told that her mother is one of the miracles that led to the sainthood of Therese of Lisieux, Theresa was my chosen confirmation name.

I believe that our family is particularly blessed with quite a few storytellers. It's how memories live on and my son marvels at our family gatherings and how we remember so many of the details and keep track of all the people in our lives, both past and present.

James enjoyed his time with his family today. I enjoyed the quiet time we had in the car today where we got to have some good conversations meaning I got to ask him questions and he pretty much had to answer them because he had no where to go. Sometimes it's what we have to do as parents.

James said to me as we drove home I don't think I've ever seen Nanny laugh so much. It was fun to watch her laugh. It was cute that he noticed how Nanny feels. It's nice that my son understands he is not the center of the universe and cares about others.

Here's one of the jokes my brother told today that got us all laughing. If you've got a politically correct stomach, please stop reading now. If you're like me and just like a good joke, read on:

There's a church and a synagogue on opposite corners. The rabbi noticed there was a problem with rats in the synagogue. He decided to consult with the pastor of the local church to see what could be done. The rabbi entered the church whereupon the pastor greeted him warmly. How can I help you said the pastor? The rabbi explained the rat situation. The priest said, I have a solution. Gather up all the rats and I'll confirm them.

The rabbi felt the priest was probably mistaken but decided to humor him and hand over the keys to the synagogue. The rabbi was compelled to ask, how do you know if the rats are Jewish or Catholic? The priest replied, "It doesn't matter if the rats are Jewish or Catholic, once I confirm them, they never come back. "

BaDumpDump

Kato

I know a lot of crap. Useful-less information stuffed into my brain. The Green Hornet opened today and I'm actually excited about hopefully seeing it if I can convince one of my children to go with me.

A recent question on Jeopardy was who played Kato on the television series The Green Hornet. Jamie knew the answer. I did not. It was Bruce Lee.

I can give you the million reasons why I didn't know that answer. I am not a fan of the genre and Jamie is a huge fan of the milieu (see Chuck Norris, Walker Texas Ranger and Steven Seagal) as well as the cheesy cop genre. Side note: my friend's daughter was a flight attendant for a private airline that transported celebrities across the country at the behest of movie studios. When Steven Seagal was on board, they would have to clean the ceiling after his flight because he would stain the ceiling with his spray on hair. True story. But I digress as I am wont to do. If you follow me, please note the trend. Back to my story.

He's going to ride that sucker for the next twenty years. There will be no acknowledgement of the millions of questions I knew the answer to, just recognition of the one answer I did not know that he DID know.

His birthday is coming up at the end of the month. I will graciously allow him this victory. Happy early birthday, Jamie. Love ya, mean it.

Papa Tony

As I write this blog at just past midnight, I would like to pay tribute to my dad, Anthony Dixon. Today is the five year anniversary of my dad's passing. He was too young. He was just 65.

My dad was a quiet man. He had a great sense of humor, he loved playing the accordion, he was proud to be Irish and he loved his family. I can still remember him at family gatherings, cigarette in hand, legs crossed, guffawing at a joke. My mom was the driving force behind all of us when it came to education but he couldn't have been prouder of all of our accomplishments.

He was a handsome man with a fine head of hair. His bar buddies used to tease him that he used shoe black to keep his hair dark but he was just blessed with great hair. He was the McSteamy of his generation when it came to hair.

We have quite a few Anthony's in our family, more than one would expect for an Irish family. I'm not sure why but the Irish have an affinity for St. Anthony of Padua hence the preponderance of Anthony's in our Irish family. My dad, a few cousins and it's my son's confirmation name in honor of his Papa Tony.

He loved a good sweater vest. It was one of my favorite tasks to find him the best sweater vest I could each Christmas and he would wear them proudly.

No relationships are perfect. My relationship with my father certainly wasn't perfect but we knew we loved each other. The Irish are not known for their open displays of affection. I've certainly made some conscious decisions to say I love you to those that I love. One of my proudest achievements is that my children are really never embarrassed to hug me and say 'I love you' to me every night or at random times when I'm not expecting it. When they have family visiting, they go right up without hesitation and hug and kiss their aunts, uncles, Nanny, loved ones. Those times are the most special.

Daddy was surrounded by all these grandsons, six boys born from 1995 to 2000, (Peter - James - Connor - Stephen - Hunter - Joseph) a fine pack of boys. We lost him early but he lived to see all of his grandchildren born. That's quite an accomplishment, all things considered.

My cousin Jamie Dixon is the head coach of the Pitt men's basketball team. To see him is to see my dad. Jamie (my husband) once asked me if it freaked me out to see him. Even he could see the resemblance. I said no, I actually loved it. I find it comforting. Tony Dixon lives on in so many ways.

So today I pay tribute to my dad. I see my son every day and as much as he looks like Jamie, his quiet manner reminds me so much of my dad. That pleases me greatly.

I weep as I write this. Papa Tony, know that you are loved and you are missed.

Snow Day

Today was a snow day which was in the planning since yesterday. I was out running errands in the early evening yesterday when I got the first text from James saying school is closed tomorrow and a request for a sleepover. I said yes as I am wont to do. I use the word "wont" a lot because it's a great word and I don't think it's used often enough.

Jamie had to head out to work and James asked him to show him how to use the snow blower. I give James credit for even wanting to head out and clear driveways. I watched Jamie explain how to use the snow blower. Every time I use the snow blower, and yes, I have, I have to call Jamie and ask him how to start it up. On one occasion, I was snow blowing (don't go there, people) in my fur coat (yes, I have one and they are really warm; get off my ass, PETA) and I fell. My next door neighbor thinks people falling in the snow is hilarious. But I digress.

James got it immediately. Men really are from Mars and women really are from Venus. He went around the neighborhood trying to clear driveways with little success. But he tried anyway. And he did the next door neighbor's house. He wasn't getting paid, he did it because he is a good kid.

It was a really good snow day. A sleep over, pancake breakfast, hours in the snow and then sledding for the boys. I opted to tackle the dreaded task of cleaning up the guest room, aka holiday catch-all room, and got it done.

I always have great dreams of snow days. I'll be sitting on the couch sipping hot chocolate enjoying a movie. It never seems to work that way. I worry that the boys are staying out too long in the cold, how's James doing with the snow blower, is anyone suffering from frost bite?

My point here is it's a snow day. Hearken back to your youth. Go play in the snow. Sometimes it's just what we need.

PS Thanks for the sledding pics, Sue.

Words

James has a field trip tomorrow and requested a Subway sandwich for lunch. As I was heading out the door to pick one up, I heard a Jeopardy question in the background. What word means old as in before time? I don't remember the category but I knew the answer. Anti-diluvian. As in before the Flood, before the time of Moses.

My husband and sons don't really like when I play Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune. I'm pretty good at both games. I am a fount of seemingly useless information (see my first post) which helps when it comes to playing Jeopardy. I was an English major in college which helps when playing Wheel of Fortune. None of this helps when you answer "anti-diluvian" and your son says get out. You're not fun to play with. This time it's my 14 year old, not my 10 year old (see Beating Your Children post).

I love words. I was once called a lackey by an old (as in anti-diluvian) woman who demanded to see the owner of an establishment  in order to get satisfaction regarding a missing mirror from her car. She felt that a professional thief had stolen her mirror from her car outside this particular establishment. I looked at the car, analyzed the deep gashes down the entire length of the car and deemed her professional car mirror thief hypothesis lacking. The lackey found her story lacking.

I love words.

Ding Dong

a mouse is dead. I don't know if it is THE mouse but a mouse is lying in repose on a mouse trap in the playroom under a tissue.

I ran 3 miles next to the corpus delecti. He got snared by the trap next to the treadmill. Jamie has a job when he gets home from work tonight.

No sign of the cricket.

Of Mice and Me

I run every day on my treadmill, 3 miles. There are those who feel that's not really running but at least I move my *ss every day. Today was kind of a lazy day for me. After hanging out in my pj's all day, I decided I needed to do something so I did my run. I headed down to the playroom where my exercise equipment is set up. I watched Grey's Anatomy and part of season 2 of the Jersey Shore. Yes, I know the Jersey Shore is pure trash but it is one of my guilty pleasures and makes the run go quickly.

I'm done with my run and was watching Pauly D trashing JWoww when something moving on the carpet caught my eye. Yes. A mouse. And he was ballsy. He was black and furry looking. No, it was not a rat, it was a mouse. But he took his time strolling across the carpet. I WATCHED him. He didn't streak across, he STROLLED, like he's been spending time down in the playroom, making himself at home, familiarizing himself with the layout. 

I didn't scream. I EEEKED. I turned off my TIVO (side note: don't ever let anyone tell you can replace TIVO with Optimum DVR - there is just no comparison) and TV and proceeded to climb over an end table and a couch to stay as far away from the mouse just in case he decided to pop back out from under the television stand. 

I'm not a fan of the mouse. They move too fast and you don't know where they're going to go. I know I should not be afraid of them but they just freak me out. Which brings me to crickets. I'm not a fan of crickets. They move too fast and you don't know where they are going to go. They jump and get startled by the big human and you never know where they're going to land. 

There has been a cricket in my playroom for the last three months. He came in somewhere around September when the weather started to cool off and when I come down in the morning to do my run, he jumps out at me when I turn the lights on. Freaks me out every morning. 

Until today. No cricket. Just a mouse. Are you thinking what I'm thinking????

Christmas Day Redux

I love Christmas Day. It is indubitably my favorite holiday of the year. Ask my kids. I do the Christmas tree, outside decorations, the whole magilla. My kids have been very enthusiastic about Christmas and pretty good about helping me out with the decorating. That sense of enthusiasm has waned in the last few years when it comes to set up and take down but they do love it once it's all up.

But one thing they never tire of is our second Christmas with Auntie ZaZa and Uncle Ferd. Fred and Arzel are our dear friends that we met at West Shore Marina over twenty five years ago.  They have the title of aunt and uncle and they are Joe's godparents. Every year we celebrate a second Christmas with them. We almost enjoy it more than Christmas Day!

Last night, we celebrated our delayed second Christmas. Fred and Arzel went to Florida for six days and got caught up in the snow storm debacle, hence the delayed celebration. We drank a lot of wine last night, hence the delayed blog. We ate a side of beef, we drank exquisite wine (Opus One/Cakebread/Cornerstone), we exchanged gifts, we played Guitar Hero, we played ShitHead (yes, it's a real game involving a hat with velcro and fabric turds and a points system. Joe won!) and generally had a blast.

Our friendship has lasted so very long. Jamie and I were dating when we first met them and they've been through everything with us. Engagement, wedding, births, deaths. They were the first people to see both of my children when they were born. I treasure them.

At one of our recent dinners, we created a new game, Dead or Gone. I know it sounds morbid but it's actually a fun game. Play along with me. Think about the people, particularly your friends, who were at your wedding. Are they still in your life? It was very interesting to see who is still in our lives from twenty years ago. I am thrilled to have them in my life and I hope you're lucky enough to have a Fred and Arzel in your life as well.

Dimples & A Smirk

OK. If there are children in the room, please make them leave now. This is a slightly adult topic. All clear? OK.

I was tucking Joe into bed last night as I do every night which I am thrilled I still am allowed to do and he still wants. He had a pile of cotton Yankee boxers on top of his dresser. I asked him if they didn't fit or did he not want them anymore because Santa brought him the UnderArmour boxers which he has been asking for the last few months. He said it was a combo of both reasons. I started to have a conversation with him about the benefits of cotton boxers versus microfiber/poly blend boxers with regards to testicles. I started to explain about heat and testicles but it was late at night, I was tired and Joseph was smirking. I said to him, "Is it weird to hear your mom say testicles?" The double dimples appeared and he said, "Yes." I let him off the hook and said we would talk about it at another time.

Around 2:30 pm today, I got a phone call from Joe's teacher. We all know phone calls from teachers generally are not good news. I heard her voice and said what's wrong. She filled me in on an incident at recess today. There was some teasing going on. It involved 3 boys and 1 girl.  I will not name names here to protect the young, the innocent and not so innocent.  Evidently one kid made a comment about someone's face ie How's your face? Joe told me that another boy asked him, "How's your vagina?" The vagina comment was not directed to a girl. It was directed at my son. The boy who ALLEGEDLY made the comment claimed that Joe said the word vagina.

Deeply drawn-in horrified breath as the teacher said those words to me. I said to the teacher I can pretty much guarantee that Joe did not say that word. Maybe Joe repeated that word. He did not make that comment.

I was not in a place where I could have a drawn out conversation with the teacher or bring up the fact that I said the word testicles to Joe last night and the double dimples came out. Double dimples on Joseph means he is roaring laughing inside but is not sure that he should be laughing outside. I am very upfront with my children and honest about physiology. We use anatomically correct terms. Vaginas are vaginas in my house. They are not hoo haas, vajayjays or pussy willows. Penises are penises. I am a very direct person and I am direct with my children. It's a dangerous world we live in and they need to understand that no one is allowed to touch their bodies.

When the teacher told me that Joseph may have used the word vagina, I knew she was wrong. The kid cracked up at the word testicles. There is no way in hell he used the word vagina. He knows the word. It would have sent him into paroxysm of laughter to the point that he couldn't breathe. He didn't use it. I asked him what he said in response to that question and he told me he thought it was the dumbest comment ever.

When I asked him about recess and the use of the word vagina, the double dimples appeared. I have heard my son on PS3 and I have observed his aggressiveness. The only word that kid would have used begins with p and ends with y. I wore out the word vagina tonight and Joe was cracking up every time he heard it. He swore up and down that he never said it and I believe him.

That conversation led to manginas, murses and even more ridiculous terms that could apply to this situation. My 14 year old and his friend could be heard snickering and snorting in the other room. Jamie gave some advice to Joe that I totally agreed with and was advice that I don't think  James' friend had ever heard but loved hearing.

I found it ironic that in 24 hours I got to use the words testicles and vagina in conversations with my ten year old. And he giggled every time he heard those words. It's why I still get to cuddle with him every night and tuck him into bed. Thank God.

New Year, New Beginnings

I like to think of January as clean up time. It's a new year. You pack up Christmas and I find it's a good opportunity to do some extra clean up. Christmas presents come in so that usually means making room for new stuff and getting rid of old stuff.

Which brings me to my husband.

No, I don't mean it that way. But even I am chuckling here reading that sentence. No, I'm not chuckling, I'm actually laughing my ass off.

I love my husband dearly. We've been together 26 years and married 20 years. I still believe our biggest accomplishment (besides my 2 sons for which I take most of the credit - you moms know what I mean) is that we still actually LIKE each other. I will love him always. He is the father of my sons but I would actually choose to spend time with him most days of the week.

My husband is a good looking man. It was his eyes that drew me to him in the first place. They are beautiful, green and framed with long lashes. Maybelline has no stake in him. Jamie has admittedly struggled with his weight over the last 20 years of marriage, certainly not due to my cooking. I am a good cook but my culinary skills will not be the reason my husband and children loved me. Nor will the number of dinners I served be stamped on my tombstone. My husband adores me because he was and is a handful and I love him. My children know that I am possibly one of the coolest moms on the planet. Not too many moms would stay for SIX overtimes at an NCAA basketball game until 1:30 am and get home at 3 am. That's the kind of mom I am. I digress. Back to the topic at hand.

I did not marry my husband for his looks but it certainly didn't hurt. When I married Jamie, an acquaintance once said she's marrying a fat guy, that leaves the good looking ones for the rest of us. I think she would take those words back. She said them when she was young and foolish and judgmental. I know she would not say that today. She would admire him for the amazing husband and father that he has grown up to be (yes, I know it's a dangling participle but it is after midnight. Forgive me).

Jamie has been enjoying food for the last year or so, hence the application of weight. It recently got to the point that there were sounds coming out of his body that very closely resembled a garbage truck. It honestly did not surprise me as I observed him at dinner the night before wherein he shoveled food into his body as though it was his last meal. A death row inmate had nothing on him. Just before New Year's Eve, I told him the party was over. It was time. Come January 3, he could no longer treat his body in such a malevolent manner. He agreed. I think. He came home from work the next day with band-aids on his fingers from injuries sustained from putting on his pants. I kid you not. 'Nuff said. He's bought into the treat your body sort of like it's a temple.

New Year. New Beginnings.

Next time remind me to tell you about the conversation I had with Joseph tonight about cotton boxers and why they are good for your testicles.

I so crack myself up.

Dichotomy

I met two interesting gentlemen today. They couldn't have been more different in personalities and life choices.

Scott is the owner of a sports memorabilia store here in our area. I went there today to purchase gifts. Jamie has been a patron for years so I took his recommendation and went there to shop. I walked into the store, he asked if he could help me and I took him up on his offer. I explained what I was looking for, my price range and areas of interest. When I told him my price range and the sports personalities I was interested in, another gentleman in the store snorted and started laughing.

Being the not born here but bred in New York girl that I am, I said out loud is he laughing at me? Scott immediately clarified that the gentleman in question did not work for him. I ignored the fool and Scott helped me make my selections and then headed to the back of the store to get my purchases ready.

Snort Guy wandered over to me and started engaging me in conversation. Now here's the thing. People like talking to me and even more so, like telling me their life story. I'm not sure what it is...but I seem to be a life story magnet. I enjoy it. I love hearing how people came to be who they are...what circumstances brought them to cross paths with me intrigues me.

As it happens, this guy was an art dealer who spent a lot of time traveling across the country in a truck for the last 30 years attending art auctions and running charity auctions. Let me correct myself, he was not actually the art dealer, he worked for the art dealer as I discovered when he told me that he should have been a millionaire for all the money he made for the owners. He said he sacrificed a regular life because he loved being on the road. He was clearly bitter about dealers and the money they made. As I spent more time with him, I noted his threadbare jacket, his worn out LL Bean boots with no heels, his too short jeans above the boots. He was extremely knowledgeable about sports, every sport, every team, insane knowledge, idiot savant/RainMan like.

He finally took his leave and that brings me to Scott. Based on the conversation I witnessed between Scott and Snort Guy, I guessed they knew each other for a couple of years. Not so. Today was the first time they had ever met. Scott told me about a few personalities he had met over the year similar to Snort Guy....filled with knowledge but no ability to apply that knowledge to every day practical situations, blaming other people for what went wrong in their lives.

We chatted some more and he told me about his daughter, Hannah, who had passed away at the age of 14 months after an 8 month battle with illness and his daughter, Samantha, who is now 14 months old and was born after five years of trying to conceive. He showed me pictures of his daughters, gorgeous, dark haired, big rosy cheeks, big dark eyes, gorgeous girls. Hannah Molly was named for his father who was killed crossing the street when Scott was 19 and for Scott's beloved grandmother. Scott said he named his daughter after the two people he loved the most and he lost all three. Hannah and Sam look very much alike.

Here's the thing. Snort Guy decided to blame the lack of success in his life on others. He acknowledged his life choices led him to where he is in life today. Scott, who in my opinion had every reason to want to curl up and die, forged ahead by having another baby and setting up a charitable foundation in the memory of his beloved Hannah.

The dichotomy of those personalities touched me today.

Smile - it increases your face value

Have you tried the random smile test? I do it all the time, both consciously and unconsciously. I have an innate tendency to smile. It's a trait that has built up over the last few years. There's a long story to how that trait built up over the last few years. A lot of that story involved Syd Dufton, a former colleague, who changed my way of thinking in the best way possible. But I digress (as I am wont to do). When you think about it, it's much easier and infinitely more fun to smile than it is to cry. What's that bullshit credo, it takes less muscles to smile than it does to frown. Turns out that bullshit credo is TRUE. There is so much to cry over if you have that tendency. I don't. I'd rather crack a joke, laugh and smile.

When I interact with the public, I love to smile. Smile at a random person you don't know personally, nine times out of ten, they will smile back at you. When they do, it is so cool. I, personally, find it satisfying.

It's a new year. In the words of Truvy, a character in the movie Steel Magnolias (bookmark: my personal favorite movie of all time next to It's A Wonderful Life), Smile, It Increases Your Face Value.

Growing up before my eyes and I didn't even see it

A very special moment happened this morning. Let me explain.

I was waiting with my son Joe, my ten year old,  for his school bus on this frigid winter morning. I wanted to head out shortly after he got on the bus and decided to warm the truck up. I turned the key, the engine sputtered, refused to turn over and then died. Dead battery. It happens to this truck whenever I let it sit for a few days in very cold weather.

A string of expletives exploded in my brain but not out of my mouth. I told Joe I have to call dad so he can tell me how to hook up the battery charger. Joe said I know how to do it. Dad showed me.

You see, Jamie and the boys have been working on restoring a 1973 Challenger (see my previous post re: don't drink and ebay). Jamie has been teaching them lots of things. Joseph has clearly been learning lots of things.

Joe explained step by step what I had to do to charge the battery in my truck using the portable charger. Mind you, these are steps Jamie has shown me numerous times but I've been too lazy to file in my mental  file cabinet.

Joe left for school and I called Jamie to tell him the story. I'm not sure who was prouder...mom or dad.

My son taught me today.

MIA

Happy New Year, everyone! We've been celebrating the New Year since Friday night hence my lack of blogging. We've had some friends over the last few evenings and it's been lots of food, wine and laughs. I wisely chose not to drink and blog. When one is consuming fine wine, there are a few activities that should be avoided and strangely enough, they are all related to social media. 


As I said, don't drink and blog. Don't drink and text. Don't drink and Facebook. Don't drink and Ebay. If you drink and ebay, you might end up with a 1973 Challenger in your driveway. It wasn't me. It was the other "adult" in the house with a credit card. 


Jamie believes that ebay should have a breathalyzer and oddly enough, someone has developed a website to test just those skills. It's called www.socialmediasobrietytest.com wherein you need to be able to type and participate in a few tests to determine if you are sober enough to be on a social media website. 


And finally, my favorite website on the subject is www.tfln.com where people post texts they sent or received the previous night, all done anonymously. I actually subscribe to the site and get a text message everyday with a text sent the previous night. They make me laugh my ass off. Christmas Day text from a random woman: there is a Santa Claus. I got my period. Another: Was the girl I made out w last night cute?.. The booze said she was Megan Foxx.


The lesson here is don't drink and socialmediate. Happy New Year!