Pic of the Week

"My Sweets"

Sound of Music

We're musical in our family.  We've never met a karaoke bar we didn't close down; we sing at the top of our lungs when we drive; and when we die we will go to a giant dueling piano bar in the sky.  It's only natural that our love of music was passed along through our genetic material to our offspring.  It is interesting, however, to see it manifest it's self so differently in the three.  Granted, Rosaline just found her voice so it's only natural that she "sings" in shrieks and squeals. ... but it's loud and she entertains the crap out of herself when she does it.  Genevieve is the meticulous one.  She has lately taken to wandering the house (or where ever you find yourself) singing the same few lines of a song over and over and over and over.  Right now it's The Little Mermaid.  "Look at this stuff, isn't it neat.  Look at this stuff, isn't it neat.  Look at this stuff, isn't it neat.  Look at this stuff, isnt' it neat."  I just want to yell at the top of my lungs "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD - WOULDN'T YOU SAY MY COLLECTION'S COMPLETE!"  But this is what's interesting. ... that's exactly what Gina does.  She gets a song stuck in her head, but only a small portion.  And then she ends up singing that small portion on loop for the next 12 days.  This has it's benefits, she learns the real words of the song and not the "Tony Danza in my head" versions of them.  Arianna, meanwhile, takes after me.  She sings what ever the hell she feels like.  Screw the words. ... screw the melody sometimes.  She will tell you she's going to sing the Belle (Beauty and the Beast) song and then proceed to belt out some song that repeats the word "flowers" a dozen times and bounces all over the note scale.  I, too, have been known to replace words I don't really know with words I feel make a good fit.  Green Day's probably my favorite band of all time and most of the early albums I just end up singing "na-na's" and "blah-blahs" when I play them, despite having heard them hundreds of times. When Gina catches me with a wrong lyric she never fails to point it out. All that really matters, though, is the singing.  Whether it's pitchy or the lyrics are off or what ever, singing is a sign of happiness.  Happiness is all I care about.  So sing away my dears.  Drown out the outside world and continue to fill our home with magic.  "Look at this stuff, isn't it neat.  Look at this stuff, isn't it neat.  Look at this stuff, isn't it neat.  Look at this stuff, isn't it neat.  Look at this stuff, isn't it neat."

"60" is the New "Grandma"

I wondered long ago what my 500th post would look like.  Would there be a party?  A red carpet?  Would the news outlets of the world run something on their front page?  Their back page?  Their Tuesday Evening Edition?  It's fitting that this post be about something big; something important; something meaningful.  Well Sunday my mom turned 60. ... and that's pretty damn big in my book.  Add to it that in celebration she rented a house on Catalina (an island off our coast for you non-Californian readers) and had all of us come party with her for the long weekend.  Now my mom is a very special person - as most mothers are - and the greatest contributing factor to the man I am today.  I've modeled myself, as best I could, on her.  I've looked at the world through the same eyes that I believe she does.  When I grow up. ... I want to be my mom.  That being said, I want my children to learn the same lessons that I have, through the master directly.  I try and instill my outlook on life through her lessons; but a weekend retreat where they have full exposure to the one who taught me. .. pretty freakin' sweet.  So here are the kinds of things my mother taught me, which I hope my girls learn as well.

Make sure you stand out from those around you.

Golf when you get the chance.  If you're a lefty, swing left.  If you're terrible ... just laugh.

Let your kids decide where to go; even if they're holding the map upside down.

1) enjoy simple things like a nap

2) but never let a napping adult go unharrassed.

look at life with unique perspectives

never pass an ice cream shop

laugh into the face of the screaming wind, so those behind you can hear you

stay close

never walk single file when you can walk holding hands

sometimes the balcony seats are better then the front row

 & the hard way is often the most rewarding.

To my mother: You are the blessing I never earned.  I never had to convince you to love me.  I never had to apologize for mistakes I made.  I never worry about falling on my ass because I never doubted you would be there to catch me.  My courage came from your strength.  My intelligence from your wisdom.  My compassion for your selflessness.  My hope from your unwavering positivity.  My love from your shoreless ocean of love.  30, 40, 60 or 90 - you're my mom; an ageless entity who I will always look up to and whom my children will learn the same valuable lessons from.  I couldn't have asked for a better mother and I'm fairly certain that God couldn't have designed a better one anyway.  Happy Birthday. ... and thank you.

Pic of the Week

"How Many Princesses Does One Prince Deserve?"

Tattle tail

I'm always amazed when people try to keep secrets from their spouse - especially when they have children.  Children will rat you out the first chance they get; they don't even need to be interrogated.  And if they aren't there to witness your dark secret first hand, you can be damn certain they'll find out about it somehow. ... and THEN they'll rat you out.  I got the below text this morning as proof:

Let me start by saying I'm not dumb enough to try and keep something like this from my wife.  I'm terrible with secrets and this would be my first ever traffic ticket (15 years of driving and only pulled over once. ... talked my way out of that; surprise surprise) so chances are I would not handle it well.  But I didn't get a ticket.  This is what happened.  I was taking the girls home from the Greek Festival on Saturday and Arianna was being difficult when I was buckling her in.  She told me she didn't want to be buckled and I told her it was against the law not to.  I told her that Daddy has to wear a seat belt and so does she; if we don't then the police man would give us a ticket.  This notion of the police man and his tickets really hit a nerve with Geneveive and she kept asking "why" over and over.  "Police man mean?"  "No, he just wants us to be safe."  "Why he give you ticket Daddy?"  "Because he wants to make sure we follow the rules."  "Rules to wear zoni (belt)?"  "Yes, the rules that say we have to wear a zoni." 

That was it.  That was the incident.  And you can bet your ass the first mention of a policeman this morning and Genevieve blurts out that Daddy got a ticket from a police man after the carnival.

This is why I don't take the girls with me when shopping for presents.  Learn to talk and they instantly become blabber mouths.

Occupado

I can appreciate what high schools these days are attempting to do with health classes.  They want to prepare young people for the hard work required in parenting, and hopefully convince them that they should put a few years between now and the time they actually do have kids.  But I gotta say, a bag of flour (or what ever your high school budget allowed for) just misses a few things.  Yes, it gets you through the first couple months when you have to carry the bag of future cake mix with you everywhere you go.  And maybe you're from that side of the tracks and got yourself one of those dolls that cries every hour till you feed it or change it or put it into sleep mode.  But this is just the trailer for coming attractions.  They need to experience the "I don't know what I want and you have to keep guessing" stage that comes around 6 months old.  The "I'm going to wait until the brief moment you turn your head to do something reckless" stage of 1 and a half.  The famous two year old tantrum stages and the "I can do it all by myself so leave me alone or I'll scream" stage that goes with them.  These are where the joys of parenting truly lie; how can they make these teens think the hard part involves carrying around a 5 pound sack of powdered grain?!  Of course, they also miss the joyous and bizarre things that can't be lumped in with the other stages mentioned.  Point in case; yesterday I was sitting on the toilet, minding my own business.  We're not a shy family - we're not the "walk around with out your cloths on kind of family" but by no means close the door and turn out the lights if we need to change our underwear - but normally I might close the door during such an occasion.  Unfortunately the pool side suite lacks a door going from the bathroom to the living room - there is a door from the bathroom to the garage, though, which always makes it exciting if you're doing your business and hear a rustle in the garage and have to wonder "who might be coming through that door and when" paired with "is yelling 'occupado' worth waking the sleeping baby in the other room?"  Anyway, I'm sitting there, no one in the garage, and things are quiet elsewhere; until I hear the sound of a shaky wheel.  It's easily identified as one of the toy umbrella strollers that the girls have, and it's headed right for me.  Sure enough, the pink wheels shortly round the corner and pull up next to me on the toilet, Arianna beaming with excitement.  "Me bring you necklace Daddy!"  Hooray. She then proceeds to "decorate" me with an array of colored Mardi Gras beads, adorns my head with a tiara and tells me I'm now a pretty princess.  I'm not sure this is the type of throne most princesses are pictured on.  She then leans her elbows on my knees, puts her face in her hands and stares up at me. ... um. ... I'm kind of busy here kid.  "Daddy, you doing kha-kha?"  "Yes, honey. ... everybody poops."  "You get two mm's?"  "No, Daddy doesn't need any candy; thank you."  "Me get them for you."  At this point she attempts to climb up in to my lap to reach the M&M "I peed in the potty" candy dispenser.  This is what I'm talking about. ... they never taught us about this in health class.  Or maybe I was just sick that day.

Pic of the Week

"The Smile of a Five Month Old"