Happy 20th Anniversary to us, Garth (not his real name!)
Most of my kids go back to school, this week — my middle girl has been accepted into a specialized high school and doesn't start until the Tuesday after Labor Day AND yes the other kids are NOT happy about it.
So, to soften the mood of our house (seriously, where DID the summer go?) my husband Garth (not his real name) surprised me for our 20th Wedding Anniversary (thanks for the well wishes, btw!) by taking a vacation day last Wednesday, Thursday AND Friday to spend more time with me (yes, ME!) doing absolutely nothing of REAL importance, which truly is a MONUMENTAL act of love, on his part.
20 years ago (I know…I'm old…shuddup!) I was cruising down the Parkway (a.k.a. Garden State Parkway, for those of you who aren't, you know, from Jersey) surrounded by taffeta and covered in tulle (it was the end of the 80's, baby) as my soon-to-be-sister-in-law mooned traffic and made me laugh so hard, I snorted champagne out of my nostrils!
You would have thought SHE was the one getting married (the aforementioned Parkway-mooner, I mean) the way her hand shook, each time she filled my paper cup.
It took her forever to FINALLY convince her brother to ask me out.
"Just this once and then you leave me alone, right?"
I guess, since we DID get engaged, only 2 months later, she was just hoping it would, you know, work out.
Flash forward 20 years: taking into consideration, ALL the good times (and bad) oh, and even those days that totally sucked hairy donkey balls (you're welcome!) not to mention, 4 kids, 2 cats, 1 sock-eating doofus-dog AND enough laundry to circle the planet (twice) YES, I really would do it ALL over again.
However, this time, perhaps with MORE champagne, a little less tulle and I'd be the one, you know, mooning the Parkway.
So, what ARE we doing for our 20th?
[shrugs shoulders]
Well, in lieu of fine china (which, is a really bad gift idea, for a klutz, like me, btw!) we're celebrating by taking our kids hiking to Bushkill Falls, PA today (it's where he proposed) then, having lunch at Hot Dog Johnny's in Buttzville, NJ (I kid you not!) followed by a burping contest across the Delaware (because, nothing burps better than Johnny's birch beer!) and then probably order in for some Chinese food, tonight.
Mount Mitchill Scenic Overlook County Park, Atlantic Highlands, NJ
Actually, it was grayish, rainy and a bit chilly, yesterday.. PERFECT weather for some late summertime fun…here, in Jersey, anyway.
A lot of folks seem to like visiting New Jersey (on purpose) especially, our neck of the Jersey shore and I'm okay with that (mostly) I mean, if it weren't for the Bennies (i.e. people who visit here, only in the summertime) we'd probably have to pay A LOT MORE money to get on our beaches and MTV would NOT currently hold the #1 google rank it does, you know, today…DAMNIT!
I mean, really, wrangling 2,000+ registered attendees (not to mention, the 11-ty billion others already living in/visiting NYC) something's bound to go wrong (coming from someone, whose attempts at throwing a dinner party, for 6, the last 16 years, has failed, miserably, more often than not) and, well, someone's destined to get their feelings hurt (see previous parenthesis) or, break something (ditto) right?
No worries, SaveHer'10 is here (i.e. alternate title: Riding in an Ambulance with BusyMom!)
So, tonight, I'm sitting here, at the kitchen table…ALL…BY…MYSELF…and listening to absolutely nothing…except, for the sounds of my husband Garth (not his real name) making dinner.
"Stir fry sound good, for you?"
Sure, I'm a little hesitant about leaving the kids (with my parents, I mean) still, they are getting older and basically take care of themselves (my kids, I mean) especially, if there's cable and a microwave nearby (oh, I kid, sort of) and my oldest girls are really GREAT at holding down the fort, in an emergency.
"Do you mind if I head over to Kohls?"
This week, I spent 90 minutes at Dress Barn on Monday and all I got was a stinkin' scarf (cute, but it still sorta stinks that I couldn't find anything else) to show for it.
"Okay, but I have to tell you something."
Which is really code for, "This way, I don't have to look at you," in teen text.
"But, I don't want to tell you over the phone."
Aw, crap.
Long story, short (you're welcome) here's the gyst of what happened…in bullet points:
Hope (she's 9) has been asking me, every other day, to tell her about where babies came from
At that very moment, on each of those days, I've had exactly 5 minutes, to spare
Hope got tired of waiting
Hope asked her brother, Glen (he's 11) where babies came from
Aaaaand, he told her.
Because, I already had "the talk" with Glen — thanks a lot, Garth (not your real name!) — and, well, the boy was doing me a favor.
The girls punished him, anyway.
"What he say?"
Bulleted version:
The husband lays on top of the wife
He shoots this fish-like thing inside her
It buries itself into one of the wife's eggs
The egg grows inside the wife and turns into a baby
Aaaaand, he was right…mostly.
"Put him on the phone."
So, I un-punished Glen, scolded Holly and Heather (seriously, who's the mommy?) and promised to have "the talk" with Hope…aaaaaafter, I get back.
Morale of the Story: Kohls RAWKS, cell phones are NOT the devil and my husband's stir fry tastes even better…cold…pregnant…or, SO NOT!!!
In the meantime, look for me at BlogHer — I'll be the tall, dork-ish one texting her kids — trying to convince my youngest two that Headless Mom, you know, really does have a head and my oldest two that her blog name has absolutely NOTHING to do with sex!
I still remember that fateful day, when my husband Garth (not his real name) and I nervously sat down at the conference table, distracting the lawyer long enough to hand us each styrofoam cups of stale coffee and, between the 3 of us, was the only one able to hold a pen steady enough to sign the papers.
"I think I'm gonna throw up!"
I was a few weeks pregnant with our first daughter (commuting, while under the influence of gestation, sucks wet poodle, btw!) and, well, WE WERE BUYING OUR FIRST HOUSE!
"You're young, yet, there's still time."
The lawyer, who seemed very well-versed in the matter, insisted that investing in a starter home was the way to go and that our timing could NOT have been better.
"As long as you move before the kid starts kindergarten!"
17 years, 4 kids, 3 cats, 2 refinances and 1 doofus-dawg, later (give or take a couple of goldfish) both my husband and I have FINALLY accepted the fact that we are, you know, totally screwed.
"Wow, it's a lot bigger than I thought!"
If I had a dollar for each time a repairman has said that to me, well, I'd be able to park my car in the garage, by now.
"We get that, a lot."
Not to mention, folks who are surprised to find that our house, you know, looks A LOT different…on the inside.
"Doing some work, I see."
It's not like we have this thing for
dry wall (although, after a while, you DO sorta get used it) but, after
17 years, 4 kids, 3 cats, etc., etc., other stuff has taken priority
(like, you know, food) and, well, there's ALWAYS something, right?
"How long have you been renovating?"
This particular repairman, however, seemed to be genuinely interested.
"Let's see, um, about 17 years."
The poor guy stopped laughing as soon as he realized that I was, you know, serious.
"Uh-huh, so, okay, I'm done here, buh-bye."
Granted, it's not the smallest house on the block (my 103 year-old next door neighbor has owned that title for, well, over 100 years, now) and, with a few of gallons of paint (give or take a couple of barrels) or, a VERY LARGE construction crew, looking for some pro bono work, who knows?
"Um, did you back-flush the pool, today?"
Because, you see, these days, I am the Queen of Denial AND Supreme Back-flusher!
"Why?"
Then, I remembered….that I forgot…to turn the shut-off valve, you know, back on.
"You burned up the motor!"
Long story, short (you're welcome!) that same day, we also ended up taking my car into the shop (it was either that, or never be able to make a left turn, ever again!) and that little bit of money I just got paid (because, you know, I do work, sometimes) uh-huh, I'm sending one of the Pep Boys on a lovely vacation…this summer.
"You owe your father a cup of coffee."
Apparently, my dad made a big stink about paying for the new pump in the pool store and, well, I owed the man a piece of cake AND dinner for the next 2 weeks, too.
"Why are you ALL wet?"
Apparently, the pump is a whole LOT stronger than our old one, the pressure split the out-take hose and being doused with chlorinated water, while under the influence of coffee (and cake) makes you do this:
What? Melisa thought it was funny when I told her this same EXACT story on Monday (STILL don't have my car, sucks donkey balls, btw!) or, maybe she was just humoring me, either way.
[snort]
Still, it's OUR home, the kids seem to like it and I wouldn't trade this house, or the love I felt for my husband, at that particular moment, for all the philanthropically-inclined contractors in the world.
[wipes eyes]
Okay, maybe Ty Pennington (relax, my husband already knows and he's okay with it) or one of the HGTV Dream Homes (I've been trying to win, since 2001, DAMMIT!) but, let's not open that OLD wound, okay?
This is my paternal great-grandmother, Maria, in Hungary. My father spent many childhood summers, giving up his "city boy ways," living the "simple country life," with Maria (his mother had him late in life and, apparently, he was a handful!) and, according to my father, it was anything and everything…but, simple!
Still, as tough as Maria's life was, my father insists that she was the sweetest, kindest, most gentlest person on earth.
Unlike, her great-granddaughter (that would be me!) who is about ready to snare her some Bambi!
Exhibit A: Deer tracks (post-sprinkler) this morning.
No, I don't want to hurt Bambi (much) but, gardening is HARD work and, all of a sudden, after 17 years of fighting with aphids, hornworms and garden slugs (oh my!) NOW it seems like we've got deer!
Exhibit B: Hopey's prized-cabbage (she was growing to win a $1000 scholarship) beheaded!
Not just any deer (mind you) but, ravenous-militant-vegetable-swiping-giant-moose-of-an-animal that carries away an entire head of cabbage!?!?
Exhibit C: Tops of tomato plants chewed!
I went out to pick some tomatoes a few weekends ago and…OMG…where have ALL of my tomatoes gone?
Exhibit D: What was my parsley!
I know…so, we've got deer…no BIG deal, right?
Exhibit E: WTH is it?
All I kept thinking was…this is MY garden (DAGNABIT!) and WWMD (what would Maria do?) no question about it — I HAVE TO DEFEND IT! So, Garth (not his real name) installed this sweet little motion detector smack dab in the middle of my Concord grape vine!
Just like Maria's (see picture at top of post) minus the motion detector, I mean.
Exhibit F: New growth!!!
Yes, Maria is probably ROIHGL (rolling over in her grave laughing) bless her squishy little heart!
Exhibit G: Aaaand, we have tomato flowers!
But, when in Jersey…you know…and, combined with my new bontanically-based insecticidal soap (email me and I'll let you know which) it seems to be working.
Exhibit H: The vegetable bed that lived
Oh, and no, we are NOT crucifying anyone – that's just the clothes line that Garth (not his real name) rigged up by the pool, so that the kids can hang up their wet towels, which, unfortunately, they do NOT use…DAGNABIT!
I was 12 years-old when we celebrated the Bi-centennial and, sadly, the only thing I remember from the day is getting these really cool pair of socks.
Oh…look…my first crushes…mostly him (on the left) it's like 1976, all over again!
No, these are NOT the socks (can't find a picture, anywhere) nor, do they have anything to do with Independence Day (so what?) but, I thought I'd share another favorite memory from my preteen years (50 extra points for the 1st person who can ADMIT to being able to name that t.v. show!) as, my parents worked (a lot) soooo, my twin brother and I stayed home and watched A LOT of television.
By ourselves.
Today, my kids also enjoy watching television (perhaps a little more than they should, I know) but, summer vacation is waaaay different (sounding really old, now, I know) from when I was their age.
"Why don't you guys go outside?"
Tell me it's like this at your house, too.
"But, it's toooooo hot!"
Because, I swear, my brother and I would have sold each other, to have a swimming pool…in our backyard.
"Will you come with us?"
Then again, there isn't much that my kids do…by themselves.
Or, without my parents.
"You guys coming over on Sunday, right?"
Their dependency on seeing the kids…me…my brother…every week…can be very trying, at times…especially, on Sundays.
"Absolutely, we will be there!"
Still, seeing my brother, watching him play with my kids, listening to his goofy laugh and then his wife yell at him for acting like, well, a 12 year-old [snicker] and getting the chance to spend the whole day…together…is like a breath of fresh air…really.
And then my father WILL start to cry.
"OMG…what's the matter?"
My mother will shake her head, bite her lower lip and then eventually tears would come to her eyes, too.
"No, really…Apu…what's bothering you?"
He will wipe his eyes and slowly look around the room.
"Nothing…seeing you and your brother together…I'm just happy…and that's all I ever wanted!"
My brother will suggest that we watch Independence Day, for the buh-zillion-th time (my son will be the 1st to agree) and then my mom will, once again, bring up the fact that Hope looks SO MUCH like I did, at her age.
And it will take a while for their words to sink in; eventually, the goosebumps will
hit, along with the realization that maybe my parents are NOT as dependent,
as I thought (go figure!) but, in their eyes, merely exercising their right as grandparents.
Or, getting another chance to celebrate deep pride in their adopted country…through their children's eyes…on Independence Day.
"I got an "A" on my report on Hungary…Papa!"
Aaaand, I can't think of any place I'd rather be, or anything else I'd rather be doing, at the moment.
Other than remembering the fun we had, the last time we visited with my brother and he gave the S.W.A.T. helmet to Hopey, on Memorial Day!
"You know, your mother spent a summer in Hungary AND she needed A LOT of band aids…too!"
