Simple pleasures

The kids have been begging to see Rise of the Guardians. After a disappointing trip to the zoo on Saturday afternoon (playground closed and hardly any animals out – I guess it is December…), we decided to hit the 7:15 showing. Of course, it was only playing in 3D so we paid $37 for three tickets – insane. Between the tickets and the popcorn, we could have bought groceries for the month. But the kids loved it.

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On Sunday morning, we woke up to sheets of rain. Hence, no stroller ride. So we decided to put up the Christmas tree. I brought up my grandma’s tree and the kids and I assembled it to surprise Jon while he was out for coffee. Mario assembled the metal base of the tree from scratch; he figured out how to put the metal feet in the circle and where to place the screws. There may be an engineer in our future…. Meanwhile, Maria perused through the cardboard boxes of ornaments picking out select ones that she remembered creating or that she knew had meaning to us. Jon’s blue ornament from his teacher, the ornament I gave my grandma when I was ten, Mario’s gingerbread ornament from his old daycare. Ms. Sentimental she is.

We blasted Christmas music from the tv and went to town on the tree. I love our time spent decorating the tree. We talk about years’ past, we admire the ornaments that we forgot about it since last year, we laugh, hysterically. We are completely immersed in the process and it is delightful. Jon always hunts down his favorite ornament to place strategically on the tree; Mario places all of his in one big clump; and Ri directs us all on where things should go.

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And there you have it. Our darling Christmas tree lighting up our abode. Later in the evening we realized we forgot to place the star on top of the tree. We looked through all of our boxes and finally found it. Mario begged to put it on and Ri agreed, as always. She got to take the picture and tape a video of it though so she was happy.

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Simple pleasures.

The elf brings magic

Ri and I walked into her classroom on Monday morning and all of the kids were in a circle screaming at one another about what their “elf on a shelf” did the night before.

“My elf’s a girl and she took clothes out of my brother’s drawers!”

“My elf swung from one side of the room to the other side with my dad’s rope!”

Maria stood outside of the circle with her mouth opened just enough to form a tiny candy square and her eyes fixated above the kids as if she was watching their words floating in the air. She shifted her piercing blue eyes onto me.

“Mom, why don’t we have an elf?”

By Tuesday we had one: Christmas Elfie, Snowy Snowbell. A girl. I didn’t run out and buy one because everyone else had one and I needed to keep up with the Jones’. I bought one because I saw the magic and wonder in Ri’s eyes when the kids were talking about the elf. She believed. After last year’s trauma with St. Nick where she refused to believe in him and broke me down to where I had to admit it was dad and me who filled her stockings, I would have bought a continent to have her believe.

When we all got home Tuesday night, I placed our elf on the mantle and yelped “Guys, did you see what’s on our mantle?” They ran in the living room and Ri screamed and immediately belted out commands to Mario.

“Don’t touch the elf; she will lose her magical powers! Don’t bother her! Write down what you want for Christmas and lay it next to her!”

He listened intently. I told them that one of their friends’ elves must have told Santa to send an elf our way. I described to them how this elf would watch over us all day and head back to the North Pole at night to deliver a report to Santa. Their eyes bulged out towards the window imagining the elf’s travels to the North Pole. They each wrote up a list of desires: Maria, a pup, American Girl doll, a Barbie; Mario, a scooter, tic tac toe game, and a laser. They set it by the elf and we all went in the family room to play.

A half hour later, Jon rushed into the room and gasped “the elf is gone!” The kids bolted into the living room and he was out of sight. The front door was ajar.

“He must have headed back to the North Pole and taken your lists!”

Mario burst through the front door and stood on the porch looking into the black sky. Pointing to the North Star, he proclaimed “I see the elf riding towards Santa’s home!” Ri stood next to him and gazed up at the crystal star.

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Jon moved the elf to the kitchen bookshelf that night and the next morning the kids ran downstairs screaming “the elf didn’t come back!” Jon explained that the elf may have landed somewhere else in the house upon his return from the North Pole. They opened a hall closet and found the green exercise ball shoved in it.

“Dad, the elf shoved your ball into the closet!”

Jon had shoved the ball in there on Thanksgiving to avoid someone tripping over it but he went with it. “Oh my! Where could that elf be?”

They finally found it in the kitchen. They did not touch it because they didn’t want it to lose its magic. They just yelled “We found Elfie! We found her! She’s back!”

Pure Magic.

Twice-baked goodness

We ended the four-day holiday with twice-baked potatoes; Jon’s and his brother, Chris’s favorite and one of Patty’s signature dishes. I am not a velveeta cheese fan and was hesitant to try one but I had put so much effort into helping Patty make them that I felt compelled. It was not a mistake. Pure yumminess.

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I need to buy some stock in Nike elastic sweatpants because that’s all I will be wearing for the next two months between all of the holiday goodies.

Maria and Mario called me from the road on their way back from the farm to see when Grandma and Grandpa Ionno would be over. They had a good time at the farm with Sarah and Jorge and Mama Meg and Peepaw. Maria got in a hike with Sarah and the pups and Mario got to go hunting with Peepaw.

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They also got treated to a holiday parade in Marietta. Peepaw piled ’em up in the car on Saturday and drove to Marietta to see what was happening; he had no idea that a parade was in order! Mario scored some plastic army men and a tank and Maria nabbed a ladybug pillow. Maria got to bathe Taz and love on him, too. Mandatory horse fixes when she’s out on that farm.

I got some monstrous hugs upon their return, which I soaked up like bubbles in a bubble bath. The farm (or maybe Aunt Sarah or Mama Meg) had quite the effect on Maria. She went upstairs without any prodding and took a shower, got dressed, and brought down both hers and Mario’s dirty clothes bins. She dragged them right over to the washer and threw them inside. She went back upstairs and got a hamper for the clean clothes in the dryer. All without any peep from me or Jon. Alleluia! She did ask for help with the detergent though and I walked over to get it down for her. She pointed at the Downy and said “I need that, too.” I told her she didn’t need to use that with detergent and she promptly channeled her dad directing me to get it. “We need both – Downy makes the clothes smell better.” I could practically hear Jon in her voice.

Grandma and Grandpa Ionno arrived at 2 pm and Mario promptly laid his body across Grandma and played his iPad game. When she tried to move, he cried “No, grandma!” Finally, she got to move but only to help Ri with her homework. Ri got lucky because Grandma is the master of word puzzles. They cranked the puzzle out with the help of Alana and me at the end. As soon as that was over, Ri and Alana dashed upstairs to Ri’s room never to be seen again until dinner. Mario and Gio watched tv in our room and then went outside to play frisbee and bounce on the trampoline. They referred to each other as “dude” continuously. I picture them on a cross country road trip in ten years with feet hanging out the window and music blaring.

We all watched the Browns game (Patrick was lucky the Bengals weren’t playing) and caught up on the latest. Chris and Connie arrived with pictures from their wedding. Dinner was fabulous with the twice baked potatoes quite the hit. Ri ate two and begged for a third. We talked about Jon and Patrick as kids – Patrick slapping his cheeks outside in order to stay awake on New Years Eve and win 50 cents. Jon had no trouble staying awake. It was a superb time especially with the kids eating in the other room.

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After dinner, the kids helped Alana and Grandma open birthday presents. Grandma scored an iPad for her birthday – I can’t wait to see her on Facebook! I am also going to urge her to write her and Joe’s story on it because it would be an amazing memoir.

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We had to end the holiday on a pumpkin pie note so we sat down at 7 pm for one (or two) last pieces of pie with lots of whipped cream. Maria showed us her “trick” which entails putting the tip of the can of whipped cream in her mouth and pressing down to fill her entire throat and mouth with whipped cream. About as impressive as her dad swallowing a whole deviled egg.

We sang happy birthday to Patty and Alana and wrapped up the night. I kept wanting to extend the days longer so that the reality of work and school could be quashed. But I woke up this morning (after falling asleep with the kids at 8:30) happy as a clam – my body filled with tenderness and appreciation for a most incredible family and a most fantastic holiday weekend.

Babes in the woods

Jon gave me an early Christmas present yesterday by taking the kids to Dover to see Big Mario and Vicki. I had 20 different ideas on how to spend my day – get a massage, go see a movie, go buy a pair of winter boots. But alas, after working on a project for a non-profit in the morning, I spent 5 hours in the yard raking leaves and planting baby fir in my planters. I loved every minute of it, though. The day was gorgeous with sunny skies and 50 degree weather. After the yard, I had about two hours before the family got home. I splurged on a Wendy’s burger and fries at the drive-thru and took off up north to Michael’s craft store to get some table decor for Thanksgiving. That store is addicting, I’ll tell ya. I have never had a desire to scrapbook but after leaving there, I think I could quit my job and go for it!

Meanwhile, Jon and his two hunters sat in a blind in the woods and waited to see a deer. Ri had been so upset earlier in the morning because Mario kept telling her that she didn’t know how to hunt. She gets her feelings hurt so quickly and bawled after Mario chided her. But Jon stepped in and consoled her and made her laugh as he always does and she had a great time.

Jon sent me this picture of M&M heading out to hunt and I swore it was a photo out of a militia magazine.

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They look mean… and ready to do some damage. But I know under that paint and camo, they are gentle babes. I should have gotten a picture of the babes when Jon pulled up at 9 pm. Zonked out like little angels in the backseat.

Gobbling up Fall

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I love birch trees in the Fall when their leaves have nearly all dropped off and their powerful cream branches shoot up to the sky as if proclaiming “Rejoice, Smile, Be Grateful!”

I also love a little tree on our street that produces the most vibrant red berries, which twist and wind off the dainty branches and twigs possumhaw maybe?). Mario and Ri climb up that little tree and enjoy sitting on the branches as I snap pictures below.

I could swallow up those Fall days with the sun beaming just enough warmth on us that the chill in the air simply serves to keep us alert and ready for new discoveries. We find maple and oak and even poplar leaves (or so we surmise while comparing them to the pictures in our leaf book). We gather acorns. Mario performs a jig for us and we laugh so hard we fall to the grass.

Later, Mario informs us that Nukie, his imaginary friend, died today. He leads us over to the dirt by the trash cans and shows us the grave he built for him. It couldn’t have been more spectacular.

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We stood in reverence to sweet Nukie for a few moments, and then began playing again. After a couple of minutes, Mario stopped Ri and I as we gathered leaves.

“Nukie is alive. He is playing over there. He just wanted to trick us!”

We wiped our brows thankful that Nukie was back with us. I asked Mario what he’d do with the grave. He told me we’d leave it there in case we ever needed it. Made complete sense. He understands at age 5 that life in all forms is fleeting, and hence all the more reason to gobble it up in the moment.

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Wonder Woman Saves the Week

This week felt like it lasted 30 days. My birthday on Monday created momentum for a perfect week but Tuesday quashed that momentum ten-fold. Work was intense and maddening with a score of phone calls every hour and fire-alarm situations. I didn’t get to vote in the morning so I was stressed all day about getting to the polls. I had this burning sensation that I would not get my vote casted in time and then NBC news would announce “Obama lost Ohio by one vote” and I’d be scarred for life.

Chalk another win up for women’s intuition. When I made it to the polls at 5:30 pm, I was excited to see only two people in line. The guy ahead of me shuffled back and forth and mumbled something to the poll worker. The worker shook his head sadly and stated “if your license is expired, you need a bank statement or utility bill.” I thought “what an idiot. How can you not check on your license before this big election?!”

And then I panicked. Hard. My birthday was November 5 – one day before the election. I was sure it had not expired this year – that would be crazy and unfair. I, not that guy in front of me, was extremely busy raising kids, working, volunteering, helping out Democrats, for goodness sake! If my license had expired, it should magically re-set to an expiration date of 2016 because that was only right.

I pulled out my license and there it was staring at me: Exp:2012. You got to be kidding me. I showed it to the worker just in case he thought it was still November 5 but I lost that one. I darted home to find a bank statement. I rummaged through garbage. I ripped out drawers. Nothing. Damn electronic banking.

Then my sitter saved me. “Fifth Third is open until 6:00 tonight”, he said matter-of-factly. Now that is cooperation and maturity. I believe him to be a Romney supporter yet he still coughed up those words that would allow me to possibly get in my vote. I high-fived him and the kids and sped to the bank. No line and a bank statement in three minutes. Thank the Lord. I got my vote in by 6:15 and all was good. But I crashed and burned when I got home from the furor of the day. Ri broke down a few hours later when we turned on the news to see the election status and I read from the tv “Romney 51% and Obama 49%.”

“My world won’t be safe, mom. Our world will never be the same if Obama loses.” Genuine fear and concern poured out of my bleeding heart liberal girl. I tried to clam her down but she sniffled herself to sleep.

She woke up at 6:15 begging to turn on the tv. She was ecstatic when she learned that Obama won. When Mario realized it was over and Obama prevailed, he switched sides and yelled “Yeah, Obama!” He is a fair-weathered fan making sure he always sides with the victor.

Jon had left for Illinois on Tuesday and caught that nasty flu going around. He got holed up in a hotel for two days and made it home Thursday with barely enough energy to make it up the stairs. Poor thing. I was going nuts by Friday morning and the kids could sense I needed an early morning run. We bundled up and Ri rode her bike while I strolled Mario. It was a glorious break from the car and the indoors where I had found myself all week.

Then, Mario dropped my iPad and it shattered. This week was not gonna give me a break.

I decided I needed to put my mind elsewhere and not go off on Mario; after all, I let him walk with it unprotected so I assumed some risk…. I went in the dining room and leafed through the mail. I had a little package from my sis! I had assumed it was for Jon as most packages are that come to our house. I ripped it open needing some type of sisterly goodness to get me in a better mood. And she did not disappoint.

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Again, women’s intuition. Sar knew just what I needed with that magnet espousing power (then again, it’s a pretty sure-bet that after working, raising two kids, staying active, and volunteering all week such a magnet would be a boost for any mama).

The card’s words from Walt Whitman comforted me. I felt Sarah giving me a big Menkedick sister hug as I read Walt’s words and Sarah’s words in it. And then she topped the gift off with a photocopy of Ms. Magazine’s current issue cover. Yes, it’s Wonder Woman for all my 70’s gals who grew up watching. She got a subscription to Ms. magazine for me. I love it.

I took a step back from the table and looked at the pictures Sarah also sent of the kids and Jon at the farm. Jorge’s eye captured the kids’ joy and Jon’s manliness! I brushed my finger over them and smiled… wide and long.

Birthday No. 41

I opened the front door and Maria dashed down the stairs and chirped “Happy Birthday!” I heard a wail from the top of the stairs. Mario mourned at the failure to wish me a happy birthday first. He showed his anger by yelling “you are the worst sister and mom ever!” And so began my 41st birthday.

Jon had a “shape it up” talk with the kids, and after 10 minutes, they arrived in our bedroom bearing cards and gifts. Maria showed me her cards first. I had told her that all I wanted for my birthday was a poem and a cool picture. I knew I was asking a lot because Ri is not a big gan of drawing unless it’s pictures of glamorous girls. I try to get her to sit down and make something but it’s always a fight. So, I wasn’t expecting anything too elaborate, if anything at all. But she came through with a quirky poem and even a picture for me. Mario drew his signature multi-colored blocks picture that I always admire and a stick figure of himself. Precious.

They also grabbed a few items from the basement to give as presents truly believing that I had never seen them before. Maria grabbed the framed baby pictures of her and Mario. Mario gave me a book I bought a long time ago at the used book store and never read titled “An Unknown Woman.” Perfect for turning 41.

I hugged them both with mad intensity and thanked them for being so generous. As we made our way downstairs, Ri looked back at me with an excited look on her face. “Are you taking off work today, mom?” I answered “I wish.” She started to pout. “I wanted to stay home with you today, mom.” And she pouted the entire way to school refusing to kiss me goodbye when she left the car.

It feels wrong and inequitable that a seven year old’s attitude can have such a negative impact on an adult. I got ready for work thinking ” It’s my fricken’ birthday and I have this attitude all around me?” Really?!

I tend to idealize how events will turn out and 95% of the time, that leads to disappointment. So I have been trying to be conscious of that habit and avoid it.

However, that habit had reared it’s ugly head on my morning run and as I stepped into our house, I framed a perfect scene with my kids and hubby greeting me at the door holding elaborate cards and smothering me with kisses. Then they’d sing happy birthday and tell me how I am the greatest mom and wife on Earth.

Seriously?! What mom has ever experienced such an event? Pretty sure not even June Cleaver.

I took a deep breath as I pulled my bike up to the front entrance of my work. I looked around me. The sun was finally out. I had gotten to bike to work. Jon was taking me out in the evening. The kids had been sweet in the morning and only hot excited because they wanted to spend MORE time with me. Really, life was pretty good.

When I walked in my office, a bright pink and black package sat on my desk with a card. All of my colleagues had signed the card and I discovered an assortment of fine chocolates in the package. Always a good way to start a day.

My busy day received welcome interruptions from distant friends and relatives sending messages and close friends and family calling.

My sister left me the most hilarious message singing “Happy Birthday To Freak” on my voice mail (it’s a Menkedick tradition to call each other “freaks.”). My mom left me a “you are still young” message reiterating how active and vibrant I remained at the ripe old age of 41. My dad and Meg left separate messages sending their love. My mother-in-law called me with good news about her heart tests and wished me a great day. My brother met out with me for a coffee and a brisk Fall walk. I received a lovely card from Jon’s brother and family. I felt immensely loved, and that’s a darn tootin’ good feeling.

After work, I received my ultimate present – Perkins Pancake House! But before we could head out, Mario pounded out some fine pieces of craftsmanship for me. He has learned quite the hand-eye coordination to hammer nails. I kept cringing as he hammered the nails into the wood but he made it through with no bloody fingers.

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When we walked into Perkins, a torrent of memories flooded my brain. The muffin case, the kitchen, the booths. I waitressed at Perkins (as did many of my Heile aunts) for six years through high school and college. Waitressing at Perkins left an indelible mark on my speech – I still call people “hunny” and “dear.”. That’s all good and fine when it’s Jon or the kids but when it’s my boss, it’s not cool. I met a lot of struggling, flawed, surviving-on-a-shoestring folks working at Perkins and they taught me a heck of a lot about life. hard work, laughter, compassion, friendship to name a few. I wish I could find Annie, the bucktoothed mama of five who rode three buses to get to her morning shift at 5:30 am. Or Jessie, the black patch wearing night shift manager who carried a billy club by his side all evening. I never felt scared with him around. These folks were my extended family and I loved them dearly.

Perkins not only formed my speech but also my taste buds. I fell in love with Perkins’ food, especially the pancakes. They have a buttery lightness to them that I have not found anywhere else.

I could barely contain my excitement at work; I bragged about heading to Perkins at every meeting. People laughed thinking I was kidding. They need to make a trip and they will be converted. The men were jealous of Jon wishing their wives were as cheap of a date as me. I’d pick Perkins over Hyde Park any day.

And dang if the food didn’t taste just as good as I had imagined – absolutely delicious. I savored every last bite while the kids and Jon found immense pleasure in my giddiness. If I ever lose my job, I am heading back to Perkins.

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I felt so incredibly happy when I walked out of Perkins. The kids might as well had stars swooning their bodies and Jon a halo over his head – they were my angels and had absolutely made my night by feeding me pancakes and providing me the best of company.

And asif it couldn’t get any better, it did! We picked up a Giant Eagle sheet cake and ice cream. Yes, I ate a huge piece of cake with ice cream within one hour of demolishing pancakes. What are birthdays for?

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Mario sang happy birthday to me for the third time that night and Ri videotaped it (she is going to be a videographer at some point in her future). Jon wrote me a sweet card and I scored free massages and a gift certificate to FrontRunner. Nothing better.

At the end of the evening, I laid in bed staring at the muted light streaming through our blinds. I thought about the angst of my 20’s – trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to be. My 30’s – feeding my ego, graduating law school, working in the white tower firm, marrying my man, and having two babies. And then my 40’s – starting the decade off with my girlfriends in Italy. How apropos to start my 40’s, I thought.

I think these next few years will be for me to enjoy myself – travel, take long runs, eat good food (Perkins!), watch a movie in an actual theatre, meet up with friends, read enthralling books with M&M, connect more with my siblings, get lost in Jon. Enjoy all I have accomplished and endured these last 41 years, and give myself a little break. Laugh a little more. Do something spontaneous. Be silly and wild. Dig into nature. Watch an Oscar-nominated movie. Celebrate who I am and who I love and feel comfortable in my own skin.

Ahh, nice.

Love no matter what

My sis recommended a heart-warming blog titled “Star in Her Eye” narrated by a mother, Heather Kirnlanier whose baby girl has a genetic disorder, Wolf-Hirschhorn Syndrome.  It is serendipitous timing as I just began the book “Expecting Adam” by Martha Beck about a mother raising a baby boy with Down Syndrome.  Both writings challenge the cultural view towards special needs children and reinforce a mother’s love for her child no matter what the ailments. 

One of Kirnlanier’s blog entries describes a time prior to conceiving her child when a friend of hers told her that an acquaintance had given birth to a baby with Down Syndrome.  She expressed her condolences to the friend and they both gossiped about how hard it would be to have such a child.  She cringes at the thought of talking and feeling that way now that she has her own special needs child.  She acknowledges that surely there are medical difficulties with a special needs child – quite profound ones possibly – but she challenges our thinking that such difficulties should inhibit us from moving forward with rearing such a child. 

How many of us have said “My babies are growing up too fast?”  Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a child that develops just a little more slowly so that you have more time to “smell the roses, to see in all its minutiae the subtle learnings of a little girl?”  How many of us spend an inordinate amount of time raising children only to feel an immense pain when they leave the nest?  A special needs child likely requires care throughout her life; how wonderful to have a lifetime with your little babe.  Change your thinking and change your world. 

I remember watching a mom and her son with Down Syndrome walk into Maria’s kindergarten class a few years ago.  My immediate thought was “what a woman she is; that has got to be hard.”  After getting to know the mom and hearing Maria talk about class-time with her son, I began to get a small glimpse into this “hard” life I imagined for mom and son.  Sure, the mom had her days when she was ready to wring her son’s neck because he would not eat his breakfast before school or he refused to take off his coat when they got into the classroom.  How many days was I ready to scream at the top of my lungs because Maria took forever to get dressed?  How many mornings did I walk away irritated with her because of her snippy attitude?  But this mom also had precious moments with her son – riding their tandem bikes around town; picnics at the park; long, thoughtful discussions about why flowers bloomed in the Spring; and hard laughter when the mom sang her son a certain song. He brought her more joy than she could have ever imagined before he entered her life and that is all that mattered. 

We have a cultural bias towards everything perfect – “perfect” being size 2 bodies, no grey hair, wrinkle-free…and able-bodied.  “Ableists” as Kirnlanier points out by way of Wikipedia, believe that a disability or imperfection is a mistake or failing rather than a simple stamp of human diversity.  It takes people like Kirnlanier and Beck to reverse this type of thinking.  Hearing their stories drives open your mind and strips away any inherent cultural bias in you.  How could it not?  These kids are just like mine and my friends – they enjoy watching bubbles float in the air, smelling flowers, laughing at their silly parents, listening to music, and feeling immense love from their mamas.

Here come the O-O-Overbecks

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Two out of the four Overbeck kids arrived at our house on Sunday morning at 2 am. Laura and Cy tip-toed up the stairs to Mario’s room and fell asleep. Mario and Gio wanted to wake them up so badly at 7:30 am but I kept them away by promising them donuts and sprints at the track (sounds just like a Big Mac and a diet coke).

When we returned full of yeast and sugar and lactic acid, Laura was awake and watching football with Jon. Cy was still snoozing (17 year old boy for ya). When Cy finally woke up, Mario and Gio descended on him like flies on fruit. They jumped on him and wrestled him and dragged him to the basement to play Lego’s. He obeyed their every command and helped erect some sweet Lego structures.

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We had to feed the 6’7″ cuz eventually so we headed to Skyline for some Cincy chili. Maria told Laura scary stories she heard at her party in Marion and Laura diligently listened to all of them. Mario told Cy about his football games (“we always win except one time we tied and the whole team was sad”). We chowed down at Skyline eating coney dogs and three-ways and mounds of oyster crackers. And we all could have went home and slept for four hours – that is, the adults could have. M&M were pumped to have their cousins around and clung to them like koalas to eucalyptus.

Laura took Maria to Target and Loews to buy cork board and supplies for a necklace holder. Cy stayed back with us and played hours of basketball with Mario. Only a high school basketball player could endure shooting hundreds of times with a five-year old. Mario loved having Cy watch his every move, and Cy treated him like a little brother. It was very sweet.

Laura and Ri brought both supplies and another Overbeck, Robert back to the house (the last Overbeck kid, Emily, is in Colorado and couldn’t fly back for the fun!). Mario got Cy and Robert to pal around with? What a day for the little man!

Maria got her Laura time – spray painting her cork board pink and preparing to liven up her room. Thank god for Laura and her crafting skill because I have none of it (check out her blog!). An hour later, Ri led me, eyes closed, to her room to check out the new necklace holder. What a kick-butt, bright pink, functional wall decoration. Laura rocks it out again.

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After all that madness, the Skyline finally set in. Everyone got in relaxed mode (even M&M!) and settled down while Jon and I cooked dinner (yes, miracles do happen). Jon and I cracked up when we glanced into the living room only to see these high school macho boys watching the “Bodyguard” movie with Whitney Houston. They were all into it.

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And just when our stomachs finally felt at peace, we were ready to eat again! Jon made soup with meat, spinach, onions and beans (we still need a name for it) and I made corn bread and scalloped potatoes. Jon kept pushing me to try the soup and when I finally did, he asked “do you like the meat?” I knew this was a different kind of meat at that point and just hoped it wasn’t squirrel.

But no, it was elk and it tasted good. Listen, my man doesn’t go to the grocery to buy meat; he goes out and hunts it down! Jon shot this elk last year in Colorado and we are still trying to eat up all the meat.

Maria did not have the same reaction. She put down her spoon after Jon’s declaration and stuck with the potatoes and bread (and lots of it!). Mario tried the elk and ate two pieces (a lot for him). He also battled the boys while they teased him about eating his food (any thing to try to get that boy to eat).

After dinner, we engaged in some pick up basketball. The boys laughed hysterically at the PIG game that Jon and I played. It was a pathetic sight, especially to two b-ball players. Laura couldn’t help but feel sorry for us.

The fun had to eventually end with school and work in the horizon, and so it did at 6:30 when the Overbecks plopped in their car and drove off. “That was fun, mom,” Maria said as she jumped in my arms. Yes, it was. Those Overbecks know how to bring it!