Mario’s play debut

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Mario starred in his first play tonight along with the rest of his preschool class….

Mario waiting for his cue from Ms. Ashley

It’s preschool so no one is supposed to stand out but I must be the bragging mom and state that Mario scored a few one-liners and sang in front of the audience without batting an eye.  He is definitely a show boat.  Every year, Mario’s school holds a fall festival where they bring in a petting zoo, bouncy house, tumbling, etc.  This year, they decided that each preschool room would do a 15 minute play.  Mario’s room decided to do a play about the book Abiyoyo.  A wonderful South African folk tale about a little boy and his father and a giant monster.  Mario loves the book and used to always come home singing “Abiyoyo Abiyoyo.”  Mario’s teacher, Mr. Park, painted their faces and draped them in tissue paper and brown paper grocery bags.  The kids were so excited.  Mario took me to see the “production” room where they would rehearse (he also knew the brownies were in that room).  He adjusted his tissue paper around his arms a hundred times and looked at his eye mask ten times in the mirror (he is not vain at all!). 

Then the time came.  The kids all trotted out while the parents sat on little benches waiting to see their little babes perform.  We all had our video cameras rolling and our phone cameras clicking.  Ms. Ashley read the story while the kids acted it out.  It all went fairly smoothly for the first five minutes but then there was a scene where a huge paper boulder had to be picked up by Abiyoyo.  Abiyoyo (two kids sharing a costume) threw it and it hit another kid.  That kid threw it at another kid and so on and so forth.  It was hard to get much control after that.  I was surprised by Mario, however, who would usually get in on any type of throwing, kicking, violent action possible.  He just stood by Ms. Ashley reading the book and adding his two cents whenever he felt the need.  At the end, he sang “Abiyoyo” “to the crowd of parents and took a giant bow.  What a character.  He definitely has a personality on him. 

Mario and his buddy being goofy

I am glad we stayed for the evening.  Ever since Maria started at Grandview schools, we have been barely involved with Mario’s daycare.  It used to be our everything when Maria and then Maria and Mario were there.  We knew all the teachers, knew all of the schedules, brought in goodies.  Now we are lucky to remember all of Mario’s teachers.  Tonight reminded me of how grateful I am for Mario’s school teachers and administrators.  They are a fun and smart group of people who genuinely care about the kids.  However, I do wish they’d ask before they cover Mario’s face in black face paint!

Barbie’s got tattoos – now everything’s ok?

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I mean, seriously. We are going to commend Mattel for coming out with a new Barbie that still wears a size 0 and sports a  size D bust but now has some – whoa, hold your britches – tattoos and funky pink hair?! The writer in Barbie Gets a Tattoo Makeover certainly thinks it is better than the barbie fashionista blond, blue-eyed model but I think she loses sight of the forest among the trees. 

Maria receiving a christmas barbie in 2010

Little girls get these barbies when they are in the prime of development.  Barbie’s size 0 body and D chest provide an ideal for these girls helping to lead to all sorts of body image issues, eating disorders, low self-esteem.  I am not saying that Barbie is the only toy out there creating this image for young girls – we can look anywhere from magazines to princesses to billboards to rock stars – and find that ideal shining through.  I just don’t understand why it’s so hard to provide girls (and boys) with “barbies” that look like us?  How about the sporty mother of two running from her 9-5 job to get her kids off to 5:30 gymnastics class?  Or the mom lawyer dressed in her corporate attire and briefcase heading off to a speech about helping others in need? Or the stay-at-home mom with her sweats and t-shirt and art pallette teaching her kids how to paint?  So many “real” world mom examples to choose from yet we choose to maintain our size 0 barbie and simply doll her up with some tattoos and pink hair?  Really? 

When I was little I had one “barbie.”  It was technically not a barbie but a “Dusty” doll.  She had a plain, bob-cut hair style (sandy brown hair), no breasts, thick muscular legs and shoulders, a cowboy hat, a pair of riding pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and she rode a horse.  She didn’t need to be a size 0 and have big breasts to have a good time.  She had a genuine smile on her face and her lips were your typical pale red lips.  She rode her horse, played soccer, ate pies, kicked around on the farm and had a blast while her friend Barbie smiled with her bright pink manicured lips, went to her 8 hour modeling shot, and talked about her newest clothes.  No wonder I grew up wearing sweats and playing sports and hating the thought of shopping at a mall. 

Mario and his toy cowboy gun

I have to admit that I have bought barbies for Maria (however, they are always the ones that are in some type of profession like a vet, doctor or teacher) and she has gotten many of them as gifts.  I could forbid them but I feel that outlawing them may just make it worse.  It’s similar with Mario’s toy guns – I could forbid them in the house but he will find them at his friend’s house and we will long for them more.  Maybe that is just an excuse I come up with because I don’t want to fight the battle?  Maybe… but I don’t think so.  I think that they are bound to pick these things up and bound to get these from friends and relatives.  They are ubiquitous toys.  And why not be the one that sees them with the toys and educates them on the good and the bad about them?  I would rather do that then have Mario silently trying out a gun in his friend’s basement without knowing its consequences and hurting someone or Maria idealizing her friends’ barbies when she is at their houses and inflating Barbie’s image even more than if she owned one herself.   

I take every chance I get to temper these “hot button” toys by explaining to Mario the harm that guns can do to people and explaining to Maria that being a size 0 and D cup is not the ideal to pursue in life, and I think they get it.  Mario knows guns can kill people and he routinely informs Jon and I that guns should only be used to kill turkeys (Jon and Peepaw’s turkey hunting days).  Maria knows that life is not just about being “pretty” but rather is about having fun with your friends, making people laugh, being smart, and being nice (although there are the days that I catch her in my heels standing in front of the mirror putting on lipstick). 

I think we should just bring back the Dusty doll and get girls idealizing a more realistic doll and one that knows how to dig her heels in and have a good time.  Besides, she certainly never would have dreamt of a boyfriend over her horse!

Hoping we don’t mess ’em up

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I loved reading Michelle Obama’s quote from an Interview with Michelle Obama on Today.com:  “Like any mother, I’m just hoping I don’t mess them up.” 

Ain’t it the truth, ladies?!  And isn’t it so refreshing to hear a bit of reality out of the mouth of the first lady of the United State of America?  I commend Obama for speaking her true concerns about parenting and not trying to sugar coat the process with a boiler plate feel-good response.  Women need to feel comfortable expressing their challenges with raising children, and having other women, albeit powerful women, express similar feelings is a godsend.  “Oh, it’s not just me trying to juggle work and marriage and outside activities with the kids’ homework and kids’ mom time and kids’ talk time?”  Alleluia! How many days have I spent sitting in front of my computer at work wondering whether Mario was going to have co-dependency issues because I left him at daycare at three months old?  How many days did I have to take a walk around my building in order to shed some tears because I felt so guilty for not staying home with my kids?  How many hours did I spend awake at night wondering what else I could be doing or learning so that my kids would learn more?  Too many.  

But I have gotten a lot better over the years with being aware when I am heading down a dead-end path of guilt and berating for choices I made.  I stop.  STOP.  Stop as soon as I can and tell myself that my kids are happy and laugh constantly and draw wonderful pictures and enjoy books and care about others and hug me all the time.  

I enjoy my time at work.  There are days I don’t like my job but in the end, I want to keep up my law practice, retain my connections in the legal community, have the opportunity for lunch with my colleagues, and advance myself in the public speaking realm.  Maria and Mario will grow up in a flash and have their own lives so why should I put my career on hold for 18 years and then have to start all over? If there was a definitive study out there that showed that working outside of the home destroyed a child, I would undoubtedly give it all up in a heartbeat.  But there is no such study out there and in the end, I have faith that providing constant love and support and encouragement to my children will foster independence, curiosity, self-assurance, and confidence as they continue to mature. 

And besides, I know no matter if I stayed home with them or had a job outside of the house, I would still always hope that I was not messing them up too much.   That concern is any mother’s burden to bear.  But in the end, it may not be such a bad one.  It reminds me to stay aware of my actions, continue to grow and learn, and stay connected to my fellow mamas.  Kudos to Michelle Obama for reminding all of us moms that being a mom is tough and it’s ok to have our doubts but in the end, we need to be true to ourselves and have faith that we are doing the best we can for our little munchball, pumpkin seed, babycakes.

Costume shopping and pet store browsing

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We hit the Halloween costume shop last Wednesday night but only after stepping into Petland to greet the hamsters and puppies and kitties.  The kids have been begging to go to Petland for a month.  It is like a petting zoo because the animals are kept in cages that are easily accessible to children.  Maria can open the kitten cage and hold any kitten she desires and Mario can stand on a step-ladder and “play” with the hamsters (poor hamsters may not consider it “play!”).  

Maria steered right for the kittens as she always does.  There were not many in the cage and the one she picked up was not enjoying being held.  So, she headed to the puppies.  She immediately noticed a white Eskimo puppy and asked to hold him.  The puppy snuggled up against Maria’s mid-section like Maria was his mama, and only lifted his head when someone spoke to Maria as if to tell the person to bug off.  I am a sucker for kids with baby animals and I wanted to purchase the darling pup at that moment.  If raising a puppy was as easy as feeding him and snuggling with him, he’d be with us now.  But I remember those nights of getting up at 2 am, 4 am, 6 am to let the pup out.  Hearing the pup cry at night.  Picking up the “accidents” on the floor.  I think I’d be asking for a nervous breakdown if I took that challenge on at this point.  Of course, the only thing in Maria’s mind is holding and playing with the sweet little pup.  She wanted him so badly and was promising to do every chore possible to have him.  She cried big heavy tears when I told her that we could not buy him (he was also $1590 – holy smokes!).  She eventually released the puppy after giving him a big kiss and was completely heartbroken.  Mario discoed on the sidewalk and made funny faces to try to cheer her up.  Nothing worked, that is, until we got into the Halloween store and she began to look at all of the costumes.  Then the Eskimo pup fell to the wayside. 

As Mario and I reviewed all of the boy costumes, Maria went to the end of the wall where the women costumes were posted.  She yelled “Mom, what about this one?”  I walked over and she pointed out a “candy striper (stripper)” outfit that might as well had been a non-existent costume – how two tiny pieces of material could be $29.99 is beyond me.  The next one she wanted was a “hot goth” outfit that had spiked black heels and a sparkling black bikini top.  I had to move her over to the girls’ costumes and with one look at them she sighed “these are the only ones?”   After much review, she chose a Spanish princess outfit (that was pretty racy for a 6-year-old with an off-the-shoulder design) and a spider princess dress that I knew would be too long for her.  The Spanish dress was adorable but way too sexy for a six-year old girl.  I took her back to the drawing board and found a 70’s groovy girl outfit with the peace sign and a head sash.  Surprisingly, she loved it (the girl loves the peace sign and even tattooed it on her neck a month ago).  She looked adorable in it and decided that was the outfit for her (especially when I told her that her aunts and grandmas would think it was so groovy!). 

Mario chose a Wolverine outfit.  I asked if he wanted to try a ninja or a power ranger outfit but he was set on the Wolverine.  It took him 15 minutes to get the legs situated on the costume – he rolled them up ten times).  He had to get his mask absolutely perfect before he moved down the aisle to the checkout line.  When he had finally situated the outfit perfectly, he asked for the claws.  He carefully put them on and looked up at me with a disappointed look.  “Mom, they are not even real. I want real claws.”   Maria jumped in and counseled him about what a costume was and the fact tha Wolverine’s claws were going to be fake because you could not wear real claws of a Wolverine.  Then she looked at me and whispered “Should I tell Mario that the Wolverine is just a character and not a real thing?”  I think the days of Santa and the Easter Bunny are over at age 6. Ugh. 

Mario sans the eye patch

We headed home with our costumes and a piece of candy for each of us (Mario and I with snickers and Maria with a piece of gum.  Within an hour of getting home, Mario wanted to a different costume.  I explained to him that he chose the Wolverine and we could not return it for a new one.  He did his latest trick which is covering his ears and chanting “I’m not listening.”  Maria again chimed in with an astute observation “Mario, you only want, want, want” (may be the pot calling the kettle black, a bit).   

When we woke in the morning the first thing out of Mario’s mouth was “Mom, can I please be a ninja for Halloween.” I told him I would think about it and he gave me a huge squeeze with an “I love you so much, Mom!”  So then the question became should I make him live with the Wolverine costume since I told him that he had one to choose from at the Halloween store and he chose it or should I allow him to pick another and return his Wolverine one?  I have got one group of friends that would definitely tell him “no” and make him live with his purchase.  Their reasoning is that you told him what the consequences would be at the store (“choose a costume and that is what you are wearing”) so you should stick with it.  My other group of friends would return the Wolverine and get him the ninja.  Their reasoning would be that he is 4 years old, he is bound to change his mind and what is the harm with making another trip?  I tend to default to that group’s thinking and found myself at Target the next day getting him a ninja costume.  We still have the Wolverine at home, too, since the Halloween store is farther away.  Of course, when we put on the ninja costume it looked ridiculous because it was a size 4T and Mario is barely in a 3T.  It drooped everywhere on him and he was pissed off!  He tugged and grabbed and pulled on the costume but nothing worked.  He fell to the floor in sheer disgust and cried and cried.  “It doesn’t fit me, Mom.  I look dumb!”  As a woman who has stood in a dressing room and had the same meltdown, I felt for him.  “Can I get a pirate costume?” he plead from the floor.  “Of course” I immediately replied.  I had wanted him to be a pirate all along because of the eye patch and the sash.  I did return the ninja costume before I got the pirate one, and  

All fit perfectly.

Tuscany for Five

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Out for our first trip in Tuscany

The girls and I finally arrived in Tuscany two Saturday mornings ago at 10 am local time (4 am Ohio time) after an 11 hour flight from New York (we got delayed close to 2 hours on the runway and then poor Kathy had to sit in an Exit row weat because I had elected one not realizing the seats don’t recline back and we would be directly across from the lavatories!).  The plane trip only produced a bit of turbulence but I still popped a Sominex to pass out and avoid my fear of flying and my claustrophobia. 

We rocked it out after the flight – had no problem getting our bags and booking our rental car and within an hour or so we were out in the Italian sun.  Ericka, our travel agent (literally and figuratively), drove us out of the rental car agency with such style that the Italians driving past us had no clue that we were Americans (until a motorcycle rider zoomed past us and scared us all half to death) – Excellente!  We stopped at a restaurant on the way to the villa where a short, gregarious old Italian man greeted us and escorted us to a table cloaked with a white tablecloth and tiny vases of flowers and pictures of Italian countryside surrounding it.  He spoke Italian so quickly that we all took a step back and looked like deer in the headlights.  He then took a breath and said the all too famous Italian word “Vino?”  We understood that and ordered some red.  He brought it out to us and we quickly poured it into our glasses only realizing after the fact we had poured it into our water glasses.  We saw him chuckle on the side.  We drank our wine, ate our brushetta with the most amazing olive oil of all time, and enjoyed our chicken and grilled peppers and pasta.  We dragged ourselves from our chairs and back to the car for the final lag of our drive.

We got to the villa after two hours of winding roads and speedy drivers and it could not have been more worth it.  Absolutely amazing.  We got swept away upon stepping out of the car with the stone walls and the ivy and the grape vines and the potted herbs.  Jude and Richard, the Villa Cappella owners, came outside to greet us with their little pup, Luna.  They talked with us about the villa’s renovation from a pig sty and horse stables to this charming villa with a patio and portico and every type of tree: hazelnut, chestnut, fig, persimmon, and walnut.  They poured us our first (but not last) glass of Prosecco and offered us bread sticks.  We toasted to an exhilarating week in Italy.  And so it began…

A view of the fields outside of the villa

Jude showed us around the house and had to find joy in our gasping and cooing in each new room we saw.  The villa housed all sorts of African artifacts, Tuscan pottery and tiles, Canadian artwork, Roman statutes and fresh flowers.  The downstairs had a room with a king sized bed that Ericka took.  It also had a room with two twin beds that Jill got.  The upstairs had a room with two twins in it that Lisa and I shared and a room with a king that Kath got.  All of the rooms had fresh flowers and a window with a heavy wood door that, when opened, allowed the flood of Tuscan light to enter.  The smells could have been bottled up and sold back home for a pretty penny.

We got situated and relaxed in the kitchen with fresh grapes, bread sticks, juicy tomatoes, and cheese.  The next morning we took off for the Mediterranean sea – Lisa drove us and used the stick shift with sheer perfection.  We went to a beach off the beaten path in Tonga and felt right at home as we laid down our towels and bathed in the sun.  I found some killer rocks and shells in

The Sea

the glass-like sea.  The Mediterranean sand was black and smooth and the water was chilled but not freezing (a nice change from the Cancun rocky beach that Jon and I head to every year although I did miss the big Cancun waves).  I even got my girlfriends to do O-H-I-O for Ohio State (which is a feat for three Cincinnati girls who love X and UC).  After the beach, we hit Argenterio, a small marina town, for shrimp and rice and red wine.  We shopped around the town and I scored two big superballs – one with a skull and one multi-colored – perfect for my two munchballs!  I loved this town because it had superball machines rather than gumball machines everywhere you turned – it took me back to my childhood at IGA. 

Siena

On Monday we went to Siena to take in the magnificent Duomo and view the breath-taking scene from the top of the building.  We enjoyed wine and potato chips (yes, potato chips!) outside of the Duomo and stared at each other in awe of the fact that we were sitting in such a cafe sans kids, work and hubbies.  What a feat.  We started our ride back home rather late and by the time we hit the exit for our dinner spot it was dark and hard to find.  But, as we found throughout the trip, Obama’s presidential campaign quote fit us well – Yes We Can!  We found our restaurant and settled in for wine, bread, pork chops, vegetables dripping in olive oil and ricotta cheese and chocolate sauce for dessert.  We got home at 10:30 pm (Jude is still amazed that we stayed out past dark nearly every night) and downloaded lots of pictures. 

On Tuesday, we got up early (8 am is early on this vacation!) to head to the weekly fish market in town.  We ordered a cappuccino at the coffee “bar” and croissants and watched MTV videos on the tv.  We purchased our fish (salmon (which was not even for sale but the butcher must have known Americans liked salmon because she brought it out when we walked in), whitefish, and calamari).  We also bought some veggies (eggplant, zucchini, peppers and onions) and we headed back home with our dinner for the evening.  I went for a good run up the gravel road next to us.  It led to a bed and breakfast that had to house hunters as we heard their hunting dogs every night.   We left for Torre Alfina when I returned and Kath, Lisa and I hiked through a volcanic forest.  We got lost more times than we would have desired but we plugged our way through and made it out (Yes, We Can!).  There were a few times when we felt like we knew where we were and we’d take pictures and laugh and then ten minutes later we’d feel lost and it would grow silent again.   We treated ourselves to huge gelatos after the hike (choccolata and fragas for me) and rested at one of the best gelato shoppes in Tuscany.  Jill and E met up with us at the shoppe.  Gelato was our true addiction on this trip. 

The magical forest

After the hike, we headed back home to grill out our fish and veggies.  Jill did a kick-ass job cooking the fish and my other girls helped me cook the risotto and onions and tomatoes (I have a new-found desire to cook once back home)!  We ate on the patio with the flourescent moon shining down on us and the crickets serenading us.  After drinking glasses of wine and stuffing our bellies full of sea life, we topped the night off with the movie “Knocked Up” in our pjs on the couch. 

It felt like my head just hit the pillow when Jill came in at 6:15 am to wake us up for the train to Florence on Wednesday.  We dragged ourselves out of our comfy Tuscan beds and out the door to the car and to the train station in Orvieto.  Jill and I got a cappuccino (“Un cappuccino, gracie”) and a chocolate croissant (yum!) for the trip.  Two and a half hours later we arrived in Florence amidst a throng of tourists.  Of course, four days into our trip and having traveled throughout Tuscany and met many native Italians, we did not feel like tourists any longer so they were quite annoying to us.  A man from Utah approached us and asked if he could join our group – we ditched him after ten minutes.  A group of women from Denver asked us how to get to the Academy (we told them and they did not believe us –

Florence

too bad for them because we were right).  But we continued to stay in our small group of three traversing the streets easily locating magnificent and gorgeous sights (Neptune, Duomo, plazas, the statute of David, Bonacelli marble statutes).  We stopped at an outside cafe for pizza and pasta (pasta with white sauce and peas and mushrooms and pasta with red sauce and cheeses) that took us to another world – it was fabulous.  We ate on the piazza and watched all of the people pass by and commented on the statutes looking down at us.  Horse-drawn carriages passed by us.  We ended the day with gelato as we walked back to the train station.  You rarely see anyone sitting down eating their gelato – everyone walks through the streets with their cones, licking and looking at the sights, giving both their taste buds a wonderful experience as well as their eyes.

Views driving to Monticino

On Thursday, we all hopped in the car to Penzia to try out their world-famous pecorino cheese.  Can any food in this country be bad?  The cheese melted onto the bread and was like candy with blackberry jam on it.  We also enjoyed wild boar – we had to at least try it since we get to hear the barking dogs every morning and night. Surprisingly it was not bad (tasted like roast beef).  After lunch, we crossed the street to a wine shop and got a taste of Gappo – the Italian liquor that makes your mouth feel like it’s on fire (“Liquid Fire” as Lisa calls it).  It is horrible!  Two shots of that and I would be unable to function.  We had to take a breather after that drink but then we headed to Monticino for some wine tastings.  The tour of the first winery (Fanti) floored us because of the amount of care and time taken in producing the wine.  I kept thinking of Jon’s cousin Mario and his home-made wine.  I have a new-found appreciation for that process.  Monticino gave us a treasured gift at the end of our trip – the sunset.  We watched the sun go down from a stone wall at the top of the city.  It only lasted about three minutes but it was gorgeous.  We walked back to the car without a word to say – the experience could conjure up none.  We ate a “to-go” pizza that night (When Jude told us that no Italian pizzeria would give us pizza “to go” we had to find one!) and watched “Under the Tuscan Sun” since many of us had not seen it.

Mushroom Risotto

Friday was a bittersweet day for us because we knew it was our last day at the villa.  We walked through the market in Aquapendente and drove to Orvieto.  Orvieto is a quaint little hilltop town with classy shoppes and lots of narrow streets and pop-up views of Tuscan hills and trees.  We bought our obligatory souvenirs and enjoyed our never-ending gelato.  We hurried back home to meet our Italian cook who we had hired to make us a four-course Italian meal on our last night in Aquapendente.  We arrived to the sweet aromas of the Italian kitchen, and made our way up-stream to Jude’s house for a bon-voyage glass of wine and figs with walnuts and gorgonzola.  The figs tasted like nothing I have had before.  If politeness was not a barrier, I would have emptied the tray in my mouth all at once.  After Jude’s, it was back for more delicious food at our villa.  Arugula, parmesan and cured beef salad, risotto with mushrooms, chicken breast and grilled peppers, and chocolate mousse with cookie wafers.  What should have been a three-hour meal took us under an hour to consume!  We were starved and the food was way too good.  We laughed so hard at this fact – typical Americans gobbling their food up without taking any rest.  Ahh, c’est la vie.  We drank wine to extend the time out and then found ourselves on Faceb0ok looking up past friends from high school (“oh, look at her! “yikes, look at him!”). 

A quintessential Tuscan scene

On Saturday morning, we packed up the car and headed for Rome.  What a nightmare.  Actually, it could have been a much bigger nightmare if it wasn’t for Lisa’s spectacular driving through the chaotic Roman streets.  We missed a highway turn-off due to the complete lack of signs before the turn-off telling us where to go.  We have the luxury in the States of having signs that tell us when an exit is coming and where it will lead us.  Not so much in Rome.  However, because we are five intelligent and resourceful women, and we found our way back to where we needed to be and got to the airport with ten minutes to spare on the car rental (before we were charged another $140 euro). 

Rome felt like we had been thrown into a coliseum to fight for our life.  Ok, maybe I exaggerate a bit but it did feel overwhelming with the number of tourists pushing their way around and the high decibel levels compared to the countryside.  After years of hearing about the Vatican and the Pantheon and the fountains, it was an experience to see them in person.  But as amazing and ornate as the Vatican and the Basilica and the Pantheon were, I still gravitated to the small humble church at the top of the Spanish Steps.  It felt like home; if I had lived in the 15th century, I would have been a peasant rather than a royal.  We all got our picture at the Fountain of Trevi tossing a coin into the water and we all got our last gelato – extra big – at the corner gelato store.  And to think I had my reservations about going on this trip….  I was slammed with work, trying to sell my house, trying to renovate and move into a new house, and just tired.  But my girlfriends worked on this trip, nonetheless, and never gave me a bit of slack for not participating as much.  To the contrary, they called to check in on my mental well-being (thank god) and kept me up to speed on the latest about the trip.  This trip provided just what I needed before my 40th birthday – time to reconnect with my girlfriends and myself – to reflect on what I want in my fortieth decade – to appreciate all that I have in my life – and to laugh hysterically with my soul sisters. 

The girls

I wonder what 50 will bring?!

My Achin’ Feet

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We are a servant to the new house.  It rules over our every move.  It works us to the bone. 

Jon and I are exhausted with a big ol’ capital E.  Our bodies just ache and our feet could be rubbed for days and still not feel ready to pound the street.  Jon has been absolutely amazing with the new house.  He wanted to be in charge of the entire master bedroom project and all of the direction relating to the painting and molding and touch-ups in the other rooms.  He had some great helpers (shout out to Jason and Dave) but he really kicked it up a huge notch to get our master bedroom and the rest of the house together prior to our move on Tuesday.  He reinforced his reputation as “the boss” during the last month – he certainly had to ream our helpers a few times to get ’em moving or lead them in an organizational meeting to put their heads around what they needed to do first, second, third….  But he also created a reputation for himself as a hard and dedicated worker, willing to make five trips to the hardware store or paint trim or carry drywall.  He has put some serious sweat and energy into our new home, which makes me love our new home even more. 

Maria dusting

Maria and Mario have been so great through all of this business, too.  Maria helped me pack (she found a little vase box and shoved her undies and Mario’s undies in it; taped it; and then proceeded to write (Maria’s undeez and Mario’s).  She loves to write with a permanent marker so she helped us detail the items in each box.  She is getting better at spelling but I have to admit, I still love to see how she spells certain words that don’t sound anyway like they are spelled (e.g., kichen and cloos (kitchen and clothes)).  She also did a great job dusting; she finds it a challenge to try to get cabinet knobs as sparkling clean as possible and desk tops looking new.  I think she also loves spraying the Endust can everywhere.  She had the choice to head to her friend’s b-day party on Saturday morning or help pack and she wanted to pack.  It was only after I talked with her about the fun she would miss out on and the fact that we would be packing all day that she went to the party.  She rode her new bike all they way there with me only holding onto her on the hills and at the corners of streets.  She is getting so big!  And once we got there, I wanted to stay!  Her friend’s mom made a sheet cake with skewers of timbits poked throughout it.  Cinnamon rolls, too!  Heaven. If only a gallon of chocolate ice cream was beside it, I would have planted myself right there for the day. 

Mario doesn’t quite put forth the effort that Maria does in helping to pack or clean.  He uses all of his energy playing Wii sports or watching tv.  He has gotten his share of tv shows in the last few weeks because that is how we keep him busy while we clean, pack, and clean some more.  It keeps him in one spot so I don’t have to worry about where he ran off to in the neighborhood.  Hopefully, not all of his brain cells have been killed off.  We test him every once in a while with a hard question, and he responds correctly so I think he is fine.  He will play Wii tennis and boxing and golf for an hour or more.  He gets so competitive with the computer and he still spends a good amount of time “creating” his player.  The boy has to look super cool before he will play a game (which usually means black spiked hair, tinted glasses, and super skinny).  He also has gotten into the Barbie.com games based on Maria’s fascination with them.  He sang “I’m a Barbie girl” while waiting in Stauf’s coffee line yesterday and then proudly showed off a kickin’ purple dress he placed on a barbie.

Mario keeping busy with the Barbie.com game

I have not talked to either of the kids about the move much.  Jon and I ask if they are excited to move and both say “yes; Maria emphatically so.  I try to remind them that this current house has given us a lot of memories and there will be times they miss it very much.  Mario just shrugs his shoulders and moves on but Maria seems to process it and explain it more to Mario.  The other day when I told them we would be moving soon and asked how they felt, Mario responded “fine, mom.”  Maria turned him around to face her and said “Mario, mom and dad brought you and me home to this house when we were little babies and watched us walk in this house and get older.”  I had just mentioned all of those things to her the day before when I talked with her about why I sometimes got sad about moving.  God love her.  Between the two of us, hopefully Mario will get some of our compassion!

And so, here we are.  Two days away from moving into our new home and sleeping in our new rooms, and waking up to our new street.  I feel exhilarated while at the new house and melancholy while at the old one.  Tomorrow, I am going to come home early, sit in the living room of this current house and soak in all of the energy and memories and love and laughter swirling around this darling home.  And then I am going to plant myself in the family room of our new house and release all of it into the air for our new home to soak up.

Grandma’s Roses

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Jon and I went to our new house today to mow the grass and water the plants.  I continue to be amazed at how comfortable I feel in this new house even though we have yet to move in to it and I have never liked change too much.  I will miss our old home tremendously, especially on those nights that I wake up and go downstairs to make a bowl of ice cream and my familiar kitchen island is not standing before me or my basement door with the kitty escape carved in it is missing or my old wooden table where I write and read is no where in sight.

But, I will soon create new rooms to love and different items to cherish.  Nevertheless, I diverge… back to the mowing and watering….  I thought the new yard would be a challenge to mow but it only takes me an extra 5 or 10 minutes to finish.  The true challenge is all of the flowers and plants and vegetables growing around the yard.  They present a much more difficult challenge for me and my non-green thumb.  I am starting off easy – merely trying to water all of these living creatures.  It would be a fairly easy task if I didn’t get antsy after standing still for two minutes.   I figure someone has a plan for me to slow down and “smell the roses” and so they bestowed this large garden on me.  I will learn to breathe and take in the moment somehow, someway. 

And that I did.  I stood over the hostas and showered them with water.  They glistened.  I moved to the hydrangea and the tomato plants and to some fuzzy looking tall purple flowers.  They perked up.  And then I got to the pink rose bush, and I felt like someone laid their hands on both of my shoulders and pushed me back with all of their force.  My grandma’s rose bushes stood in front of me and so did she; she was watering them and looking over her shoulder at me like she used to when I would visit.  She stayed with me for those few minutes that I sprayed them.  I smiled and soaked her in. 

Grandma and her great-grandkids

A butterfly caught my eye by the grasses waiting next in line to receive hydration, and the brief moments with my grandma vanished. For the rest of the evening, I carried her with me.  As I sit here tonight writing, I am reminded of Whitman’s words on death: 

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,

If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

I can’t wait to water my garden again. 

Tennis

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I signed the kids up for tennis lessons this Fall.  One night a week down at the courts.  Should be interesting. 

Tonight, I told Mario about the lesson coming up this week.  He looked at me with wonder in his eyes.  I thought he might be thinking about whether he has a racket so I added “we will have to buy a racket at Target this weekend.”  He still looked at me with a glazed look.  I thought maybe he was wondering where they would practice so I told him that practice would be at the tennis courts we pass on the way to the donut shop.  Nothing in his look changed.  So I decided to wait and see if he had a question for me. 

Finally, after another 30 seconds or so, Mario spoke.

“Mom.”

“Yes, darlin’.”

“I need a tennis outfit to play tennis.”

So there it was – all of that wonderment and gazing was over concern that he had appropriate attire for his tennis practice.  Our little fashionista athlete.

Be Kind and Bring Joy

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I just finished reading an excerpt from Roger Ebert’s autobiography Life Itself on Salon’s website.  I had no idea that he was such a thoughtful writer; I only remember him from my childhood when I watched him and Gene Siskell rate movies that I would either see because of them or completely avoid because of them.  Now, he has survived thyroid cancer and the inability to eat, drink or talk.  My dad has always reiterated to me the mantra “Life is crazy” and he couldn’t have spoken a greater truth. 

Mr. Ebert reflects on religion, dying and lessons he has learned as he moves through his ever-changing world.  It is a beautiful piece of writing.  Mr. Ebert’s thoughts on kindness struck me in particular tonight.  He writes:

…That does a pretty good job of summing it up. “Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.

It struck me for two reasons.  The first and obvious one is because I believe strongly in this tenet of kindness, also.  The second is because I had just witnessed Maria and Mario walk three houses down to our neighbors to deliver handwritten get well cards to one of them whose mother was ill.  I had mentioned that our neighbor’s mom had to go to the hospital last night.  Today, Maria drew a picture at school and one after school to cheer our neighbor up and to tell her we loved her.  Mario followed suit.  If there is one value that Jon and I have worked hard on instilling in these kids, it is the value of kindness, and through their actions tonight, it looks like we are doing something right. 

Thanks, Mr. Ebert, for reminding me of the simple beauty of kindness.

Riding into the Sunset

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I had just parked my bike at Giant Eagle and was beginning a short walk around the block to call my friend who needed to talk to me about her irritating boss.  I had a couple of minutes before I had to relieve Megan, our sitter.  As I looked down at my phone to dial my friend’s number, a text message popped up from Megan. 

“She’s riding!” is all it said with a video attached. 

Maria on her princess bike at age 4

I opened it up with much anticipation, and there she was.  My 6 year-old girl on her new two-wheel, no training wheels bike gingerly riding up our street.  Without hesitation, the tears formed in my eyes and began to fall.  Memories flooded my mind… Maria as a newborn in her bouncy seat sleeping in the sun; Maria at age 1 holding on to the edge of the sofa as she felt those chunky gorgeous thighs moving across the floor;  Maria at age 2 clinging on to me as people tried to hold her; Maria at age 3 eating spaghetti and meatballs with a full red-sauced face; Maria at age 4 playing dress-up with her pre-school friends; Maria at age 5 entering kindergarten and already seeming so grown up. 

And now look at her – she is practically an adult riding that bike so well down the street.  It all started late last week when she got an invitation from her friend, Riley to attend her birthday party at a local park.  The picture on the birthday card showed Riley riding a two-wheeled bike.  The invitation stated “Come ride your bike with Riley around the park!”  Maria looked down at the floor and walked away as I read the invite. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked her.

“I can’t ride a two-wheeled bike, mom.  They will make fun of me if I have a bike with training wheels.”

Maria and Megan

I explained to her that she is good at lots of things and although some friends may be able to ride a two-wheeled bike, they can’t do certain things as well as she is able do them.  Everyone has their strengths and their challenges.  Biking on a two-wheeled bike was her challenge at this time.  She seemed to get it and started to name things that she did well – rock climbing, taking care of babies, artwork.  She had tried to ride her friend’s bike a few weeks ago and it was a challenge to say the least.  She just did not seem to have that innate ability to balance.  I had read in the magazines about starting your child off on a bike with no wheels so they have to balance back and forth as they go down the sidewalk but Maria has had her training wheel princess bike since the age of 3 and has always done great with it so we never rocked the boat with a no pedal bike. 

Another factor is that my baby girl is not naturally athletic.  She struggles to hit the baseball or strike a golf ball or hop on one leg and then the next.  I worried that she would not easily pick up the skill of riding a two-wheeled bike because of that fact.  But what Maria lacks in natural athleticism, she makes up for in will.  She tries anything (i.e., scaling a hand-made boulder at the summer festival and ringing the bell at the top) and she continues to try even if she fails the first time (it took her a few tries to get to the top of the boulder and ring that bell).  As much as her strong-willed personality can get on my nerves (i.e., refusing to brush her hair), I thank the stars for it. 

I scoped out bikes on Tuesday morning at the local used goods store and found a 20 inch one.  We had tried that size before and found that it was just a tad bit too big for her.  Her 16 inch bike, however, is way too small for her (her poor knees stick out on both sides like ears).  We really need an 18 inch bike but they are hard to find.  I wanted Maria to try the bike out before I bought it so I asked our insanely awesome babysitter, Megan, to take her down to the used goods store after school and buy it if she looked like she could at least begin to try to ride it.  Of course Maria liked it (I knew she would – it could have been black and had skulls all over it and she would have liked it because it was something new).  Mario also found a bike that was red with black flames.  He needed a bike, too and his was half off so I approved for Megan to buy them both. 

I texted Megan later that afternoon and kiddingly asked “Is Maria riding on her own yet?”  Megan texted back “Haha, she is trying….”  Two days later, here she is riding on her own.  She still needs help starting up because the bike is too big for her to swing her foot over and start to peddle.  She also continues to work on braking and dismounting.  She frequently stops pedaling and takes a leap off the bike into the grass but if she concentrates enough, she can brake and then get her leg over the bike quick enough to have a fairly graceful dismount.  I am amazed at her progress.  I can’t imagine what I will be like when she wins the Science Fair or places in the swim meet or gets an A+ on an English essay. 

Thank you for the gift you gave me tonight, Maria.  You are one strong, willful girl and you rock it out.  Your mama is so proud.