I have to do what on my birthday?!?

We had a good old fashioned go to church for a baptism, play a soccer game, then have ten of your friends over for a baseball party birthday day yesterday. Exhausting, yes. But fun. And I was very proud of my Jewish son who does not really practice any religion (we are a bit anti religion at this point), for sitting through (and secretly enjoying) his little cousin's baptism...in church...on his birthday.

I knew he wouldn't like the idea of sitting quietly in a confusing ceremony all morning, but after a bunch of complaining, he did it and he did it in nice clothes and with a smile on his face. He loves his cousins, and also, I think he was dreaming of the rest of his day, which consisted of sports and cake. It was good for him to "share" his birthday and be willing to celebrate someone else for part of the day. Kids these days are so self-centered. I'm hoping mine aren't as selfish as they sometimes have a tendency to act, and yesterday was definitely hopeful!

The Heat is ON and the training wheels are OFF

Today was the first HOT day of the year and I'm in heaven! Today we did the following:

*Chuck's donuts run at 6:30 AM
*Adult soccer game at 9 AM
*4,000th Easter Egg hunt (with family who was out of town last week) at my bro's house at noon
*Dads fall asleep for undefined time on couch inside
*SPRINKLERS! until 4 PM with cousins
*Quick trip to dear friend's for B to learn how to ride a two wheeler at 5 PM (look at Rebecca there, running in the heat, in JEANS, next to my son to make sure he doesn't fall and I get to take a damn picture. This same woman also wiped my dude's bottom at LEGOland just to give me a few more minutes to sit down on a bench. THIS is a friend indeed.)
*Home for dinner at 6 PM
*Apple Fritter I've been saving since 6:30 AM at 6:30 PM (I ONLY eat donuts at night. It's a fetish).

Fat and happy and off to bed.

LEGOland with pain

Took the kids to LEGOland for the past two days, with some of their best buddies and cousins. I was really looking forward to it, until my throat started burning and I lost my voice. We left "Dad" at home to work, and I don't think I need to explain how difficult it is to keep track of two boys under 7 in an amusement park while unable to yell. We made it though, and last night when we fell into bed both boys individually told me I was the best mommy on earth for taking them on the trip. "I love you so, so much," they both said. Yes, I cried with joy.

Thumbs Down

So at the dinner table we like to play a thumbs up, thumbs down, and thumbs horizontal (to signify "eh - I sorta like it") game. My kids and I come up with items at random and we give a yay, nay or eh on each. Last night W decided to add sound effects to the game. I'm not sure if this will come off "on screen" the way it did in person, but either way, I think the hilarity of it (and degree to which it made me inordinately proud of the values I'm teaching) should be obvious and need no post-explanation.

The game last night transpired like this:

Me: "Milk"
Boys: Thumbs raised plus sound effect: "Ding ding!"

Me: "Soccer"
Boys: Thumbs raised. "Ding ding!"

B: "Eyeballs"
Me and W: Thumbs raised. "Yah, we' like those...ding ding!"

Me: "Apple Fritters!"
Boys: Thumbs popping. "Ding a lingalingaling!"

W: "Slavery"
Me and Ben: stunned stares while getting our thumbs in down position.
W: Thumbs down plus sound effect: "Noooooooooooooooooo."

Boiled Peanuts

I asked my Southern mom a simple question today: "Where can I buy green peanuts for boiling?" I've got some Southern cooking coming up, and I *HEART* boiled peanuts. My question kicked off a frenzy of emailing between my mom and my Georgia farm-raised distant cousins. Within an hour I had an in-depth explaination for boiled peanuts from across the country, from IN the country. I feel compelled to share the information here in case a large percentage of you are also going through boiled peanut withdrawals (don't knock it till you try it).

Usually peanuts are harvested when they reach maximum
weight, then they are dried, because the dried peanuts can
be stored for about a year without refrigeration. The
peanuts for boiling are harvested a few weeks before
maximum maturity, when they are softer and more flavorful
and they are not dried. They must be kept cool or
refrigerated, and only last a few days.

I get mine at a local farmers market in August/September.
The grocery chains also carry them, and over the years they
have expanded the months that they are available. The
stores like to stock them when they can be moved quickly, a
safe bet during the summer, when there are a lot of
cookouts. I don't know if they have them this early in the
year -- I'll take a look when I go to town.

You can freeze boiled peanuts and then thaw them out by
soaking them in bot water a few minutes. They are good
served chilled or warm. They are just as good from frozen
as fresh boiled. After they have been frozen, they will
taste a little saltier, not a lot, but just enough to
notice.

For a five gallon pot full (almost to the rim) of peanuts, I
use 18 ounces of salt. Just prorate the salt for
larger/smaller quantities. It takes about 3 to 4 hours of
boiling. About an hour before they are done, you will
notice a certain good smell. This is when the taste-testing
begins, too early, along with the drama about "oh they need
more salt". If they are almost done, expect them to
taste way short on salt. The peanuts uptake the salt in the
final minutes before they get done.

Y'all come back now, y'hear?

The Case for and against TV

More parenting videos on JuiceBoxJungle

I am not a fan of TV. I don’t watch it, and I don’t like my kids watching it much (especially not at another kid’s house, but more on that some other time). But despite my disdain for TV, I’m certainly of the opinion that it isn’t evil. To me, it’s just plain common sense that it’s an undeniable waste of time for any human being to sit in front of a screen and watch someone else living their life (with a few exceptions, one of which is NOT Spongebob). Duh.

But on the other hand, what’s childhood without a little wasted time? I don’t feel I want to waste my own time, but the kids can sure afford - hell, they're entitled - to. Plus, their wasted time watching TV is my productive time to work. Sometimes, all I can manage as a busy mom is getting them 30 minutes of dumbed-down entertainment and getting myself 30 minutes of productivity. For me, TV is purely a tool. I like watching it about as much as I liked changing diapers, but both TV and diapers sure as heck have gotten me through a bunch of otherwise stinky situations. (And ain’t NO study – no matter what the educational or environmental rewards, is going to convince me I should have used cloth diapers or not ordered cable).

So there.

Kill the Dust Mites NOW

Yesterday the allergist told us that W is allergic to dust mites. Well - she said - not the mites, but their poop. And they poop 20 times a day. And there are something like a trillion of them in one square foot of carpet. We have carpet. So that's like 20 trillion pieces of shit per square foot of carpet in my son's room, that he is allergic to. Oh and you can inhale the stuff too, from your mattress, pillow or comforter. OH, and also, I HATE TO CLEAN.

"You have to go home and do dust mite education," the allergist told me, "because your son is not able to breathe through his nose and mouth breathers have underdeveloped jaws and you will spend thousands and thousands of dollars on jaw reconstruction and your son will look like a big-headed small-jawed freak unless you kill all the dust mites NOW."

My poor kid was in the room. "Is that bad?" he squeaked.

"No no honey," I whispered, "the doctor is just trying to scare Mommy into cleaning. It's a tough love technique Daddy suggested to her."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Shhhh."

Okay, so now I've got to spend approximately all Spring obsessing and cleaning and spending my grocery money on $350 of dust mite avoidance encasings. (And if you ask me, his ballooned-up red skinned reaction to the test wasn't even that bad). Things could be a whole hell of a lot worse. But they could also be better. As I mentioned, I HATE to clean.

Shooting ourselves in the foot with fun

I am tough, dammit. I am not afraid to yell at my kids. I do not shy away from time outs or even, during the twos years, physical restraint when my spirited guy tried to kick his way out of time outs. I don't put up with put downs or back talk and I *hate* video games. I eat dinner with my kids every night even though that means I eat at 5PM (secretly you all know I love that). I talk to them. I play with them heartily. And I am also hanging on desperately to the fact that I am still the apple of their eyes. I admit it, I want to be their Best Friend.

Along comes this story, (MUST READ) which pretty much tells us what we already know: We are raising a bunch of spoiled fracking babies that do not respect us. We are being pussies.

The author says, "The biggest mistake we can make as parents is to want to be our children’s friends. Yes, they may like us more, their classmates may think we’re cool, (Really? Gosh, isn’t that lovely!) but the truth is that they also see us as weak. And weakness in those who ought to be powerful will always invite contempt."

Unfortunately, I agree with this statement 100%. I remember the very parents that, even as a kid, I had only contempt for because of what they inappropriately allowed their children to do. I was pissed off at my own parents, and I thought I even hated them, but there was never a minute of any day that I did not respect (and actually love) them. Fun certainly does not equal love or happiness, but we forget that, or we can't see it as well anymore. If I could have any wish at all in this world it would be that I act as a parent with equal talent as my parents did with me. And yet, parenting has changed so very much, and I am a different person than my mother.

I can only hope that my level of "friendship" is an appropriate one; that although I judge slam dunk contests instead of cleaning house (or making them help clean the house), the fact that I do not allow mean-spirited talk or behavior will save me from raising monsters. My kids are only 4 and 6, but it is probably never too early to teach a healthy fear. I cringe when I see friends let their 3 year olds backtalk them. Ooooh, the sass I have seen!

But I am so, so guilty of not instilling a healthy fear. My son is a master debater and I will literally eat my shorts if he does not end up as a litigator someday. The dude can weasel another five minutes before bedtime before I even realize what he's doing, and he can play me like a harp to get extra snuggle time even when I desperately need to get downstairs to get some work done. I know it's sweet that I love to hang with my boys, and really I do think they are turning out okay. But even I can palpably feel the difference between the way I grew up (healthy fear, huge respect, no space for argument) and the way I'm raising my kids (best friendship, lots of fun, lots of room for negotiation and self-expression). We like to see these as positive attributes, but really, are they?

It's a question I ask myself every day. I'm tough enough, in my humble opinion, that I've begun to raise some nice boys. But, am I doing my kids a disservice by not being more of a hard ass? I'm deathly afraid I won't have the courage to say NO to all the things my parents did: hanging out at the pizza parlor in Jr. High; sleepovers without calling to make sure a parent was home; drinking (I laughed at those joker parents that allowed drinking in their homes even as I was taking advantage of them - WTF?); staying out late when "everyone else" was doing it; and on and on. And those are the easier topics. How, I wonder, will I prepare my children for things I do not condone but know they will try (sex, drugs)? My answer has always been that I will denounce them and make them understand that and to scare and shame them into being so careful when they do finally try these things, that they will not injure themselves or anyone else.

Will that be enough? Do I need to start now or wait until they're seven to scare the living daylights out of them? It haunts me. But I gotta go cuddle.

Birthday Party Season

It's birthday party season. Four a weekend. No joke. It's insane and yet fun and also confusing. I'm not sure who would rather we say no and who is offended that we say no (because we do need to say no to at least 50% of them to remain physically in tact and still be able to squeeze in a few hours of sleep per night). My kid is already asking about his party in May - a party I hope never happens. Oh, sure we'll have a few kids over but I'm really hoping to escape the chaos of a whole class invited to my house or a nearby funporium such as Pump It Up or Chuck E. Cheese. I'm really hoping to avoid the 40 gifts of plastic, hours of dumping wrapping paper and paper plates, and multiple small bags of shit I hand out as "favors" to the departing smallfolk.

Right on time, I found this awesome website, ECHOage. What a lovely, clean idea. I think I will steal it, come May. I'm also thinking about starting a Facebook Fan Page titled: "I hate favor bags".

Grandma Can TALK

More parenting videos on JuiceBoxJungle

By far the best part about the level (super high) of my mom's involvement with my kids, is that I no longer have to listen to the stories of her childhood. They do.

I mean that in the nicest way.

It's not that I don't love the stories - she grew up in Savannah Georgia and tales of sticky sweet islands mixed with rural hog farming and the zany city life in Savannah, all wrapped in the reality of an only girlchild born to Southern Baptists is not uninteresting. In fact, I wrote a whole book about it. But seriously. It's someone else's turn to listen. Like all good southerners, my Mama can talk...and she wants listeners! And lo and behold, my kids love to oblige.

It helps that we go to the Deep South every summer and experience most of the things she tells us about. The kids can't get enough of the oppressive heat, salty warm ocean and barbeque (and frankly, neither can I). Like a few people in the show say, there is nothing that can replace the direct telling of her experiences to my children, no matter how much sugar she gives them during visits.

I am grateful for her stories, for the history and knowledge of a whole other world I would never otherwise know, and I am grateful that passing it along to my kids is a duty I can delegate joyfully to her.

Preparing for adolescence

My 6YO son is prepubescent, er something. No really. He's argumentative, obsessed with debating whether he should be able to eat one more snack or watch one more minute of TV, and determined to drive me fucking mad.

Thank G-d for basketball and bedtime, and thank G-d I play sports. The only times we are not arguing like junior high school bitches is when we're playing basketball in the garage, or, more age-appropriately, snuggling at bedtime. During our daily basketball playoffs we don't talk except to yelp "Hooooyah!" or "Get outta my house!" over the hip hop music we play on the boom box (clean versions). We don't hug or kiss - we chest bump and give each other high fives.

During tuck-in time we do hug (still no kissing, dammit, that's long gone) and talk: about how we hope to stop arguing the next day; about how frightened he is that he'll be kidnapped or die in his sleep; and about how much we love each other.

I will be devastated when he no longer wants to cuddle at bedtime. But at least I know I will always be able to connect with him on the court.

My Husband's Goals for the Week

More parenting videos on JuiceBoxJungle

I've said it before and I'll say it again: the Daddy in our family does it right. In fact, I'm quite positive he needs to "hold his tongue" with me much more often than I do with him. On that note, I have been reading this blog, Goals for the Week, and loving it. Okay so my best friend writes it, but I'm not biased. It's totally unpretentious (hard to find in a blog, let's be honest) and sweet, and I take pleasure in comparing my best friend's goals for the week for herself with what I think must be my husband's goals for the week for me. Here goes:

Athlete: Skip one or more early morning swims this week so your husband can sleep the F in for once.

Personal Growth: Just consider the fact that doing errands are not a form of torture, and run some.

Friend: Offer sex to husband more often.
Health: Try not to take the kids to Starbucks for coffee cake because you can't live without caffeine.

Home: Move pile of clothes on floor to one side or the other of the room (he knows it's unrealistic to ask me to actually put them away, but he should - I'll admit - be able to walk to the bathroom).

Hmph.

Surprise Minivan as evidence of a great love story

Let's start with this: last night I returned home tired at 8:30 PM with kids in the car and walked in to our playroom to find a big shiny new car (complete with ribbon and loving "Happy Birthday" sign on the window) stuffed in the room waiting for me from my husband. A NEW MINIVAN! I know this may not seem like a hot and steamy gift to many of you, but for me, this was a major life event and also evidence of how sweet my life with my boys really is.

There are a few things one always hopes will happen to one during one's lifetime. One of mine, ever since I was sixteen and could drive, was to be given, as a complete surprise, a brand new car with a big bow on it, for my birthday. There is just something about all those car commercials where the wife or daughter wakes up on Christmas morning to look out the window and find a new vehicle in the driveway that made me want one. Also, I've never really had a brand new nice car. And certainly, I've never had leather seats (now I do!). For me, a car has always felt like the ultimate surprise gift. And yes, I realize most folks would want that one lifetime surprise vehicle gift to be a bright red Porche, or at least a trendy SUV. But for me - as all my friends know - the auto-open side doors and extra space for friends is what I've coveted ever since we had kids. And the desire to please me so deeply with such a grand surprise is what I've always most loved seeing evidence of, from my husband. Make no mistake, he pleases me daily (get your mind out of the gutter - seriously - I'm talking about kindness and helpfulness), but he does not, shall we say, lean toward grand surprises. I'm still shocked he went out and spent money on a car for me when my old car has not yet died a slow and painful death. But he did. He spent a lot of money when it didn't need to be spent. He spent it just to please me in a big and boundless way, and I know that hurt him a little bit (signing those papers had to be painful).

But the joy on his face, which spread across my two sons' faces as they saw how thoroughly their daddy had pleased their mommy (B ran off to get something - a New Yorker from the counter - he could "surprise" me with too and handed it to me with a great gifting flourish, and W couldn't stop hugging me and saying "Happy Birthday Mommy" as if the car was his doing even though he'd had no idea of the surprise before he saw it last night), was just something...I never want to let go of. Not only does my husband love me--he still wants to thrill me and cares how much I appreciate the gifts of his time and effort. There is no gift (aside from maybe some pink fuzzy dice to hang from my new rear view mirror), that I can imagine wanting or appreciating more than this evidence that my family truly finds pleasure in seeing me happy.

I'm off to drive the kids to school!

My son bought me flowers

And what, really, could be better than that? I was busy yesterday morning when N, W and B went to the farmer's market. When I walked in the door later that day W exclaimed "I got you a surprise! I picked them out and everything!"

My heart rose about five feet above me and bounced off the ceiling. My first bouquet from my child. I can only hope there will be many more.

They Say We Forget the Pain of Labor...

And that's true, of course, or else no woman would ever have a second child. Another less discussed but very real area where women forget the past is when they take up grandmothering (and forget how they mothered). Look at that sneaky smile she has in this photo. Those aren't even my kids and you can see right away from the desperate look of the little guy that she's been plying them with something they don't get from Mommy. I'm wracking my brain: was there high fructose juice around that day? Could she have slipped my friend's child some sort of chocolate, or mentioned the possibility of a Power Ranger show later in the day? Here's a recent conversation between my mom and myself:

Me (on a random Tuesday): "I'm tired but--"
Mom (emphatically): "Oh honey put the boys in front of a movie! Take a break! You deserve it!"
Me: "You let us watch one hour of television a week. Had to be educational. I know all the episodes of 3-2-1 Contact, remember?"
Mom: "Oh come on. You saw Diff'rent Strokes and the Donnie and Marie Show."
Me: "Once or twice."
Mom: "Little House on the Prairie?"
Me: "Yes once in a while. But the point is, you never let us watch T.V. and now I'm ruined. I feel like I'm giving the kids crack cocaine when I turn it on."
Mom: "Malarkey!"

Here's another one:

Me (on any given occasion we eat with my parents): "W, eat your dinner or no dessert."
Mom: "Yes and please do eat it because we've got Dibbs and gummy bears and BIIIIIIIG chocolate chip cookies and a PIE! Sarah, can W have some Sprite with dinner?"
Me: "Are you aware that I didn't sip a soda until I was SEVEN, and I had to join a soccer league and play 45 minutes of hard core contact sports before you would allow me to enjoy the refreshing post-game sodas? Do you remember that even in High School you would buy about one six pack of Hansen's natural soda per year?"
Mom: "Really?"
Me: "Really."
Mom: "W, how about just a sip of Grandpa's Sprite for now?"
Me: "Gee, that's better."

It's beautiful, the way they forget.

10 Things

For some reason I've been thinking about lists of things I want to do someday. I decided to put them down for the world to see (yes I know, you've been on the edge of your seats). It's a fun thing to think about, and sometimes during the second hour of watching the kids run across the park I need things to think about. This is the fairly reasonable list of things I want to do, meaning I think they might be possible with luck and persistence. I guess these are the things I most look forward to the possibility of in the future. There's a whole other list of things such as "Be the most famous person in the world" which will not happen, so I'm leaving those off.

1. Become a proud, heavily involved grandma someday (I can't think of anything I'd rather live for or be, other than a mom. Since that's already checked...)
2. Publish a novel (I can always self publish, right?)
3. Write a book about my step-dad's life or at least get it all down on paper. It's just too good to lose.
4. Take a family vacation out of the country
5. Take vacations somewhere new with each of my boys alone (just me with one of them at a time) before they graduate (G-d willing) from High School
6. Retire with enough money to travel and do fun things with my husband and family for as long as I live (I'm okay with living in a condo in exchange for fun money)
7. Many open water swims, espcially swimming in a relay race with my sons (or participate in any kind of athletic race/event with them)
8. Affect positive social change in some quantifiable way
9. Be interviewed (sit down interview) on television (okay this is quite a stretch)
10. Take my grandchildren on many annual "grandma and me" trips

Your turn. What's important to you?

What makes me a Happy Mommy

Parent Bloggers Network's latest ”Blog Blast” campaign is in honor of Mother’s Day and inspired by Light Iris founder and dad Kevin who has been wearing a Preggo Suit all month long. Can he really actually be empathetic to what moms go through? I doubt it, but it's a sweet gesture. And is being a mom just about the actual having of the kids? Or the raising of the kids?

They ask: What is it that makes YOU a mom?

I know it's Mother's Day and all so you'll have to forgive me for my daddy centric answer. My husband, quite literally of course, enabled me to be a mom. But, obviously I could have been a mom using any old sperm donor. The thing is, I'm not just a "mom". I'm very much a Happy Mommy. I don't trudge through my days wondering when I'll get a break (usually). I don't wish my life were any different (again, I'm human and there are exceptions but you get the idea). I can not imagine anything more wonderful than the life I currently live. How did I get myself in this Happy Mommy situation? Quite simply, I picked the right guy.

What uniquely makes me the mommy that I am is the support I have from my main man (with my two little men). I've watched moms around me that do not have the same kind of double-team situation with their husband--who are nearly solely responsible for raising their kids--and I don't know how they do it.

The energy I have for being a mommy (getting up in the night, mopping vomit and feces off Target carts mid-shopping spree, playing 5 hours of one-on-one basketball a day, fitting work into the 3 free hours/day 3 times a week that I get, loving boys through potty talk expletives in public, being firm through big crocodile tears and high fevers, and diving head first into any kind of holiday or party theme for the fun I know the kids will have) comes directly from the emotional and physical space my husband provides by co-parenting with me (vs. watching from the sidelines).

Yes, he has a career outside the home. He's currently launching his own company and that means long hours (especially this past month) at work. But that's unusual for him. He's usually home for dinner and to play for hours before getting back on the computer after the boys are asleep to work into the night, something I do not know how he does. (And by the way, he has always split the nighttime wakings duty with me, from day one of both boys' lives). And lately, even through his midnight-at-the-office month he has managed to let me swim more mornings than usual (I gain incredible energy and mojo for the long day ahead from my pool visits), apologize profusely for not being home more (though no apology is needed), and stop in for quick scrimmages with the boys mid-afternoon when they least expect it. Sometimes a surprise twenty minute game with Daddy in the middle of the day is more valuable than an evening spent at home checking email as the kids run circles around him. I love him for understanding that and for making any time he has with the boys worthwhile.

I love my three boys so very, very much. But it's my Big Guy that truly allows me to be a Happy Mommy. So here's to him, as well as me (shameless self-congratulation) this Mother's Day.

My step-brother gets married (on his lunch break)

My step-brother Mig (my Dad's wife's son) and his (very new) wife Zoe got married a couple of weeks ago in NYC on their lunch break. There's nothing too funny about that--I've known lots of folks who chose to skip the nuptual frenzy.

The thing is, I didn't even hear about the wedding until a few days ago. This is not some super removed step-sibling that I've never met. My step-mom Charlotte, and my dad have been married since I was in college (too long ago), and Mig has been at every holiday and my own wedding celebration as well. Basically, if there had been a party I would have been there. But here's how my dad told me, in his matter-of-fact style, in an email (I'll paraphrase):

1. we're going camping
2. charlotte has a new email address
3. mig had a surprise wedding
4. we switched from dsl to cable

Like me, my dad's an engineer. Unlike me, he's prone to holding back emotion generally and crying like a baby at major events (his wedding, my wedding, my sons' bris celebrations, etc.). I'm more of a day to day emoter, but I almost never cry at events. Hey, we all have our emoti-styles, and I know he loves me and mine just as much or more as any overlyemoting daddy. I learned that long ago and I am forever thankful to him for teaching me to accept all styles of affection as valid. Even email lists.

So, many people would be offended that they were not informed of the wedding immediately or even given a call. Me? I'm just glad Mig let us know within 30 days, and my dad fit it in before the news about the switch to cable.

So let me just take this opportunity to say CONGRATULATIONS MIG AND ZOE!!!! and provide a little Zoe affection (Mig, you already know we love you and think you are a big bad freakysmart Chess man).

We have thus far met Zoe only once, last Christmas. I liked her right away. Zoe is Jewish. It was her first Xmas. Within five minutes of meeting me she told me she'd avoided Christmas thus far in life because she was worried she'd love it so much she'd convert immediately. (In my house house we do Hanukkah, but I grew up Christian and we do Xmas BIG TIME with both sets of my parents). This made perfect sense to me. I'm constantly on the verge of converting back to Christianity just so I can erect a tree and lights in my house (okay so that would never happen. I'm too lazy). Still.

Anyway, we loved her. She seemed aglow with the gifting extravaganza, and was truly interested it lending a helping hand in the kitchen, kissing babies and tumbling with toddlers. A winner.

So there is no dismay that Mig has snatched her up. But, we do love a good party in my family. So all that I, (and Mig's mom and sister and step sister-in-law), can say is: WHEN'S THE PARTY?!

Great Minds...

I thought I had the ultimate Valentine's Day gift for my husband: 24 hours at our house without kids (my mom said she'd keep the boys) this Sunday at noon until Monday at noon. Part of the gift was me volunteering to drive the boys to my mom's on Sunday and home on Monday (a two hour round trip each time).

Then last night my uberhot and apparently uberinsychwithme husband handed me the homemade card above.

This is the sweetest gift he's given me since the Chris Rock concert and night in San Francisco just after B was born. I LOOOOOOOOVE when he plans fun events for me. This "Oscar style" theme is extra sweet because every year I attend a women-only Oscar party down south (complete with gowns and actual makeup and hairdo's). As we all know, this is fast approaching. Uberhusband wants to make sure I get all my movie homework done so I can enjoy the party to it's fullest (which, by the way, he will be watching the kids overnight for me to attend).

Of course he happened to plan this (complete with prearranging which of my dear girlfriends would meet me for lunch, dinner, and each movie--something that involves using serious chips with their husbands) at the same time I planned his surprise: our 24 hours alone in our house. So basically, he scored. All the thought and planning and offering to watch kids all day Sunday and really the kids will be gone and I can do whatever the hell I want anyway! But that's okay. He's agreed to do the trip over to Granmama's on Sunday so I can hit the movie theater. Perhaps he'll join me and my girls for a movie and dinner when he returns.

The true Paparazzi

My father-in-law is turning 65 in a few weeks, and my new sister-in-law volunteered to put together a scrapbook of thoughts and photos from family and friends for him. She volunteered for this knowing it had to be done in a three week time span. She also knows that the family (minus myself of course) tends to be, well, late on things. Did I mention she's new? Ah, that fresh "I have a new family! I just got married!" enthusiasm.

I sent a bunch of photos, as is expected of me as the official Famarazzi. My FIL is adorable and photographs well. He's got furry caterpillar eyebrows that my husband is happily starting to harvest as well (I love plucking eyebrows--they don't have to be mine), and rugged, never too coiffed (in a good way) pale strawberry blonde wisps of hair that look as edible as orange cotton candy. He looks (and acts) like a manly ball of sunshine.

I also want to write something about this guy--my FIL--because everyone deserves a Eulogy while they're still alive (and since he had brain surgery this past year this seems a good time to celebrate his LIFE, not his death) and because, contrary to popular in-law feelings that abound in other families, I love him.

Okay, so he can't carry on a conversation that sticks to a single topic for more than a minute. We'll be talking about which customers his computer business has picked up lately when suddenly he'll interrupt himself and say: "Really. What about. An Italian villa for a family vacation in March. It's not set in stone yet but let's do it."

We've never been to Italy as a family, but I'd say we have discussed it and other exotic destinations at least every time we've spoken during the eleven years I've know him. And I love that. He's a dreamer, like me. Unlike his son. Hmph.

If he and I were a team we'd have been around the world by now, and have 200 hours of film to show the rest of the family. That's another thing: he likes to get behind the camera. A lot. He's the real Paparazzi. I can't tell you how many times I've heard his daughters and wife say "Dad. Put DOWN the camera." He was able to film my son's Brit Milah (Bris) with a steady hand even while being the honored individual (Sandak) who gets to hold the baby during the actual slicing. Now that's talent, and boy won't my son be glad to have that all on film (given that Grandpa was able to keep his legs still and the whole operation went off without a hitch).

Speaking of being Jewish, the number one thing I'll always love about my FIL is that despite being a devout Jew who is very active in his temple, he never gave me demerits (or else he has a late in life career ahead of himself as an actor) for being a non-Jew. In fact he appeared to be lured in by my California girl shiksappeal. That's right, he accepted me as I was. Now, I've since converted to (very very reform) Judaism and plan to send my sons to Hebrew school (although currently they attend a Christian preschool called "Littlest Angels" (no they are not confused--yet)), but I'm sure, or at least I'm 75.5% sure that even if I had not done these things, he would have loved me like a daughter.

The guy makes being married to his son a positive experience where gaining a second family is concerned. I actually love to go visit my in-laws and am frequently the driving force behind planning our visits. This year, for the big 65th birthday I've suggested (and been taken up on the offer) that I give up the previously planned week at my beach house alone with my husband and two sons, secluded from real life and noise and cradled by warm sand and fruity cocktails, and instead have my husband's whole family (parents and siblings and spouses) come hole up with us and celebrate. Yup, I actually suggested and am looking forward to a slumber party vacation with my FIL and crew. And that, in my book, is the ultimate proof that I love this guy. I hope my sons get in-laws as wonderful and welcoming as mine.