First Stab at Family Dinner

Well I went for it.  Recently, some of the family brought over a delicious lentil soup, a fresh salad and a cake so bursting with sugary treats and confections that it looked like an edible version of the board game “Candyland”.  Note to self: grandparents are no longer allowed to be in charge of my kids’ desserts.  As if all that wasn't enough, my husband made a tomato pie that you could just die for.  

While we ate, it was much of the same as any dinner with the family.  There was someone complaining about the salad dressing and whether or not it should be applied to all the salad in the bowl or just individual servings.  Someone was asking why it was so HOT in here.  Unsolicited questions and comments were flying from every direction: “what do we have spoons out for?”  “can you get me a knife that actually CUTS?”  “who serves soup in this kind of bowl?”  Meanwhile the moms were serving everyone while the kids were adding to the confusion in the air with their relentless demands.  This one needs this, that one needs that, the other needs more and they all don’t like something that they have been given.  I expected my five year old to protest the lentil soup and he did...”Mom, this is beans.  I don’t like beans”.  (The way he says “I don’t like beans” is in the exact same sound that Joe Pesci says “I don’t see no stars” in My Cousin Vinny.)  A simple explanation that they were actually just brown peas, accompanied by a reminder that he likes peas did seem to help a bit.  Then there was the obligatory dispute over who “deserves” the last seat at the table..

”Please, sit, I insist”

“Oh no, you can sit! I sit all day! Please”

“I just couldn't you’re a guest in my home, you simply must”

“Oh, stop, I’m FINE standing! Really!” 

“No, you made the salad, I can’t possibly”

“But you were kind enough to have us over.”

This went on long enough that one of the kids had long since taken over that last seat anyway.  At least that intolerable exchange of pleasantries was finally put to rest.  Felt like it lasted hours. 

The kids hardly ate a bite because they knew that my diabetic father had provided the cake of all cakes.  They were practically having the shakes just thinking about it.  Can’t wait to add sugar to them just before bed on a Sunday!  Out came the cake.  The way the kids eyes bulged out, I’m thinking they were seeing this all in slow motion and hearing Angels sing while the light of God shone down from Heaven and cast an angelic glow upon this treat.  I almost wished I had tripped and dropped it just so I could hear my own delusional “record scratch” sound as their little dream shattered.  Ok, I guess that’s mean.  I’ll take that back...kind of.  I still think it would have been pretty funny.

After dinner the women split from the men and children...totally unintentional, I swear.  I could hear the kids upstairs laughing their little hearts out.  It made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside.  That is, until I heard my father making a weird “I just got the wind knocked out of me” kind of sound.  Come to find out, my father was flat on his back on the living room floor (still not clear on how that came to be) and the kids were jumping on his belly like he was a bouncy house.  Then the warm and fuzzy feeling came back again.  When we were kids we used to do the same thing to him.  Granted, when my kids knock the wind out of him, he makes funny faces and they laugh harder.  When we used to do it, our lives would be threatened and tools would be thrown at our faces.

All in all, the test run went well!  I’m definitely going to try it again with other branches of the family.  No one got into a fight, there was hardly any lentil soup on the floor, the food was delicious and as far as I know, we are all still on speaking terms!  Plus, for probably the first time ever, nothing spilled.  The only issue was that the dog stole at least one slice of tomato pie.  The Jerk.  But if that was the worst of it, I’ll take it!

Resurrecting the Family Dinner

I’m a strong believer in the family unit. I think it instills a sense of community, safety and identity in children, and is just a nice way for us all to bond. A great way to reinforce this is to carry on the tradition of Sunday dinners with the family. I love a nice gathering of everyone on Sunday over a nice, big, fat, heavy meal of appetizers and salad and pasta and meat and bread followed by an unnecessarily decadent dessert, a swig or two of some after dinner liquor and then the completely uncalled for cup of coffee. ...The coffee that you have to offer because it’s tradition and is just good manners. The coffee that you really shouldn't be drinking because it’s a Sunday night and it’s already gotten late. The coffee that will do nothing to give you the energy to clean up that huge dinner party mess, but will keep your eyes sprung open the minute you finally make it to your bed hours past your bed time. The coffee that, against their better judgment everyone will accept even though at this point, part of you wishes that they would just start packing up - no matter how much you love them and enjoy their company.

Today it’s much harder to accomplish this gathering every weekend the way it was generations before. For my family and many others, it used to be that most of the family lived on the same street - or at least within a block or two of one another. Everyone could bring something and just walk down. No one had excuses or obligations that held them back. No one needed a ride or were worried about the drive home. No one said they didn't have the money this week. With much more meager means than we are used to, they could still feed a brood 30 deep and keep it coming like they were running a restaurant! And since the women generally stayed home and cared for the house and kids, they weren't overly concerned with the fact that it was a Sunday at all. The men surely didn't care because they were getting their faces fed, and waited on hand-and-foot.  No one cared about not having enough room in the house either. Have you seen the size of most living rooms in Trenton? They used to pack them in like there like a prize was being offered for the house that held the most without any windows accidentally busting out from the pressure. People had tons of kids. Tons of them. I have 3, and by today’s standards that’s kind of on the high side. They were all so close, and here I am not even sure of how many cousins we have, and for sure my kids don’t even know a fraction of them. I think I’m much to blame, as is the generation before me. The family unit thing has slacked off quite a bit in the last generation.

Not allowing modern times to trample on family values, it’s been decided that we will be resurrecting this tradition on a more regular basis; i.e. more frequently than 2 weekends in a row followed by a 7 year hiatus. It’s going to be tricky. No one lives down the street any more. Everyone works. People are divorced. There are step-parents and step-kids and split branches everywhere on this family tree. Everyone has a short temper. This one doesn't talk to that one, and if you talk to “that one” then that surely means you’re on “that one’s” side so now you have to deal with “this one”. Thinking about it, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all - but I’ll be doing it anyway. Trust when I tell you, I rarely shy away from potentially disastrous plans. I always expect the best of everyone; high lofty hopes that THIS time everyone will just get along. I don’t know if that’s ever happened, but the odds say it’s bound to happen at least once. Wish me luck!

Hamilton, NJ: The Stevie B Capitol of the World (outside of Miami of course)

What the hell happened to this town Saturday night?  I'll tell you what happened, Stevie B came around and we all went bananas.  If you didn't already know, Local DJ John Rossi put together a show with Stevie B and Peter Fontaine at the Hamilton Manor in Yardville.  My friends and I went and we had a blast.  So much fun that we almost missed the part where Stevie B was performing.  Good times.

Weeks ago...actually months ago the announcement came through on Facebook that Stevie B would be performing in our own Hamilton and a mere mile from my house at that.  I was excited.  My friends were excited.  We were all abuzz talking about how much fun this will be and we should get this one to go, and tell that one about it....it was a big deal right from the start.  I mean, it was Stevie B after all and practically in our own back yards.  I was going to invite everyone and it was going to be awesome.

Much to my shock and horror, I began to realize that some people were...my gosh I can barely say this...some people were not familiar with Stevie B.  I know, I know, calm down.  I was shocked too.  My immediate reaction was to call that person names and demand they show some respect and culture themselves.  OK, so this guy was a couple years younger.. but still, a couple years younger should still know.  Then I came to realize as I spread the word to other non-locals that perhaps it was a matter of location.  Something about Stevie B gripped this area in the late 80s and early 90s in a way that I suppose didn't affect outlying areas quite as strongly.  I just don't get it.

I can't imagine going through life without the words "Spring Love" having a profound meaning and being associated with boat loads of memories.  I wouldn't want to live in a world without the Postman Song.  And to think that some people hear the words "In Your Eyes" and think I could be talking about the sun.  Excuse me for a moment as I bite my fist in heartbreak.

Let me attempt to school you for a minute if you won't mind.  Stevie B is the purported King of Freestyle. (And if you say "what's freestyle?" please just punch your own self in the face and save me the trouble.)  According to Wikipedia, his influence was most notably in the Miami area.  I was not even aware of that.  As far as I knew, the whole world knew and loved him.  I think I'm going to go make an edit to Wiki entry so that it reads to include the Trenton area as the other area influenced by this legend.  Seems odd that it was just us and Miami that embraced him, but that's the facts as I know them.  Wiki doesn't lie.

If you are one of these people that missed out on it, then it's too late.  You definitely already missed out.  If you Google it now and watch videos, no doubt you will piss your pants laughing and it will only further your disconnect to the whole thing.  It wasn't just about Stevie B, the man or the music.  It was about a time.  A feeling.  Something that's gone now and couldn't be recreated or understood by watching a grainy YouTube video of a dude with "Soul Glow" in his hair and mustache that today could only be rocked by the produce guy in a Spanish bodega.  (all due respect to produce guys and Spanish bodegas)

Good God, Don't Get Yourself the Flu

No one likes getting shots.  That is not a shocking revelation in the slightest, but it is something that I feel the need to bring to light for the moment.  Back in late fall when everyone was getting their flu shots, I was strutting through life thinking we didn't really need them.  After all, why go through the pain of making the kids get shots when there is no big swine flu fear swirling around like there was a couple years ago and no major media hype about how bad the flu is this year.  Perhaps the most convincing bit of fact is that the flu has been around forever, we've never regularly gotten the flu shot and we've always been just fine.  Not to mention the scary things you read and hear about these days in regards to kids getting shots.  This one became paralyzed  that one slipped into a coma and another one thinks she's a horse now.  No thanks, I'll pass.  I don't want horse-children.

Just when I had written the whole thing off, little by little I start hearing of people all around me getting the flu.  It started with just someone I know knows someone who has it and then in no time at all I knew of at least 3 individuals and families first hand that have it.  It got me to thinking that maybe for the children's sake at least, I should look into some flu shots.  I didn't think it would be a huge deal.  I'll make an appointment with their pediatrician and bring them in and the worst part will be that they'll cry when it happens.  Maybe I'll get my flu shot in front of them so they see me take it like a champ and it won't be so bad for them.  As for my husband, well he won't get a flu shot no matter what.

In preparation for all the flu shots, I let my job know I would be leaving work early on Friday to get it all taken care of.  I figured we all might have some sore arms and maybe a little fatigue so we will have the rest of Friday afternoon and all day Saturday to get back up to par.  I called the pediatrician to set up the appointments and was surprised to find that she's all out of flu shots and will not be getting any more in.  What I can do is go to the office, pick up a written prescription, bring it to a local pharmacy, get the flu shots filled there, bring them back to the office and have the doctor administer them to the kids.  Not exactly convenient, but I'll do it.  I was advised to just check with the pharmacy the day of to be sure they still have a supply, because many pharmacies have been running out.  I called and they confirmed they do have a supply, and it would "only" cost $15 per vaccine to have it filled.  I have three kids.  That's $45 right there.  Then we have to go back to the doctor's office and pay for our co-pays too?  That's another $20 each!  We are up to $105 now.  I don't have $105.  I don't even have $5 really.

As with everything, I turned to Facebook for help.  I found that I could go to several local pharmacies for free flu shots.  The only problem is that they really only administer them for adults.  I called all over town and no one had them for kids.  This was becoming a disaster.  Friends told me to try their doctors and I did, and they DID have the vaccines.  Plenty of them.  But I wasn't allowed to have any because we aren't patients there.  They didn't care that my doctor didn't have any.  I finally found ONE pharmacy that had children's doses, but it was about 30 minutes from my house.  Good thing I decided to leave work early.  As I left work I decided since I didn't have to run back and forth between the pharmacy and the pediatrician's office like I had originally expected to do, I may as well take this extra bit of time I have to get my long overdue oil change.  The "express service" ended up taking over an hour.  Just my luck.  By the time I got home, there was only a half hour of school left for my little guy so I just let him finish out the day instead of take him out early like I had planned.  By the time I picked him up from school, got everyone organized and fed a snack, it was after 4pm.  I may as well wait for my husband to get home now - it's only another 25 minutes.  Maybe I'll even guilt him into getting his flu shot too seeing as how the kids had to have it done.

By 4:30 we were finally on the road and headed to the flu shot clinic.  We called to be sure they still have flu shots available and they did.  Good news.  It was now getting dark, freezing cold and pouring rain.  I had not factored in one major setback; traffic.  I didn't realize there would be so much traffic so early and headed in this direction.  It was horrendous.  What would have been a 30 minute drive turned into an hour in wretched weather, traffic and with a car full of complaining children.  Neither I nor my husband were totally familiar with the area, so I tasked my husband to following the map on my iPhone and let me know exactly when I should turn.  It doesn't help that I have terrible night vision - and that he has terrible iPhone vision I suppose because he didn't tell me where to turn until after I passed it.  It went a little something like this...

Me: babe I can't drive and look at my phone at the same time, follow that little dot and tell me when it gets near the turn so I know when to get into the turn lane and turn.
Him: ok
Me: Um, I can't see anything is this our turn?
[long pause]
[pass the intersection]
Him: I don't know, I think that was it back there.
Me: well did the little dot go over the turn??
Him: what dot!?
Me: THE DOT I TOLD YOU TO WATCH AND TELL ME WHEN TO TURN!!!
Him: I don't know, I don't know how to read this stupid thing
Me: just forget it.  Give it to me.  Can you see that sign?  I'll turn here.
Him: no you can't turn there.
[pass the intersection]
Me: what do you mean I can't turn there, everyone else just turned there!
Him: I don't know!!! It looked like you can't turn there!!!  
Me: ok just help me figure out how to turn around!!
[4 miles out of our way we finally pull into a shopping center and swing around]
Me: please, I can't even see the lines on the road from all this rain, please pay close attention and just tell me where to turn
Him: I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO TURN!
Me: WE JUST CAME THIS WAY!!  HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW!?  I'm just going to turn here.
Him: You can't turn here
[pass intersection where we absolutely could have turned there]
Me: this is ridiculous
Him: YEA I KNOW
Me: NEXT TIME YOU F**KIN DRIVE!!
Him: whatever

After 20 minutes of essentially driving up and down the street cursing at each other, we finally turn into the correct shopping center with the Pharmacy.  We were both miserable and the kids were sleeping.  We had to drag them out of their comfy warm car seats in the cold and the rain and carry them in to get their shots.  So glad this whole ordeal is just about over!!

As we walk up to the clinic frazzled, soaked and lugging sleepy children on our shoulders, a nice nurse came out snapping off her rubber gloves.  She ever so sweetly said "I'm sorry, we JUST ran out of vaccines."  Every fiber of my being wanted to punch her right in the face.  Fighting tears I said "but we just drove over an hour in traffic and in the pouring rain!!!"  as if this would somehow make more flu vaccines appear.  Defeated, upset and frustrated we turned and retreated from the store without any protection from the flu.

It's amazing how I went from not thinking we needed the vaccine to being convinced we should get it and then suddenly on an impossible mission to get them!  I was so upset about the whole thing that I didn't even want to talk for the rest of the drive home...which took well over an hour since we were now stuck in rush hour traffic going the opposite direction and not moving at all.  My only hope now is that we are just lucky enough to not get flu as we have managed to pull off in many years past.

Except that THIS one year, we wouldn't be so lucky....

...to be continued.

Thanksgiving, My Way

Every year I host Thanksgiving.  Every year there is at least one point in the day that I teeter on the brink of insanity and proclaim that I will never ever do this again.  This year was no exception.

This year's crowd was to be a small one.  My mom, step-dad, brother and uncle would be joining my family of five for the main feast and then I was expecting appearances by a few other family and friends through out the course of the day.  I was really looking forward to a great day and I'm happy to report that for the most part, my expectations were met.  But as I'm sure you know, nothing every just happens for me without some sort of issues.

For quite a few years, I have been trying hard to shatter my image of always being a day late and a dollar short. I think because of this image (that I consistently reinforce, never by any fault of my own of course) that people believe that I just don't try hard enough or don't care enough.  This couldn't be further from the truth.  If anyone could just walk in my shoes for one day, they would learn that random and ridiculous things happen routinely that derail even my best laid plans.  In this case, one of the first derailments was that my paycheck refused to come early.  Sure payday is Friday, but Thanksgiving is THURSDAY.  I held off shopping because I was praying my pay would come on Wednesday for no reason whatsoever.  I think maybe this happened in years past so I was really expecting it again.  Maybe I remembered incorrectly because for darn sure it didn't happen this year.  Thank goodness I got worried enough to break down and buy all the food on my credit card Tuesday night.

At 9pm after a busy morning rushing the kids out the door, a long day of work, a traffic-filled commute home, feeding the kids dinner, cleaning it up and getting them off to bed, it was now time to go food shopping.  My excitement was just bursting from my bones and it showed.  I walked out the front door bidding my husband farewell as if I never expected to return.  The expression on my face was that of exhaustion and resentment.  He smiled contently and offered a cheery "bye babe!" as he laid comfortably on the couch in front of the fireplace watching TV.  I was not a happy camper.

I arrive at the food store and find much to my surprise that it wasn't crowded at all.  Maybe this won't be so bad.  I'll zip through and work off my list.  I should be out of here in no time.  I found only a few items were sold out so I could just run to another store for that.  No big deal.  With most of the items from my list gathered, I went to select my turkey.  I was worried that the frozen turkey wouldn't defrost on time, but since frozen was the kind you get for free, frozen was the kind for me.

I pick up a nice turkey and decided it should be good enough.  I was looking for one that was 16 pounds, but this 17 pound one should be just fine.  The nice guy working there saw me going in for the double-check and asked if I needed help.  I should have just said no, but instead I said "well, I kinda wanted a 16-pound turkey, but..." and just like that he said, "I'll go check in the back" and he darted off.  A moment later I thought to myself "you know, 16 pounds might be too small anyway".  But what kind of jerk leaves when the guy is in the back trying to help you!  I waited and waited for him to come back.  Where the hell do they store the rest of the turkeys!??  I'm sure he's gone off site to check.  He finally comes back nearly 10 minutes later and offers up a turkey the exact size I requested.  I thanked him of course, but now what?  I already have the turkey that I really do want in my cart.  I put the second turkey on top and walked away wondering how to ditch the spare.  After a few minutes, I saw he walked away and I hurriedly dropped the unwanted turkey into my kid's arms and ordered him to hurry up and put this back before the guy sees!  We got away with it.

Things seemed to be going pretty smoothly for once...that is if you don't count the part about me being in tremendous pain.  I don't know what was going on, but something was making me have to stop every few steps doubled over in abdominal pain.  It hurt so badly that I was getting dizzy and I actually considered talking to my teenager about what to do if I collapse or cough up blood.  It was bad.  Real bad.  But I had to press on for the sake of Thanksgiving.

I get to the register and find that I have chosen the cashier that wants to discuss her life story with the very clearly uninterested lady in front of me.  I just want to get the hell out of here already and I'm sure the lady in front of me felt the same.  I loaded my goods onto the checkout counter and told the cashier to ring up the food first so I could get my free turkey coupon and then ring that up next.  She kindly complied and then kindly informed me that I was short of earning a turkey.  "By how much?" I ask, thinking that I could just grab a few more items.  Yea, I was $90 short of a free turkey.  Great.  Now that I realize I will be paying for my turkey, I figure I may as well get the freshie.

I lug this big frozen seventeen-pounder all the way back to the frozen turkey pit - conveniently located at the opposite end of the store.  I head over to the fresh turkey case, ready to start digging but my efforts are met with some lady who seems to be staking claim of the whole bin.  She stood right in the middle and was just standing there browsing but not touching a thing.  There were only a few left to chose from, so I imagined she shouldn't take long.  Ever polite, I try to browse around off to the side until she's through.  Alright, she's clearly here for the long-haul so I'm going to have to get in there at some point.  I offer a pleasant "excuse me" as I stand beside her trying to get in.  She doesn't budge.  In fact, she ignores me entirely.  At this point, every fiber of my being is screaming "throw a turkey at her face!" but I took the high road and restrained myself.  Instead I just leaned into her as I reached for the turkey that she quite obviously was preparing to pick up.  Too bad lady, you should have been nicer.  Happy Thanksgiving to you now with your sub-standard turkey.

Quite content with my selection, I carry this one all the way through the store and back to the register.  My teenager now practically laying on the cart in boredom, musters up the energy to pick his head up and acknowledge that I'm back.  As I'm standing waiting my turn in line again, I noticed that there is a puddle next to me on the floor.  I though, "gee, someone should clean that up before someone slips.  How do you just leave a puddl-" wait as second - that's my turkey bleeding out all over the floor!!!!!  I look down and find that my favorite wool sweater is also covered in the bloody rue.  Just great.  I slam the bird up on the checkout and inform her of the "spill" over there.  I didn't feel the need to mention who did it considering the evidence was all over me.  Unless she thought perhaps I had stopped to murder someone while shopping, I'm pretty sure she knew I was responsible.

As the turkey juice dried on my hands, they became increasingly sticky.  I still had to reach into my purse for my card, sign the receipt and get my keys, gagging all the while.  Everything was getting stuck to my hands and I was grossed out to the max.  At least the shopping is done.

The night before Thanksgiving is when I realized that my turkey pan was gone.  It had disappeared into thin air.  Just vanished off the face of the Earth.  As if it just grew legs and walked away.  Certainly someone at some point had broken into the house and stolen my turkey roaster.  This was not good.  I told my husband of this issue and he assured me not to worry because he would pick one up tomorrow morning.  At this point, I was much too tired to question whether this was a solid plan so I accepted it and went to bed.

Thanksgiving morning rolled around fast.  My husband was up and out the door before I knew it.  Let me back up for a second.  About a week ago, my husband reminded me that he would again be participating in what is referred to as "The Turkey Parmesan Bowl".  You see, every year he and his buddies that he rarely sees the rest of the year, get together and play soccer on Thanksgiving morning.  It's probably the only day of the year that he plays a sport any more and one guy comes in only once a year from Italy to visit family and partakes in this annual event they've created.  They love it.  It's a tradition.  Traditions are nice.  Soccer is nice.  Being a part of something is nice.  Getting together with buddies is nice.  Doing it on THANKSGIVING of ALL DAYS is not nice for your wife when she's home alone with 3 kids and cooking enough food to feed a small village.  As always, I will come to my husband's defense and say he really doesn't go out and do much and rarely does he ever play soccer any more so I do feel bad to make a big deal out of it even though I can't help but want to.  It's just such bad timing.  BUT being the wonderful and supportive wife that I am, I wish him the best and remind him to stretch.  As he leaves, I smile and wave as I suppress the intense frustration I feel boiling up inside.  I manage not to accidentally say "Hey jerkoff, I hope you pull a groin muscle".

Back to that roasting pan - yea, I still don't have one.  The hubs assured me he would pick it up on his way home and they should be done around 10 or 10:30 am.  I have no choice in the matter now so let me start cooking everything else I have.  I put the parade on for the kids and then begin my tireless efforts to divert their attention to the parade on TV.  As I'm ranting and raving about how great the parade is and pointing out the various balloons, they barely even look up to see that big Garfield that I am freaking out about.  Surely I'm not that into Garfield any more, but it's all I could do to make them think it was something they shouldn't miss.  It's just that I loved the parade as a kid - that whole feeling of smelling the food cooking and watching the parade, I want to share that warm memory and feeling with my kids.  Problem is, they clearly don't give a rat's ass about this parade or anything else I have to say.  I gave up and switched my focus to the fact that it's now 10:45 am and there is no roasting pan in my hand.  I call my husband's cell phone and there's no answer.  Of course.  It's always when things are most urgent that phone calls go unanswered.  According to the label and weight of the turkey, I would have to get this sucker in the oven before 11am if we wanted to eat by 4pm.  It's coming dangerously close and I'm getting nervous.

I finally get in touch with my husband and they are still in full-on game mode.  Not even close to finishing up.  When I reminded him that it's Thanksgiving and I have this turkey sitting here just begging to be roasted and that he told me he would get me a roasting pan and be done by around 10 or 10:30, I was basically told that he never said that.  The roasting pan part was true, he knew he had to get that but evidently we have PLENTY of time left because he can't understand why I'm freaking out.  Also, he can't understand where I got this false information about him being home by 10:30am.  He explained in the gentlest way possible that there was no way he would be home that early.  I then rebutted ever-so-kindly that he did in fact tell me that, and this was the only thing that kept me from bugging out about the whole thing last week when he told me he was going.  (by "gently" and "ever-so-kindly" I mean we snapped at each other in the nastiest and most sarcastic way possible, just shy of name calling and spiking the phone on the ground).

I had no choice but to go to Plan B - which included calling my sister and bitching about the whole morning not going right.  I also called my mother, my brother and everyone I know.  Well, not everyone - probably just those 3.  Luckily, my sister was nice enough to bring me a roasting pan.  I skipped stuffing it to save on cooking time and I got the turkey in the oven a few minutes past 11am. It was that very moment that my husband came busting through the front door asking why I had to get my sister to bring it when he told me he would get it!  I ain't got time for THAT so I just left it with the always dreaded "whatever!".

With my husband home now and all the food prepared and cooked, and the turkey roasting nicely in the oven we were able to get everything in order and straightened up ready for our guests.  I made some beautiful appetizers and we were just going to take it easy and relax.  Small crowd means less pressure so let's just enjoy.  All was forgotten and my husband and I were back in each other's good graces again.

My appetizer

As the the better part of an hour passed, I decided to give the ol' turkey a check.  Hmmm, that's peculiar.  For as long as this turkey has been in there, the pat of butter that is inside the body cavity didn't even melt!!  That can't be right!  I better get this back in there then and quit blowing more time.  The hours roll on and the meat thermometer has been put in at least 5 times and it's not even come close to reading near done!!  Surely the meat thermometer is broken.  Why doesn't this damn turkey have one of those pop-up thingies in it!!????

I had planned to warm up the rest of the already prepared and cooked dishes in the oven after I took the turkey out so that we could eat just before 5pm.  This was not working out as planned.  5pm came and went with the turkey still looking like we only put it in 40 minutes ago.  I couldn't wait any more and the kids were about to eat their limbs so I started putting in all the sides so that we could eat them while we wait for the turkey to finish cooking.  The mac n cheese got burned.  Son of a bitch.  I should have never cooked it first.  Oh well, at least my stuffing concoction came out great!!  Cranberry walnut cornbread stuffing - I'll never eat stuffing any other way!!

We dined and enjoyed all of the side dishes and were already pretty full, but still saving room for the main course.  I took the turkey out at 6 - now 2 hours past the expected cook time.  It still doesn't look done.  I cut a leg off to check and it was basically still raw!  I had to carve the whole thing up and put it back in the oven to cook in pieces!!  It had to have been the driest turkey anyone has ever eaten aside from the turkey in the Christmas Vacation movie.  I've cooked a turkey every year for probably 10+ years now.  I just don't know where we went wrong.

Butchered

All in all, it was a great time though.  Sure, the turkey was as dry as cotton and yes, I did forget to put out the cranberry sauce and I do admit I burned the baked mac n' cheese and in retrospect I do regret telling my husband in a not-so-pleasant way to go to his mother's house for thanksgiving next time.  (Especially considering that would not be fair for me since she's an amazing chef).  But family is the most important part and we laughed, enjoyed each others company and made memories.  We were all together and had our health and happiness.  What more could I ask for in a holiday?

Nine Minutes of Hell

Most people dread going to work for the obvious reasons.  I dread it because it is just no protection from my "problems".  I just have to accept that my luck follows me no matter where I am.

Maybe a week ago I was at my desk and realized I was really hungry and it was fast approaching closing time at the work cafeteria.  I had totally lost track of time somehow and I knew if I didn't bust a move right now, I was going to have to starve.  I grabbed my wallet and off I went.  At my work, it's a decent walk to the cafeteria.  Even walking briskly can take a good 7 plus minutes to get there, so knowing the cafeteria was closing soon I was going as fast as my little legs could take me.  As I approached the elevator, I remembered that yesterday it had an "Out of Order" sign on it.  Since elevators scare me so, I opted to skip that one and move on to the next.  I couldn't take the chance of it not being totally fixed.  I shiver at the mere thought, so I press on.  

I approach the second elevator and my timing was impeccable.  It just happened to be open and waiting for me.  There was no one else waiting or in there.  Just the way I like it.  No breathing other peoples' air.  As my tummy rumbles, I press the button to bring me down 2 floors.  The door closes and off I go.

Now before I am chastised for taking the elevator down 2 measly floors, I will admit that in spite of my believing I've been blessed with perpetual youth (shut up), I do have a bad knee.  It's often painful, especially going down the steps so I try to avoid that.  The pain is secondary though to the creaking and grinding sounds it makes as I descend.  It's truly nauseating.  Until it gets better, I use the elevator to go down but I do use the steps to go up.

Back to the elevator....I've felt the drop feeling of the car going down the two floors.  I've felt the slowing as it approached my floor.  I didn't quite feel the "stop" feeling at the bottom so I wait.  Two hours later (8 seconds later) the door is still not open.  I suddenly feel hot all over.  "Don't freak out, it will open any second now" I repeat to myself over and over.  Deep cleansing breaths are doing little more than adding to my dizziness.  I think I'm stuck.  Those doors aren't opening.  

Inside I'm completely flipping the eff out, but since there are cameras inside these elevators I appear completely calm and collected.  Heaven forbid the security guys catch a glimpse of me with a worried expression on my face while I'm trapped, yet I have no issue adjusting "the girls" on a daily basis in there.  I finally accept the fact that I am definitely stuck now.  No two ways about it.  I opened the compartment and picked up the courtesy phone (also know as the "get me the f#*k out of here!" phone).  Immediately, I heard a voice on the other end asking if I was OK.  I said yes and he said they would have someone there momentarily.  He remained on the line with me as they arrived.  They were literally there within seconds.  The nice man on the phone said calmly, OK they have a key they're going to open the doors for you now.  I did actually feel comforted for the moment while I heard the men outside the elevator and the reassuring voice on the phone.  He again asked if I was OK and lying through my teeth I said yes.  He let me go when I told him the guys were there.  

As I hung up I could hear the keys jingling.  I figured I would be out of here in a moments time.  I then heard a voice yelling "hello?" from above me.  This was followed by the voices of the men outside the door saying "who was that??  who is up there?".  Their confusion was a major setback in my portrayal of the calm trapped passenger.  I was starting to really get scared now.  How do they not know who that was and why was someone above me??  Surely by this point 3 or 4 seconds have passed and I've noticed that in spite of hearing the keys supposedly unlocking the doors, the doors remain closed.  I hear and see the doors banging around as they fight to get them open.  OBVIOUSLY these keys are not working!!!  I'm starting to hyperventilate.  The room is closing in on  me!  Oh God here come the chest pains, now I'm having a heart attack!  They struggled with that door for what felt like DAYS.  I was  almost about to get back on the courtesy phone and tell them I was about to die.  At the time, it seemed logical to me that if I had an emergency, they would somehow be able to open the doors faster.  All kinds of scenarios were playing out in my mind; I wondered if I would be in here for hours?  I wondered if anyone was trapped so long that they eventually just died waiting.  I wondered why I couldn't have gotten stuck after I got my food so I would have some form of sustenance in the event the rescue takes an extended amount of time to free me!

Just as I was about to accept that I would be living out my final moments in this box, the doors were finally pried open.  My rescuer poked his head in as he pressed the doors apart with all his might.  He had to have been seven feet tall.  He asked if I was OK and I smiled politely and said "yes".  He then thanked me for some reason as I walked away in a daze.  I replied with "no, thank YOU" but I didn't turn to look his way as I said it.  I was thoroughly freaked out and I didn't want them to see it.  In retrospect, I wish I had been a little more thankful, but in my defense, aside from being terrified I was also embarrassed.  It was quite the scene.  I did make it to the cafeteria on time somehow.  I managed to get my food and pay all while shaking uncontrollably.  It took hours to get over it.  HOURS.

All I wanted was a tiny morsel of chicken from the salad bar and my life was almost compromised!!  Is it really too much to ask that I just get a day where something absurd doesn't happen?  All in all, it could have been worse and I am certainly thankful I was rescued so quickly.  It could have happened to anyone, but of course it happened to me.  I can't help but think this is payback for my little list of elevator rules I posted. 

The Nightmare of the Twice-remodeled Bathroom

Well, we did it again.  We decided to remodel something in our house that we probably* had no business doing.  I do have to hand it to us though because when it was finally done, our new bathroom turned out beautifully.  With the exception of our one friend, we did this thing completely on our own and I am very proud of our work.  My husband really has become quite the craftsman when it comes to tile work.

We bought our house six years ago knowing full-well it was a major fixer-upper.  In fact, I think we might have saved a buck or two by just plowing that son-of-a-bitch down and starting fresh.  We had to redo every single room in this house.  EVERY room.  And when I say "redo" I don't mean some quick cosmetic fixes just slapping some paint on the walls either.  We are talking down to the studs, new walls, new floors, new fixtures, new electrical, new everything you can think of.  Clearly we bought for the neighborhood and for that I have no regrets.  It's a great neighborhood, a nice place to raise kids, my mom's house is a mere 2 minute drive, we have great neighbors (well, except for that ONE guy) and it's perfectly located dead center between my job and my husband's job.  So at the end of the day, it was a score but getting to where we are today was just horrific.  There's no sugar coating it.

This most recent remodel is the second one for that same bathroom.  Yes, the second one in six years.  Why you ask?  Well because for starters we never finished it last time.  Add to it the fact that I didn't research the materials I chose and because of that, they didn't hold up well to the moisture.  The vision then was white wainscoting from the floor up to about 4 feet.  Then a nautical blue paint.  The floor and shower enclosure was slate tile and to offset the rough, rugged stone I chose polished chrome fixtures.  In my head and in the clippings I used for inspiration it looked fantastic.

Flash forward four years - the blue paint never made it to the walls because the top trim on top of the wainscoting never was installed.  For that same reason, I also never painted the wainscoting.  In our defense, we don't have a table saw to be able to make the proper cuts need for the trim so technically none of this is our fault.  Whatever our excuse, not paining the wainscoting would prove to be a critical mistake.  Did you know that if left unpainted, the particular wainscoting I have will swell and basically flake apart entirely when it comes in contact with moisture?  Not a good mix when you are raising a little boy whose idea of a good time is to sneak off and spend all day splashing water from the bathroom sink onto the walls.

This time we were going to do it right.  We measured everything, considered everything, did price comparisons, added up our rough estimate and then after weeks of mulling it over, we went to Home Depot and I pulled the trigger.  I said "honey, for my birthday I want a new bathroom.  I have my Home Depot card on me and we are buying everything right here and now".

We were off to a fairly smooth start.  Well, with the exception of having both kids with us and neither one of them taking a break from being impossible, demanding, loud little monsters the whole time in the store.  In spite of that, I was pleased to find all the materials came to under $700.  Not bad!  When we left, we had a minivan jam packed with all the beach gear we never took out and everything a person would need to build a new bathroom (providing they forgot half of the materials as we did).

On Friday we began the demolition and were very excited that "by Monday" we should have a functioning bathroom and "by Wednesday" it would be completely finished.  We had strict deadlines to keep us on task.  It had to be done by Wednesday because we were going out of town overnight on Thursday and then Saturday we were having everyone over for a birthday party.  Yea, no pressure there.  I was sure we could do it though.  I work well under pressure and the people on TV do stuff like this all the time.  There were plenty of episodes of "Weekend Warriors" where they got this done without issue.  Besides, we'd already ripped the walls down 4 years ago, so we shouldn't have any surprises this time around.

As always we were dead wrong.  There were still surprises.  For instance, when we put the wainscoting up we naturally assumed it would be up for a while.  We certainly never anticipated ripping it down any time in the forseeable future.  That is why 8 gallons of glue was applied in addition to the 30,000 nails.  In spite of the gratification we got ripping it down, we just were not prepared for the glue ripping most of the wall off with it.  We had some major patch work to do now.  Half a bucket of spakle and a day and a half later and the problem was still no better.  The spakle just refuses to dry and what's worse is that the paper from the sheetrock was peeling off now too.  There was no way we were getting a smooth wall out of this.  The easy and much cheaper fix would have been to replace the sheetrock.  Instead, we decided we would just tile the walls all the way around the bathroom instead of just in the shower.  Sure it might take a little longer, and cost a fortune, but it will look so nice!

Now we have to buy a ton more tile and go to multiple Home Depots because ours doesn't have enough in stock!  Further, we have to figure out how to handle all the corners and cuts and everything else.  In addition to paying for all the extra material, my husband is going to need a real tile saw now.  Not like the piece of crap that has just barely gotten him by for all of our other projects.  There goes a couple hundred more dollars, but it was money well spent.  He sets up everything beautifully and he is ready to get this job done.  The tile saw is outside and everything he needs is neatly lined up beside it.  Probably two tiles in and it starts raining.  We had to break down the entire works and set it up in the kitchen.  As if it's not hard enough trying to remodel a bathroom with three kids in the house, now we have a wet saw in the middle of the kitchen.  In case you are not familiar, these things spray water - and not clean water, it's more of a cement-like mixture.  It's not something you want indoors, least of all in your kitchen when you still have a family to feed.  Lets hope this rain doesn't stick around.

I think it rained for 12 straight days.  We missed our deadline by a LONG shot.  I rescheduled our trip out of town and I moved the birthday party to the following weekend.  Did I mention that the entire bathroom is being tiled in subway tile?  That means that instead of my husband having to put up a bunch of big square tiles, he has to put up literally 500+ small ones one at a time and if you go off level at any point, you will ruin the entire thing the rest of the way around the room.  I really do have to commend my husband though.  He did an amazing job.  It is really impressive.

While we were working on all of this, the kids have made this experience go from a difficulty level of "quite difficult" to "so impossible that we contemplated abandoning everything we know and just starting a new life - alone - without even each other - or a forwarding address".  Children are naturally curious so I understood why they insisted on being right in the mix of the work.  However, it's pretty dangerous for them to be around - especially considering the fact that they both completely insist on being barefoot at all times.  They did nothing but cry, scream, fight and get hurt through the entire project.  Every two minutes (and I mean that literally) someone was calling me for something.  It was absolutely maddening.  They couldn't just go play for even a half hour without a major problem.  The worst is that my daughter decided that she wasn't going to be potty trained any more.  I was switching between roles of Stone Mason and Mommy and although challenging, I didn't mind it too much.  What I did not appreciate was when the roles of Laborer and Janitor were added.  As I was spakling and collecting garbage, my daughter was peeing and pooping all over the house as if she were a new puppy.  She was even taking great joy in it as I lost my mind.  She would walk into the bathroom barefoot as we screamed at her to get out because it's dangerous.  Instead of heeding our warnings, she would push through smiling and singing "I peeeeeed!".  She was peeing her pants without any regard for anyone or anything around her.  The carpet in the den really took a beating, as did any toys, chairs, couches, pets and siblings that had the misfortune of being under her.  Clearly she was doing it for attention.  The pooping everywhere was even worse.

My sister-in-law offered to take the kids for a little while one day so we could get some work done without them in the way.  God Bless her and thank goodness she came when she did.  I'm pretty sure at one point my husband said something like "don't ever bring them back" and I can't be certain they heard me, but at one point I did refer to the kids as "assholes" so I think it was in everyone's best interest that the house clear out for a bit.  This project was really bringing out the worst in both of us.  My poor babies.

Another great challenge was having to still feed and care for everyone while the place was under construction.  If you've ever done any kind of project at home or even had professionals come do work, you know that no matter how much of a precaution you take, dust and debris still manages to get EVERYWHERE in the house.  The tile saw in the kitchen was just the icing on the cake to what was already a disaster.  I think one of my favorite parts was when I was standing at the stove holding lids over everything to keep it uncontaminated as I cooked while my husband cut tile and unintentionally sprayed my back with tile sludge.  It most certainly was not his fault.  The saw was only inches away from my back, it couldn't really be avoided.  I shouldn't complain though.  At least this time we have walls.  Last time we remodeled the bathroom, we didn't have walls for weeks.  The bathroom was completely open to the attic and to bathe, we would have to use a cup to collect the water from a pipe and just pour it on our bodies to wash.  Did I mention it was the dead of winter and the bathroom was probably only about 10 degrees above the outdoor temperature?  That was fun.  I kept reminding myself of that as this project dragged on longer than we ever anticipated.

Although it took over two weeks, cost us probably $800 more than we had budgeted, took at least 15 trips back and forth to Home Depot and nearly destroyed our marriage, that bathroom looks awesome.  We missed meals, got injured, went to bed angry, screamed at the kids, skipped showers, destroyed clothes and cried a lot but it had to be done and we are richer from the experience.  I've since made it up to my little ones by spending extra play time with them and showering them with tons of love, affection and millions of kisses.  Through it all, we have kids that we love more than anything and who still love us, a strong marriage and a beautiful bathroom - all of which we are very proud.  In the end I can honestly say that if I had to do it all again..... I would sooner burn the house to the ground.

Moral:  Do-it-Yourself Jobs are not for those with small children.  


*most definately