The Ice Cream Man! Guaranteeeeeeed to satsfy!

Ahhhh! Summer!  The time of year where it goes from 40 to 100 degrees overnight, and also in the car, before you figure out that all the kids rolled down their windows with the AC on.  Thank you person who invented the driver’s window lock!

Goodbye early morning drop offs!  Hello amusement parks and sunny beach days that turn cloudy then sunny again when you’ve packed up all your stuff.  And no summer would be complete without The Ice Cream Man!  You can hear the jingle coming from 5 miles away, and no matter how high you crank up your 80s compilation cd, the kids can still hear him despite their windows being completely up, and locked of course.

I live very close to the beach, so we generally see The Ice Cream Man every day parked practically next to our house.  Of course I had a long talk with my kids explaining that getting ice cream truck goodies is a special treat despite our heavily trafficked location, and surprisingly enough, they kinda get it, and don’t beg for Spiderman faces with bubblegum eyes any more than I did as a kid when my local ice cream truck wasn’t parked in my driveway.

I have fond memories of the ice cream truck from my childhood.  The driver was always a guy, sometimes a long haired, acne covered teenager.  He always drove slowly, and would wait for anyone running down the street to catch him.  Some of the ice cream men even knew the kids’ names, and they generally came by after dinner to soft serve dessert.  I remember once my dad paid $10 to buy all the neighborhood kids ice cream.  I think he got change, too.  Obviously that doesn’t happen anymore, but it is still the ice cream truck, so you have to partake every now and again.

This summer I haven’t seen as much of The Ice Cream Man as usual.  I did see him today, though.  He was going 30 in a 25 zone and flew right past this kid standing on the sidewalk waving a five dollar bill.  Realizing the error of his ways, he slammed on his brakes and stopped right in the middle of the street.  Since I was driving right behind him, so I stopped and waited, figuring he would pull over to wait for the kid.  Nope.  Finally I honked at him lightly, and he did pull over.  As I drove around him he flashed a big moronic smile, but I had to smile back.  I mean he is The Ice Cream Man, and this was a much better experience than I had with a different Ice Cream Man last year.

It was a super hot day last summer, and my kids were being really good.  We spent the day at the beach, and I told them that as a special treat, after dinner we would go to the ice cream truck.  Both kids were awesome at dinner, and we set off to see The Ice Cream Man with excitement and a twenty.  Of course that day he wasn’t parked on our lawn, but I explained to the kids that he surely was around somewhere, and scouting for the ice cream truck is actually a legendary childhood rite of passage.

We found the ice cream truck parked a few blocks away, and my kids bolted happily to the truck window to select their choices.  I saw The Ice Cream Man exiting the truck on the other side.  Running up to him I yelled, “Wait!  We want to buy some ice cream!”  I notice he had turned off the truck, which is always a bad sign.  I pictured the bubble gum eyed Pink Panther melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.  “I be right back,“ The Ice Cream Man replied.  He was probably in his 50s and spoke with a strong Russian accent.  “But where are you going?” I asked desperately.  “I need to test drive car,” he told me, “Need new car.”  He pointed to a car at the curb with a “For Sale” sign on it next to a man holding keys.  “But can’t you sell us ice cream and then test drive the car?  We only need two things!” I was practically begging at this point.  “I need car.  I look at car, I come back and get ice cream.”  And then he was gone.  I stood there dumfounded.  Did this really just happen?  Was the ice cream man seriously going to be cruising around the neighborhood in a used car while my kids eagerly awaited him by the non-running ice cream truck window?  This is not how it is supposed to go!  I flashed back to my childhood and saw The Friendly Ice Cream Man in his white uniform waiting in his chilly truck for kids running towards him from half a block away. No, this is ABSOLUTELY not how it is supposed to go! 

Now normally I would have cursed him and gone home, but my kids were so excited.  I promised them ice cream truck treats, and they deserved them.  So, I went around the truck to talk to my enthusiastic offspring. 

“I’m getting a King Kone!”

“I’m getting a Monster High Melt!” They exclaimed. 

“Well,” I told them, “The Ice Cream Man had to run an errand real quick.  He had to leave the truck, but he will be back soon to get your ice creams.”

“Wait,” my son cried out, “Is that him?”

Sure enough, there he was, rounding the corner at top speed.  We all jumped back a few feet out of instinct.

“That’s him,” I confirmed.  “He’s thinking about buying that car, so he’s going to drive it around for a few minutes.”

So, for the next 15 minutes, we watched The Ice Cream Man tooling around and around and around the block, testing out the limits of his potential new ride, as the ice cream truck stood by idly getting warmer and warmer.  And let me tell you, 15 minutes is like 500 hours when you are waiting by a 

driverless ice cream truck, money in hand, no matter how old you are.

Finally, The Ice Cream Man came screeching to a stop in the car’s driveway. “Thank God!” I thought, breathing a huge sigh of relief.  Not so fast.  The Ice Cream Man and the car owner proceeded to get into a heated exchange in Russian.  I had no idea what they were saying, but I assumed they were haggling over the car.  The debate kept escalating until both parties were screaming at each other, and The Ice Cream Man eventually walked away in disgust.  He came back into his truck and poked his head out of the window. 

“You believe it!” he huffed to me, “That car need new tires!  New battery! New brakes!”

“That’s terrible,” I consoled him, “But can you please turn on the truck?” 

“It is terrible!” He declared starting up the truck, “What you want?” 

My children ordered quickly, probably fearing a sudden ice cream man departure, and we walked home $7.00 lighter.

As a mom, I find myself constantly comparing my children’s childhood to my own.  So much has changed, including The Ice Cream Man.  Unlike my parents, I cannot buy a round for the neighborhood from The Ice Cream Man for ten bucks, but he can park on my grass as long as he stays in the truck! 

The Mom of Rock

A long time ago, far, far away, I was the Queen of Rock.  Seriously, I was.  I spent a decade on the radio, and at one point, I was dubbed “The Queen of Rock.” 

Working in the music business was an amazing journey for me, stemming from a passion for music that was reinforced by my dad when he came home with the Bay City Rollers album, “Dedication” when I was in second grade, and further escalated in junior high when I was told, “Don’t stop believing.  Hold on to that feeling,” and “I’ve got the magic power of the music in me.”

Then, my life changed dramatically when I became “The Mommy of Rock,” and ultimately “Mommy.”  The transition was pretty huge for me, but I embraced it, and set out to find myself, in my new role, and maybe somehow bridge the gap between these two parts of my life.

The first step to paving the bridge is of course the cool onesie.  You know, the infant bodysuit that is the staple of babies everywhere.  “It’s a girl!” had no influence on the black Led Zeppelin onesie, or the Ramones onesie, or the Slipknot onesie.  I don’t think any infant girl wore more black than mine, including Bella Lugosi’s daughter.  We had Judas Priest, AC/CD, and of course the ever popular “I Wanna Rock!”  In fact, onesies just keep getting more and more extreme as time goes on.  There are all kinds of funny sayings and pictures.  They even sell them at the big chain baby stores now.  Onesies have definitely gone from simple white undershirts to statement pieces, the statement being made by the parents, of course.  And as we laugh at other babies outrageous bodysuits, parents’ minds are already scheming about where to find that laugh-out-loud onesie and where to find a better one.

The next step in bridge building is noise cancelling headphones.  Gwyneth Paltrow was photographed at her Coldplay husband’s (I have no idea if they are still married, btw.  I am still looking for my original set of car keys…) show with her kids wearing such headphones.  What a great idea!  And if they are good enough for Gwyneth’s kids, they are good enough for mine.  In fact, a friend of mine actually gave my daughter the exact same headphones for her first birthday.  Score!  Owning kid noise cancelling headphones means that you are now ready to take your child to a concert.  Much like a passport, kid headphones insure the idea that when the circumstances present themselves, you and baby are there.

My time actually presented itself sooner than I expected.  When my daughter was about 2, my friend happened to get box seats at a big rock show.  I was hesitant at first, but my friend swore it would be fine, and after all, my toddler had noise cancelling headphones.  I explained to my daughter where we were going, and we created a signal for when she had enough:  She would pull on my arm and pat her face.  She was actually excited to wear the headphones, and wore them in the car all the way to the show.

Well, we got in without incident (yes, she needed a ticket!)  We even had VIP parking with our box seats, but as soon as we hit the crowd, I could tell that my decision to take a toddler to a rock show was a controversial one.  Everyone looked at us.  Some people gave the big thumbs up and told me how great I was, but some people were not so thrilled.  You would have thought I dressed up like Hitler and put swastika armbands on my daughter by the way some people reacted.  I got death stares and nasty comments, but when we got to our amazing seats, my daughter was awestruck.  She was dancing to the first band, and when she signaled me that she was done during the second band, we left.  She seemed to enjoy herself, but I decided to wait a while until I rocked out with her again.

I wanted to continue building my daughter’s relationship with music, both recorded and live.  The next four years or so I consider the “Kid Show” years.  You know, Disney on Ice, Sesame Street Live.  All the kidcentric entertainment that we could afford without mortgaging our house.  Then when child two came along, we got a little bit more band intensive.  The Imagination Movers, Music for Aardvarks, and those annoying Fresh Beats who inspired me to get my own noise cancelling headphones.  Unfortunately I could still hear the band, so I guess mine didn’t cancel all the noise.  That actually brings me to an important point:  It’s great to take your kids to live shows, but don’t torture yourself in the process.  The live music experience opens your child’s eyes to the exciting performance aspect of music and the thrill of being in the audience, but if the characters and the songs hit your unbearable meter, skip them.  There are plenty more Bubble Guppies in the sea.

Another important element in music bridge building is the car.  As a mom, you spend more time in the car than Tolstoy spent writing War and Peace.  Many parents play kid cds in the car.  There is even Radio Disney to get the party started.  I am not one of those parents.  I need music when I drive, MY MUSIC.  It is stressful enough just driving in NYC.  I am not adding onto the problem with some annoying kids’ band.  And honestly, my kids are developing an appreciation for rock and roll classics.  They can identify the Beatles, the Stones, Led Zeppelin, and The Ramones.  Plus I tell them about the bands:  the British Invasion, the origins of punk, the influence of the blues, and whatever interesting PC stories I know.  Yeah, they hear pop music in school.  I will even play Katy Perry and Paramore, but I am happy my kids know what came first.  Even the Go-Gos are a big hit in my car.  Seriously, 80s music sounds like it was created for kids.  I will choose “Hey Mickey,” over Mickey Mouse every time.

My children are in elementary school now, and that is really a great time to expand their musical worlds.  We are not throwing them into the mosh pit (although I have seriously thought about it at times!) but they have seen mainstream acts such as the Goo Goo Dolls, Nickelback, and Lynyrd Skynyrd.  Both my kids wore their noise cancelling headphones, and they both watched intently and even raised their hands up and sang the chorus with the crowd.

All in all, I feel pretty good about the rock and roll education my kids are getting.  I never tell them what to like, but they often tell me what they like.  They both wanted to go to the limited release Led Zeppelin movie several months ago, so I took them.  Robert Plant’s pants were even tighter on the giant screen (I didn’t make a big deal about it except in my head!) but my kids focused on the performance, and they loved it.  They talk about it still.  I have often heard that the most important tenet of parenting is to be yourself, and I believe it.  After all, your kids have some of your genetics.  Maybe mine got the “Queen of Rock” genes from me. 

Pre-Motherhood:  Do It Now!

My daughter’s teacher is having her first baby in a few months.  Actually, in her case, it is BABIES, since she is pregnant with twins.  She actually looks a lot better than I did with both of my single pregnancies… but I digress.

I see this amazing mom-to-be every day at dismissal, and although I try my best to bite my tongue in regards to giving her mom advice, I just can’t seem to keep quiet.  Seriously!  Despite the cardinal sin status of new mother advice giving, it’s like a free dessert with your meal.  You know you shouldn’t.  You try not to, but in the end, you just can’t help yourself.  It’s as if the devil on my shoulder is the triumphant Al Capone breaking the law to build his empire, and my other shoulder’s angel is Forrest Gump sitting on a park bench occasionally, accidentally getting it right.

So I decided to try to inform this newbie mom-to-be about some of the lesser known things she should do now, for herself, in advance of motherhood. 

 Binge watch your favorite tv shows.  Not only do new moms have little to no time for tv, if they do get to watch something, they will undoubtedly fall asleep within the first 10 minutes.  Even if the show has an exciting car chase, a hot main character, or a surprise jailhouse shanking, fatigue always wins, and no number of toothpicks can keep a new mom’s eyes open.  Not only that, but at some point in the near future, the television will show nothing but a young girl with a singing backpack hanging out with a fox, or some weird creatures who live in a boombox.

2.       

      Go out to dinner as often as possible. Even if your feet hurt because they are the size of the Hindenburg, go to dinner anyway.  Or lunch.  Or breakfast.  Although cooking is near the bottom of the “Want To” list, going out to dinner with a baby is at the top of the “Don’t Want To” list.  There is a brief period of time after they are born when babies are still somewhat comatose, but parents are generally working on settling into a new life-with-baby routine, and by the time they feel comfortable going to a restaurant, Junior will be an uncooperative dining companion.  Babies eat often, and if you are nursing, it isn’t fun when you are dining out.  Nursing in public can be very uncomfortable at first.  Some moms actually never get used to it.  Even if you are fine with breastfeeding outside of your home, someone is bound to be offended, and despite your cutting edge nursing shawl, you will be relegated to the bathroom, or the car, and will undoubtedly miss the meal.  If you are using bottles, your hands are full, and licking your food off of the plate is a definite breach of table manners.  Not to mention your child’s disposition and volume.  Neither are within your control, yet both will have you pacing outside the restaurant forever, or at least for the length of the meal.

3.      Go to every movie that seems cool.  Even if the movie got bad reviews but has an interesting premise, go.  Even if you don’t understand the movie’s premise but there is some good eye candy in the movie, go.  Even if the movie is in a different language but has subtitles, go.  After a baby arrives, you will not get to see a movie for months, possibly years.  And unless you have a nanny or family nearby, when you do start going out to the movies again, they will all be animated and the only hot characters will be on fire.  Also, movies geared toward young children have a high annoyance factor despite the politically correct plot.  I don’t think the hearing impaired can sit through 60 minutes of the Smurf voice.  Even if you love Gilbert Gottfried and Sara Silverman, you will spend a lot of time with young children in the theater restroom during the movie.  Yes, you may have to take a few movie bathroom breaks while pregnant, but that is nothing compared to the times your little one will sit on the potty trying for something while a princess realizes her mother was right on the big screen.

4.      Read as often as you can.  New moms don’t have much quiet time alone…. At least when they are awake.  Reading requires concentration, and much like watching tv, fatigue generally trumps reading.  If you do read as a new mom, your mind tends to wander.  You will think about groceries, pediatrician appointments, and diaper sales while you read the same sentence 25 times in a row.  And if by some miracle you stay engaged in a book, by the time you get back to it, you will have to reread the last few chapters to remember what’s happening.  Also, with new babies, parents tend to read a lot of “How to” books, and there are a ton of them.  From swaddling to feeding to socializing, baby manuals abound, and the bookstore has an entire section to address every question a parent could ever ask.  Stephen King, Tom Clancy, and even Janet Evanovich most likely will be pushed aside for pediatric authors, psychologists, and professional nannies.

5.      Talk on the phone.  Open your contact list and start dialing.  Before your baby arrives, you can have actual conversations that don’t involve spit up, tummy time, or diaper rash.  You can talk about the politics, celebrity gossip, or the latest bunch of movies you have seen and books you have read.  You can talk for thirty minutes straight, or an hour!  There will be no screaming baby in the background, and you won’t have to whisper for fear of awakening said baby.  Even if you are a texter, call people anyway.  This may be the last time you hear your friends’ voices for a while without listening to your voicemail.

I guess in a nutshell, my advice to first time moms-to-be is to take time before the baby comes to do what makes you happy.  Of course your bundle of joy (or bundles in the case of my daughter’s teacher) will make you happy in a heartfelt way that you have never known, but it may be a long time until you can focus on yourself again.  As veteran parents, I think that is the kind of advice we should give if we can’t keep our opinions to ourselves… Ooops!  I guess my little devil wins again.

Being a Grandmother

Mother’s Day was not long ago, and aside from fawning over the cutely colored, misprinted construction paper cards that you will keep forever, many of us reflect back on our own childhoods and how we feel about our own mothers.  Of course if you keep going down that road, you wind up at the intersection of mother and grandmother, where you can sit down in the shade of your family tree and think about your mother’s new role in your created nuclear family, and maybe even the changes Mom has made.  For example, we never had candy in the house growing up!  Or soda!  Or any cereal that had “cookie” in the name!  What gives???  So I asked my mom:  What changes when you become a grandmother?  How is your relationship with my kids different than your relationships with my siblings and me?  Are these all the Hershey kisses you have or are there more in the pantry?

 

My mom wrote me her thoughts, and here they are, exactly as she wrote them:

 

It is said that grandchildren are the reasons that you don't kill your own children.  I think that's probably true.  Treating them differently seems to be the result of having more time, having no responsibility for them growing up in a certain way, having more disposable income, and of course, the fact that they provide a window into a world that's brand new--rather than the cynical window we develop through adulthood.  So grandchildren are magic.  And they are all perfect!!!  They are who they are and that is to be celebrated.  So all the time spent with grandchildren is a great gift.

  

So, we can eat ice cream before dinner, we can even eat ice cream for dinner!

We can stretch bedtime.  They can eat wherever and whatever they want to, or nothing.  They can have whatever toy or electronic thing they want, and the limits are set by their parents, not me.  It is my job to spoil them--their parents' job to discipline and mold them. 

 

And grandchildren KNOW you love them unconditionally and that covering them with kisses is to be expected.  And if you take them out individually, they can be king or queen--no sharing. Grandchildren listen to your stories, especially about their parent, and share their lives with you. 

 

Don't misunderstand, it is not okay to act bratty, throw tantrums, or any of the other manipulations they employ on their parents.  Even teenagers are pretty careful about that.  Grandchildren are to be adored, and grandparents are there to adore them.

 

My grandchildren are the funniest, wittiest, smartest, kindest, and best in the world--they're mine!

Just as it is impossible for us to understand what our moms really went through until we became moms, I expect you don’t really know how it feels to be a grandmother until you become one.  I am personally looking forward to the “ice cream for dinner” part.

Thank you Linda Saliamonas.  You showed me how to be a woman, and you continue to teach me as a woman.  You are smart, creative, interesting, caring, and most importantly, you didn’t kill me.

Preparing for Snowpocalypse

I moved to NYC in 2000.  Being from Chicagoland (because that's what we call suburbia up there,) I didn't have to wear my real winter coat for at least 3 years in NY.  You know THE winter coat, the one that is so warm you don't actually need the thermal union jack, two turtlenecks and three sweaters under it?  You can actually wear it over your regular clothes, and you are still toasty in -5.  Your face may be frozen into Droopy Dog covered in icicles of mucus and saliva (despite your ski mask, scarf, and hat) but your limbs, torso, and hopefully legs are warm.  In Chicago (land), no one looks at you twice since everyone looks like that, and you keep that coat until it is down to the very last feather of whatever mutant bird from Greenland "donated" it, because it is VERY hard to find a coat like that.  Of course The coat moved with me from residence to residence  I even pulled it out a few times in Ohio, but NYC, just not cold enough.  Especially if you take the subway.  It may be 25 outside, but it is 75 in the subway and you and every other Frosty the Snowman in July are stuck in this steam bath until you reach your destination.  No way.  Not only was it not cold enough for THE jacket on the streets of  NYC, it was easier to for me to wear a sweatshirt if it was over 25 degrees and I was using mass transit.

Eventually I did get rid of THE coat.  I retrospect, I should have mailed it back to the Midwest, but I can only hope it gave some homeless person the night sweats so badly that he thought he had gone through a heroine withdrawal and went on to become president of his own online gambling casino.  I had worn THE coat a few times, and it just didn't work in NYC.  I bought a lighter coat, more suited to an environment where the water in your eyes doesn't freeze and it is sometimes actually too cold to snow, and I was very happy in this new coat.  Actually I still am, despite the fact that the weather is changing quite a bit in The Big Apple.

In my opinion, it's still not that cold here, but it is starting to snow more regularly.  When I first moved here, I was actually kind of astonished that it barely snowed.  I mean NYC is far from the tropics, I just figured it snowed like home.  Nope.  Not even close.  It did snow once in a while though.  Maybe a few times a winter, and everyone made a big deal about it.  Store shelves resembled those of the day of the Rodney King verdict.  Everything was closed and cancelled, and it snowed!  Like 18".  Really?  When it snowed 2 feet in Chicago (land) and the school bus door could only open six inches, you best contort yourself through it and fast.  That bus was on a schedule, and not going to be late to school.  I remember one time in high school when it was my birthday. I was walking down the stairs to get to class and I looked out the window and it was a blizzard.  My birthday is April 20th.

Anyway, due to no global warming whatsoever, every year NYC winters are getting more snow.  2006 was a big snowy winter, and the reason I know this is not because I lived here (I mean I did, but in my mind it is still always a big snowy winter.  You can take the girl out of Chicago...) but because this year, right now in fact, we New Yorkers are bracing ourselves for the biggest blizzard to ever hit the city:  Snowpocalypse!  A beast even bigger than whatever happened in 2006... which I believe was called Snowmaggedon, but don't quote me on that.  Now I get it.  This is a big city filled with millions of people, so the governing bodies have to bear in mind a shitload of safety concerns.  It hasn't even snowed that much and I'm sure there are already lawsuits filed by 500 people who slipped on a frosty street.  Not only that, but this is like porn for the newscasters.  Is it snowing in Afghanistan?  No!  It's snowing right here in NYC!  And that poor Asian woman is once again being sent out in a fashionable anorak to report from the most windblown place that the news van could find.  I admit it.  After Hurricane Sandy destroyed most of South Brooklyn, including half of our home, I take these overhyped weather reports much more seriously.  I get it.  It's going to snow...probably a few feet, and the wind is going to be strong, maybe 60 mph in some places.  Since I live in Brooklyn, most people's attitudes are, "I survived Sandy.  Bring it on."  Seriously, it's true.  The hurricane was pure devastation.  This is snow.  I am well aware that snow brings it's own set of problems (You can take a girl out of Chicago...) so I did my best to be prepared.  Batteries of all sizes and shapes?  Check.  Bread, milk, peanut butter, potato chips and beer?  Check.  Candles that have had the dust wiped off of them?  Check. Snow shovel that your daughter is not allowed to touch since she left it on the ground to get buried under 3 feet of snow in an undisclosed location? Check.  Full tank of gas?  Sorta check. Salt and weird blue ice melting stuff that probably contains plutonium?  Check.  All plans cancelled for tomorrow? Check.  I am as ready as I will ever be. So now we wait.

The snow wasn't supposed to start until 1pm.  Cool.  I had a training session at my gym at 10am.  No problem.  At least I would get those arms pumped for shoveling.  About a week ago, my gym, Ballys, became 24 Hour Fitness.  Everyone found out because of the 24 Hour Fitness sticker stuck to the door, but that's beside the point.  The point is, since Ballys became 24 Hour Fitness, it has actually never been open 24 hours.  So I was in the middle of my training when the announcement came that the gym would be closing at 2pm.  Mind you it hadn't even started snowing yet.  Then, when the first flake of snow hit the sidewalk, another announcement came in that said the gym would be closed the following day.  What?  Ballys was open during Sandy, but 24 Hour Fitness closes early and doesn't even open at all?  I will now be referring to the gym as Sometimes Open Fitness, that is on the rare occasions when I don't refer to it as Ballys.

So I picked up the kids (who I almost forgot about since I was so dumbfounded that the gym was closing 8 hours early at 2... oh yeah...my kids get out of school at 2.  Better go get them,) and I texted my husband that I would be stopping at Walgreens on the way home.  Did he need anything?  He texted something back, but honestly, it was so lame that I immediately forgot about it.  So I am in Walgreens.  I figure one last stop juuuust in case.  Picked up some more batteries, some snacks, some milk.... now what was that thing my husband texted me?  I left my phone in the car, and try as I may, it is impossible for me to recall his request.  I stroll down the aisles...a razor? No. Shampoo?  No. Tylenol?  No.  A Chia Pet?  Screw this I'm checking out.  I pay way to much for what little I got, and get back in the car looking for my phone.  I scroll through his messages, and there it is...scotch tape. WTF?????  Scotch tape?  Really?  Why the fuck would anyone need scotch tape for a snow storm?  I would have understood if it was just scotch.  I mean a bunch of my friends texted me from around the country to make sure I had rum, vodka, wine and tequila.  Surprisingly, none of them mentioned scotch tape, and I know it wasn't scotch with stupid auto correct because the man has so much scotch that the liquor cabinet is overflowing. Duct tape would make more sense.  After all we do have 2 kids who won't stop whining and talking, but we have duct tape.  Scotch tape?   So I start thinking, "Why do we need scotch tape for Snowpocolypse?"  Seriously, am I missing something?  Might we need to tape  a note on the door in case our doorbell isn't working?  I don't know if scotch tape can withstand 60 mph winds.  Do we have presents to wrap?  Do you give presents to people in a snowstorm?  No. Ridiculous.  Scotch tape?  Did he rip our home insurance policy?  Does it even cover snow damage?  Is he planning on taping the odd lot of our candles together to make a torch?  Won't the tape melt from the wax?  Is he planning on taping an "X" on every window like with duct tape for the hurricane but since it's a snowstorm you only need a lighter tape?  I went back into the store, bought the tape (he asked for it,) and all the way home, all I could think of was wtf this man needed scotch tape for in a blizzard.  Was a page of the How To Survive A Blizzard  book ripped?  Did his iPhone screen crack?  Is he going to kidnap a Con Ed guy if the power goes out and make him restore it but scotch tape his eyes shut so he doesn't see us?  Was one of the labels coming off of one of his bottles of scotch?

When I finally got home, I tore out of the car, ripped open the door and found him on the phone.  I paced back and forth until he finally hung up and burst out the inevitable question, "WHY IN THE HELL DO YOU NEED  SCOTCH TAPE FOR SNOWPOCOLYPSE???"  "Oh," he looked at me like I was a lunatic, "we don't need it right now but I used the last piece and I figured since you were going to Walgreens you could grab some."  Omg.  Of course.  Might as well stock up on the scotch tape just in general.  I mean you never know if one of our neighbors does have a birthday tomorrow, or a bow falls off a Barbie Doll.

So while most of my neighbors are drinking wine, watching a movie or watching the snow fall, I am going to pour myself a glass of the finest red we have with a screw top, and scotch tape something.  Maybe I will scotch tape a label on a folder.  Maybe I will write a letter and scotch tape the envelope shut.  Maybe I will just stick a piece of scotch tape to the wall.  Why?  Because the tape was on the Snopocolypse shopping list, and I can.

Happy Winter Break

You know you have been married a long time when you buy a crotchless net bodysuit to spice up your sex life, and while you are digging under the bed to find the one pair of stilettos that you keep threatening to give to Goodwill, your husband asks, "What is that on the back?  Is that a tag?"  Forget the net, forget the non existent crotch, it is the tag that attracts his attention, and I have to admit, why is there a tag on a net bodysuit?  On a side note, it wasn't even attached and came off in 2 seconds.  Who knew?

So in the spirit of trying new things, we broke another cherry for the holiday break (when I was in school mine was a Christmas break, but that was in the seventies when we went out for "Oriental" food.)  This year we decided to drive to Florida to see my family.  I know a lot of people do this, but we never have.  Partly because the interior of our car looks like a homeless family with 5 kids has lived inside for three years, and partly because I drive so much in general, the thought of a massive drive was extremely unappealing.  But, at close to $4,000 in airfare, we were driving, drop the homeless family at a shelter.

We decided to leave on Christmas day.  The kids wanted to open their presents from Santa before we hit the road.  They left interesting letters next to the cookies and milk.  Things like, "I know I have been really bad this year but I promise to be better next year," and "Hey, we are only human.  Everyone makes mistakes, so can I get a stuffed Pikachu?"  Santa, having a tequila buzz, was kind of upset by these notes and blamed his parenting for his kids' low self esteem, but he is ok with it now.

Anyway, for some reason, my husband had it in his head that we would be leaving for Florida at around 10am.  This did not exactly mesh well with the tequila intake (which turned out to be more than a buzz,) so I had to take a nap before we left or there was a good chance of me puking in the car before we left Brooklyn.  In retrospect, the puke smell would  have not really been that different than the general car smell, which we have unsuccessfully been trying to locate for at least 6 months.  Anyway, the kids were really excited and packed themselves, got their coats on and were waiting in the car by 3:00.  My husband joined them around 3:45.  I didn't get my shit together til about 4:gatorade, and off we went.  About 6 blocks away, the 10 year old diva announced she had forgotten her glasses and we had to go back.  I had to pee anyway, so that was fine with me.  My husband started doing some deep breathing exercise and back we went.  So, we officially hit the road, glasses on Diva, my bladder empty, at 4:16pm.  I begged my husband to wait for 4 minutes so that we could leave at 4:20, but he wasn't having it.  In his mind we were leaving 6 hours late.  In my mind, 4:20 would have been a cool departure time.

The kids were actually really good in the car.  They played on their electronics and I was even able to drive a few hours before I had to pee.  That's when I came up with my mission.  I was going to pee in every state!  If you don't really know me, you should know that my bladder is the size of a pea (my 6 year old calls me the Queen of Pee...whatever,) so I knew I could do it, and everyone has to have short term goals.  It makes the long term goal feel so much more obtainable.  Plus when you are chugging water and Red Bull, you have to pee, so NJ was easy.  We needed gas anyway.  Now we were definitely on the road.  The "We are going to have so much fucking fun they are going to have to pry the fucking smiles off our fucking faces" and Wallyworld references got us through Delaware (where I had to pee,) before we had to change topics.  Listening to Panic! At the Disco five times got us into Virginia, where we drove for a while and decided to stop for the night, get a good night's sleep and reach our destination the next day.  Surprisingly enough, after an entire day of eating nothing but candy, fruit snacks, and Slim Jims, the kids fell asleep rather fast.  We all did.  We had a big day ahead of us.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful.  I missed peeing in NC which I was not happy about and bitched my way through SC (where I peed twice!) and Georgia, where we conveniently needed gas and a restroom. The Kindle and the DS eventually ran out of juice, but we got to St. Augustine at about 10pm. I have to say, seeing my family absolutely washed away any problems I had, including missing the NC pee spot, and having my Panic! At the Disco cd replaced. 

I hadn't seen my two nephews and brother-in-law for two years, and hugging them was so awesome.  My oldest nephew, who was the first baby I ever fell in love with and have his first initial tattooed on my thigh, is now a surly teenager who wears a hoodie and jeans constantly (even in the Florida summer heat.  At one point he said to me, "You know I am actually hot right now but I will never wear anything else.") sleeps til 4pm and hasn't bathed in a month, was even happy to see me.  I could tell because he let me kiss my hand and put it on his cheek without throwing up.  And my 9 year old nephew (who once spontaneously told me, "I am glad I'm not a ferret, to which I concurred,) was so excited he gave me a big warm hug and immediately started picking on his 6 year old cousin.  Needless to say, we had the best time ever.  My brother-in-law does stand up comedy and had me dying, and my mom and I didn't get into a fight once, even when I drank all of her cooking wine and the rest of her Jack Daniels straight from the bottle.

The kids went swimming despite the freezing pool and didn't start fighting for at least 10 minutes when the 9 year old hit the 6 year old from behind with a pool noodle.  After being reprimanded by my sister, the 9 year old explained, "What's the point of a pool noodle if you cant hit someone with it?"  My sister and I tried not to crack up.  Well, at least he's not a ferret.  We also took them to a bounce place called Rebounders which awesomely sold alcohol.  They also sold women's tank tops that had "Rebounders" across the chest.  Really?  well it is the South.

One of the coolest things we did was take my nephews to pick out their Christmas presents.  We coaxed the 13 year old out of his room with the promise of Bose headphones.  My sister said he was ecstatic, which she could tell because he wasn't scowling and slouching as much.  He wore them every second since he got them, and it filled my heart.  The 9 year old is into magic.  Like really into magic.  St. Augustine is a tourist mecca since it is America's oldest city and home to the Fountain of Youth (which I am allergic to because it is sulfer water, go figure...) so my 9 year old nephew sets up a table on the most popular tourist filled street and does magic tricks.  He is actually excellent at slight of hand, especially considering how small his hands are, and when he passes the top hat at the end, he has been known to walk away with $50-$75 a day.  He wanted an expensive magic trick which we got for him, and he learned it in about an hour and continued to amaze us for the rest of our trip.

But far and away, the best part of the trip for me was hanging out with my sister.  OMG, she is my absolute favorite person in the whole world.  Yeah, she is four years younger so I may have charged her 25 cents to enter the room we shared.  Yeah, I may have traded her all of my Smarties for all of her chocolate bars on Halloween assuring her she got the better end of the deal.  But as adults, we couldn't laugh more, understand each other more, or love each other more.  We had the best time doing nothing much.  We went to the outlet mall with four kids (nightmare,) we went shopping for nothing (I spent $100,) and we bought champagne from Aldi for $3.99 to ring in the new year.  We laughed at our kids, our husbands, my mom (sorry Mom but that's what daughters do,) and just everything.  I felt like I was finally at peace.  Finally able to be who I really am.  Finally able to relax.  It was wonderful, and well worth the drive.  Thank you Carina, for just being you.  You understand me, and love me for just being me, and I absolutely feel the same way about you.

New Year's Eve was fun  My nephew did a magic show.  We watched the whole Times Square mayhem from the comfort of a family filled living room.  We drank a few bottles of champagne and decided we like Andre better than Korbel.  My brother-in-law actually left (as in drove away) with an hour to go declaring it a stupid tradition and us pathetic, but he did come back about 5 minutes til midnight.  When the countdown reached one minute I figured I would pop open the Aldi champagne.  Of course I couldn't get the cork out no matter how hard I tried.  Seriously, it was like cemented into the bottle.  Probably because the bottles are not flying off the shelves at the rate of Michael Jordan's latest shoe... So as the countdown reached 2 I grabbed whatever was open at the time, and rang in the new year the most ultimate way I could:  with my sister, and my family, and love all around me.  It was amazing.  Of course what none of us knew at the time was that there was something else all around us.  We found that out later.

The next day was bittersweet.  The last day of the visit.  Sad to think about leaving.  I wish it would have stayed bittersweet, but alas, it turned into a layer of hell.  Actually it would have been a layer of hell if my sister and her husband didn't make me laugh so much.  Turns out that not only did we bring Christmas gifts to St. Augustine, we also brought lice.  Yes, lice.  I fucking hate bugs, and lice is my worst nightmare.  My kids had it almost exactly a year ago, and whaddaya know, I guess they like coming in for the holidays.  We did all the over the counter stuff since every Dr. was closed on New Year's day, washed everything, and figured we had no choice really but to see our pediatrician when we got home.

The next day, the goodbyes were sad, and weird for everyone except the 13 year old since nobody wanted to touch each other, and this time we were on our way only two hours later than the time my husband had in his head.  I don't know where he comes up with these absolute times.  Frankly I consider them more of an estimate, but in any case we were back on the road and bound for Brooklyn. 

This time we stayed in a hotel in NC with a pool.  Unfortunately chlorine does not kill lice, but it was worth a shot.  We left an hour later than my husband's absolute/suggested time, and arrived home at around 10pm.  I was psyched.  This time I got to pee in every state!  There were furious negotiations about NJ, but we needed gas.  I did my happy dance.

So back in Brooklyn with two warning lights on in the car, our first stop the next day was the pediatrician who confirmed the continued existence of the lice (those little bastards are worse than cockroaches) and proceeded to prescribe something that no pharmacy in at least 3 out of 5 boros could get.  So, after a day of phone calls to the doctor and various pharmacies, we are finally deloused (hopefully,) and the washer and dryer have been running nonstop.

So, all in all, even with the lice (UGH!) I would have to say this was my favorite break ever.  There is nothing that can compare to a family who loves each other.  My 6 year old may have picked up a few choice words like "cunt," and "douche," which he used on his 9 year old cousin who hit him with a pool noodle, but I know they will be close as adults because there is just so much love between my sister and I, you can almost see it, and you can definitely feel it throughout the family.  It's sad that I see the lady who works at Walgreens more than I see my sister, so we really need to spend more time together.  Love is the most beautiful feeling in the world, and I love my family with all of my heart. I think we have decided to make this trip a yearly thing.  I just hope the lice come to a different conclusion.

Some Creative Ways to Hide Your Gifts

For a while there seemed to be a billion holidays making their way into the mainstream.  They were popping up like ads on YouTube without the “Skip after 5 seconds.”  I learned a lot from my preschooler in 2007:  Kwanzaa, Ramadan, Chinese New Year, Diwali…  Not that these holidays didn't exist for millions of people for millions of years, they just weren't in the mainstream for me.  Granted I came from the suburban Midwest, I just never made a Kwanzaa poster or a construction paper Diwali candle  in school.

Now, there seem to be fewer holidays than ever.  Halloween costumes were already in the discount bin by October 1st, and Christmas trees were up in the stores by October 2nd.  I actually was really bummed out when I went to the store and had to rummage through a pile of discounted skeleton masks to find the one thing in the whole store with a turkey on it:  a plastic platter that was already marked down to $1.50 around mid October.  In fact, the first week of November, it was already Black Friday according to a popular electronics store.

As a result of the holiday shopping in September phenomenon, it is never too early to think about where to hide the gifts that retailers are aggressively pushing on you while you are still folding beach towels.  Personally, I never wanted to find my gifts.  I liked to be surprised, but I know a lot of kids turn the house upside down and construct a hidden tunnel into their parents room in search of their impending treasures.  With this in mind, I have compiled a list of places that should be pretty safe to hide your loot.

 Obviously the best place to hide your much sought after gifts is the attic if you have one.  If your kids are motivated enough to form a human chain to get the ceiling door open, there is a good chance that your attic is so packed with stuff (seasonal clothes, seasonal decorations, your friend’s shelf unit that is too big to fit in her new apartment, all of your brother’s belongings he left with you while he went to Europe for a month, two years ago…) there is no way your kids can navigate the clutter.  There is a better chance they will fall through the pink insulation, and there is no way they can get back up there with broken legs.

Another good place to hide your 15% off stash is at someone else's house.  Could be a relative, a close friend, or a neighbor, but chances are the kids will not engage in breaking and entering, especially if you sit them in front of a “Lockup” marathon one weekend afternoon.

A pretty sly way to hide your holiday goods is to keep them on layaway at the store
 if possible.  It's kind of like free storage, and it is extremely unlikely your kids will hijack your car AND have your layaway ticket at the same time.

One pretty good place that my husband uses regularly to hide the kids’ holiday cheer is keeping the gifts at work.  I think a lot of people do this, since no one ever comments on the various packages strewn across his desk, and he in turn doesn't bat an eye at any coworkers office that resembles the Frozen aisle at Toys R Us.

You can also outsmart you little detectives by hiding gifts in your car.  Personally, although there seems to be a lot of good hiding places in my SUV, like under three layers of juice boxes, dance bags, karate uniforms, lost school documents I am supposed to sign and overdue library books, my car is a bad hiding place.  Somehow while my little urchins are hunting for a carton that actually has a juice box in it, they always seem to notice if something new has been added to the mess.  Whether it be an elephant or a tootsie roll, those eagle eyes find it in mere seconds.  However, if you have more than one car, you may be able to get away with hiding gifts in the auto without the car seats, empty food wrappers, and the smell that no one can figure out what or where it is.  In some cases, a Mini Cooper may be a better hiding spot than an SUV.

If you really want to go out a limb with your hiding spots, you can try your garage if you have one.  Although this may be on the kids’ gift finding radar, if you are sneaky enough, it can be done.  If you have one of those garages so packed with stuff that there is no place for your car, you might try stashing stuff in an empty box with a motor oil logo that is way in the back.  Or better yet, a box marked “Educational Materials.” There is no way the kids will be going near that!

If you really want to be a risk taker, you can go buy a box of those industrial black contractor bags, pile the gifts into however many bags you need, tie them up and put them next to the garbage can outside.  The downside about this method is that you may accidentally throw them out with the garbage, so you may want to put a colored ribbon or something around the twist tie, and hold off on taking out the garbage while intoxicated.  At least until after the holidays.

An excellent place for hiding small gifts like electronics or video games is actually the most obvious…your safe.  Wherever it is, there is no way your little buggers can get in there.  And if in a moment of weakness when you were thinking of your inevitable mortality, you told the kids where the key to the safe is, move it.  Put in in your pantyhose, and if you don't have a safe, you can buy one.  Right now they are 30% off for the holidays.

Another place people have told me they hide gifts is in that little room where the furnace and hot water heater are.  In my house growing up, these clunky metal contraptions were situated in the laundry room, and we tended to stay away from them because there was fire involved.  I suppose if you are super confident in your placement skills, behind the furnace could be a hideaway option.  Just remember, there is a tag on all kids pajamas informing us that they are not flame retardant.

There are also a  couple of similar and decent places for prying eyes to avoid:  the the crawl space or the shed, if you have one.  Both of these places are generally dark and creepy.  There may be some
cobwebs in the crawl space, and precariously placed rakes, beach chairs and sharp gardening tools in the shed, but the main deterrent is the darkness and mustiness which very well could keep searching little hands away.

Finally, I would like to give an honorable mention to hiding this year's gifts underneath last year's gifts.  Let's face it, the last time anyone played with last year's gifts was last December 27th, and there is something to be said for hiding things in plain, overlooked, sight.

Yes, it can definitely be a challenge to hide your holiday prizes, and really it's up to you to decide what is best for your situation.  I know a lot of people stash stuff under their bed and in their closets.  I left those places off the list because honestly, I think those are the first places kids look when no one is watching, and there is no way I want my kids under my bed… At least until I come up with alternate explanations for half the Adam and Eve catalogue.