Fun With the Family
NEW Dad’s A Catch!
Earlier today--5 a.m., to be exact--I found myself sitting at our kitchen table, both hands curled around a lukewarm mug of coffee. My sons, Shawn, Jake and Seth had just left with their dad for a day of deep-sea fishing. For some crazy reason, I felt the need to get up early and see them off.
My quartet of fellas--donning jackets, gloves and baseball hats and carrying a tackle box full of fishhooks—looked somewhere between sleepy and joyful as they walked out the front door. An ocean adventure on the horizon. A day on the high seas is not my idea of a great time. The closest I’m willing to get to a body of water is a spa pedicure, like the one I indulged in this afternoon. Thankfully, none of my hobbies involve waking up before the sun rises, taking seasick pills or inhaling the scent of fresh mackerel.
NEW Y High Tech, No Tech
A loud voice shouts from upstairs and shatters my peaceful morning. “Mom, the Internet is down!” A mixture of panic, hysteria and rage powers my teenager’s announcement. To Seth, this is really bad news. His communications center is shut down. To me it’s a minor inconvenience like getting a flat tire, having a power outage or, goodness forbid, a bad hair day.
My mother never had to deal with high-tech emergencies. The closest she came was confronting a telephone party line hog or making sure there was enough coal for our furnace. She did have a solar clothes dryer, though. It was in our backyard and didn’t work on rainy days.
Back then family crises didn’t include broken cell phones, red ring-of-death X-boxes or frazzled laptops. Heck, Mom never worried about forgetting her Twitter password or updating her Netflix queue
NEW The Best of Buddies
My family is standing near the avocado trees in a corner of our back yard. There’s whispered conversation, muffled sniffles. Lots of eyes stare at the ground. Occasionally, a finger moves to wipe away tears trailing down a cheek. My husband Nick stands off to the side holding a shovel.
It’s not the first time this solemn-faced group has gathered like this. The seven of us (including family friends, Lisa and Rachel) stood in this same spot two years ago to say good-bye to Max, our soccer-ball chasing terrier-spaniel mix. He’d joined our family 16 years ago after my oldest son, Shawn and then toddler Seth, picked him out as a surprise for their brother Jake’s 7th birthday. My sons fell in love with the dog-who-thought-he-was-a-mid-fielder after watching a four-legged black fur ball toss a soccer ball in the air with his nose, then chase after it.
NEW Spring Cleaning
Somewhere in the mountains, the frost is melting. The anticipated warmth will bring a bumper crop of bunnies, chicks and baby deer. My daffodil bulbs are in the ground and I’m awaiting early blooms in the next couple weeks. Soon butterflies and ladybugs will skitter through my backyard. I feel invigorated at the prospect of new beginnings, fresh starts, clean slates. I marvel at the outdoors, ready to burst with new life.
For me though it’s the crowded indoors—specifically my cabinets, closets and storage shelves--that are busting out all over. I fear that one more windbreaker, jacket or muffler hooked onto my entryway coat rack will topple it over like a poorly played Jenga game. The hall closet’s sagging wardrobe pole is a hoodie away from snapping, and there’s nowhere to wedge another forgotten golf club, baseball mitt or shin guard into the under-the-staircase closet.
NEW The Leader of the Pack
I stood in our backyard holding the chewed wires of what had been our automatic sprinkler system.
Looking up at me was Bandit, our excited, 12-pound rat terrier. Her docked tail wagging to beat the band,
she was ready to chase a tennis ball or anything else I cared to throw her way. Her soulful eyes seemed
to say: “What? What’s the problem?” She didn’t know how much trouble she (and I) were about to be in
with my husband, Nick.
This wasn’t the first time our newly adopted pet had left her (teeth) mark on something of value.
Bandit had only been a member of the family for a few weeks and already the damage was piling up.
My son Seth’s football jersey, the buttons on Nick’s dress shirt and my pink cashmere slippers were the most recent casualties. We were learning fast that this 18-month-old pup secretly possessed a 3-foot vertical leap. Nothing was safe.
NEW Branches on the Family Tree
I didn’t like being the youngest. I’d complain about not being allowed to do the same things my brothers, George and Paul, and my sister, Sadye did. It wasn’t fair that I had the earliest bedtime. It was no fun being the baby. My older siblings’ viewed it differently. They thought I had the special spot in the family tree. Occasionally, they’d used another word (that also begins with sp) to describe the baby – spoiled.
That’s because -- thanks to their early trial-and-error efforts -- my mom was a seasoned single parent by the time I was three. And that seasoning contributed to the person I am – out-going, creative and competitive -- all traits associated with last-borns. Oh yeah – and a little spoiled.
I’m a mom now. The birth order of my sons, Shawn, Jake and Seth, doesn’t affect how much I love them. But, I have to confess that it’s been a bit easier to parent my second child. And, like the comfort of using a broken-in baseball glove, Seth benefits from how Shawn and Jake softened the leather of my parenting skills.
NEW One Family’s Adventure in the Great Outdoors
I’m not the outdoorsy type. To me, “roughing it” is when I make mashed potatoes that don’t come out of a box, or watch basic cable. My idea of a good time isn’t a shopping trip to REI, or using the phrase: “Pass the mosquito repellant.” Don’t get me wrong. I love the great outdoors as much as the next gal. I was a cookie-selling Girl Scout a few decades ago, and I have my needlecraft and storytelling badges to prove it. But nowadays, when it comes to choosing between roasting hot dogs around the campfire or washing my hair, you’ll find me clutching a bottle of Breck.
The fact that I’m not cut out to be nature mom didn’t matter to my sons. Shawn, Jake and Seth had launched a month-long campaign, enlisting their dad, Nick and me to go on a family camping trip. My boys -- eager to use their sleeping bags somewhere other than at a sleepover at a pal’s house -- wanted to trek into rustic, untamed forests, nibble on trail mix and witness nature someplace other than on the Discovery Channel.
NEW What I’ll Do On My Summer Vacation
Summer is the best time for family vacations. Labor Day is a couple months away, daylight lingers and no one has a book report due by Friday. My family sticks to this timetable, although it’s not every 12 months we can afford to pack up the fivesome and caravan to a distant place. Big vacations are sprinkled in whenever we can swing them.
Even though we budget, often our travel plans put us in the red for a month or more. My husband, Nick and I don’t mind. We know that our days are numbered until our three sons, Shawn, Jake and Seth, start thinking they’re too cool to hang out with us. We happily trade a healthy bank account for time together.
Past summers have been spent horseback riding in Kauai, boating on Lake Tahoe or rafting down the American River in Sacramento. My sons have picnicked near the Golden Gate Bridge, took a cruise to the Bahamas and trekked to Pittsburgh for a family reunion. We have photos of us in front of the Liberty Bell, the St. Louis Arch and the Statue of Liberty.
NEW Brothers, Sisters and Other Hazards of Growing Up
When I close my eyes, I can see them. Spades, diamonds, clubs and hearts streaming through the air. I had forgotten about that day until recently, when I’d won a game of computer Solitaire. It took a few attempts before my reward -- a parade of aces, jacks, kings and queens -- cascaded across my screen. Their cavalier celebration reminded me of another time, though, when I was about five and my reaction to flying playing cards was very different.
It happened after my friends, Amy and Patti were called home. We’d been playing Barbies, but now I was bored. That made me a prime target for getting tricked by a couple of smart-alecky teenagers (AKA my big brothers, George and Paul), who didn’t want to waste their time entertaining their baby sister.
It’s Why You Play the Game That Counts
I was sipping my second cup of creamer-laded coffee when I learned that classic board games were "getting a speed boost." The article in the business section of the daily paper grabbed my attention. It touted marketers who are reinventing our best-loved pastimes to accommodate busier lives and shorter attention spans. These newly tailored versions of old time favorites will now only take 20 minutes to play. I guess it was just a matter of time before family game night took the express route.
Living with a group of guys who need 20 minutes just to decide which game to play makes it hard to imagine this acceleration. These new versions suggest that I’d concede defeat to any one of my three sons in about the same amount of time it takes to microwave a meatloaf dinner. Up until now, the only game we played that fast was Perfection and that’s because there’s a 60-second timer built in.
The Refrigerator Door
Most people think that the primary purpose of my refrigerator door is to keep the food inside cold – the lettuce crisp, the milk fresh. They are wrong. My fridge door isn’t just protecting ice cream from melting. It’s really an appliance-sized art gallery, showcasing my family’s personality.
YMom’s Pool Hall: Friends Welcome. Cars Prohibited.
I’m in awe of my neighbors. They park their cars inside their garages. I realize that this isn’t a minor miracle and I shouldn’t indulge in covered-parking envy. My neighbors aren’t doing anything worth marveling at. But every day they accomplish a feat that continues to elude me.
The Nearness of Neighbors
I’m watching a parade of wiffle balls cascade over my backyard fence. My neighbors, Carol and Ernie, toss them back about once a week. They’ve been doing this for a lot of years and it’s one of the reasons why I live on this quiet cul-de-sac. Twelve houses make up the horseshoe-shaped street we’ve nicknamed The Court. Really wonderful people live here. People I can call on to borrow a cup of sugar, two eggs or last week’s coupon section of the Times. Because of the busyness of the workweek, it’s rare to see each other unless it’s a quick wave while driving by. Still I know that any time I’m in need, I have my choice of good Samaritans willing to loan a cooler, move a couch or house sit. Of course, my husband, Nick and I are happy to return the favor, whether that’s with a stick of margarine, loaning lawn clippers or finding a spot in our garage to hide a bike until Christmas.
A Girl, Four Guys & Football
Around my house I’m outnumbered. I’m pink in a world of blue. Three sons, one husband. Even the two dogs, Max and Baylor, are male. When everyone else stands up, I’m sitting down. I’m the only girl in a house full of guys, and it’s lonely. No one to show new shoes to. No one to care about a bra sale at Kohl’s. No one to share clothes with.
So how does a lone girl even the playing field when she lives with four guys? By picking up her game. Her football game, that is.
A Wedding, A Parade, A Family Affair
Nick and I didn’t disappoint anyone. That’s why our wedding spawned a cast of thousands – well, maybe dozens – actually, 18. We tried to include as many members of his Irish-Catholic family and my Maronite Catholic one that we could. Yes, that’s a panoramic photo of our bridal party.
Music to My Ears
One random weeknight, Seth and I were alone for dinner. The rest of the family had other plans for their evening meal, and rather than cook for just two, I suggested eating out. My 14-year-old easily agreed. The hard part was deciding on where. Seth likes burgers. Me, I’m a salad eater. We compromised and went to Fuddrucker’s where we both could have what we wanted. Salad eater also likes chocolate milk shakes. So does hamburger teen. Luckily they have those too.
