I cheated today. This picture was actually taken yesterday because, as I expected, it's raining today. Again.
To my fellow Americans, happy Fourth of July. Have a great weekend and be safe.
To our international readers, maybe you can answer that mysterious question "Do they have a fourth of July in England?"
Check out Clare's Father's Day project from school. (It's a little sloppy, but it's June.) How long do you think she'll agree with number three that Father Knows Best?
Happy Mother's Day plus two to all the Moms out there.
With the big birthday, Mother's Day, and a sixty-second anniversary party for my aunt and uncle (that's sixty-two years of marriage, not a one-minute party) we had a pretty busy weekend.
This year, because neither Clare's Mom nor I have a Mom to spend Mother's Day with, Clare and I took Clare's Mom to lunch at a restaurant she's been wanting to try for years. It's a great location right next to a river, but the food was just good—and we expected fantastic. After lunch, we drove to the anniversary party where we ate again. Then when we got home, I had another piece of birthday cake. So much for fitting into last summer's shorts for vacation.
It was tough not having my Mom around for Mother's Day. It was even tougher for my birthday though—she used to call every year around 8:00 a.m. at the time I was born. (Yeah, that sucked in college.) This year there was no call.
It's strange how memories hit us. I can sometimes poke through my mother's things without any sentimentality at all. Then, when I go to get my driver's license renewed, I get teary-eyed because I remember stopping with her at the DMV after going out to lunch with her once last year. Maybe that's why Mother's Day wasn't so tough for me—because I'll always have great memories of my Mom—and because I have Clare and Clare's Mom to spend it with.
I hope all of you had a great Mother's Day too.
Clare came home from school with this St. Patrick's Day Word Find that they did today.
Does anyone see an extra word in the first line across? Are they trying to say something about the Irish? Or maybe it's a clue for the next fundraiser.
St. Patrick's Day is a relatively quiet Monday for us this year—just like it's been the past few years with Clare around. This day wasn't always quiet for me though. I've been thinking about the fun I had in some past lives that I've now traded for a quiet homelife with family. Here's how I spent some of those past St. Patrick's Days.
Thirty years ago, I would have gone to a parade some weekend around now with my parents in Springfield, Massachusetts, where my Dad was born and grew up. He and his friends would yell at everyone they knew who was marching—which meant that they'd yell either "Murph" or "Sully" about once a minute. We'd also have corned beef and cabbage with my Mom's Italian family—who seemed to like it more than the Irish relatives—and who also seemed somehow to be able to dry out boiled meet. In school—Catholic school at an Italian parish—we'd sing Irish songs. That is—from what I can remember—we'd sing Irish song. The only Irish song the nuns seemed to know, year after year, was McNamara's Band. To this day, I can't stand that song—but it's stuck in my head today. Could you tell?
Twenty years ago, I was in college in Worcester, Massachusetts, at a school where the majority of students were Irish Catholic and which, despite being small, made a few top party school lists in the 80s. Since then it's become more diverse and the party reputation has waned. In fact, it's become so selective that I might not get in if I were applying today. Back then, we'd spend St. Patrick's Day at parties off campus or at a bar where we'd have a few shots of Jameson or Bushmills followed by a few pints of Guinness and then onto cheaper beer. There'd be Irish music (probably never McNamara's Band) or someone might put The Quiet Man in the VCR if we were at a house. In fact, we did this a lot of weekends. So how was St. Patrick's Day different from all those other weekends? We'd start earlier.
Ten years ago, I still lived in Manhattan where I'd usually go to the parade. Some friends and I might even hit a bar right after the parade where we'd mix in with entire families—from grandparents right down to the kids—who were celebrating. It may be the only day of the year that I've seen kids in a bar. We'd sometimes pay a cover charge (which was rare for us) to see an Irish band too. Before their short-lived national fame, Black 47 played at Paddy Reilly's on Second Avenue where we'd jam in with crowds of other twenty-somethings to drink Guinness and pound our drunken fists into the air when Black 47 sang "fight for the plight of the workin' man."
And now? Now I sit home boiling corned beef for my Mom who couldn't get out this year. Now instead of pounding my fist into the air, I pounded at snow in the front yard with a shovel to try to make it melt faster. Instead of going to the parade, I watched some of it on TV. And instead of watching a nun direct a chorus of Italian kids singing McNamara's Band, I've got it quietly stuck in my head. But instead of waking up with a hangover tomorrow, I'll be waking up to another routine day with Clare's Mom and Clare. This was definitely a trade up.
Today is Presidents Day, so I'm providing some presidential trivia. I found a pretty good Presidents Day Quiz that's not too easy and not too tough. I got nineteen out of twenty correct, but I'll admit that a couple of my right answers were good guesses.
For anyone too smart for that quiz, here's another Presidential Quiz that has some lesser-known facts. There are a few different sets of questions (click Quizzes for new questions) and I've been getting about half of them right, again with some good guesses as opposed to solid knowledge.
Take the quiz. How are you at presidential trivia?
Have a great day off, everyone. Or days off—Clare has Tuesday and Wednesday off too so we have some big fun planned.
My Mom, aunt and cousins are all greeting card happy. If Hallmark makes cards for some occasion, they’ll send the cards. They’re so set in their ways that the cards even have to be Hallmark. Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries—nothing really unusual about those I suppose. Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving—still not unheard of, but not necessary either in my opinion. St. Patrick’s Day, school promotions, back to school—these are starting to stretch it I think. My aunt even found a Hallmark card for losing a first tooth.
Valentine's Day too obviously works into the mix. Clare has gotten four Valentines in the mail this week and each one came with five or ten bucks in it. In return then, we send out Hallmark Valentines too.
Now that Clare can read and write, I hand her the cards to sign and then I stuff them in their envelopes, address them, and mail them. That’s what we did this week with the Valentines.
Once I had the cards in the mail, Clare shared with me that her doll Jammie Baby sent out Valentines too. (Jammie Baby, with photo, made an appearance once before on this blog and is finally able to show her face again.)
“Did Jammie Baby sign her own cards?” I asked.
“No, I signed her name on my cards to Nana and everyone,” Clare answered.
“Did you?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I wrote ‘Love Clare and Baby.”
I think I have some calls to make.
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone.
Surprisingly, this post isn’t about my wanting winter to change to spring. That’s a given. Plus, it’s still early February and here in New England (where I still haven’t been run out despite being a Giants fan) that means that we’ve got at least a couple months of cold weather left.
Today is Super Tuesday, or Super Duper Tuesday or some nonsense like that. Whatever it’s called, twenty-four states plus American Samoa (who knew?) will hold presidential primary elections today. A real change in seasons for the country seems like it’s entirely possible with the election this year. I won’t use this blog to promote any candidate or party (or tell you which candidate makes my stomach turn—I’ll let her go nameless), but if your state votes today and you haven't yet, I will tell you to vote. Get out there and voice your opinion.
Today is also Mardi Gras which means that tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and an important change in Christian seasons. Let me try to explain this plainly: It means that it’s time to take down the Christmas decorations on your lawn. I’ll be leaving a copy of this post in some neighbors’ mailboxes. Anyone else have neighbors like this?
Have a super duper fat Mardi Gras Tuesday.
The Tooth Fairy did visit earlier this week in spite of the missing tooth. Clare wasn’t all that bothered that the tooth fell down the drain. I guess if you can believe that a little magical being comes into your bedroom during the night and switches your tooth for a buck or two, you can believe that she’ll accept a note. To be safe, Clare’s Mom did write a note too—that was actually Clare’s idea.
For a first tooth, it cost us five bucks. (I think we’ll go down to one for the rest.) It’s also costing me a bit of my sanity as I try to keep up with Clare’s questions.
“What does the Tooth Fairy look like?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I told her. I really couldn’t think of any Tooth Fairy standard. In The Santa Clause 3, the Tooth Fairy was even a guy—I was pretty glad Clare didn’t remember that one. “I don’t think anybody has ever seen her.”
“How does she get in?”
I didn’t want to back myself into the whole chimney discussion, so I told Clare that since the Tooth Fairy is so tiny she must just fly in somehow.
“How do you know she’s tiny if you’ve never seen her?” This kid is a better lawyer than I was.
“Aren’t all fairies small?” I asked in return. I was pretty proud of turning that one around.
“Cinderella’s fairy godmother isn’t small.” I’ll be making her pay for her own law school tuition.
“Maybe,” I answered, “fairies can make themselves small or big.”
“Oh.”
I got out of that one by the skin of my teeth—pun intended.
This kind of discussion is happening too often. I can almost see the wheels turning in Clare’s head as she asks questions. She’s on the edge of reason—when curiosity, intelligence, reading, and older kids on the school bus all converge to threaten her belief in magic and put an end to her innocence.
“Why doesn’t Santa bring as many toys to poor kids?”
The wheels are turning.
“Does the Easter Bunny make the candy or buy it?”
The wheels are turning.
“How is Mickey Mouse at Disney World, Disneyland and on the Disney ship all at the same time?”
The wheels are turning.
I wish I could make those wheels turn back in the other direction, but that would be about as easy as making a lost tooth stay in Clare’s mouth. As long as she believes, I’ll keep my wheels turning too to answer every question she throws at me. Reason can wait. And sanity be damned.
It’s 2008. Those of you who’ve already turned out a few posts this year know that. (Take it easy on my Google Reader, will ya’?) Clare’s Mom and I saw the new year in by staying home, having a couple bottles of wine, and watching Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End before they rolled out Dick Clark for the countdown. It’s ten years since my last New Year’s Eve living in Manhattan and a long way from the days when friends and I would wander the streets with a flask on December 31 looking for a bar that didn’t have a cover charge.
We’ll be marking a few other anniversaries and milestones this year too. Later this month, Clare’s Mom will turn (before me I must add) forty. I think she prefers to think of it as the eleventh anniversary of her twenty-ninth birthday. Just a few months later though, in May, I’ll be turning thirty-ten. (Get it? Thirty-ten. I get to stay thirty-something.) Clare will be turning seven near the end of the year—which isn’t really a milestone unless you’ve broken a mirror, but exciting nonetheless for someone that age.
Clare’s Mom and I have a big anniversary this year too. Although I’ve done my best to try to drive her away at times, we’ll be married ten years in August. That’s diamonds on the modern gift list for anyone who’d like to start shopping early.
There are a few other milestones and events that won’t be marked by years. Clare, who’s been waiting months for this to happen, is sure to lose her first tooth in 2008. She’ll probably finally get shoe-tying down, and I expect we’ll be taking the training wheels off her bike come spring or summer.
With luck, I may get a pretty plum job that I’m interviewing for. There may be some sad milestones this year too, due to a couple extended family members battling diseases.
All things considered, 2008 should be a good year for us. Here’s hoping that the good will far outweigh the bad in your lives too.
Happy a happy, healthy and peaceful 2008.
Thursday
Our first time hosting Thanksgiving dinner went well. The only weak link was the stuffing—Clare’s Mom used a recipe from a family cookbook that was kind of short on instruction and possibly wrong on quantities. We’ll be looking for a new stuffing recipe for next year.
We’re nearly finished with the leftovers. Is anyone else sick of eating? I didn’t even finish my big tub of popcorn at the movies yesterday. (Yes, that means a movie review is coming next week.) We could all use a little more activity around here too to keep us from growing out of our pants. We’d try touch football outside, but we’re not democrats from Massachusetts—that and it’s about thirty degrees outside.
Friday
We didn’t go shopping yesterday. At least not really. We did go out for lunch, to the aforementioned movies, and into a craft store. Clare brought home a note from school on Wednesday telling us to make a Christmas ornament to hang on a tree next Friday at Clare’s Christmas concert. At least they gave us a week’s notice.
Saturday
Later today, we’re off to meet the boyfriend of a cousin of mine who’s visiting from D.C. Her mother apparently thinks that it’s a good idea to have the entire extended family there to meet him. It must be a test. If he doesn’t run screaming today, the next time we see him may be the engagement party.
That’s about all I have for what may be my dullest post ever. How was your Thanksgiving and long weekend?
This post isn’t about Myles Standish and Massasoit. It isn’t about the first Thanksgiving that Clare’s Mom and I shared together. It isn’t even about our first Thanksgiving with Clare. It’s about the first Thanksgiving that we’ve hosted in our own house. In other words, it’s about tomorrow.
That’s right. Clare’s Mom and I have been married nine years, but we’ve never had Thanksgiving dinner in our own home. Until three years ago, we lived in apartments or condos that barely gave us room to have dinner for anyone but ourselves. Having grown up about twenty miles away from each other, we’ve also been slaves to families that expect us to show up at both houses on holidays and eat two meals. (We should have nipped that problem in the bud long ago.) But this year, thanks to a few different events and circumstances, we ended up with only one Thanksgiving invite and—truth be told—we really didn’t want to spend the whole day there. If we had, we also would have been leaving some other family members alone—and we couldn’t do that.
There are some advantages to all this planning and preparation. For one, we get to make whatever we want however we want it. We’re having turkey and some of the usual sides of course, but we’re also making butternut squash soup and bourbon pumpkin cheesecake. Clare has decided that she’s going to make a holiday punch too. She found the recipe in a Strawberry Shortcake cookbook.
We’ll let you know how everything turns out. In the mean time, I’ve learned a couple things already. When it comes to shopping for holiday meals, no matter how many times you go to the grocery store, you’ll always need something more. And, the day before a holiday, some people in grocery stores lose all sense of how to behave like adults.
Have a happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Like it or not, winter weather and the holidays are here. I do like the holidays—winter, not so much. This time of year does let Clare’s Mom and me call “Santa” when Clare isn’t behaving—that’s a plus. With Salvation Army bell ringers and toy and food collections for poor families, it’s also a good time of year to teach Clare about giving.
Every so often—even more now that she’s getting older—Clare will ask a logistic question about Santa. How does Santa get to every house in one night? There are time zones involved—and magic. How does Santa get in if we don’t have a chimney? There’s magic involved there too. Flying reindeer? Watch the Christmas special, kid—talent and magic.
But this year Clare asked her Mom a tougher one. I don’t think I would have been ready for it. “If Santa brings toys to everyone,” she asked, “why do we have to help poor kids who don’t get toys?” That's a tough one, isn't it? How would you answer?
* * *
For anyone looking for more ways to help this season, check out Alissa’s recent post with some giving suggestons at Life's Little Adventures.
Clare’s Mom is away for business again this week—actually just until tomorrow. (But wait! I’ve just heard from her and she’ll be home tonight.) Even though I’ve gotten nothing accomplished, it’s been kind of a busy week.
Monday was a school holiday. What better way to spend Veterans Day than with a SpongeBob Squarepants marathon, right? Aside from maybe the History Channel, I doubt anything on television acknowledged that Veterans Day was observed on Monday. Does any kids’ show even mention holidays like this anymore?
On Tuesday, Clare stayed home from school. I wasn’t sure if she was faking, but she told me that her stomach hurt. She didn’t want any breakfast and was holding her stomach even when she didn’t know I was watching. So I let her get away with it. She stayed on the couch most of the morning, but was jumping around by noon.
We cracked open a few of Clare’s birthday presents this week. (Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes by the way.) With eighteen kids at a party a couple weeks ago and a family party this past weekend—where she didn’t even get any clothes as presents—Clare is pretty set for toys for the rest of the year. I’m sure she’d disagree though.
One of the games we opened up was Sorry! I don’t remember ever having this game, but I think I played it a few times with friends. I wanted to take a quick look at the rules and they were pretty daunting—we’re talking more rules than a U.N. summit. Once we got going though, it was pretty easy—and pretty easy for Clare to win. One thing hit me though—when I first picked up one of the game pieces I had this weird flashback about a Robin Hood game that I had as a kid with the same kind of pieces. It was like touching the piece brought back a memory of something I hadn’t thought of for about thirty years. Does that ever happen to anyone else? Or am I going crazy?
Clare went back to school today. After school, I had a conference with her teacher and got her first report card of first grade. There’s room for improvement when it comes to staying focused and paying attention—but even when she looks like she’s drifting off somewhere she still knows what’s going on and can answer a question that the teacher didn’t think Clare heard. That’s probably one of the most frustrating kinds of students. At least she’s not as crazy as her old man.
A Whole New Ballgame
Now that Clare is home for the summer, I can fully experience what being a stay-at-home parent means. Over the past nine months, I had developed a routine—you know, when I’d blog, when I’d read blogs, when I’d nap, when I’d get some work done or some annoying chore like cleaning, mowing the lawn or making dinner. I had packed most of these things into the hours that Clare was at Kindergarten. But now that Clare is home all day, the dynamic has changed completely.
People who are employed outside their homes may never really appreciate what being a stay-at-home parent involves. But here’s a clue. Think of trying to do your job while at the same time it’s somebody else’s job to keep you from doing your job. It’s kind of like that. It may be easier for me to just think of Clare as my boss.
Happy Day
Sunday is Father’s Day in the USA. I don’t have any deep thoughts or special wishes. Just have a great one, guys. If the weather cooperates, I’ll be spending Sunday hanging out at my father-in-law’s pool with Clare and her cousins. Here’s hoping all of you get to do something fun too.
Yo Ho Yo Ho
Clare’s Mom played hooky today and we went to Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End. Yes, it’s long and the plot is involved, but it’s much better than most reviews are making it out to be. Clare’s Mom loved it…she’d even see it again. I really liked it…but I can think of better things to do with three hours.
The picture is of the original Flying Dutchman from the film which we saw live in Castaway Cay in the Bahamas.
…and Z
Clare is almost done with Kindergarten. Some of the homework she’s had during the year has involved practicing writing a letter and drawing and coloring pictures starting with that letter. This week she brought home Z. Now there are only a couple weeks until Clare makes it (we hope) to first grade.
Get Out!
Today was the warmest day Connecticut has seen so far this year. The sky was clear, the sun was out, and so were we. And it’s going to be that way most of the weekend.
If it’s the same where you are, get outside and enjoy it. Have a fun and safe holiday weekend, everyone.
Rabbit Season
Thanks to some of your good suggestions, we got the Easter Bunny’s footprints last Sunday—he even dropped something in the tray. And we didn’t have to harm the bunny, Whit.
New Gigs
In addition to my recent feature, I’m now a contributor at Clever Parents. Check out my first post here. I’ve also just sent something over to DadCenter. My post there isn’t up yet, but check out this great one until it is.
Search Party
Here are a few of the more interesting searches that have led readers to this blog.
Heading South
I’ve had it with winter weather. Yesterday morning, we had sleet and freezing rain (I still don’t know the difference). Temps in the next few days are low 40s to near freezing. And on Sunday it’s supposed to snow. (We’re in the northwestern corner of Connecticut where the rain and snow come together on the map.)
So we’re heading to Florida. I’m serious. We’ll be back in about a week.
Like a lot of married couples, Clare’s Mom and I split holidays between our families. This works well for Christmas, when we spend Christmas Eve with my family and Christmas Day with Clare’s Mom’s. But on other holidays, because the families are only about half an hour from each other, we make an appearance at both houses.
Usually, this means that we also eat twice. We go to Clare’s Mom’s family first because they usually eat earlier in the day. Then we pack up Clare and everything else we’ve collected, and head to my cousin’s house where my Mom and her family are. Some of you may suggest that we just eat dessert with my Mom’s family. But they’re Italian. For anyone who doesn’t know, this means that it’s impossible to sit at a table without getting at least three plates of food dropped in front of you. And if you refuse…let’s just say that it would start at least an hour of questioning and assumptions about why we don’t want anything. In the end, it’s best to just suck it up and eat.
Yesterday, Easter worked out a little better. Clare’s Mom’s father had a brunch at his house early in the day. My family had a full meal later in the afternoon. But for the first time, I really paid attention to how different the eating habits of both families are.
With Clare’s Mom’s family, eating is like a sprint. Everyone is usually done in about twenty minutes and sparks nearly fly from the forks and knifes. And just as you’ve lifted the last bite from your plate, Clare’s Mom’s father has the plate cleared and in the dishwasher before you’ve even finished chewing.
With my family, eating is a marathon. From trays of appetizers and platters of vegetables, cheese, crackers, chips and dips to a selection of four or five desserts not counting mints and candies, we eat for about four hours. And during this time, the conversation is often about who’s died, sick, or in the local news; how everyone knew them fifty years ago and how we’re related through some third cousin who’s still in Italy; how troublesome everyone’s life is (with a special emphasis on traveling for the holiday); and things like whether I remember a restaurant by the shore that we went to when I was three.
How Clare’s Mom and I are able to put up with the extreme habits of the other family is beyond me.
Dealing with in-laws is just one challenge that a married couple faces. I read somewhere recently that all “happy” couples have at least six irreconcilable differences—and that at least one of them probably involves the in-laws. For couples with children, I would bet that the number is more.
Recently, Harper Collins sent me a book to review on this blog. I’ve written before that I won’t advertise or post reviews of anything that doesn’t work with the parenting “theme” of the blog. This is my first review—and it definitely fits the theme. Even though it’s not a toy, food or clothes for Clare, it should be obvious that it involves her.
The book is Babyproofing Your Marriage: How to Laugh More, Argue Less, and Communicate Better as Your Family Grows. It’s written by three mothers and, although I would have liked to see a father among the authors, the women do a pretty good job of including fathers and grandfathers among interviews and quotes and representing the male point of view.
The book does assume that all couples with children have some pretty stereotypical problems—that the woman wants more help around the house and the man wants more sex. But, as with most cases, stereotypes exist for a reason.
At its best, the book stresses that both parents really just want more recognition of what they do and the problems they’re facing. Some readers of this blog probably figured out long ago that Clare’s Mom and I have had some issues to deal with over the past couple years. Way more often than not, the issues dealt with the job that I left last year and how I very poorly handled the insanities of where I was working. At the root of that and (I would guess) most couple’s problems is poor communication about wants, needs and wishes.
Babyproofing Your Marriage is no miracle-working book. I doubt that it could solve the problems of any couple that is truly near its end. (Personally, I don’t believe that any help book alone can change someone who isn’t ready and willing to change.) But, the book is a helpful tool for being able to recognize the concerns of mothers and fathers in a usually humorous and practical way, and, maybe, at its best, is a starting point to spark some communication.
From parents’ “scorekeeping” to dealing with in-laws and grandparents, the book usually gets it right and lets parents know that their troubles aren’t unique. I’m sure if the authors had ever met my family or in-laws though, they’d need a few more chapters.
