Never thought I'd do it, but I started a fitness page. Pages, actually. I think of it as a tracker because I already use my iPhone calendar, a planner, a journal, a binder and a notebook - that's my idea of being organized. Yes, I'm shitty at it. Every time Better Homes and Gardens sends me an e-newsletter that's titled Get Organized, I yell, "Fuck You, don't tell me what to do!" at the screen and delete it.
With these fitness pages, I don't intend to tell you how great my workout is going - quite the contrary. I've been working out for a long time and like many people it's on again, off again. Get fit, get fat, get fit - try saying that ten times fast.
I know the pitfalls. You get tired, bored or God forbid - injured.
When the momentum stops, you start to go down. When you get as low as you possibly can, you have to find deep inside of you that voice that says put down that nacho and pick up those knees!
It's the fear of getting rickety - because there's no stopping age. When I hit thirty, I vowed to keep fit in my forties. Now that I'm well into my forties, I'm renewing my vow to at least not have to wear old lady pants. My sons will be hitting their teens after all and you know what that means - hormones.
My cousins live thousands of miles away. Like, Japan actually. Still - we're pretty close. I believe my grandmother had something to do with it. Way before Facebook, she was the one who brought us together.
She was the mother of seven children - and they all got along. They took nothing from one another. In the end, they even lost the house they grew up in to non-family people because they wouldn't question each other.
The house was equivalent in worth to say, a brownstone in Greenwich Village. Still, the loss of millions of dollars didn't raise so much as an eyebrow between my aunts. That's one stong sibling pact.
This morning, I attended a workshop for parents about the Third grade state tests coming up in April 2013. In text - it can be frightening. New York State wants to be the first to test aligned with the Common Core standards but guess what? It's not in the curriculum! That's just genius, right?
The bad news is: Kids won't know how to answer the friggin' questions because they haven't learned it.
The good news is: It's the first year - the test is completely different - so there's nothing to compare it to and everybody passes.
And if you don't really know why our kids are taking the state test - it's for funding. For the schools.
It doesn't go on our kids F.B.I. records or anything, so chill the f*ck out. The latest blog post can be found here...
You and my new boss, the president of the PTA. She's practically holding me hostage, I tell you. Ermergerhd! The tasks just keep piling up and the sad news is, nothing gets done because I'm really that disorganized. Lately, when people ask me how am I doing - you know what I tell them? I don't friggin' know!
Since you seem to be stuck here, let me send you on your merry way and you can "not" see me dip into that secret stash place under the floorboard. It's the only reason I'm still here.
I got tubs of chilled beer and wine and vodka in the freezer! If you can't make it in person, don't worry. I'll have one for ya!
While you're sipping, check out the "Laugh At My Parenting" page on top. It was the homework assignment that tied me up. Thanks, Vanita. All details on that account will follow - but follow me here because...one good neurosis deserves another.
Almost there with the new website. Just checking in to let everybody know I'm not dead yet - 'cuz I know you ladies are the type to gossip behind my back as soon as I go take a piSSsss.
"Mada shindenai yo."
My geek friends used to answer their phone with that line. If you must know, it's from an obscure movie, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence" which starred David Bowie, Tom Conti and some Japanese entertainers you probably don't know - or care - about. They are not your typical "Goh-jirahhh" screaming actors, but interesting nonetheless.
The music was awesome. Unlike those 80's one hit wonders like "St. Elmo's Fire," what's that song about, anyway?
So, I'll get back to work so's I can invite you's to my new crib. In the meantime, here's the song "Forbidden Colours" (with a U for Eurotrash) to keep you entertained.
Yes, you read that right. It's time to move on - to WordPress. Prodded by Maureen of Tatterscoops, I've signed up for this course by Vanita of After Bed Time.com and so far, I haven't flunked out. As promised, it's a 101 on making Google love your blog explained in terms that even an idiot like myself can understand.
Of course, I could have learned it from my husband who went to school for this, but if I can't retain how to tie a butcher's knot from him, how am I going to remember tech-jive? It doesn't even make me randy.
So, like Grace of With Some Grace, it will be my third go at blogging. Let's hope I have at least an ounce of her energy to see it through. Then again, she has twin boys. In another year, I figure that playing ground should be level.
I will miss Blogger and it's logo that reminds me of Henry Rollins face for some reason.
This process reminds me of Eric Carle's House For Hermit Crab - I've invested so much loving care publishing posts of buffoonery and found true friends who laughed with me. Now I have to find a bigger shell and hope that retardedness will be big enough to fill the space.
It'll work out. Things always do. Like the light that's always at the end of a tunnel, there's also a monkey or two.
Since it's behind us, I can disclose that the second grade teacher Zuki started off with last year, was a disaster. I won't outright say that it was all her fault, but now that he's in a class with teachers who actually give a shit, I see a distinct difference in his progress. He's excited, he's motivated and most importantly, he's confident and figuring things out for himself.
Maybe it was being a seven year old boy. Perhaps it was second grade. Whatever was the case, he's now a completely different person. I feel like going back to her and slap down his notebook in her face (like she did to me, seriously) and say "In your face!".
I remember how smug she was when she compared his handwriting to another student, who was exceptional to the point that it put my mother's precise penmanship to shame. He can't keep up, she said but her face expressed, I want nothing to do with him.
After jumping through hoops, bending over backwards and walking over hot coals, I had him designated to CTT (Collaborative Team Teaching) with two teachers for the rest of his educational term. How do I know he's happy? He came home Friday afternoon asking to do his homework.
He asked when he could get to do his homework.
Teachers have a hard job - they deserve more than recognition, they deserve awe. I hate to say anything bad about any one of them because I'd hate to think a bad one existed among them. But you wind up learning something regardless. What I've learned is that there are people who truly care about our kid's education and are willing to go above and beyond to make sure they get a damned good one. To them I owe my life. A mind is a terrible thing to waste and I thank them for finding a way rather than trying to bang a nonagon peg into a square hole.
For us, the second grade Hell is over. Perhaps it's a little too early to celebrate, but when it seems like the air is a little more breathable, the future is more pliable and finally - finally the talented little person is emerging with all the wonder education has to offer, what can you do but treat him to some Fish n' Chips.
Sometimes, it just doesn't get any easier. The first day of school will always be the first day of school for some folks. Zuki, the social butterfly, can't wait for the chance to mingle and connect, he's a happy camper when it's time to return. Samu on the other hand - well, this is him as we were leaving:
After 7 tries, Zuki gets his brother to smile
He couldn't bring himself to smile. "I don't wanna go to school," he said as I walked him to his drop off.
"If you don't go to school, you'll have to go to work in a coal mine," I told him.
"Okay," he said.
I let out sigh thinking he meant okay to going back to school. But then, he said, "I'll go to work."
As we got closer to the mayhem in the schoolyard, I felt the palm of his hand in mine getting sweaty and limp. "Let's just go home," he whimpered.
Poor guy.
In the belly of the beast, which is the schoolyard the first day of school, there was the usual chaos. There was also the fleeting joy of seeing former classmates after two long months, then discovering they are in a different class. At this point, Samu doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. So he does both.
In the line for his class, he sees a friend - but the friend is already crying. And that makes him cry as he pathetically waves hello. On the first day of school, crying is contagious.
The new teacher consoling the Crying Duo - "I'll only torture you a little bit, okay?"
But education is invincible. That night, he announced that he wanted to be a "cartoonist." He grabbed a wad of plain paper and went to work on his book.
"I'll go to bed after I finish this last chapter!"
New York City public schools don't open until tomorrow.
I know, right?
It's like being the last competitor, the final act - the butterflies multiplying in our stomachs with every passing minute. We watched the Catholic School kids go off in their uniforms and reviewed the school supply list for last minute items. I posted the September Menu for the PTA website and thought, my kids aren't going to eat that crap.
Seasoned pinto beans, garlicky green beans, Racheal Ray's Yum-O?
Yesterday morning, the boys came with me to the school office to tend to some administrative stuff. Just being in the school made them unusually nervous and they read their books quietly while they waited for me.
Yes, I said, read their books quietly.
As we left the building, they meekly asked, "What are we going to do today?"
They probably expected me to say homework, but instead I said, "How about having breakfast at Burger King?"
They waited for me to say, "Just kidding," but I didn't. After a whole summer of fresh fruit and yogurt, Cheerios and egg sandwiches - I was finally allowing them to have junk for breakfast.
Let's see if they eat "Yum-O" with that much enthusiasm.
I meant to post this on our anniversary, but our anniversary got in the way. Eleven years ago, I got hitched to this:
The Sharpie Tie
This is a recent picture but it wouldn't matter if I had one of him eleven years ago - he hasn't changed a bit. By that, I mean he's the same age at heart as when I met him: three years old.
Note: he drew a necktie on his shirt because I told him he was wearing a rag. Do I look classier now?
Is it any wonder he produced boys like these?
Oh yeah, they're normal mentally
That was on the Staten Island Ferry. Yes, I took them to Staten Island but it's not like it's New Jersey - sheesh. Besides the ferry ride there is free and you know what that means...more money for beer! And look what a success it was, konked them right out.
I don't know these kids...
I look highly unnatural in this picture because a gorgeous young man offered to take it for me. He looked like a Rutger Hauer under drinking age. Seriously, if he asked, I would've said I was their nanny or something.
Just kidding, Daddy. I wouldn't leave you for Rutger Hauer...he's kind of old now.
When you take little carnivores to a Blues and BBQ festival, you better be prepared with a change of clothes, an 84 count of wet wipes and PMS mints.
He won't sit on the grass, but he will eat a rib like a popsicle
Unfortunately, I only remembered the PMS mints. I forgot the change of clothes, despite the fact that I was traveling with a "PiSSsss" happy monkey-boy. I made him swear that he'd tell me when he had to do number one - I didn't take into account that ribs and corn give him the urge to punch out number two uncontrollably.
Oh well. Lesson learned. Should've foreseen the messy event when he told me he was wearing Zuki's new underpants because I still haven't caught up with our post-vacation laundry.
Joining some dear friends at an outing to the Blues and BBQ festival at Pier 84, we bothered enough people to claim the day as a success. We parents noshed, drank and yelled at our group of kids to stop doing things like this:
Demonstrating the Grandma Grip
And found that all the while I labelled my boys with buffoonery, I discovered that it is indeed - contagious.
With top notch blues bands playing in the background, my expectation for the kids was a mini-Woodstock...dancing barefoot in grass taped off with yellow "Caution" tape. Instead, their highlight was seeing our vacation cruise ship from last week, sailing down the Hudson River.
The Carnival Glory escaping without us
Envy makes you yell strange things.
While Samu screamed, "Wait for me!" I yelled, "Hope you hit a Goldberg!"
In my day, the subways were filthy, unreliable, dangerous and loud. The brakes SCREEEEEECHed while sparks lit up the deathly electrical awesomeness of the third rail. When the trains screamed from station to station like a Banshee, you could barely hear yourself think - much less have a conversation. If anybody talked to you, it was to take your money.
These days, subway rides are quieter. Unless you have a Mariache trio, Jack Johnson wannabes, bad Hip Hop and the classic Preacher in your car.
Today, on our way to Zuki's class in Union Square - we had the "enlightened" Jesus preacher. A young woman who felt it was her calling to invade your peaceful ride with some nonsense of having the right "relationship" with Jesus.
"Enlightenment is not obtained." She said. "Enlightenment cannot be taught. Enlightenment can only come by having a relationship with Jesus."
As I listened, I realized her statement was basically saying that you needed Jesus as your pimp to enlightenment.
ScreeEEEEch!....Gasp!
Oh, close your jaw. Surely, someone else has used the word "pimp" and Jesus in the same sentence before I did.
Not surprisingly, a woman standing next to us got fed up and told the Jesus-is-your-pimp preaching woman to "shut up."
An argument ensued and Zuki was enthralled with the action. When we reached our stop, I practically had to yank him off to leave.
"What was that about?" He asked me.
"It was about people telling people what to do - sometimes, they don't want to hear it," was my reply.
"Oh, like when you tell me to do my homework?"
Ouch. I just love riding the subway. And since I am now "enlightened" with a dose of my own medicine, I shall share an oldie but goodie to end this on a lighter note. My favorite YouTube video: "Jesus - The Musical." If you don't laugh, you'll be plagued with wine turning into water.
Well, we're back from our cruise and it was a blast-blur. Seriously, I don't remember going to bed the whole trip - it was that much fun. I feel like I'm going to go into post-vacation depression or something.
Since the cruise promised their on board connection was crappy, I opted not to sign up for it and didn't touch my iPad until we got to land. I felt so loved to find 287 new messages in my Inbox when we reached Saint John's Ale House, our first "pub" stop in Canada.
I planned to catch up on my blog business there...honestly, I did. How was I to know Canada's standard serving glass was 20 ounces? After four pubs do you think any of my comments would've made sense?
Exactly.
Here are some highlights of the buffoonery we took on our journey to the Great White North.
Looking for sharks...yeah.
Our fabulous window. If you could've been on the other side of it, you would have seen one of us dance naked in front of it at one point. Including me.
Who's gonna see you - a dolphin?
Case in point:
Gollum in Room 126
While babysitting our baby cousin, you can imagine the strange looks we got when my husband pushed the stroller. Two bi-racial kids, one blond-haired, blue-eyed baby? I could see the confusion in the stranger's eyes.
Asian woman adopting white baby? Or Daddy has super white genes?
I told my husband to just say the baby's from another mother and let them out figure the rest.
"Baby from another mother"
And here's Samu on three days of endless buffet food featuring all-you-can-eat hot dogs, fries, pizza, ice cream and cookies.
I'm down (lost at the arcade games)
I'm up (gimme another SODA)
And in between: time to dance naked in front of the window now?
Finally, we just told him to shut up.
"I can't shut up," he said, "I'm a non-shutter-upper!"
No kidding.
He's got a retort for everything. Then again, so does my husband whose idea of a sunset picture with his son should look like this:
Boogers by sunset
Facebook photo album for those who dare. Thanks to everyone for sticking around while I was away getting Canadian roasted. I promise to be blog stalking as soon as my land legs come back.
We made the most of the last two "Samu-less" days. Zuki and his best friend from school enjoyed "Free" bowling at Bowlmor, followed by burgers at "5 Napkins" in Hell's Kitchen.
I've learned the way to a boys heart is through meat, fried potatoes and...blue cheese dressing. That's what they're dipping their fries in. They're under 10 years old, folks. What's my food bill going to look like five years from now? I shudder at the thought.
Yesterday, I took Zuki to the Metropolitan Museum. Going with kids is great because they have no interest in art, which I know nothing about. Of course, all he was interested in were the Knights in armour, the swords and guns, musical instruments - and penises on statues.
If only I had a bubble thought....
Checking "thing" out
Okay, St. John's - fire up the ice cubes....we're coming!
Currently, his favorites are Shepherd's Pie and Fish 'n Chips. I'd like to say it's a cultural influence derived from watching the Olympics lately but the truth is - it's pub food.
Pubs are Sunnyside's version of a family restaurant. Sorry but, Denny's is not food.
Anyway, our first "Samu-less" day, I decided to first take Zuki to a comic bookstore in Midtown, appropriately named Midtown Comics. Since he loves X Men, Avengers and Batman - he should want to read them in their original creative form, right?
Not exactly. That's what actors and movies are for. Who wants to read a storyboard when one could simply watch it? And were it not for Iron Man, who else would've had the strength to revive Robert Downey Jr.'s career - Sherlock Holmes?
So the comic bookstore as a boost for reading interest - was a Fail. More importantly, the kid was hungry.
Since Midtown Manhattan's lunch fare consists of pre-made crappy sushi, overstuffed sandwiches on soggy bread or chopped leaves with grass labeled as salad for about ten bucks per person, we headed back to our own neighborhood where lunch is...food.
Mangal Turkish restaurant makes killer falafels for $4.50. I LOVE falafels. Apparently, so does my lunch date.
