The Parental Art of Speaking in Code

January 23, 2012

As my kids get older and increasingly pick up on everything I’m saying, it’s clear that I need to do a better job of speaking in code.  There are a few good reasons for this.

1)  I think it might minimize parent-child conflict.  

For example:  “Spinach” should be “green pudding.”  Or something equally enticing (suggestions welcome).

 

2)  It seems that, on occasion, my everyday vernacular could render me ineligible for Mother of the Year.  

Like when I’m driving:  “That dipshit moron driver in front of me” should be “that nice man who really should just take the bus.”

Or when I’ve had enough of someone:  “That crazy-ass judgmental psycho who won’t mind her own business about where we’re going to pre-school next year“ should be “that curious mommy who sure does ask a whole lot of  questions.”

 

3)  Then there’s Disney World.  P and I are probably going to take the kids there in March, but it’s not firmed up yet.  As we get the planning underway (I know, I’m behind), I have to stop openly invoking the WDW name in front of the kids.  From across the house, they hear a mention of Disney World, their ears perk up and they come running in, at the speed of light, with a series of questions you might expect:

“Are we going to Disney World?”  Maybe.

“Are we going today?”  No, not today.

“Tomorrow?”  No, not tomorrow.  Mommy and Daddy have to pull up a vast spreadsheet comparing the dizzying amount of WDW cryptic pricing information designed to cause seizures.  We can’t just go in there without a position on whether or not to do the Park Hopper Pass and the meal plan — are you insane?

“How many days until we go?”  Uh, I didn’t say we were going.  But if we do go, it might be in March.  Maybe.  Do you want some green pudding?

“Can we count the days until March?”  Do you want chocolate cake?  For breakfast?

See how this isn’t working?  I need some code words for WDW so two small heads don’t explode with vacation questions for the next month and a half.  I’m  considering the following alternatives as the planning process continues:

“We’ll need to pull out our summer clothes from the attic to pack for our trip to Disney the working farm co-op.”

“How long is the drive from my mom’s place to Disney the Amish Loom Museum?”

“Is it just me, or does the pricing for Disney Restoration Hardware resemble that of an additional mortgage?”

“Is dressing like a princess really happening with two year-olds at Disney the glue factory tour?”

 

Pretty smooth, right?  I think this approach will totally fool them.  As long as they don’t like the idea of vacationing at the working farm co-op, where green pudding is readily available.

Now I just have to stop saying “Florida.”   And “vacation.”  And “I don’t know if we need the damn silly Park Hopper Pass or not.” {We do, right?}

 

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment, Family, Places Near and Far 11 Comments

Checking In

January 16, 2012

It’s funny how my social media addictions document my life.  Between the blog, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram (those fun photos on my home page) and Pinterest, there’s a lot that I put out there about myself.

And then there’s FourSquare.  All this business of checking in somewhere.  I’ve been FourSquaring for about a year and a half.  It’s way more fun when I’m in the city for something or when I’m traveling.  Who doesn’t love being the mayor of an airport terminal, even for a fleeting three minutes?  And that Starbucks mayorship?  I worked super hard for that.  Until I was ousted under the scandalous cloud of Keurig ownership.  Now some dude named AJ took my spot.  But, don’t you worry, I have my eye on him and am secretly mounting a Shock-and-Awe-style Starbucks comeback.

But, day-to-day, FourSquare basically confirms how very lame predictable I am.  In fact, as I looked at the stats, I realized it might be a little depressing.

Case in point:  My top places on FourSquare over the last six months are Starbucks (89 visits), Pure Barre (my crazy workout — 49 visits), the Y (more workouts — 16 visits), Trader Joe’s (16 visits) and a pub up the street  (9 visits, and counting — maybe 12 by the time you read this, depending on how the long weekend goes).

Hm.

Let’s dig a little deeper.

 

So, basically, my life can be reduced to the following cycle:

–Consume food and drinks.  Perhaps in excess.

–Attempt to burn resulting calories.

–Douse body with caffeine to keep going.

–Get dragged to Home Depot for endless basement renovation issues.

–Address Home Depot PTSD via retail therapy.

–{And possibly forget to check FourSquare friend requests — just noticed that.}

 

To boost my FourSquare points — and my lame factor — I could check in at other places I frequent and snag some easy mayorships.  Like the grocery store.  My car.  Pre-school.  The laundromat.  And the hole formerly known as my basement, where I stare at the future site of my laundry reunion — there’s no line of FourSquare rivals competing with me to hang out there.

But I don’t really think this is the purpose of social media.  You don’t need to know when I’m buying diapers or screaming at my contractor.  Just assume that both happen frequently.

Thanks, FourSquare.  As uplifting as this has been, I’m starting to think it’s time for me to check out.  Right after I drink coffee, eat something, work out, pour a glass of wine, eat more and then look at cabinet pulls at Home Depot.  While eating and holding a Starbucks latte.

But you already knew that.

 

 

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment, Food & Drink, Places Near and Far 8 Comments

The Year That Was

December 31, 2011

 

Well.  I think I’ve managed to climb out from under the Christmas tornado that has taken over my house.  What a week.

I’ve been busy.  There was, of course, this.

 

 

And this.

 

And this. (More on this soon.)

 

And today, this.

 

Because quality control testing is important.  And it’s midnight somewhere.

 

And here we are, the last day of the year.  The truth is that I always get a little bluesy after Christmas is over.  As much insanity, planning and chaos is involved, I do love it — and I’m sad whenever it comes to an end.

And as 2011 winds down, I’m thinking about the ups and downs of the year and how, as usual, incredibly quickly it flew by.

2011 was the year I stopped working.  The year my kids turned four and two.  The year we began (but did not finish!) the longest basement renovation in modern American history.  The year my family vomited in multiple states up and down the east coast to mark each road trip and vacation.

But more than anything, 2011 will always be the year that I lost my dear friend Jen.  And I have spent more hours than I can count since that last day of May wondering how this happened.  On certain days, I still wonder if, in fact, it’s actually true that my healthy, magnetic 38 year-old friend of 27 years went to bed one night and didn’t wake up.

My mind has turned to Jen every day — multiple times a day — since she passed away.  I keep her picture up on my fridge, which sounds terribly unsentimental, but it’s the highest trafficked area of my house.  I’m forced to walk by it a lot.  And every time, I look at her photo and wish so much that she was here.  For her kids and for her husband and for her parents and brother.  And for all of her friends who loved her so much.

I found myself thinking of her even more during the holidays.  I played my Christmas music, baked my cookies, bought my gifts, asked for my Keurig.  And wondered, every step of the way, how her family was going to get through this season without her.

I’m not the preachy type.  But I’ll ask you for something as you think about the 2011 that was, and the new year around the corner.  Please think about my friend Jen once in a while — even if you never knew her.  Trust me, you would have loved her.  Please think about her six year-old son and her four year-old twin daughters.  Please think about her husband and her parents, who somehow carry on with so much dignity to be there for those kids.  And please think about how quickly things can change.  Because, in a million years, you never could have convinced me that we’d all live in a world without Jen’s unforgettable laughter.

You would think that I’d come out the other side of this whole thing being a better adjusted person.  Not sweating the small stuff.  Having better perspective.  Living for the moment.  All of that.  The truth is, I’m working on it.  And maybe 2012 will be the year I pull it off.  For Jen.

In the meantime, I wish you all full champagne glasses at midnight, and a wonderful year ahead.

And if someone can take the rest of these Christmas cookies off my hands, that would be great.

 

 

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment, Family, Food & Drink, Friends, Holidays 4 Comments

2011 Christmas Music Confessional

December 6, 2011

Remember when I said I would try my best not to get stressed out this holiday season?  And then remember when I said it probably wouldn’t work?  Guess what?  I know myself well — I’m getting all stressed out.

I decided I needed a distraction, so I resurrected a post (below) that I wrote around this time last year.  Perhaps I’ll make it an annual blog tradition.

Because, if you listen to any Christmas music at all — and I know many of you do, even if you won’t say so — you have some cheesy favorites that you sing, at full volume, when driving in your car or at home alone.  And you’d never own up to them at a party.

So, I bring you a public service — The Fordeville Christmas Music Confessional.  I’ve owned up to all my holiday favorites — shamelessly — and now you have a place where you can do the same.  And we’ll never speak of it outside this blog.

Come all ye cheesy and tell us what you’re singing when nobody is around.

_______________________________________________________

 

Christmas Music Confessional

It’s true — I love Christmas music.  But that’s not the confession — the confession is that some of my favorites are cheesy.  Extremely cheesy.  And I know I’m not alone — it’s just something nobody talks about openly.  A dirty little secret, if you will.

But, look, I think we all get a pass when it comes to Christmas music.  And I’ll go out on a limb and tell you my favorites if you tell me yours.  Deal?

(This is feeling like a precarious one-way agreement right about now, but I’ll go ahead and trust you to play fair.  Here we go.)

  • I’ll start out safe and lead with John Lennon’s “Happy Christmas (War is Over).”  This song kills me.  Tears — every time.  Gorgeous and sad and sweet.  As long as John & Yoko weren’t singing it naked in bed — that would ruin it for me.  If you want to veer this song into cheesy territory, it’s just one remake away with Neil Diamond’s cover (I’m not a fan of that one.  Trust me, I can do cheesy — as you’ll soon see — but I need the original in  this case).

 

  • “Do They Know It’s Christmas?”  As a child of the 80s, I won’t even bother apologizing for loving this song.  It’s my birthright.  I remember my sister getting the 45 single (gulp) and we played it over and over.  And the video — Sweet Jesus.  I. Loved.  It.  My friends and I would make sure we knew which artist was singing which part and we especially held our breaths for the killer solos by Simon LeBon and Bono (the latter still being my favorite part of the song).  I just looked online at the full Band Aid roster of singers and I think I feel my leg warmers falling down.  Kool and the Gang?  Really? YouTube Preview Image

 

  • Apparently nobody comes home for Christmas and there are all kinds of ways to sing about it.  In that theme are two of my favorites — similarly titled yet very different songs:  “Baby Please Come Home for Christmas” and “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).”    Both of these have multiple versions, but on the first song I like the Eagles and the Aaron Neville covers the best.  On the second, there is no comparison to the old Darlene Love version  — but the U2 version is also great.

 

  • Veering further into total holiday depressive mode — I love, love Joni Mitchell’s “River,” even if it makes me want to jump out of a window in utter despair.  And — cheesy alert:  There is a little-known remake of this song that is sung by, of all people, Robert Downey, Jr.  Apparently, he sang it during one of his guest spots on Ally McBeal and it’s fabulous (the cover, not the Ally McBeal episode).  The man can sing — and I just love him overall, so there’s that.  Say what you will.

 

OK I’m saving my truly cheesy favorites for last.  And I’m really hoping someone is going to come to my defense on these.

  • I can’t even talk to you if you can’t get behind Dan Fogelberg’s “Same Old Lang Syne.”  No, I’m not joking.  “Met my old lover in the grocery store — The snow was falling Christmas Eve…”  Yes, that one.  Fucking kills me.

And, finally, some real risky choices to tie this up.  Strangely, both of these last two songs have the same name but are entirely different.  So, under the category of “All I Want for Christmas Is You”…

  • This one is a family favorite but not terribly well-known, unless you are one of the five global members of the Vince Vance & the Valiants Fan Club.  I have no idea what else they sing — I think they are a country outfit — but what a great song, released in 1989.   It’s got a twangy, sort of retro feel.  And it’s pretty cheesy.  Bring it!
  • Lastly, yes, I’ll say it.  I love the Mariah Carey song.  I know, I know.  Cheesy.  But I’m owning it.  I’m not typically a Mariah fan but there is something about this song.  It reminds me of the old Phil Spector Wall of Sound  (and if you don’t know what that is, then you have no business shaming me for my song choices — that’s a fair deal, I think).  And after all the other downer songs I listed, it’s nice to have an upbeat, (almost) happy one in the mix.

So there you go — those are some of my holiday favorites, in no particular order.  Honorable mention to The Ramones’ “Merry Christmas (I Don’t Want to Fight Tonight),” Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong’s “Baby It’s Cold Outside” and The Beach Boys’ “Merry Christmas Baby.”  I may add more later.  But in the meantime, who’s going to play nice and tell me theirs?

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment, Holidays 22 Comments

To HD or Not to HD?

November 7, 2011


Every couple has really silly things that they bicker about.  Here in Fordeville, our current ridiculous marital point of contention involves the TV.  Not what to watch (well, sometimes), but how we’re watching it.

Here’s the thing: My husband insists on watching TV in high definition.  I, on the other hand, don’t care.  Mostly because I’m so happy to be watching anything that doesn’t feature Thomas the Train, Dora or Diego.  As long as there is morally questionable content, a nearby glass of wine and non-animated adults on the screen, you could cut off the characters’ heads for all I care.

So, every night after the kids are in bed, it goes like this:

P:  What are you watching?

Me:  A very educational documentary on Middle Eastern politics.  {Or maybe The Real Housewives.  But whatever.}

P:  Oh.  Can you put on the high def channel?

Me:  No.

P:  Why not?  It will look so much better.

Me:  It looks fine to me this way.

P:  But why wouldn’t you want it to look better?

Me:  Can you pour me more wine please?

P:  Can’t you see that the picture doesn’t even fill the screen when it’s not in HD?  Doesn’t that bother you?

Me:  It looks very artsy that way.  Like an indie film.

P:  No, it looks all wrong.

Me:  How can you keep track of where all those HD channels are, anyway?

P:  You just have to add 500 to the regular channel.

Me:  I don’t add after 6pm.  Unless it’s to my Amex bill.  Plus, I’ll be asleep in approximately six to nine minutes, and then you can watch whatever high def you want.

P:  Fine.  Give me your glass.  Red or white?

———-

He’s not wrong.  It’s just far more important to him than it is to me.  And we did go and buy the big old flat screen for optimal viewing.

Could I compromise on my HD indifference?  Sure.  If it means that much to him.

So.  I got to thinking.  And here’s where I landed.  Because I’m a giver.

 

 1)  I am open to the possibility of HD for:

–Food Network shows featuring desserts, particularly molten chocolate cakes.  If you know of any molten chocolate cake episode marathons, definitely drop me a line.

–Any film starring Edward Burns, Javier Bardem or Edward Norton.  For obvious reasons.

–Travel shows, but only if I’ve been to the featured destination myself, or have the possibility of going sometime.  If it’s gorgeous and I can never get there, then forget it — that’s just torturous.

 

 2)  I am completely opposed to HD for:

–Sports of any kind.  I don’t want to see the beads of sweat.  Or the spit.  And we have officials who are well-paid to make any close calls.  It’s not my job.

–Children’s programming (see examples above).  There’s  just no need to take my Brain Melt to another level.

–Any appearance, no matter how brief, of the following television personalities:  The Duggars, Teresa Guidice of RHONJ (as well as her husband and children), and Kathie Lee Gifford {full disclosure:  I am also totally opposed to seeing Kathie Lee in standard definition.  In fact, I’d like to have a word with the TV exec who decided to bring her back on the air.}

–All programming involving child birth.  I lived through the HD version (complete with audio), so I’m all set with those visuals, thankyouverymuch.

–Forensic/crime shows (CSI, Law & Order, etc.).  Basically, anything that has a crime scene, an autopsy table and a Medical Examiner.  Except Castle.  Because of, well, Castle — he looks really good in HD.

 

I think this represents progress and a good degree of compromise on my part.  If only my husband wanted to watch any of the shows in my “possibly pro HD” list.  I guess this means he’s just going to have to rely on how consistently I fall asleep about two hours before he does.  Then he can watch Storage Wars, UFC, the NFL and How It’s Made in HD.  Every night.

{“Tonight on How It’s Made:  The history of dust.  Brought to you in high definition.”  Why, yes, I’ll completely regret sleeping through that.}

What about you guys?  Are you all “Give me the HD channel” like my husband?  Or are you more of the “Where’s my evening cocktail, and I don’t even know where the HD channels are located” type?

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment, Family 22 Comments

22 Things

October 27, 2011

You see a lot of lists flying around about things people have not done or would like to do in a lifetime. Bucket lists, I guess.

But this week, Mama Kat’s Pretty Much World Famous Writer’s Workshop asked us to list 22 Things We Have Done. And since I’ve been whining a lot about home renovations and hitting you all up for Breast Cancer Awareness Month support (it’s not too late, by the way), I decided this prompt was a nice light-hearted change.

Here’s the thing: I’m pretty unadventurous and cowardly in many respects, so you won’t see any high-flying, circus-like escapades here (unless you count giving birth to two very large babies).  But I can own up to the following:

 

–Got a Master’s Degree in Screenwriting.  During this time, I wrote two full-length screenplays and a TV pilot (none of which have ever seen the light of day).

–Agreed to be photographed naked.  Get your mind out of the gutter — it was for mandated medical purposes.  Yes, there are images of my pasty skin to thank for advances in melanoma studies.  You’re welcome.

–Pulled a bee stinger out of a screaming stranger’s eyelid with my fingernails.

–Went to the Super Bowl.  While seven months pregnant.  In a Biblical rain storm.  {Had to leave at half time — sorry.}

–Stood waist-high in the Missouri River to attempt fly fishing.

–Dated a man for five years, whom I had hoped to marry, without knowing he was gay.  Yes, really.  Perhaps more on that another day.

–Was told that I have a bad mouth. By a sailor.

–Danced to 70s disco music at a wedding with two legitimate, practicing friars. Robes and all.

–Lived in four of the five boroughs of New York City over a 16-year period. {Related: Had a lapsed driver’s license for almost a decade}

—Said goodbye to one of my best friends way too soon.

–Stayed in an overwater bungalow in Tahiti.

–Attended a Congressional hearing.

–Had a blood clot found in my leg by a doctor the day before boarding a plane.

—Got engaged in a bar. {OK, a wine bar.  Not a total dive.}

–Lost two grandparents within three weeks.

–Fell in love with a Spaniard while studying abroad.  And then spit on his shoes when he showed up in the US to tell me he knocked up another woman.  {Disclaimer:  I have not spit at anyone before or since that moment.  I have no idea what possessed me.}

–Had an ear infection treated by a local proctologist while on vacation.  Hey, you take what you can get on a Sunday in Italy.

–Missed most of my own bachelorette party after foolishly thinking those chocolate martinis at dinner were not that potent.

–Worked my first job in high school as a kitchen girl in The Holy Mackerel Seafood House.  The best seafood joint in town (OK, maybe the only one). I pulled live lobsters out of tanks and de-veined hundreds of shrimp every night.  I didn’t get many dates after work.

–Danced competitively for most of my childhood.  No, not like the kids on Dance Moms.  Well, except for the false eyelashes.

–Attended somewhere between 35 and 40 U2 shows from 1987 to 2011.  I lost count.  I hope to see 50 more.

–Gave my heart away to a pug named Señor.  He is my first child.  Even if he resents me for bringing home two human kids.

 

* * *

There you have it.  Pretty tame, right?

If you have a vote on which one of these I can expand into a full-length future blog post, I’m all ears.

Most importantly, this was a fun distraction from the plot to maim my General Contractor.  Which reminds me, I have to go research a few things.  {Let’s hope this does not result in #23 on a future “Things I’ve Done” list.}

Mama’s Losin’ It

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Blogging Cluelessness, Entertainment 36 Comments

Making Friends With Math

October 10, 2011

Two things that have never mixed well:  Math and me.

It started with Mrs. DeBlock’s eighth grade Algebra class.  Up until that point in my life, I was always a great student without putting forth any effort.  Then my brain collided with Algebra.  It was the first time I could not understand something being taught in the classroom.  This was a totally foreign feeling.  And I hated it.  Unfortunately, my disdain and fear of math never really went away.  My years of college prep classes included torturous runs in Geometry, Trigonometry and Statistics — I hated each one more than the last.  My mind, it seemed, was not cut out for math.  I convinced myself that was OK — I wouldn’t really need it.  My life’s work would be word and language-driven.

And it has been.  But, still.  Even as an adult, I can’t escape math.  My inadequacy has always haunted me and leaves me easily intimidated at times.  In business settings, going through necessary financial discussions and equations — I always felt like I wasn’t on top of my game.  And forget about it when I have to someday help my kids with their Algebra or Trig.

The point is, I needed math to be my friend more than I ever thought.  And, like many other things, I’m determined not to pass this deficiency or fear on to my kids.

So I was intrigued last week when I was invited to attend a press preview for the new Math Midway exhibit at the Liberty Science Center in Jersey City.  I took my two year-old (figuring she and I have the same math acumen) and went to check it out.

I was really happy to see the approach this exhibit took with math — which was both highly interactive and rooted in real-world examples that kids of all ages could relate to.

The best part?  The kids don’t really realize they are dealing with math in most of the activities.  Like here.

Do you think she knows she’s creating a tessellation of monkeys?  Nah.  {Neither did I, FYI.} To her, it’s just fun magnets that fit together in a pattern.

Or here.

I can assure you that she doesn’t realize there were 11 steps to creating a Tetraxis with these mats.

I think she was somewhere around step three.  But owning it.

Or here.

Bending mirrors at various angles create different images.  Hey — I like any math that makes my legs look four times longer.  Where was that in high school?

And, my personal, way-over-our-heads favorite.  You start with this.

 

Crank it through the machine with your favorite math attributes.  Cube it, square it — you decide.

It was about here that my anxiety flashbacks started to kick in.  And then we got this.

Obviously.

* * *

One of the exhibit coordinators put it best:  “Math is the science of why.”  And if your kids ask “Why?” half as much as mine do, then the reason to get them into math at a young age is pretty compelling.  That, and they should avoid my math fear hangover at all costs.

So, thanks, Liberty Science Center, for showing this old gal how math can be a friend after all.

 

{I was not compensated for this post.  I received complimentary admission to the exhibit for the purposes of a review.  All opinions, as you would expect, are entirely my own.}

 

 

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment, Places Near and Far, Reviews 6 Comments

I Will Follow

July 20, 2011

I rarely get really excited about things.  For better or worse — it’s just not my way.

Today is an exception.

Because tonight — I’ll be here.

Right where that dark blue dot is.  In seats for which I practically re-mortgaged my house.

Because you know who will be on that gray area designated “stage”?

My other husband.

And he just doesn’t come to town that often.  So I’m really glad we can be reunited.  At least in my head.

To all of tonight’s concert-goers around me:  Let me offer an advance apology for my behavior. 

First, it may resemble hysteria at times, a la The Beatles on “The Ed Sullivan Show.”  Because there aren’t many moments, for me, like the one when U2 walks onto the stage to start a show.  My husband finds me unrecognizable at these times. Mercifully, for him, they are not frequent.

Also, I will sing every song.  Loudly.  And I’ll kind of be annoyed if you don’t know all the words too.  Because, why are you there wasting good concert real estate if your devotion is not genuine? 

{On a related note:  If you were born after “The Joshua Tree” was made, please don’t show up with a better seat than mine.  This may cause things to get ugly.}

And finally, I may or may not make a total ass of myself yelling into the New Jersey night time sky.  These cries will be a mixture of glee, anticipation and humiliation. Don’t mind the old geezer mom out way past her bedtime.

So bear with me.  I don’t get out much.  I certainly don’t act like I’m 15 very often. But I’ve loved these four guys from Ireland for about 25 years — they’re sort of the soundtrack of my life.  And I have an irrational fear at each show that it could be the last. 

Watch out, Meadowlands.  Especially section 135. It’s going to be a great night.

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment 13 Comments

Born in the Wrong Decade

July 1, 2011

I think it was D6.  Or maybe E6. 

I’m not entirely sure which slot “Sherry” by the Four Seasons occupied in the jukebox, but I think it was one of those.  I struggled to remember as I sat through last Saturday’s matinee of Jersey Boys.  And I was transported.  Not to the 60s, because I wasn’t born yet.  But instead to the late 70s and early 80s, when my childhood consisted of Saturday and Sunday mornings with my middle sister, listening to great music on the jukebox my parents had in our basement. 

Most kids watched cartoons on weekend mornings.  We listened to oldies.  For hours at a time.  And to this day, I remember those old labels my mom typed up to display the choices, and I can tell you where some of the songs were placed. 

A1:  “Since I Don’t Have You” by The Skyliners.  My dad’s favorite song ever, so it got  the top spot on the jukebox.  It’s fantastic.  I can tell you that they say “you” (or “youuu-ooo”) 13 times at the end of the song.  My dad was pretty pissed off when I told him, decades later, that Guns ‘n Roses made a little-known cover of this.

E9:  “Be My Baby” by Ronnie Spector.  I remember pressing  my mom to tell me her favorite song, and she didn’t really have just one.  But after repeated requests, she said it was this.  Which I love.  I may have been one of the few eight year-olds to know all about Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound and be able to place it. Who knew he’d go on trial for murder?

G2:  “Runaway” by Dion.  Such a great song.  I loved everything he sang.

J10:  “Mack the Knife” by Bobby Darin.  To this day, still one of my favorites.

K — 6?  I think:  “My Boyfriend’s Back” by The Angels.  One of the top choices for my sister and me when we wanted to choreograph a little dance.  Looking back on it, I think the material was a little over our heads to tell a good narrative.  But I hear we were cute.

There were many others whose precise location on the jukebox I can’t remember but I know we played them to death.  The Four Tops, The Temptations, The Beach Boys, Elvis, Paul Anka. 

We knew them all by heart. 

This dynamic seeped into the 80s, when my mom filled the last two columns of the jukebox with her contemporary favorites.  Which meant, at that time — oh yes — Disco. 

Burn baby burn.  Boogie oogie oogie. 

My father hated disco.  Hated it.  It had to stay contained to the right side of the jukebox.

But whatever, Dad.  We had the coolest stay-at-home-disco-queen-mom around.  She vacuumed the house to Michael Jackson’s “Off the Wall” album.  And when roller skating was all the rage, she didn’t just drop us off or sit and watch — she was skating.  On her very own pair of skates that she brought along (my sisters and I wore the rentals).  She skated backwards, did turns and cut the corners in that cool way that I could never really do. She tried to teach me but I was much better at playing Pac-Man in the rink.

Now I have “Instant Replay” in my head.  Sorry…

Anyway.

My parents’ mutual love for music was one of the greatest gifts they gave us.  They knew all the back stories of the songs and artists, all the words — and they told us all of it.  I still call one of them from time to time to name a song I can’t place. 

Our family car rides always meant listening to Cousin Brucie on 101.1 WCBS-FM.  To this day, it is the only station my sisters and I can agree on when we drive somewhere together.  It’s not just coincidence that one of my sisters ended up with a guy who is not only a musician, but one who knows all the songs we know.  One who has, remarkably, played back up for some of these very groups on their reunion tours.  Yes, really.

I do sometimes feel like, when it comes to music, I was born in the wrong decade.  It’s not that I don’t like the music of my own childhood (hello 80s), college years or even today.  I do.  But the music my parents shared with us just has a much more special place in my heart and carries so much influence over the taste I have.  Sitting in Jersey Boys last weekend, it was amazing to me how I could feel nostalgic for an era I never lived in.  But I was wistful for my own experiences with those songs, my own childhood memories of that jukebox.  For being the only second-grader who knew “Rag Doll,” “Working My Way Back to You” and “Walk Like a Man.”  Because my parents and their fabulous collection of 45s in that jukebox ensured that I knew.

I want to do the same for my kids.  I wish I had that old jukebox.  I wish I had those 45s.  I know I can get most of the songs digitally, but it’s somehow not the same.  Oh well.  I think Breakfast with The Beatles every Sunday morning on Q104.3 is a good start.  I’ll work them up to the Four Seasons and my love of Motown someday. 

And they’ll ask  me what the hell a jukebox is.

{Addendum:  My mom called me this morning after reading my post.  She pointed out that I was wrong about my “Runaway” reference above.   It wasn’t Dion.  It was Del Shannon.  My bad.  Now you see my point about the ongoing back and forth we have about oldies.  Thanks, Mom, for keeping me honest.}

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment, Family 15 Comments

Always a Party

May 30, 2011

Ah, Memorial Day.  The unofficial beginning of summer. 

{And, by the way, Summer, listen up:  We’ve had a long and harsh winter here, so be good to us.}

Memorial Day is such a party day.  So festive.  But as I think back on the Memorial Days of years past — the pre-marriage and pre-children years — there are a few subtle differences from how I spent today.

—–

Then:  Sleep in until at least 11am.  Because I can.  Meet up with friends for brunch somewhere around 2pm.

Now:  Rise at 6am with children.  Explain to them, over the crunching sound of Cheerios in their ears, that the definition of “federal holiday” means “more sleep, dammit” in their language — to no avail.  Be among the first in town to arrive at the 9am parade because, well, I’ve been up for three damn hours already.

The Future Grand Marshall

 

A little concerned about catching the candy from her seat

 —–

Then:  Relax on the beach, armed with latest issues of People and Us Weekly.  Discuss with friends who, in fact, wore it best.

Now:  “Relax” on the couch, folding laundry, while my daughter naps and my son digs in dirt outside.  Catch a few glimpses of Real Housewives marathon in between 26 requests for child assistance.  Browse half-ripped, three-week old issue of Us Weekly, wondering not who wore it best  — but what the hell they are wearing.

—–

Then:  Cap off a fun-filled Fleet Week, complete with a sailor telling me I have a bad mouth.  Briefly consider cleaning up my language.

Now:  Hear a passing reference to Fleet Week on the 6pm news.  Spell all profanity if children are present.  Which really loses its punch.

—–

Then:  Begin consuming holiday cocktails just after noon. 

Now:  Begin consuming holiday cocktails just after noon. 

—–

Then:  Apply sunscreen to myself every six minutes to avoid inevitable ER-level sunburn that makes strangers wince in pain.

Now:  Add two kids to the sunscreen equation who have inherited my unfortunate “are you just pale or sick?” gene.  Chase said children down every six minutes for sunscreen application, a la catching a greased pig.  Reach for cocktail.  Repeat.

—–

Then:  Go shopping for cute and trendy summer clothes to wear to Memorial Day barbecue.

Now:  Go!  Now!  To Sears!  All appliances 30% off!  Areyoukiddingme?  Fantasize of replacing washboard/tub ancient  washer/dryer with shiny new front loaders.  Revel in the options of steam drying and load balancing.  Because I’m pretty sure, if you read this closely, the current dryer has a specific setting for “Polyester Leisure Suit.”

Oh, and my daughter’s shoes are on top of the machine because she managed to keep her Holiday Vomiting Streak intact.  The girl is nothing if not consistent.

—–

See?  It’s always a party around here.  A few details have changed, but I still know how to make the most of a holiday.

Did you like this? Share it:
Filed Under: Entertainment, Family, Food & Drink, Holidays 4 Comments
« Older Posts
Newer Posts »