March 17, 2008

Bits and Pieces of Bloggy Stuff

I know I haven’t really been blogging much the last few days, and I apologize for leaving you all hanging. I’d like to give you an amazing excuse, but I don’t have one. Yeah, I’ve been busy. But everyone is busy and they still find time to tell their pals they are alive.

The weekend has been filled with non-stop cleaning and picking up after Doug and Dawson. I’m not thrilled about this at all. Every day I vacuum and clean up the house, and every day one of those persons with a penis leaves more stuff for me to put back where it belongs. Is this what I’ve become? An obsessed, clean-freak wife and mom? I hope not. That would drive me crazy.

On Friday, Doug allowed me the privilege of time away from the three-year-old to go shopping and get a hair cut. I ended up bringing Dawson along because I didn’t have the patience to deal with his screaming fit. Twenty minutes later, in the car, Dawson fell asleep. I went to the bank and then turned around and dropped Dawson off at home.

My hair is short. I’ll post a picture very soon. I promise. And if I forget, will one of you please remind me?

Saturday I went to the gym and worked out for an hour while the Doodlebug stayed home with Doug. I’ve been diligent the last few weeks in making certain I work out on the elliptical for 30 minutes, five times a week. I think I’ve lost four pounds, but my scale is old and possibly broken, so who knows what the right number is. Yesterday it said I weighed 139 pounds and I almost passed out. I weigh much more than 139 pounds. Try 490. Heh.

Yesterday, I went to a supper club called Wander Inn with my sister, brother and parents to hear my uncle Mikey’s polka band, The Paper City Sounds, play music from 2-6 p.m. Dawson came along, too. He loves polkas and his Great Uncle Mikey. It was fun. I love watching the adorable old couples bopping around the floor. They look so much in love after all those years and it makes me smile.

I got a cute video of Dawson dancing a waltz with my father. It’s so sweet, and it reminds me of when I was little and loved dancing with my daddy. I think I might post it for your viewing pleasure.

Which brings me to today. I’m twenty-nine today. Twenty-freakin-nine. Years old. I have to say it over and over again, just to make sure I believe it myself.

I thought I would be more freaked out than I am, but surprisingly I’m not. Yet. It could still happen. I’ve been freaking out about getting older since I turned twenty-six. I don’t know why. I know it’s stupid. I’m still young. Right?

Nothing else to report quite yet. Alleluia! Dawson is officially potty-trained. I started the training boot camp at the end of December and you may remember my frustrations. January was rough. He had a few accidents. February was better, he still wore a pull-up for most of the day because I didn’t want to clean up messes. And now the boy has moved to underpants all day and pull-ups only at night. Can I say how much I love not changing diapers? I LOVE NOT CHANGING DIAPERS! My new gripe? The words, “Mommy, I need you to come wipe my butt!”

Yeah…that’s not my favorite part. But I’ll take that task over diaper changing any day.

Well…I’ve got deadlines and things that need doing, but I promise a real, coherent, interesting blog post tomorrow. (And if I don’t deliver, y’all can kick my ass!)

March 3, 2008

For My Sister, In Honor of Her 23rd Birthday

My sister, Rachel, and I are six years apart. Because of our age difference, we seldom practically never got along.

Between us in the birth order is our brother Nathan, two years older than Rachel. Nate and Rae have always been close, and for the first six years of her life, my sister was the baby of the family.

When we were kids, I considered her to be the spoiled brat, the one who always got her way. When our brother Frankie was born, he claimed the “baby” title. But there was still that sisterly rivary amongst us and I usually ignored Rachel because I was the oldest, and thought that was a good enough reason.

I don’t even recall why we disliked each other so. Perhaps because I was entering junior high when she was in first grade. It wouldn’t have been “cool” to hang out with a 7-year old. When Rachel and Nathan were playing sports outside, I was more interested in clothes and make-up. When Rachel entered seventh grade, I had already graduated high school and was heading off to college.

Some of my resentment toward her was because she often snooped in my room, spied on me and reported everything I did wrong to Mom and Dad.

“Mooom! I found cigarettes in Dana’s backpack!”

“Mooooom! Dana didn’t clean her room and she’s with her friends!”

I know she was just doing these things to get my attention, to get me to notice and pay attention to her, but it still pissed me off.

Over the years we’ve learned to get a long, sometimes. We still have the occasional disagreement, but I love that girl.

She’s tough. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone. She’s got a hilarious personality. She’s a National Guard member who may even be deployed to Iraq next year. She was Maid of Honor at my wedding. She’s my son’s Godmother. She’s my sister.

Of course, like most siblings, we have our differences. She’s into partying, I’ve given it up for wifedom and motherhood. She loves movies like Fight Club and Kill Bill, I’m more the Failure to Launch and Hope Floats kind of gal. She crushes on Brad Pitt, I’m more in love with Matthew McConaughey. She’s Imari and I’m Happy Heart. She’s a rebel, I’m not-so-much anymore.

Even if we disagree all the time, she’s someone I care deeply about. My life would be pretty fricken’ boring without her in it! If anything we’ll only grow closer as time goes on, because we know that sisters always have each other.

Happy Birthday, little sister.

December 28, 2007

A Christmas Memory

Christmas with my side of the family can be a bit overwhelming. Every year, my mom and her two youngest sisters take turns hosting the celebration. This tradition began in 1981, as a way for my grandmother, Alice, to spend time with all seven of her children, their spouses and her grandchildren.

It’s hard to believe that we’ve been gathering every Christmas for the last twenty-six years. That first celebration was the smallest, because not all of my aunts and uncles were married, but as our families expanded, year after year, it became a challenge to cram almost forty people in one location.

My mother is the oldest, followed by her sisters, Judy, Donna and Mary, and her brothers, Michael, Carl and Paul. Out of seven kids, only two are unmarried. In order to understand the insanity in my family, I’ll give you a little back-story.

My mom and her sister Judy are very close, and my aunts, Donna and Mary are inseparable. Besides being sisters, they are best friends and very often exclude my mom and Aunt Judy from conversations and events. I could even say that there’s a small rivalry between families.

Both aunts were stay-at-home parents, married to husbands with high-paying mill jobs. Both Donna and Mary each have five children that are very close in age to the other’s kids, and the two families have been known to spend a lot of time together.

It should be said that I’m the firstborn grandchild, followed by my cousin, Hedy, who is two years younger than me. Hedy and I were “best friends” until our high school years when we drifted apart. We really didn’t have much in common as the years went by.

Hedy and her sisters have gone to prestigious universities, they work for prominent companies, and they travel across the country, as well as internationally, and they usually date very good-looking boyfriends. It can be rather intimidating to listen to them speak of their latest accomplishment or amazing trip to Amsterdam (or was it Paris?).

I’ve never felt the need to compete with my cousins, but my aunts seem to measure a person’s “worth” by their social status, how much money they make, or the clothes they wear. They’ll never admit it, but sometimes I feel as though I’m being compared to their very gorgeous, thin, single, childless daughters.

This Christmas was held at my parents’ house. When my cousins arrived I felt the dread of having to make conversation with these very accomplished girls. I know it sounds like I’m jealous, but that isn’t the case. I’m very proud of my cousins’ successes – they’ve worked very hard to get where they are – but I find it difficult to listen to them brag about how “wonderful” they are and the “amazing” lives they lead. Are they trying to impress me? Are they insecure about one part of their lives so they embellish the details of another part? Who knows?

I tried to be polite and courteous, and I did my best to keep a smile on my face and be interested in their lives, but part of me thought, “Who cares?” Not one of my cousins asked me about my life, or about Dawson or about my job. It wasn’t until my sister brought up my blogging that they took an interest.

If I had a dollar for every time I was asked what a blog was, or what BlogHer was all about, I could afford my own trip to Amsterdam (or perhaps Paris?). My very liberal cousins were shocked to discover that I write about conservative politics. And my awesome sister did some bragging on my behalf.

“She writes for BlogHer.com,” Rachel said. “And, she’s really good at it. And she’s going to New York and San Francisco, too, for the blogging conferences.”

I laughed inside, because of the raised eyebrows and strange looks I was getting. Thankfully, my brother, Frankie, put on the videotape from Christmas 1989 (saved by the TV!), to break up the tension in the room. My uncle, Mike, had brought his VHS recorder and documented our holiday celebration that year. Frank thought it would be fun to watch that old video.

I smiled when I saw Grandma Alice on the screen. It’s been two years since her death (she died December 6, 2005) and I miss her terribly. It was amazing that everyone gathered around the television to reminisce the early Christmas parties we had. How fast time goes by.

The best part of watching this old tape was that it took place in the house I live in now. We bought my childhood home from my parents five years ago when they built their dream house. My husband had never seen our home prior to the addition my dad built to the back of the house in 1991.

It was so foreign to look at that old floor plan. I had forgotten about that ugly brown linoleum in the old kitchen, which is currently underneath the current flooring. I laughed when I saw the old deck door (which is now an open entry-way to our current dining room). I remember that the lock was broken, so my mother put a dowelling rod behind it, “just in case burglars try to get it.” It never occurred to her that they would probably just break the glass.

And then, I heard Grandma’s voice coming through the speakers and I started crying. As I write this, the tears are rolling down my cheeks. Eighteen years ago, on December 25, Grandma Alice was sitting in my living room, watching her grandchildren open their Christmas presents.

My Christmas tree is in the same spot my mother place our tree in 1989. If I close my eyes, I can see it all again – no VHS required. I can smell the real tree my father cut from the local Christmas tree farm. I can see the mountains of presents underneath it, the flashing multi-colored string of lights, the handmade ornaments my siblings and I made.

My youngest brother, Frank wasn’t even born yet, so my sister was the baby of the family. I remember painting her finger and toenails and crimping her hair for the Christmas party.

I laughed when Grandma Alice said, “Honest to God, Mikey!” to my uncle as he videotaped her. She didn’t want to be on camera, but thank the Lord she was! I’m so grateful we could look back on that Christmas, eighteen years ago. I still can’t get over how fast time goes by…

I remember that Grandma made Polish sausage (kielbasa), and how the awful smell of sauerkraut wafted through the air when someone lifted the lid on the crock-pot.

I remember Aunt Judy getting a little tipsy from eggnog – or maybe she was just sugared up on Diet Pepsi (it wasn’t caffeine-free at that time) — and telling us she once ran naked through the woods on the farm.

I remember saying my prayers with Grandma — the “Our Father” and the “Hail Mary” — and how proud she was that I prayed with her. I remember the nativity, and how we celebrated the birth of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

As we watched that videotape, I began to realize that it doesn’t matter what clothes we wear, or how much money we make, that proves whether we are a worthy person.

We must cherish the reason we gathered together in the first place. We gathered to celebrate the birth of Christ. We celebrated with our loved ones, our families. We gathered to cherish the many blessings we’ve been given. We gathered together to treat each other with kindness, respect and love. That’s what it’s all about. That is what really matters.

December 24, 2007

Christmas Eve Greetings

This morning I have to work four hours and then I’m off for seven and a half days. I can’t tell you how excited I am to not have to worry about work for awhile. I’ve been looking forward to this “vacation” (hard to call it that when there’s a shit load of white, fluffy snow on the ground), for a very long time.

Dawson is going to Renee’s house today and I’m so grateful she agreed to care for him for that short period of time. Otherwise I might have had to beg my mom or my mother-in-law for help. I would feel terrible doing that, because they are each getting their ducks in a row for the Christmas celebrations.

This evening we plan to attend the 4 p.m. mass because our church is very large. Over 2,000 families attend St. Bronislava’s Catholic Church and the masses on Christmas Day are so packed that not a pew is available. The ushers set up chairs in the lobby and gathering space before each mass and even those seats fill up!

Doug has to work from 8 a.m to 4 p.m, but he’s going to try to sneak out of work early. If that can’t be done we’ll probably hit the 10 p.m. church service. That’s the best one because of the beautiful Christmas carols the choir sings. We’ll see how the day goes.

We’re heading to my in-laws this evening to celebrate Christmas with them. Dawson is VERY, VERY!! excited about all the presents Santa Claus is bringing him.

Tomorrow we spend the holiday with my insane family. Good times, laughter and cheer will be had by all (especially because my family is full of nuts).

Here are some funny photos from last night. While I spent several hours cleaning Dawson’s messy room, he decided to dress himself in his “favowitt cwose”.

More photos here.