I Choose My Family

Family at the Magic Kingdom

My family and I at the Magic Kingdom

I consider myself a good son. Despite living two hours away, I see my mother monthly. I talk to her a couple of times a week. When I do see or talk to my mother, I am polite, respectful, etc. Therefore, my actions this weekend should be no surprise.

We had arranged for my mother to come for a visit this past weekend. My family and I had not seen her in a few weeks. The boys really enjoy seeing their bubbe (Yiddish for grandmother), and I want to foster that relationship.

When my mother comes for a visit, she, Ms. MMK, and I often watch a movie together. We eat snacks – popcorn or ice cream – and relax after the children have gone to bed. As part of my preparation for my mother’s most recent visit, I checked out my queue on Netflix. I skimmed through the titles trying to pick a movie which I thought would appeal to my mother. After consulting with Ms. MMK, I moved August Osage County to the top of the queue.

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ANOTHER MOTHER AT THE MMK MATERNITY WARD

Expectant Mother at the MMK Maternity Ward

Our newest expecting mother at the MMK Maternity Ward

Two different bird deliveries in one year!

We are becoming a wildlife refuge over here at MMK.

I mean in terms of the outdoors that is. Were still somewhat civilized indoors.

I wonder if National Geographic would like to do a spread of our active bird maternity ward.

If so, I’m sure they would want to know our secret as to why the birds keep coming to our house.

Hmmm, what would I tell them.

Okay, I got it. Here’s the recipe.

Slam doors, pour in two children screaming, add a poorly seeded/mowed lawn, a spice of parents yelling, and finally a huge heaping of Minecraft induced quiet.

Yep, that sums up much of the activity of my house.

So, why do we have another bird choosing our house as a maternity ward?

I have no idea!

We’ll just enjoy it.

Anyway, meet our newest expectant bird mother Rosa (as named by BR and SJ) the Dove. She is expecting twins.

And we at the MMK maternity ward could not be more proud of newest bird mother.

No More Cleaning, No More Snow

One of the great things about blogging is meeting people – electronically that is – from all around the world.

Imagine my surprise when I realized a fellow blogger who I’ve been following for over a year now is practically my neighbor. Yes Jackie of Ambling and Rambling is a fellow Bergen County resident.

Serivce Industry Neighbor

My neighbor and fellow blogger.

She has been married to Fang (an homage to the late, great Phyllis Diller) for almost 25 years. They have a teenage daughter, “Fangette”, for whom she has little patience, but great love. What parent of an adolescent can’t say the same?

Jackie has been in the service industry for thirty-two years. She has worked in all types of establishments.  These days she is at a steak house where she splits her time between serving and bartending.

Ambling and Rambling focuses on the trials and tribulations of being in a long-term relationship, raising a teenager, and working in the service industry. Her perspective is often funny and insightful.

Make sure to check out Ambling and Rambling.

I’m tired of snow!

I’m sick of all the extra work snow involves. I’m of the opinion that something as simple as retrieving the mail shouldn’t require crampons — not in the wilds of suburban New Jersey, anyway. Don’t even get me started on the shoveling. Or the ice-covered everything. Winter wonderland, my patootie!

While I’m not too old to enjoy a little cold weather fun, I’m not sure that sliding down my driveway on my hind end, owing to the fact that we don’t actually own crampons would fall into that category. I’m getting pretty good at it, though and have come to call it “driveway surfing.”

In fact, I’ve grown so proficient at it that I’ve been giving some real consideration to petitioning for its inclusion in the next Olympic Winter Games. I’ll have to come up with rules, a scoring system, and money for bribes of course. However, the work involved and the financial considerations will be small prices to pay for indulging my gold medal dreams.

Sure, rock salt would eliminate the need for hanging ten on the driveway, and rumors of its existence abound. For something that in any other year has always been an abundant and readily available substance, procuring such has proven as elusive here in 2014 as finding a Cabbage Patch doll was in 1983. When driveway surfing becomes, as I suspect it will, all the rage, I will undoubtedly be grateful that the shortage of this product made it all possible. Invention being the mother of necessity and all that.

Working has been a challenge, as well — and an unprofitable one at that. Members of the general public, not to mention the majority of my co-workers, do not seem to share my level of commitment for getting to the restaurant.

As if going to work and coming away without any financial remuneration isn’t, in and of itself, enough to make anyone a mite cranky, the expectation that while I’m there — because I’m there — I will do cleaning projects is enough to send me round the proverbial bend. I’d rather pick nits out of ferrets.

Ferret grooming aside, there is very little that I enjoy participating in less — even in my own home — than cleaning. I clean the hovel because I have to. Unlike my bosses at work, I don’t have any members of the slave labor force hanging about that I can press into service. My teenager, not surprisingly, has better things to do.

Luckily, I maintain low standards for cleanliness. Still, household tasks don’t do themselves! Over the years my enthusiasm for this nonsense has given way to a general sense of ennui. Truthfully, I was never all that enthusiastic about cleaning to begin with. To be honest, I have always greeted tasks like mopping the floors, doing the dishes, and sanitizing the bathroom with about as much fervor as I would a trip to the lobotomist. (And don’t think THAT hasn’t been suggested!)

I finally arrive at work wetter and colder than I generally like to be due to a few practice runs of driveway surfing and trudging through hip-deep snow. At that point, I can’t get excited over the prospect of scrubbing shelves, relocating supplies, and spit-polishing equipment. It’s childish, I know, but in my head I’m stamping my feet, balling up my fists, and shaking my head back and forth while tearfully screaming, “I don’t wanna clean!!!!”

It’s all I can do to keep this immature and unseemly behavior contained in fantasy world. I’m convinced that the sole reason I’m able to keep it from spilling forth into the real world is how embarrassed I would feel after such a meltdown. It’s really no way for a future gold medalist to conduct herself.

I’ve discovered a way out, though. For years I’ve observed others successfully employ this method. I’ve always subscribed to the theory that “A job worth doing is worth doing well.” So, I could never bring myself to participate in the kind of subterfuge that I am now wholeheartedly embracing.  Unlike the positive attitude I’ve adopted where driveway surfing is concerned, I’m doing the bare minimum in the area of workplace cleaning. And, I’m doing it well.

I’m happy to report that I’ve calculated my laziness score to be 8 out of a possible 10.  I think that’s pretty good for a novice!

Carpool Buddies, Won’t You Chat?

Family carpool.

Strap In Carpool Buddies!

Sometimes I wonder what my relationship will be with my children when they get older. You know when poop isn’t their favorite word and ice cream doesn’t cure everything.

Today’s guest today is with someone whose children are older than mine: my cousin Bonnie.  She and her husband, Howard, have two children ages 16 and 13.

She works as a resident coordinator in a large hospital in Philadelphia. Bonnie enjoys reading, baking and going to the movies.  She also loves playing board games and recently became addicted to some I phone games.

Bonnie was one of my first followers. Unfortunately, she rarely comments. However at every family function she tells me how much she enjoys the blog. Family is a good thing!

This is her first blog post. Enjoy.

Do you drive your kids to school?  I do. I drive my teenage daughter and her friend to a school in center city Philadelphia that is 13.9 miles from our home.  We are carpool buddies.

Anyway, the girls sit in the back which leaves the front passenger seat available for my tote bag, pocketbook, box of tissues, and makeup.

The three of us spend 45 minutes together every morning fighting traffic jams, pot holes and obnoxious drivers.  We have lots of time to talk, listen to the radio…. etc.   This has been our routine for 5 years.

A few years ago we carpool buddies found a radio station that we all liked.  We used to sing along, listen to the gossip about Hollywood stars, and try to call in for trivia contests and concert tickets.  Unfortunately, some DJs left and the ones who remained became increasingly annoying.  We no longer enjoyed the “talk” and the music become very repetitive.

The girls’ response was to plug into their personal audio devices (Ipods). I was left to listen to the news or an “old lady radio station” with light rock/easy listening.  I missed the old days when I felt we were carpool buddies.

I missed their animated conversations about who likes whom or what teacher did what.  I missed hearing about the parties they might attend and the outfits they might wear.

They may not have always been including me, but I felt like I was part of it, and felt privileged to have that window into their lives.

Sometimes we still have great conversations, or my daughter will read out loud to us. Yet now, more often than not, there is silence in the car.  The girls are either sleeping or studying quietly, and I don’t want to disturb them.

You should see them.  They are bent over writing, reading, calculating or memorizing.  Otherwise, they are reclining in their seats, snuggled under a blanket and out like a light.

But, I can’t sleep.  I can’t read.  I have to drive!  I get a little jealous…

However, I treasure these early mornings.  I love having my carpool buddies.

Before I know it, my kids will be driving themselves and will have no need for me in the driver’s seat.

Hmmm…It’s not a bad idea.  Maybe next year they will be in the front, and I will be sleeping in the back with my tote bag, tissues, cellphone and other essentials!!

 Photo courtesy of Microsoft clip art.