Updates

I sometimes get follow up questions regarding things that I have posted, so I am going to use this post the keep you updated on the progress in our lives. Here goes:

1. Sam's bike is fixed. The chain didn't break, it was just off the track, and he and I managed to figure out how to get it back on. So he is back on the road. Thank you all for your concern.

2. When I said I was getting rid of stuff in our garage I never intended to imply that the garage would ever in any way be neat and orderly. I have just come to accept the fact that my actually parking in a garage is not going to happen in my lifetime.

3. My sister, Stephanie, would like me to pass on the fact that she was given powdered milk, as well. God forbid anyone think that she has led a pampered existence. As her husband Todd would say "La-De-Freakin-Da" (that was cleaned up for the purposes of this post). Although she did remind me that my mother stored the powder milk box under the sink. Yes, that's right, under the sink with the cleaning products. Now, if a food item can be stored next to the Mr. Clean doesn't that tell you something?

4. While on the topic of milk, so many of you have told me that although you don't like milk, you do eat it in cereal. Apparently when combined with a favorite cereal, milk becomes more palatable. I may have to try a bowl someday soon.

5. In my post about Ryan's sign language, I made a reference to him sometimes being lazy. In listening to my Mom retell the story to my Dad she described Ryan as "just being Ryan in his own world," which I interpret as Grandparent PC for lazy!

6. I have added one new show from this television season to my viewing list. If you haven't checked out "Life On Mars" it is a pretty good show.

7. To our new friend in China, the boys are loving your comments, and are enjoying learning about the differences in our two cultures (like the fact that you can't get Wii). Please keep them coming.

8. And now to our most frequently asked about topic....the dog. Please understand that the poll we set up was for informational purposes only, and in no way was it binding, thus obligating me to get this child a dog. That being said, Ryan and I have come to an agreement that we will wait until after the holidays, and at a time closer to his 7th birthday we will revisit and reevaluate his desire for a pet. Until that time, please stop asking Ryan when he is getting the dog, since he won the vote (yes, Grandpa, this means you!).

Happy Birthday Donnie

Last night I went to a party for my brother-in-law, Donnie. He turned 50 and my sister, Staci, had planned a party for him at a little bar in Gastonia. Now let me set the scene for you. Don is a member of The Southern Gentlemen motorcycle club, so this was an interesting crowd to say the least. I felt as if I was on a set for some type of biker movie. Our table might as well of had a neon sign with the words "Family" and an arrow pointing down at us, with my Dad in his yellow dress shirt, my other brother-in-law Todd, in his dark pink polo shirt, and my sister, Stephanie, in her silk halter. I at least had on black so I more or less blended in. Every time we would see Staci speaking with someone, and they would turn and look at us my Dad would say "She's explaining us." I didn't take pictures because I think some of the guests may be wanted in certain jurisdictions, and may not appreciate their pictures being posted on the Internet. I'm just joking (somewhat), everyone was very nice and polite. HAPPY 50th DONNIE, WE LOVE YOU! (and we'd love you even more if you had let us have some cake).

Now That's Wierd

I don't know if any of you have ever noticed, but along the side of this blog there is a map which records the number of hits and locations every time someone looks at our blog. Normally there are 3 or 4 hits a day, and one of them is usually mine. After yesterdays post about Ryan's sign, the blog received 105 hits from all around the world. There must have been something in the post that was showing up in a popular google search. Now folks on every continent (except Antarctica) have seen my sweet baby basically giving the finger.

Here's Your Sign

Last night Ryan was telling me that his teacher is teaching them some sign language, and he was showing me some of the signs he learned. One of them was the sign for Thank You, which is two hands coming outward from under your chin. However, he kept doing it with one hand, and sort of flicking his fingers outward. Now, as a person of Italian heritage, I am acutely aware that these have two very different meanings. For those of you who are not familiar (or have never seen an episode of The Sopranos) I will illustrate below:

THANK YOU




F*** YOU

Do you get the difference? I couldn't understand why he kept doing it with one hand, and then he explained that it was easier (LAZY!) I told him that others might not like that particular sign, so use two hands.

Ever since Ryan was born, I have had this feeling that he is the reincarnation of my paternal grandfather a/k/a PopPop. Any Italian DNA in me that hasn't been smothered by the Irish, was passed on to him in looks, mannerisms, everything (and he is determined to give me agita what with the schoolwork, but that is for another post). Anyway, this latest "sign" from above just confirms it for me. Got to run, he's demanding his pasta!

It's Genetic

My plan for this weekend was to purge the house of all of the "stuff" that we have acquired that nobody ever uses. This is easier said than done. My children only part with things under the threat that "NOTHING NEW WILL COME INTO THIS HOUSE UNTIL SOMETHING ELSE LEAVES." Toys that they haven't looked at in years suddenly become their most cherished possession when you want to get rid of it. I have developed a theory that our family has a sort of pack-rat gene somewhere within our DNA. Both of our mothers have the gene. Our children are playing with toys and books that are over 30 years old (I know I should have written "close to 40 years old" but I can't quite go there yet). The stuff that they deemed worthy of keeping and storing for this long boggles my mind. Scott's dad has a version of the gene, although I'm not sure if his is more a form of cheapness than nostalgia (and I say that with love). I thought that the gene had maybe skipped a generation, as I do not posses it. I am all for getting rid of things that have no use. Purge, simplify, and ridding your life of clutter is what I am about these days. Scott's sister, Susan, has no trace of this anywhere in her DNA. In fact, when she went on vacation recently, she had a box built for her 19 year old cat in case he died while she was away. She wanted her buried and gone before she even got home. I wanted to warn the cat not to take a nap until after someone came to feed her, because if she was sleeping it might not end well! And I thought that Scott didn't have the gene until I ventured into our garage yesterday, otherwise know as the place where crap goes not to die, but to live in perpetuity. There is a truck, motorcycle, and dirt bike that have not seen the light of day in almost a decade. I dug through the truck bed, which has become a storage unit, and found an old gas tank (not a gas can, mind you, but a gas tank) a big exhaust fan that had a purpose at a house we haven't lived in for ten years, a chain saw that I didn't even know we owned (you never know, one of the TWO trees in our yard might need to come down someday), and parts for cars that I don't think we even own anymore. So my conclusion was that Scott does possess this genetic flaw and has passed it along to our boys, as every bike, scooter, and riding toy they ever owned was still in that garage. So alas, I am attempting to break the cycle and all of this "stuff" is being shipped off to the Goodwill or the recycling center, so in 30 years if any of it is pulled out of an attic for some kid to play with, they won't be related to me.

Random Musings

Yesterday something happened to me on our way home from school that made me realize that I no longer had babies, but I now had full-blown kids. As I was walking home, while attempting to carry a bookbag with one hand, navigate the bike that Ryan decided he didn't want to ride, and watch Sam trying to do some type of x-games move over a drainage ditch, I stepped into a hole on the side of the walking path and fell. Yes, that's right, I flat out fell. Both of my children acted as if they did not know me and walked right by. Oh, the love was overwhelming. The lesson learned is that children should carry their own damn stuff!!

I read an article today about the average person's love for cereal, and how it has become this affordable comfort food in these tough times. All of my boys love cereal. Sometimes it is all Ryan will eat in a day, and there are many nights when Scott gets home late and eats it for dinner. I hate cereal, and I began to wonder how I could dislike something that so many people love. My sister, Staci, does not like cereal either, yet my younger sister and brother do, so I came up with this hypothesis...POWDERED MILK. Yes, that's right, I was fed powdered milk as a child, and my conclusion is that this had some sort of traumatizing affect on my sister and I. Apparently times got better, because the younger siblings got real milk. Scott says he doesn't even know what powdered milk is (so a big thumbs up to you Margie!). I don't even know if they make powdered milk anymore, but until I read about a big surge in the demand for it, I refuse to believe that times are that bad!

Today Ryan learned one of the big secrets of childhood. He finally realized that if you are sick, you get to stay home from school. He has had a fever on and off since Friday, but had adamantly refused to admit that he was sick. This morning he woke up with a slight fever and said that his throat hurt. I told him he could go back to sleep, and I could literally see a light bulb go off over his head when he realized that admitting to being sick gets you a day off from school. I may have created a monster. Of course, 20 minutes after taking Motrin he was fine, thus proving my theory that if you pump them full of medicine they are good for a 6 hour school day. Sorry, Darnell, as a teacher I know you take offense to that (but admit it, you know you've done it!).

Birthday Party Fun

Yesterday we all went to my sister Staci's house for my nephew Trace's 6th birthday. In typical Separ fashion, it was an over indulgent, glutenous, free-for-all. I mean, what kid's birthday party doesn't need a fajita bar and margarita's? I kid, Stace, we had a great time. I ate way too much, and the kid's ate nothing but junk. What can I say, it's just the way we Separs roll. The kids all had a great time jumping in the air castle, painting pumpkins, smashing the pinata, and playing Wii.