Personality intervention

An interesting, “divine” theory came to me yesterday while I was driving – it’s always when I’m driving. Or in the shower. Or changing the toilet paper roll. It’s always those moments, right?
Ahem.
My second, and last, child has a dynamic personality that I’d love to take credit for, but I know it’s just “him.” That’s what I tell people. “Oh that’s just him! We’re along for the crazy ride!”
And here’s where I get all existential on your asses. Before I got pregnant with Dominic, I had a D&C for a pregnancy that wasn’t advancing. It was the second time I lost a pregnancy, my first being before my first child.
I had a very “I don’t care” attitude after the second loss. Days went by, things happened, people were happy, people were sad. The overwhelming sense of not having any control in my life was humbling and liberating.
When we saw Baby D’s profile on ultrasound, I remember saying, “Hi, little face.” I still call him that.
This child has blown into our lives and thrown us all for a loop. He loves life. He eats dog food (before we catch him). This weekend he touched as many port-o-potties as he could before we stopped him. He crouches down when he sees the kitty outside and talks to him at his level.
And I can’t help but wonder, does he know? Does he know there was major sadness in our lives before he came along, and was he designed to be this fireball of life and living?
However it happened, man am I glad it happened. Life with him is 10 times as exciting as before.
We’re in for a wild ride, and I don’t care if there’s a seat belt for me. I’m riding it hands up in the air, roller-coaster style.
Hello, little face.

I keep looking at this picture because it makes me happy to see him looking at me this way. That’s the good stuff right there. It’s what my weekends are all about.

I keep looking at this picture because it makes me happy to see him looking at me this way. That’s the good stuff right there. It’s what my weekends are all about.

humansofnewyork:

Before the Nightline piece aired last night, the producer texted me and said: “We put our whole heart into this one.” After watching it, it’s easy to see what he meant. Such a poetic presentation of HONY. I was floored by it. Thanks to Bill Weir and Cassius Kim for putting it together. If you missed it, you can find it here: http://abcn.ws/GKIES7

humansofnewyork:

Before the Nightline piece aired last night, the producer texted me and said: “We put our whole heart into this one.” After watching it, it’s easy to see what he meant. Such a poetic presentation of HONY. I was floored by it. Thanks to Bill Weir and Cassius Kim for putting it together. 

If you missed it, you can find it here: http://abcn.ws/GKIES7

When a news website has a terrible user experience

secondinversion:

Oh Florida, you welcoming, gracious, sweaty, hot bitch. What a great hang you were! Every time we get together I’m reminded why so many fun-loving people flock to you for vacation. Your beaches, climate and crazy summer weather patterns are so conducive to eating, binge-drinking and naps. You…

Blog cameo!

On Gandolfini: How local filming left its mark

Of course this Jersey girl has to blog about James Gandolfini’s passing. What else is on my mind today?
What is on my mind:
• The opening credits of “The Sopranos,” rolling through neighborhoods all-too familiar to me. Pizza Land. The cemetery.
• Episode viewings — especially the finale — being a big deal for my group of friends.
• The show’s finale, filmed in a booth at one of my hometown staples, Holsten’s Confectionery. A small-town candy/ice cream shop that sells my mother’s favorite candy and employed many friends throughout the years.
Know what Holsten’s is up to today, one day after the news broke? It’s busy serving customers and news teams, and has been crowded since Wednesday night.
When a television show like “The Sopranos” chooses a specific location instead of always filming on a set, people get excited. We’re all viewers in some way — trying to catch a glimpse of a famous actor, or searching for something familiar in the background when we see it on the big screen.
The impact is great. You can see it at Holsten’s today, which is keeping a table reserved for Tony Soprano.

newscatgif:

When a source won’t leave me alone after the story’s run
via bored-no-more:

This is slowly becoming my favorite tumblr.

newscatgif:

When a source won’t leave me alone after the story’s run

via bored-no-more:

This is slowly becoming my favorite tumblr.

the Working mom

- Please stop telling me I look tired.
- No, I don’t get much time to myself.
- Because he’s home all day with the kids. I’m his “relief” when I get home.
- I can’t go to lunch, I have to run errands.
- I spend money on them.
- No, he doesn’t go to preschool.
- Yes, we socialize him.
- Yes, we knew it would be hard having another baby.
- Because it’s worth it.

The Family Home

The moment I bought my house, I knew exactly what kind of vibe I wanted it to have.
Warm.
Friendly.
Lived in.
Memorable.
That last part is mainly for my little family. I often wonder if the boys will look back fondly on this tiny house. Will they have memories of me cooking meals (okay, their father cooking meals), of the glow of the Christmas tree in the dining room, of all the good smells and sounds from a family get-together?
Like many of us, I have tons of memories from my own family’s home. But, I also spent lots of time in my grandparents’ homes.
Today, social media showed me something I never wanted to see. The home where my father’s family grew up and where family members lived for years after my grandparents died, was on fire.
Nobody was seriously injured, thank goodness.
The images are stuck inside my eyes.
Grandma cutting carrots at the table.
My cousins playing hockey with me in the backyard.
Football playing on TV on Thanksgiving Day.
My sister & cousin’s graduation party in the backyard.
Some may say it was just a house. Wood. Windows. Paint.
But I always saw more. If I lived closer, I imagine I’d drive by it sometimes and take a peek. I still do that with other family homes.
The people have been gone for years, but I always thought the places would stay.
The day the memories are gone may be even sadder.