What makes my boys happy?

A FULL REFRIGERATOR,

AND A WELL STOCKED PANTRY.

I RECENTLY ASKED MY SON, JONATHAN:

ARE YOU EATING TO LIVE OR LIVING TO EAT?

AND HE SAID:

THIS A TRICK QUESTION, ISN'T IT?

FOOD . . . THE WAY TO A BOY'S HEART.

No Roundabouts for Me, Thank You Very Much

Dear Dustin,

I was involved in that car accident with you this past weekend, and I hope that you and your friends are doing well. As for us, I'm a little sore (as I'm sure you can relate) and although my little one is a little clingy, he is getting plenty of attention from his older brothers.

The reason for this letter is to reassure you that things will be all right. I realize that dealing with police reports, insurance adjustors, and yes, even concerned parents is not fun, but you seem like a nice guy and maybe things like this happen to remind us of all the things in life that are really important.

In the meantime, we can be thankful for two things: that no one was injured, and that we don't live in England . . . over there they have traffic circles everywhere.

Sincerely,
Maria Novajosky

The Accident

Yesterday at 4:33 p.m. I left my sister's house in Columbia, SC to drive home to Augusta, Ga. Timothy and I had gone up for my sister's baby shower.

At 4:34 p.m., as I was going around a traffic circle in their neighborhood, a car driven by a 16 year-old entered the very same traffic circle, failed to yield, and crashed into the front passenger side of my car.

It was a loud accident.

My van was shoved over a lane.

His SUV careened around the circle and crashed into the curb.

There was debris everywhere: bumbers, hubcaps, headlights, just . . . car pieces.

Timothy and I were shaken . . . but okay.

I ran over to the SUV and all four of them were shaken . . . but okay.

I called my brother-in-law, Patrick, and then I called 911. The dispatcher asked for location, and since my sister and brother-in-law had recently moved to this new house I didn't know anything . . . no street names, cross roads, or even the name of the neighborhood.

At this point a man pulled up asking if I needed any help. I had him give the 911 dispatcher the information. I thanked him and he drove off.

About an hour later Patrick and I were standing in the shade still waiting for the State Trooper, and that same man returned. He had noticed my out of state tags and thought Timothy and I could use some refreshments.

He handed me a bag of goodies. Inside was a cold can of Diet Coke, a can of Minutemaid orange, and three snack packs of oreos. Up until then I had been calm, but his simple kindness brought tears to my eyes.

And here's the neat thing. As he was walking up Patrick recognized him as a fellow Knight from another parish.

So . . . a Sunday afternoon car accident. But I'm okay. Timothy is okay. The teens in the other vehicle are okay. The van? Not so okay . . . but that's okay, too.

And this is what Makes my Monday: a wonderful brother-in-law who stood in the heat with me for several hours helping me with police reports, etc., and the thoughtfulness of a Good Samaritan with his gift of a cold Diet Coke on a hot Sunday afternoon.

Wanted: Advice

So here's the thing: our oldest will start high school in the fall and to commemorate this event (his words, not mine) he wants a cell phone.

Here are his reasons:

• he is the ONLY one in the 8th grade without one
• he doesn't want to be the only one in high school without one
• he can't talk to his friends because he can't text (insert my mental eyeroll)
• he is responsible and mature (insert another mental eyeroll)

After discussing this at length, my husband and I agree that he probably does need one . . . not for his reasons, but simply for the fact that he will be at another school next year and with carpooling between two different schools it would be nice to communicate with him if I am running late (not that I ever am, mind you).

Here's my question: what advice do you have when giving a teen his first phone? We don't want him to turn into a texting fiend, we don't want him to be calling and/or taking calls at the dinner table, and we don't want him on the phone when we're on a family vacation.

So, advice anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller . . . Bueller?

Conversation between my Self and my Conscience

Self (on a particularly off day): That woman is so annoying.

Conscience: You don't even know her. You've never even had a conversation with her.

Self: Well. Thank goodness for small favors.

Conscience: You know, God loves HER just as much as He loves you.

Self: Ugh. You think?

Conscience: Hmmm. Hmmm.

Self: Okay, okay. I know. You're right.

Conscience: But if it makes you feel better, look at it this way: God loves YOU just as much as he loves Blessed Mother Teresa.

Self: Oh. I never thought of it that way before. Thanks, Jiminy.

Dumb, Useless Facts Make My Monday

Here's what I learned on vacation:

The ostrich has the largest eye of any land animal. Its eye measures almost two inches (five centimeters) across.

Ostriches use their wings as rudders to change directions when running.

An ostrich's powerful, long legs can cover 10 to 16 feet (3 to 5 meters) in a single stride.

Okay. I couldn't get past the eyeball thing . . . for some reason I found that highly amusing.

The biggest eyeball . . . that's what a Mom needs . . . the better to see you with, my dear! Eh. Eh. Eh.

Do YOU know any dumb, useless fact?

(Now, go visit Cheryl who doesn't need an all-knowing eye because her kids are angels!)

The Language of Love

FACT: My mother spoke a little English.

FACT: My father spoke even less Italian.

FACT: Celebrating 43 years of marriage.

Lost, but not found

My dear nephew, what’s this you say
Something is lost and has gone away?
The very idea fills me with dismay
But I will help you find it, so everything is okay.

Yes, your brave and smart Auntie is here
And I will never ever give up, my dear.
I will search and search both far and near
Leave it to me, there is nothing to fear.

Let's see, you lost it somewhere . . .
Now let's think about this with care.
Let's stay calm and be very, very aware
for, really, it's definitely somewhere out there.

It could be up a tree or a under a rock,
behind the shed, or around the block.
Somehow it may even be in Bangkok . . .
or right here hidden in your left sock.

But, I will keep looking, I will not be still
I am your Auntie and won’t even send you a bill.
I'll drive to D.C. or fly to Nashville
Why, I'll even dig in a nasty dunghill.

Wait a minute. What's this I hear
From your mother and my sister dear?
"Oh Bia you're running in circles I fear
And there's one little thing I must make very clear.

"The thing that you're looking so diligently for
really isn't a thing anymore.
It was simply an appendix we couldn't ignore
one that was more that just a little sore.”

Oh. Well then, dear Nephew. No need to bawl.
What the doctor says is so true.
That appendix so teeny and so very small
Why, you don't need that pesky thing at all!

So I am glad everything has turned out so swell,
Let’s celebrate . . . you’re going to be well.
I'll call off the search and bid you farewell.
Hugs, kisses and love from your Auntie the dumbbell!

To Christopher, in memory of his "lost" appendix (4/3/09).