Boys will be Men

Our 8th grader, who is as cute as can be, has been concerned lately. It seems that all the boys have had a growth spurt except for him. All the boys have gotten taller, except for him. All the boys have muscles, except for him.

The fact that Dad is 6'4" brings him no comfort. He wants to be tall now. He want muscles now.

Height we can't help him with, but muscles . . .

So, exactly one month ago my husband put him on a 3-4 times a week weight training program . . . they even took "before" measurements.

Tonight, one month later, they took the "after" measurements.

The results:
biceps increased by 3/8ths of an inch;
neck, by 1/2 inch;
pride (his and Dad's), off the charts.

The Cruise Review (In which we drove dune buggies in Cozumel and survived a family photo session)

After Christmas our entire family embarked on a five night Royal Caribbean Cruise to Cozumel, Mexico. Here's the lowdown on our adventure ...

The Cruise Workout

Mention the word cruise, and everyone immediately thinks endless buffets, decadent desserts, and mindless hours sunning by the pool. Ha! To be sure, there was food everywhere, but we were forever climbing stairs (no time to wait for elevators) and walking the entire length of the ship (elevators may go vertically, but they do NOT go horizontally). We worked out in the gym. We climbed the rock wall and played basketball. Heck, half the time I burned a gazillion calories just looking for someone -- ANYONE! -- from our group. My brand new FitBit Blaze was singing my praises.

Key West, Florida

Our first stop included a day in Key West, and after getting off the ship we decided to purchase tickets for a trolley tour and an overview of the city. Our tour guide told some really interesting stories, and after stopping for some obligatory photos (Ernest Hemingway's house, the Key West's southernmost tip, Sloppy Joe's Bar) the boys returned to the ship and Joe and I did a little more exploring on foot.


Also, Joe purchased the first souvenir of the trip -- a cigar, when he doesn't even smoke! But with the Penn State Fiesta Bowl the next day he was anticipating a celebratory smoke. Stay tuned ...

My Favorite Thing(s)

Mornings. I am an early riser, and I loved tip-toeing out of the cabin while the others were still sleeping, grabbing a cup of coffee, and finding a quiet place to watch the sun rise over the sea. I'd read, think, and grab another cup of coffee ... along with some yogurt and a delicious pastry. I think breakfast was another favorite thing.

Cozumel, Mexico

Our last day of 2017 was spent snorkeling in Mexico. The night before docking we decided, at the very last minute, to sign up for a shore excursion which included snorkeling, a dune buggy ride along the coast, and swimming at a secluded beach. Best decision ever. After meeting our group leader, we were assigned a bright, green dune buggy -- Joe drove, Nicholas rode shotgun, and Timothy and I had a blast in the back seat. We drove for while along the coast, stopped to snorkel, drove along the coast, stopped to swim, and drove back to the ship. Four hours of adventures. This was my favorite shore excursion ever.

And where was Jonathan? He decided to explore downtown Cozumel with Nonna and Nonno, who took him to a Tequila tasting and bought him a bottle of Tequila (see next entry). My parents are NOT boring.

When Your Sons are Young Men

As a mom, I'm still getting used to the idea of sons who are grown men. With one son living in Arkansas and the other away at college, I don't often get to see them do the things that young adults everywhere do. So, on the cruise I juggled feelings of pride, nostalgia, and amazement when Nonno bought the boys a beer or when I came across the two of them sitting at a Blackjack table :0


But before I thought about it too hard, Timothy would come tell me he entered a paper airplane contest or that he participated in a Mario Kart Super Smash Brothers video game tournament.


So it was all good.

Autism on the Seas

The main reason we chose to sail on Royal Caribbean's Brilliance of the Seas was because they partnered with a wonderful organization called Autism on the Seas, which provides support, respite, one-on-one assistance, and organized activities for children and their families living with autism or other disabilities. As many of you know, my sister's youngest child has autism, and this organization was invaluable in helping her family enjoy a vacation without being overwhelmed with Peter's needs. Some of what they provided included:  an assigned therapist who remained with them for the entire length of the cruise; expedited boarding (no line waiting) and a private muster drill (far removed from the noise and confusion); two 2-hour blocks of respite daily where the family was free to go off on their own; and on Cozumel, special transportation to a private beach with amenities and activities for all.


Most of all, I was so impressed how the volunteers from Autism on the Seas (yes, I said volunteers) were so incredibly giving of their support, smiles, patience, and love.


Here's what I know: you can keep any of the world's leaders, presidents, kings, or authority figures. Put any one of those therapists in charge and the world would be a better place.

The Family Photo

Before we even left home, Nonna made the announcement that on the cruise we would have a family photo taken. Or else. Now, on our last vacation you cannot even begin to imagine what a production the family photo caused: teens complained, kids ran around, the men huffed and puffed, and the photographer was truly overwhelmed.


But we must honor our parents, and as much as we dreaded the very idea of another photo, once we boarded the ship we set a time and coordinated outfits (which was almost foiled by the youngest family member who inexplicably did NOT want to wear pants at the time of the photo, until he was bribed with a piece of gum and all the balloon animals he wanted).


Amazingly (and we didn't know this beforehand), Autism on the Seas provided private photo sessions (as opposed to waiting in line) and I will be forever grateful to their leader Sandy for whipping us all into position, hanging on to our purses and phones, holding the iPad so Peter could see it, and generally turning what is usually torture for all involved into something that was quick and painless.


And we even have the photos to prove it ... Our Family, The Entire Family, Nonna and Nonno with their Grandchildren

These Shoes are Made for Dancing

When we rang in the New Year, we were sailing on the Gulf of Mexico under an almost full moon. There were New Year's Eve parties in the Centrum area and on the pool deck, along with pre-parties and a Broadway show earlier in the evening. And I did all of it wearing my brand new evening dress with the mile-long slit (which I altered to a more modest 3/4-mile slit) and ... sneakers. Yes, you read that right. To be sure, I had a beautiful pair of shoes which coordinated nicely with my dress. I wore them for the photo session and then afterwards to dinner, but by 8 p.m. I knew there was no way I would last the night in those shoes.


And so I went back to the cabin and contemplated my choices: flip flops, hiking shoes (which I brought to tour Mayan ruins), grey Supergas, and a pair of white, converse-like sneakers. I went with the white sneakers and all of a sudden I could MOVE!  With my dress swishing around my ankles, I wore those sneakers to race down five flights and watch the ship's captain count down the minutes, I raced up eight flights of stairs to see the full moon just after midnight, I ran around looking for my people to wish them a Happy New Year! And you know what? People liked my shoes. One woman pointed to my shoes and gave me a thumbs up; another one declared me the smartest woman on the ship; and just before midnight someone tapped me on the shoulder, pointed to my shoes, and complimented me on being able to pair sneakers and an evening dress and actually pull it off! (Note: All the women who mentioned my shoes were carrying their shoes and walking around barefoot.)


Moral of the story? Cinderella didn't need those glass slippers.

Photo Potpourri

In which I look like a tour guide ...

When you are transformed into a superhero in the morning,

this is what you look like by dinnertime ...

Nonno fixing a balloon animal for the superhero in the above photo

(the same superhero who refused to wear pants for the family photo session)...

Can Nonna and Nonno party, or what?

About that cigar ... yes, Penn State won the Fiesta Bowl and, yes,

that's our youngest son doing the honors in lighting his dad's cigar ...

And that's all, folks!

Back to the reality of cold weather and school.

Yuck.

Baseball & French Fries

One evening not so long ago my husband unexpectedly made the following announcement: "One day, if someone asks what you remember most about your father, I want you to say that your father ate french fries with a fork and that he was a member of SABR." Our sons groaned. Both of those character traits are the cause of good-natured teasing from the rest of the family.

My husband does eat french fries with a fork. He always has. When we pointedly use our fingers to dunk our french fries in gobs of ketchup, he stubbornly reaches for a fork.

We just don't get it.

Then, as an active member of SABR (Society of American Baseball Research), my husband studies the history of baseball. SABR sends publications on a monthly basis: biographies, baseball stories, stats . . . lots and lots of stats. Many times he'll receive books that are nothing but charts (batting averages, etc.), and he will sit and read those books as if they were novels.

None of us get this, either. While our sons share the love of golf with their father, and while they will cheer together for Penn State, they absolutely draw the line at baseball. And since I am a literary person without a Math gene to speak of, it always astonishes me that he can read a book containing numbers instead of words.

And yet . . . my husband is very wise. I have no doubt that our sons will always be confident of their father's love, and the young men they are growing to be is due in a very big way to their father. They will have scores of memories with him: trips to the Outback Bowl, learning to change oil in the car, wiffle ball in the street, homemade rootbeer floats. But by pointing out to them these two specific character traits, they can hold on to (and remember) the uniqueness that makes their father . . . their Dad.

French fries with a fork? Yup. An active member of SABR? You bet.

"That's our Dad. He's the best."
 

 

 

 

Happy Father's Day!

Love,

Bia & the boys

Mom Rules

Do you ever find yourself making a rule for something which you assumed was understood, but somehow it wasn't, and so there you are saying something which sounds utterly ridiculous? A rule such as Don't blow your nose on your sheets no matter how desperately you need a tissue in the middle of the night. Or, Don't look around when you're urinating because you'll aim in the direction you're looking and Don't draw a turtle on the science room wall at school and then sign your name.

Let's see ... I have more:

You can't place a Playmobil Pirate on top of a light bulb because the pirate will melt (and it did).

The ironing board is not a slide (this, after my board was reconfigured into the letter U).

It is inappropriate to whisper Paul Blart, Mall Cop in the middle of Mass (don't ask).

No throwing a ball in the house (this one started off vague, but over time it included soccer balls, footballs, bouncy balls, basketballs, and even balled up socks).

Oh, and never,ever run and jump over the back of the couch to claim a spot ... someone might be napping unseen (Dad was).

A few years ago I was cleaning the boys' bathroom when I realized they didn't have any soap in the shower. My heart stopped beating because I was trying to think when was the last time I cleaned their shower so I could figure out how long they had been without soap. A day? A week? When I questioned my son he said he didn't think it mattered because if you stand under the shower the water washes everything off anyway. I mean, really. So then I found myself making the following rule:  When you take a shower, you have to use soap. Then, after a slight hesitation I added, And Shampoo! because, well, you never know.

The deodorant incident. Now THAT has become the stuff of legends in our family. Several years ago our other son (again, no names) was getting ready for a formal party and came downstairs looking handsome in khaki pants and a navy blazer ... a blazer with streaks of a mysterious white residue under each arm. Evidently, he thought that the very same deodorant which smelled great on his armpits would smell doubly great on the armpits of his jacket. Who has to make a rule that deodorant is only for armpits and not clothes? Me, that's who. Luckily we had a spare jacket because, let me tell you, that deodorant wasn't coming off.

What is it with boys? Sometimes I think: Have I forgotten anything? Left out any details? What else have I assumed was common sense in my world but, somehow, overlooked in their world?

Maybe I need to start thinking like them.

Okay. Uhm ... new rule for me: Don't even go there.



The day my Three Wise Men became Two Wise Men.