Everyone needs a Zio Luciano

I have an Italian Zio (uncle) who is exactly how you would imagine an Italian Zio to be: Luciano is larger than life, funny, generous, and can sing and play the guitar. He loves to eat, loves to cook, and . . . did I mention that he's funny?

Once, when we were about 17 people sitting around a table, he started teasing my mother, Massimilla, the eldest of three sisters. He then announced:

The whole of Christianity would have been different if instead of asking the people "Jesus or Barabbas?" they had asked "Jesus or Massimilla?" . . . I tell you, everyone would have said Jesus and then Christianity would have taken an entirely different course.

I cannot tell you how much we laughed.

Last year when my best friend and I were in Rome we met up with my parents who were passing through on the way to Sicily. One night the four of us took two seminarians studying in Rome out to dinner, and I happened to mention Luciano's joke. The seminarians laughed so hard and so long, which made us laugh, and really, no one could stop.

Luciano also has incredible musical talent. He played the guitar in church, in bands, and even cut his own record. Because of him, I received a guitar in the 6th grade and I still have it and play it to this day.

Yes, everyone should have a Zio Luciano . . . but I'm glad this Zio is mine.

Buon Compleanno, Luciano!

Butterfly Kisses Make My Monday

Our four-year-old has been very generous with his affection lately. When I am working on the laptop, or reading, or in the kitchen cooking he wraps his arms around my neck and gives me a series of very sweet butterfly kisses on my cheek.

Yesterday we had this conversation:

Timothy: I'm going to kiss you. (and he does)

Me: Thank you so much! Now, how about Daddy?

Timothy: No, I can't kiss him . . . he's not a girl.

Me: Hmmm. How about Nicholas and Jonathan?

Timothy: No . . . they're not girls either.

There is a pause.

Timothy: Nope, you're the only girl in the house so you get all my kisses.

And that's what Makes My Monday . . . . kisses all for me.

(Now, go visit Cheryl for some more Makes My Monday fun.)

A little (or a lot) off the top

This morning our local paper featured the boys in our school sporting their new buzz cuts in support of a 1st grader battling leukemia. It may just be me, but I think they all look very handsome.

Lenten Spice

Do you have a Family Honor Program in your parish or school? They have wonderful programs that help parents and children discuss the sanctity of life in God's gift of creating us male and female.

This evening we attended the Changes and Challenges session with our 6th grader. While they go over some basic information on how the body changes during puberty, and yes, how life is created, they also explain how our personalities are composed of many sides, each one needing to be developed and nourished.

All of us have a spiritual, physical, intellectual, creative, and emotional facet to our personality (SPICE). God created us wonderfully complex and completely unique, but to find self worth and self esteem we have to nurture all of these areas.

For the boys, they explained the concept of SPICE using a bicycle wheel. Each spoke represents a different area, and if you negelect one area the wheel won't roll correctly.

There was more, but this is the idea that will be with our family during Lent: that we will strive to be that complete human being that God intended when he gave us the gift of life.

Spiritually, physically, intellectually, creatively, emotionally . . . we're going to put a little SPICE in our life.

I just want to know . . .

Why is it that I won't get up early Saturday morning to work out, but mention a yard sale and I am up at the crack of dawn?

Why do dust bunnies collect on each and every step leading upstairs? Do they breed?

Why do I throw a load of clothes in the wash, forget to put them into the dryer, and then don't realize it until someone mentions they don't have any underwear or socks . . . two minutes before we have to leave for church?

How come the minute I congratulate myself on losing a few pounds, my Mom brings over some leftover cannoli that she made for the Italian American Club Pasta Festival? And how come I am the only one in the family who likes them?

How is it that I get inspired to make some pane toscano from scratch, and when I have all the ingredients lined up I realize I am out of olive oil? What Italian runs out of olive oil?

Why am I watching the Oscars when I haven't seen a single nominated movie?

Real? Estate

Consider the panic if you heard a branch crack.

No way. My hair would frizz . . . big time.

Not during hurricane season, thank you.

Long climb after a hard day's work.

Don't want visitors? Just unhook the cable.

(Thanks, Cheryl H.)

A Valentine Comedy

The Kids: What are we doing for family night?

Me: Oh, something for Valentine's Day. For dinner we'll have Chinese takeout...

The boys: What does Chinese food have to do with Valentine's Day?

Me: Nothing. But we'll eat it picnic-style on the family room floor.

The boys: What do picnics have to do with St. Valetine's Day?

Me: Nothing. But we'll watch a Valentine movie.

The boys: Yeah! Movie night. Which one?

Me: The most perfect movie for Valentine's Day...wait and see.

So, we set up our picnic, say our prayers, eat our Chinense food, and put on the Valentine movie...OUR WEDDING VIDEO!!!!!!

The Boys: What kind of movie is that?! (The best kind) How long is it? (Long enough to toruture you all night long) They had video cameras back then?! (Look. Just how old do you think we are?)

So we watched it. Little did I know our wedding video was such A COMEDY.

They laughed at Daddy with no goatee; at Uncle Dave (the Doctor) who did a reading and because he hadn't yet gone through puberty, his voice sounded like a baby's; at Nonna's curly hairdo; at the impromptu opera that was sung as we left the reception; at the getaway car, decorated to within an inch of its life; at the story of how someone dumped a cupful of crickets inside the car and how the chirping coming from the air conditioning vents serenaded us the entire time we were driving.

The best part for me, though, was when the four year old asked, "Is that you, Mommy? You look pretty."

But for some reason, his older brothers even thought that was funny.

Revenge is sweet though: the very minute any one of them gets engaged . . . out come the baby albums. So there.