My Real Life

By the time this posts, our winter break will be over and we’ll all be back to work, school, daycare, etc.

I know as I walk the halls of school, the majority of conversations I’ll have will begin with the question, “How was your break?”

People will respond “Too short!”  “Great, how was yours?”  “Too much food!”

I’ll probably respond with one of those, as well, because as you pass in the hallway, surrounded by middle school students, it’s difficult to really convey the events of a winter break.

Five seconds, in passing, is too short to say “My 8 year old made his way through all of the Harry Potter movies, for the first time, and through the original 3 Star Wars films, so I consider that a win.”

Too short to say, “The kids and I saw Annie, which we loved, even though I wasn’t a fan of the new songs or the changes to the old ones, Night at the Museum, which made me cry, and Monkey Girl and I saw Into the Woods, which was fantastic, made the audience applause, like we were at Broadway.  We laughed, we cried, and we loved it.  Oh, and we saw the preview for Pitch Perfect 2 which made me way too excited for summer to get here.”

How do you wrap up “Christmas was wonderful with the entire family (25+ people) here for the day, New Year’s was so much fun, spending the night with close friends who make us laugh, and my birthday was relaxing and fun and the kids kept the fighting to a minimum,” in a head nod at a colleague.

When someone asks “How was your break?” I’m not sure they want to hear, “Too long for two of my monkeys who thrive on routine and busy-ness and need to get back to school/daycare, and too short for the other two who love downtime, and time spent with family.”

Is there time for, “Well, we lost power, and then the generator oil tank kinda lost it’s mind and shut down the generator twenty minutes before a houseful of guests was due to arrive on Christmas, and we had to, unexpectedly, also buy a new hot water heater before the New Year?”

It may sound to cheesy to say “I watched Real Man play in the high school alumni hockey game, and do a great job, and it made me feel like I was back in high school when he was my boyfriend and I was so proud of him out on that ice.”

So, I’ll probably just go with “Good, thanks…yours?” and leave it at that.

But, I’ll know in my head that there were ups and downs, and that when they say the same, that they, too, probably have a whole lotta story that they are also paring down to a few words.

1. Take the family to DisneyWorld. Not a need, and definitely a first world problem that we have never taken the kids there, but I’m making it number one on my list because it’s something I’d really like to experience with them.  Although, at this point, I should say “either Disney or Universal Studios” because with most of the kids being older, I think that would probably be the draw.
2. Participate in at least one random act of kindness per week.  I felt really good about this one, this year, and plan on doing it again, and hopefully, challenging my kids to do the same
3. Exercise at least twice a week.  Ideally, it would be five times a week.  However, as you’ll see later on the list, I need to be a little kinder to myself this year, and part of that is not setting myself up for failure with unrealistic expectations.  This doesn’t mean I’m not going to challenge myself.  However, I definitely need to learn to pick my battles, and this is one where I’m not going to beat myself up.
4. Watch less tv.  Hahahaha!!! Oh, that’s a good one.  Okay, but seriously folks…I dvr a lot of shows, and I think it’s time to cut back.  I used to read myself to sleep at night, but have fallen into the habit of falling asleep to the tv at night.  RealMan gets frustrated because I’ll put something on and fall asleep partway through, leaving him watching the rest.  It gets to the point where I’ll put something on, say “Ooh, I need to finish this,” and he’ll say, “Amy, I’ve seen this three times, already, while you’ve tried to ‘finish’ it.”  Truly, I don’t watch tv until after 8:30/9:00 at night, but  if I’m looking for more time to do some of the things on this list, maybe cutting back my shows is a good way to do it.
5. Make $1,000 by selling on eBay, consignment, etc.  I’m putting this one back on the list for 2015.  We definitely have things we can sell, and I’m always looking to purge things around here, so I want to give this the ole’ college try.  Again.
6. Blog at least once a month.  Last year, I said once a week.  Didn’t even come close.  This year, I am committed to posting a blog post at least once a month.  Anything else will be gravy, but I feel like once a month will help me ensure quality, and is a reasonable goal for someone with my work/home schedule.
7. Read 50 books (and keep track!)  I did 46 in 2014.  I’m shooting for 50 in 2015.  When I’ll get this done, I have no idea.  I used to read while on the treadmill, but then I fell away from the treadmill.  So, maybe I kill two goals with one stone this year.
8. Really go through my closet and be ruthless with getting rid of what I don’t wear.  Totally doing this one this year.  It sort of ties in to wish #5, but I want to write it down so that I’m holding myself accountable for it.
9. Play piano at least once a week. I miss it.  I just do.  I’ve had my piano since I was 7, and I do some of my best thinking when I’m sitting at the keys, lost in the music.
10. Write in my journal more often.   I’ve been thinking about this goal, a lot.  Everything I write, I write for someone else to read.  Even my journal, I think about the fact that my kids will wind up reading it when I am gone, so truly, EVERYTHING I write is for someone else’s consumption.  I post a lot on Facebook, whether on my personal page or my blog FB page.  I write in the blog (okay, okay…not often, but sometimes).  I write for my writer’s group, again, sparingly, but I do it.  It almost feels like, when I sit at the journal, what will I write?  I need to start thinking of my journal as just mine.  Just for me, and not worry about if the kids will read it when I’m gone and be upset about what they might read.  Because, the truth is, with as much as I write for everyone else, I still need an outlet for myself.
11. Get published, again.  By published, I don’t necessarily mean in book form, although, let’s be honest…that’d be incredible.  I would love to be published anywhere.  I’ve been on Huffington Post, I’d love to be on Scary Mommy or some other blog.  I’d take a fiction website.  And, of course, being in another anthology or publishing my own work would be amazing.  But, I do want to be published again, because, nothing makes us work harder, as writers, than knowing your work is being read by a large audience.
12. Re-edit my novel.  It needs work.  It does.  My plan had been to share bits of it with my writer’s group, but I really enjoyed writing new material for them, so I may ship it off to a different writer friend (any volunteers) to give me some good, hard, critical feedback.  Then, I’ll move from there.
13. Shred and pare down all of our files. Keeping this one for 2015, because it’s so necessary.  It’s one of those things, though, when I have a little spare time and look at this list, I think, “Do I want to sit on the couch and read or shred some files?”  I won’t insult you by telling you which one wins every time.
14. Entertain more.  I did this last year, and enjoyed it.  I plan to do even more of it, this year.  We’ve made a great circle of friends and we just enjoy spending time with them all.  Hoping to do much more of it in 2015.
15. Be kinder to myself.  I can’t fix it all.  I want to.  Desperately.  But I can’t.  I think I need to accept the AA motto of “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”  There are definitely things within my control, and those that are outside my control.  I don’t have to hold myself responsible for everything.  And so, I start with making this a list of 15 things, this year, instead of 20.  Because 15 is a lot.

As I’ve been browsing the internet, this holiday season, I’ve been seeing a million posts about what family Christmas letters SHOULD say or showing pictures of Christmas card fails.

They all make me laugh, but the truth is, a few months ago, when trying to figure out what photo to use for our Christmas card, I decided to go with a real shot, because, getting four kids to “smile pretty,” all at the same time, is a daunting task.

I don’t know how people do it.

I imagine it takes some pretty creative bribery.

Because, for the most part, my four are never smiling at the same time.

So, we went with this:

And it turns out, that as much as people say, “Oh, I wish people would be more real with their holiday cards,” in reality…

…it just confuses them.

I thought we were being funny.

The grumpy kid.

The choice of “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” underneath the grumpy kid.

The “Happy Holidays from 83% of the Bozza Family” to take the joke a little further.

Don’t get me wrong.

Many people laughed and loved it.

And then, we got a phone call from a relative, asking if we had some news to share.

We were completely confused, and then we realized they thought I was pregnant and the 83% was an indication that there were more children to come.

Then, I got questions about the math.

“Amy…it should 75% of the family…only one of the four kids are grumpy.”

Yes, I know…but it’s about 83% of the whole family.

“Amy…you know it’s not exactly 83%, right?”

There were also flat out, “I don’t get it” responses, and “I don’t like it.  Holiday cards should be cheerful and joyous.  He’s going to be really mad when he grows up.”

However, the one that got me the most was the person who said, “I LOVE it!  How will you ever top it next year?”

Because that sounds vaguely like a challenge, and now I gotta top it.

But for now, Happy Holidays from our home to yours…

May the majority of your family all be happy at the same time, this holiday season.

And if they aren’t?

Run with it.

I said goodbye to an old friend, today.

It was surprisingly hard for me to do so, because I’m not a sentimental person.

Real Man has drawers full of cards that the kids and I have given him over the years.

Me?

Let’s just say that if it doesn’t have a handprint or footprint on it, anything is fair game for the trash, once it’s been oohed and aahed over for a few minutes.

But this?

This was hard.

Fourteen years ago, my friends and family held a baby shower to celebrate the impending arrival of our first baby.

At the shower, I received many, many generous items.

Tons of diapers and little, tiny onesies and socks and booties and blankets.

The actual arrival of my 9 pound 15 oz little Monkey Girl created the need to exchange many of the smallest items, but we were thrilled, nonetheless.

When I got to a package from my sister-in-law, she prefaced it with “You know how practical I am. You can’t use it now, but you’ll be happy for it in a few years.”

I opened the package and found the cutest pair of overalls, with an embroidered Winnie-the-Pooh and friends scene.

They were size 2T.

I remember laughing, thinking that I could barely even imagine a time when the little one I was expecting would fit into those overalls, but, eventually, she did

When she turned 18 months, she was already fitting into size 2T clothes, and so we pulled them out of storage and tried them on.

She loved them.

She wore the heck out of those overalls.

They became her favorite thing to wear, and they became my favorite thing to put on her.

And, too quickly, she outgrew them.

And so, we passed them on to my sister-in-law who had given birth seven months after I had.

Her little sweetie wore them, and when she, too, outgrew, she sent them back.

And eventually, Monkey in the Middle wore them, and soon thereafter, Baby Monkey had a turn.

Then, we passed them on again, and they were worn by various other nieces and nephews, and eventually, they made their way back to us.

I remember, last year, when I pulled them out, again, and put them on Tiny.

He loved them.

And so, he wore them until we just couldn’t fasten the clips any longer because he had grown far too tall, no matter how much we adjusted the straps.

Today, I packed them up and passed them on to Kim, for her little guy to wear in the near future.

And while I’m thrilled that they continue to live on and be loved and be worn, I’m sad to know that they won’t be making a return trip to my home.

They’ll move on to one of Kim’s friends or neighbors, and I’ll never see them again.

Because, it would just be weird for me to ask for them back when she’s done with them so I can save them for a grandkid.

Right?

I’m a fairly low maintenance girl.

I get up in the morning, take a quick shower, use a two-in-one shampoo plus conditioner to save time, hop out, run my fingers through my hair, clip in a barrette, throw on a little eye makeup and I’m out.

The whole process probably takes about 10 minutes, from start to finish.

I need to make five lunches, get people up, dressed, and out the door before I leave at 7:00 am, and so the shower is what takes the hit in the time department.

But on Saturday…

On Saturday, I get a real shower.

It may not happen first thing in the morning, but, at some point, on a Saturday, I take some time, just for me.

I pull together the various and random shower gels, lotions, and creams that I’ve acquired over the years, and I get ready for an experience.

I use actual shampoo.

Separate from the conditioner.

And when I actually get to the conditioner, I let it sit and sit and sit, while I exfoliate and shave and indulge in some steamy aromatherapy.

Saturday showers are ME time.

And, if I turn up the music loud enough, I can almost drown out the sounds of the people pounding on the door yelling, “Mom!  You’ve been in there for three minutes already!  What’s TAKING so long???”

After four children, I think it’s safe to say that I’ve read almost every children’s book that’s out there.

Some of them are fantastic.

Some of them are fine, if you read them once or twice, but after thirty-thousand times, even Good Night, Moon gets a little dicey.

Some of them, I’ve written about before.

I wrote about the insane ABC book.

Nicole Leigh Shaw invited me to ride her Character Assassination Carousel, and I wrote about Bert and Ernie and their misadventures with a mop.

After reading to Tiny, last night, and the millionth time having to explain this book to, yet another, child, today, I thought I’d share with you the book Opposites.

The premise is simple enough.

Take a bunch of pictures of things that are opposites, write the words, and teach the kiddies a thing or two.

However, implicit in a children’s book is the understanding that the information will be presented in a way that doesn’t confuse the kids.

I think someone forgot to tell this to this particular author.

In all fairness, most of the book is straightforward.

You have “above.”

And then you have “below.”

You see a kitten that is “awake.”

And then you are shown a kitten that is “asleep.”

But, what about words that may be opposite, but you can’t really find one subject that demonstrates both words?

Just take two things that are completely unrelated and put them together, I guess.

For example;

“Soft”

Aw.

Look at the cute bunny.

Look at the cute, soft bunny.

Don’t you want to pet and kiss that cute soft bunny?

Totally an example of soft.

But how do you use a picture of a bunny to show “hard?”

Take a visit to a taxidermist?

Put it in a leather vest and pop a lit cigarette in it’s mouth?

Serve it, well-done, with a nice bearnaise sauce?

Nope.

My friends, to make a bunny into an example of “hard,” you turn it into…

A Volkswagen Beetle.

I get it…it’s hard to make a bunny look hard.

However, maybe if that’s the case, you pick something else.

Like gum in someone’s mouth and gum under the desk in a classroom.

Or, if it’s too difficult, then skip that set of opposites.

Because, here’s what happens my friends.

When Tiny reads the book (and his sister and brothers before him, I might add) he reads it fine.

“Soft!’

“Hard!”

But, in general conversation, when you say, “Hey Tiny!  What’s the opposite of ‘soft?'” the kid responds with a proud shout, “A car!”

And what about the pictures that are straightforward, but still manage to confuse the tykes?

Pictures for words like “left” and “right.”

Left.

Right.

Okay, I get it and I can see the logic in the example.

However, I’m 42 and feel like I have a pretty strong grasp on the concept of left and right.

Most of the time.

And if I am feeling muddled and confused about it, I simply pretend I’m about to say the Pledge of Allegiance and it clears things right up.

But this picture?

Let me explain.

We turn to this page and Tiny says “Left!’ turns the arrow and says “Right!” and I say, “Yes!”

And then he says (every single time) “This side is left!” and puts his hand over the word ‘left,’ which is actually on the right side of the page.

And I say, “Correct!  Well, no, actually.  That’s the word left, but it’s the right side of the page.”

And he lifts his right hand and says “left!”

And I say, “No, that’s your right hand.”

And he points to the word “left” on the paper and says, “This says ‘left!'” and I say, “Yes!”

And the whole thing starts again.

Maybe we could have just had the word “right” on the right hand side of the page and the word “left” on the left hand side of the page and left it at that.

But, what do I know?

Part of my summer is spent in Professional Development with one group of teachers or another.

Last week, I was with the Language Arts teachers, and the presenter took everyone through an activity to help students come up with topics for writing.

It was called “I Remember” and students were to write as many true sentences as they could that began with the words “I Remember.”

Students would then choose one of those sentences and blow it out into a full writing piece.

In order for us to see the power of the exercise, the presenter led us through the exercise and we created our own lists.

While we didn’t have to blow them out into our own writing pieces, one of the sentences I wrote has been stuck in my mind, and so I finally decided the only way to get it out of there would be to write about it.

The sentence was “I remember secret doors.”

—–

I grew up in an old house that was built in the 1920’s.

It was a modest home with two bedrooms upstairs, a kitchen, dining room and living room, and a huge basement and garage that still had the iron rings on the walls to tie up horses.

It was a house that whispered to me at every turn.

Even the outside of the house called to me to peek under the slate stones that made up our front walk to see if there was a secret staircase below.

To climb the brick chimney and look out over the neighborhood.

But the best thing about that house was the doors.

There were doors throughout that house…some small, some large, and all promised secrets and adventure beyond.

In the basement, the tiny metal door behind the furnace that was the place where the ashes fell from the ash pit in the fireplace, was the perfect location for making up stories about people who had to hide out and take refuge in the basement.

I imagined that behind the little door, the hideaways would find secret messages and food and supplies from the owner of the house while they waited for the signal that the coast was clear.

The original wood and glass door that went from the basement to the garage was a passageway back in time where, once I passed through it, led to those horses actually being tied in the garage, waiting to be brushed and fed by the little grooms girl…me.

My parents bedroom had a small annex that had four small doors, three of which were tiny closets where my mother stored towels and sheets, but the fourth door led to a small storage space where my parents actually did find certificates to prove that a previous owner had purchased land in London on which to build a Jewish hospital in 1911.

Aside from the total coolness factor of that find, it spurred me on to further dream about what might be behind those doors.

And then there was my room.

In my room, there was a closet, and in my closet was another door.

That door led to small, extra closet/storage space.

That extra door was the center of so many of my dreams as a child.

It was my wardrobe to Narnia.

My gate to the Secret Garden.

I dream about that door, still.

I dream about other doors, as well.

I also dream about the other doors in that house, and I dream about doors that never existed.

I’m not sure what it all means, if anything.

What I do know is that I firmly believe that those doors led me to develop my imagination, and for that, I am grateful.

Real Man lost 80 pounds over the past 12 months.

Let me say that again.

Since September, Real Man has lost 80 pounds.

The weight loss, itself, is not exactly what this post is about, but I’ll go ahead and answer the first question that everyone has when I tell them about it.

He did it through hard work.

He started with the Couch 2 5K app and could only manage to run 30 seconds at a time.

At first, it was difficult.

Really difficult.

But, if you know Real Man, you know that he doesn’t do anything halfway, and now my husband is a member of the running club at his work and is running in 5K’s once a month (in 21 minutes, no less) and runs 4-5 days a week, before work.

He has spreadsheets and websites and clocks his times and routes and pace and is, quite frankly, kicking ass.

He stopped eating in between meals, cut out soda, and makes good choices when he does eat.

So, again, I say, he did it through hard work.

Now that that is out of the way, let me tell you a story.

Like I said, he’s down 80 pounds.

He started at 260 and is now at 180.

Some people mention it, some people don’t.

But some of the people who do are starting to say things to him like, “Okay…that’s enough now.  I think you should stop.”

They say “You really shouldn’t lose any more weight.”

Or, “Any skinnier and you are going to look sick.”

The other night, Real Man was sharing one of these conversations with me and he said, “If everyone is so concerned about my health, why the hell didn’t they say ‘enough’ when I was 260?  Why wasn’t anyone telling me ‘I think you should stop’ when I was busting out of my clothes?  Where was everyone’s concern for my health then?”

He didn’t say this angrily.

He’s obviously appreciative of the friendlier comments.

However…

Now, let’s be honest…

If someone had actually said that to him, he’d probably have been furious and deeply offended.

However, he has a point.

It’s a bad idea, in general, to ever comment on anyone’s weight.

Too heavy?  No one is going to say “Hey…slow down there, buddy.  You are heading toward a heart attack!”

Lost weight?  Many people would be reluctant to say “Hey!  You look great!” because they are afraid that there is the possibility that you’ve been struck with some type of awful disease.

And yet, maybe those are the things that we need to say to each other.

But maybe we need to say them a little differently.

“I see you.”

“I notice you.”

“I love you, but you don’t look like you are loving yourself.”

These are things that many of us desperately need to hear, but the rest of us just don’t know how to say.

But maybe it’s time we started trying.

When I was a kid, my favorite book was Harriet the Spy.

I read that book so many times, I could probably have recited pages from it, on demand.

I owned an almost complete series of original, hardcover, Nancy Drews, that, to this day, I bitterly regret trading in for a complete set of Sweet Valley Highs.

I was glued to Scooby Doo, and was proud to solve the mystery as soon as the bad guy graced the screen, and Shawn Cassidy and Parker Stevenson, as Frank and Joe Hardy were my idea of perfection.

I dominated at the game Clue.

As an adult, I continued to gravitate toward mystery novels, loved trying to beat the cops in solving the crime on Law and Order, and was on the edge of my seat at every whodunnit thriller to grace the silver screen.

So, imagine my surprise when I was looking through Amazon Prime Instant Video, a few weeks ago, and stumbled across a show about a detective I hadn’t seen before.

I’ve got a bit of a “thing” for tv, particularly for tv shows that are geared for people in high school.

Can’t help myself.

So, my surprise was made greater when I realized it was about a girl, teenage detective.

Veronica Mars.

I started streaming it while on the treadmill and found that I lost track of time, (which was not a bad thing), completely caught up in the show.

The show began to dominate my thoughts.

I was/am addicted.

I even decided I needed to own a canvas bag like Veronica carries, because that’s how I roll.

For those who missed it, (like me), Veronica Mars is a junior in high school and her father is a private investigator.  She helps her father with different cases, but everyone in her school comes to her with their own mysteries to solve.  Predominant in the first season is the mystery of who killed her best friend, Lily.  The second season has another mystery that spans the episodes, and season three, yet another.

Love triangles, excellent dialogue…you’d expect that it was written by Joss Whedon, because it’s basically Buffy without the vampires.

I love it.

She’s smart, she’s sassy, she’s awesome.

Best show ever?

Probably not, but I am enjoying every second that I watch.

I’ve roped Monkey Girl in, after having the prerequisite conversations about “Don’t do as they do” because of the drinking and sex, but she gets why I love it, and she loves it, too.

There were only three seasons of the show, from 2004-2007, but a kickstarter campaign, begun by Kristen Bell (who plays Veronica) and Rob Thomas (the producer) a few years ago funded a movie that tied up loose ends and made the fans happy.

We are both partway through season 3, and because I’m already beginning to mourn the loss of the show, I’ve gotten a commitment from Monkey Girl that, once we finish season 3 and watch the movie, she’ll give Buffy a try.

Because you’ve gotta love a show about a smart girl who doesn’t take any crap from anyone and stands on her own two feet.