My Dad loves Baseball. But he loves the Mets, as does my sister Jen. We will forgive that. My friend Sara, who has known me longer than any of my friends, other than my sister; will appreciate this post. She too, is one of his daughters, the unofficial one.
My Dad worked for many years as an executive for a Fortune 500 company. We moved every Four years or so growing up. He worked long hours, but he didnt miss the important stuff. Case in point, softball games. My Mom was our Coach, so was Dad. Dad usually got there in the 3rd inning or so. We would see him walking down from the road to the dug-oug losing articles of clothing. Jacket, tie...rolling up his sleeves and coaching in a dress shirt and dress pants, always sweating profusely.
(He gets that from my late Grandfather Anthony Trimboli. He was a big sweater. Happy Fathers Day Pop Pop. We miss you. He was the only other person in my family who liked Barbra Striesand besides me. He's been gone a long time now. I miss my Grandparents alot. I wish my children knew them.)
The girls on the softball teams loved my parents. They were fair, everyone played. Everyone learned. And everyone had fun and felt like a winner. My Dad used to get excited. Sometimes he argued. But he was always there. Sara thought it was cool that he was there coaching in business attire. I think probably because her Dad wore the same kind of clothes and she hardly saw him. But she saw my Dad. He was there for her too.
We grew up on baseball fields. The kids even got to play in the adult ball games. Most likely because we were so good...but thats besides the point. Im very lucky. My Father is there in all my childhood memories, and all my adult memories, and in all my childrens memories too. And if he stops smoking, he may be there into their adulthood too!
We went camping and skiing every year. My Dad can cook eggs over a campfire that melt in your mouth. He tells storys about his childhood that we still dont know if theyre true or not. All we do know is that he had bike parts, not bikes. He was the youngest boy of seven and he was called "Worm" His brother Steve sent him mail adressed to Worm Trimboli. We should all ahve a brother like that.
When I was a teenager, I had a hard time passing my road test, despite being a good driver. Laugh, but it's true. Ive always been a nervous person. It's diagnosed. So when I flunked the second time around, with the same instructor....my Dad lost it a little. He called her the c word. Now before, you get all high and mighty, consider this: You've driven hundreds of hours with your sixteen year old daughter. She's failed for the second time and is looking at you with tears in her big blue eyes. He tried to talk to the woman and got stonewalled. Then he went off. I always say how embarassed I was. But not really. He then went to the DMV to complain about her. I had to retake my pewrmit test and resign up for my road test. Which my Mom took me to and I passed. ( new instructor) My Dad was trying to be his daughters hero that day. If the instructor had been a man, no doubt my Dad would have been arrested. ( But, Im sure I would have passed!)
My Dad's always been there for me. Through the good, the bad and the ugly. And the man knows how to jerk a few tears too....As I walked down the aisle to marry Tom, He said to me:
You go be his Queen, but you'll always be MY Princess.
Happy Fathers Day Daddy. I love you.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
(NO) Good Mornin Ma!
I can admit I am not always sunny and happy. But I do try. God knows I have four other people in my home to keep smiling. This being said, I will freely admit, I was never a morning person when I was a kid. Sorry Ma. But I got that from my Momma. But now, at the ripe and tender age of 33, Im good in the mornings. Mostly to counteract the sourpusses.
This morning it was just me and the guys. Sophie and her cousin Kyra spent the night with my Mom.
And everyone with a penis was scowling. I got two or three words from my husband and no kiss good bye. I got eye rolling, " Gawd!", "Jeez" and foot stomping from Jack. From Mason, sheer attitude because I said , " You don't have gym, its hot, Wear your Flip Flops." They're so lovely to me in the morning as I make their breakfast, lay out their clothes, clear their dishes, pack their lunch, and then drove them the 1/5 mile to school because it was 8:25 and they whined all morning about this or that, and Jack doesn't like to be late. Even if HE can't find HIS library book! Oh, and its HOT. I think we need to go to Georgia. Then we'll see how hot it is.
What I wouldnt give for one morning of smiles. What would it take to get one morning where everyone gets up out of bed on the first Holler of their name, and comes down smiling and happy. Oh, I forgot, Its called Christmas. And I can only handle THAT stress once a year, barely.
Better Yet, How about if I give what I get? I guess not huh? Thats probably considered child abuse. I'll just blog good naturedly about it and hope like heck that when they make their way home at 3:07 they are feelin a bit kinder towards ol Ma. Or Else.
This morning it was just me and the guys. Sophie and her cousin Kyra spent the night with my Mom.
And everyone with a penis was scowling. I got two or three words from my husband and no kiss good bye. I got eye rolling, " Gawd!", "Jeez" and foot stomping from Jack. From Mason, sheer attitude because I said , " You don't have gym, its hot, Wear your Flip Flops." They're so lovely to me in the morning as I make their breakfast, lay out their clothes, clear their dishes, pack their lunch, and then drove them the 1/5 mile to school because it was 8:25 and they whined all morning about this or that, and Jack doesn't like to be late. Even if HE can't find HIS library book! Oh, and its HOT. I think we need to go to Georgia. Then we'll see how hot it is.
What I wouldnt give for one morning of smiles. What would it take to get one morning where everyone gets up out of bed on the first Holler of their name, and comes down smiling and happy. Oh, I forgot, Its called Christmas. And I can only handle THAT stress once a year, barely.
Better Yet, How about if I give what I get? I guess not huh? Thats probably considered child abuse. I'll just blog good naturedly about it and hope like heck that when they make their way home at 3:07 they are feelin a bit kinder towards ol Ma. Or Else.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Paul Begala's Jackie and Hillary from HuffPo
Here's a piece by Paul Begala I lifted from HuffPo. Im posting it today because, this dream dies today. But if everyone Rallies behind Obama, we can take back the White House in November yet....Please remember what the past eight have been like for you and yours. Can you afford four more? What good did it do to earn the right to vote if you don't use it, or if you use it to vote for more of this evil? Im reposting this for Hillary. And her supporters like my Mother. I love you.
Ask my ten-year-old Little Leaguer, Charlie, who his all-time favorite baseball player is and you won't hear Jeter or Berkman or Big Papi. Nor even Mickey Mantle, whose autographed picture hangs in Charlie's room -- a gift from The Mick to Charlie's dad.
Without hesitation Charlie will say, "Jackie." As in Jackie Robinson. Not only was Jackie one of the greatest to ever play the game, his very presence in the game changed it forever and for the good.
So it is with Hillary. Her presence in the presidential campaign has not only been impressive on the merits, it's been historic for what she has had to overcome just to do her job. The sexist signs: "HEY, HILLARY: IRON MY SHIRT!" "QUIT RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT AND MAKE ME A SANDWICH!" The Hillary Clinton nutcracker (get it?), and all the rest.
I expected that. What I did not expect was for the so-called mainstream media to behave little better than the bigots on the streets outside her events.
The radio clown Glenn Beck called Hillary a "stereotypical bitch" and yet is treated as if he had something serious to contribute to CNN Headline News and ABC.
MSNBC gave a platform to the magician-cum-comic-cum-crank Penn Gillette, who said Hillary did well in March because it was "White Bitch Month."
Alex Castellanos, on a night when Hillary was winning a primary by 35 percent, told CNN's audience that Hillary is called "a bitch" because, well, some people deserve to be called by that epithet.
MSNBC's Chris Matthews said Hillary owed her entire career to her husband's marital mistakes (and then, manfully, apologized).
The Washington Post broke the news flash that Hillary, in fact, has cleavage.
Her figure, her clothes, her hair, her voice - all of it mocked and savaged in a way unimaginable if she were a man. She has not only endured the jeers and the sneers and the smears, she has triumphed over them. She never answered their hate with rage. She just went on winning.
Just like Jackie.
Women have been running for President since 1872, when Victoria Woodhull ran on the Equal Rights Party platform. And yet no woman -- from the estimable Shirley Chisoholm to the remarkable Pat Schroeder to the impressive Elizabeth Dole -- has ever won even a single primary. Until Hillary. She not only won 20 primaries, she earned 17 million votes in the primaries -- more than any woman before her. And more than any man before her as well.
To be sure, she's made her share of mistakes. As a strategist I have long seen her effort as an example of a candidate outperforming her campaign strategy at every critical juncture. Still, Jackie Robinson struck out hundreds of times.
The Democratic Party has decided, wonderfully, bravely, remarkably, to double-down on history this election. And so Hillary's struggle against sexism has played out parallel to Barack Obama's graceful and courageous rise above racism. He, too, has endured taunts and threats and bigotry. He, too, has answered hatred with dignity. He, too, knows how Jackie must have felt.
So when Barack praises Hillary's tenacity, her trailblazing spirit, it is not patronizing, as some Hillary supporters have suggested. It is, I think, an empathetic expression of a powerful truth. Nobody -- not even her husband -- can fully appreciate what Hillary has overcome. Except Barack.
For me this primary season ends where it began: with the firm conviction that there is no need to vote against anyone, but rather to vote for someone. I am so proud of the person I voted for. I do not know if a gal who grew up following the Cubs in the National League and the Yankees in the American League has ever stopped to think of the trailblazing Dodger. But I know this: if you ask Charlie who his favorite politician is, he unhesitatingly replies, "Hillary."
Ask my ten-year-old Little Leaguer, Charlie, who his all-time favorite baseball player is and you won't hear Jeter or Berkman or Big Papi. Nor even Mickey Mantle, whose autographed picture hangs in Charlie's room -- a gift from The Mick to Charlie's dad.
Without hesitation Charlie will say, "Jackie." As in Jackie Robinson. Not only was Jackie one of the greatest to ever play the game, his very presence in the game changed it forever and for the good.
So it is with Hillary. Her presence in the presidential campaign has not only been impressive on the merits, it's been historic for what she has had to overcome just to do her job. The sexist signs: "HEY, HILLARY: IRON MY SHIRT!" "QUIT RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT AND MAKE ME A SANDWICH!" The Hillary Clinton nutcracker (get it?), and all the rest.
I expected that. What I did not expect was for the so-called mainstream media to behave little better than the bigots on the streets outside her events.
The radio clown Glenn Beck called Hillary a "stereotypical bitch" and yet is treated as if he had something serious to contribute to CNN Headline News and ABC.
MSNBC gave a platform to the magician-cum-comic-cum-crank Penn Gillette, who said Hillary did well in March because it was "White Bitch Month."
Alex Castellanos, on a night when Hillary was winning a primary by 35 percent, told CNN's audience that Hillary is called "a bitch" because, well, some people deserve to be called by that epithet.
MSNBC's Chris Matthews said Hillary owed her entire career to her husband's marital mistakes (and then, manfully, apologized).
The Washington Post broke the news flash that Hillary, in fact, has cleavage.
Her figure, her clothes, her hair, her voice - all of it mocked and savaged in a way unimaginable if she were a man. She has not only endured the jeers and the sneers and the smears, she has triumphed over them. She never answered their hate with rage. She just went on winning.
Just like Jackie.
Women have been running for President since 1872, when Victoria Woodhull ran on the Equal Rights Party platform. And yet no woman -- from the estimable Shirley Chisoholm to the remarkable Pat Schroeder to the impressive Elizabeth Dole -- has ever won even a single primary. Until Hillary. She not only won 20 primaries, she earned 17 million votes in the primaries -- more than any woman before her. And more than any man before her as well.
To be sure, she's made her share of mistakes. As a strategist I have long seen her effort as an example of a candidate outperforming her campaign strategy at every critical juncture. Still, Jackie Robinson struck out hundreds of times.
The Democratic Party has decided, wonderfully, bravely, remarkably, to double-down on history this election. And so Hillary's struggle against sexism has played out parallel to Barack Obama's graceful and courageous rise above racism. He, too, has endured taunts and threats and bigotry. He, too, has answered hatred with dignity. He, too, knows how Jackie must have felt.
So when Barack praises Hillary's tenacity, her trailblazing spirit, it is not patronizing, as some Hillary supporters have suggested. It is, I think, an empathetic expression of a powerful truth. Nobody -- not even her husband -- can fully appreciate what Hillary has overcome. Except Barack.
For me this primary season ends where it began: with the firm conviction that there is no need to vote against anyone, but rather to vote for someone. I am so proud of the person I voted for. I do not know if a gal who grew up following the Cubs in the National League and the Yankees in the American League has ever stopped to think of the trailblazing Dodger. But I know this: if you ask Charlie who his favorite politician is, he unhesitatingly replies, "Hillary."
Monday, June 2, 2008
My Soul Mate
This August Tom and I will celebrate our 7th year of marriage. I think we need an award for that milestone personally, but I know other people do it everyday. Our parents have been married for 32 years respectively. I am of the opinion, that for me, personally, marriage is a sacred thing to be done once in a lifetime. That being said, I understand divorce. I also often wonder if marriage is a natural thing for everyone, or if for some it is an unnatural arrangement?
Having been married now for the better part of a decade, I can't imagine living alone again. I wouldn't want to. I hate it when I have to go to sleep alone. But I sometimes wonder if I was cut out to live with others, if maybe I am one of those people that wasnt cut out for the living arrangement. It has very little to do with how I feel, but more to do with the series of things I put others through in order to live with me. I am not a person for whom domestication has ever really held any kind of great interest. Household operations are things I loathe, I only do them to please people I love. I DO like to cook. I LOVE my kids and nurturing them, and spending time and being with them and my husband. But the other stuff, eh. I have put my husband to the test more than he has deserved. And sometimes he did deserve it. But I am hard to live with. I am unpredictable, and my mental state often deteriorates quickly, and without warning. Its hard for me, and harder for him. But he stays, and he loves. While I am usually a brave person, when I am terrified, he is my hero. Everybody needs a hero. When I was at my very, very lowest Tom was out there, fighting for me. Kicking ass and taking names. Trust me, you don't want to meet "that Tom".
He made me strong again. He took the reigns, reeled me in and brought me home again. I spend about half of my time doubting myself and thinking Im bat shit crazy, and then Tom and I finish each others sentences....and I know I'm gonna be ok.
Seven years. I still love him. Very intensly. " He is the cheese to my macaroni." And with the goings on of daily life we are often pulled in a million different directions, and our heads left filled with the days worries and calculations stealing our peace, but I love him. Always have.
This about sums it up. I wish I could say anything half as pretty as Neil Young.....
Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin'
We could dream this night away.
But there's a full moon risin'
Let's go dancin' in the light
We know where the music's playin'
Let's go out and feel the night.
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon.
When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart.
But now it's gettin' late
And the moon is climbin' high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin' in your eye.
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon.
Having been married now for the better part of a decade, I can't imagine living alone again. I wouldn't want to. I hate it when I have to go to sleep alone. But I sometimes wonder if I was cut out to live with others, if maybe I am one of those people that wasnt cut out for the living arrangement. It has very little to do with how I feel, but more to do with the series of things I put others through in order to live with me. I am not a person for whom domestication has ever really held any kind of great interest. Household operations are things I loathe, I only do them to please people I love. I DO like to cook. I LOVE my kids and nurturing them, and spending time and being with them and my husband. But the other stuff, eh. I have put my husband to the test more than he has deserved. And sometimes he did deserve it. But I am hard to live with. I am unpredictable, and my mental state often deteriorates quickly, and without warning. Its hard for me, and harder for him. But he stays, and he loves. While I am usually a brave person, when I am terrified, he is my hero. Everybody needs a hero. When I was at my very, very lowest Tom was out there, fighting for me. Kicking ass and taking names. Trust me, you don't want to meet "that Tom".
He made me strong again. He took the reigns, reeled me in and brought me home again. I spend about half of my time doubting myself and thinking Im bat shit crazy, and then Tom and I finish each others sentences....and I know I'm gonna be ok.
Seven years. I still love him. Very intensly. " He is the cheese to my macaroni." And with the goings on of daily life we are often pulled in a million different directions, and our heads left filled with the days worries and calculations stealing our peace, but I love him. Always have.
This about sums it up. I wish I could say anything half as pretty as Neil Young.....
Come a little bit closer
Hear what I have to say
Just like children sleepin'
We could dream this night away.
But there's a full moon risin'
Let's go dancin' in the light
We know where the music's playin'
Let's go out and feel the night.
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon.
When we were strangers
I watched you from afar
When we were lovers
I loved you with all my heart.
But now it's gettin' late
And the moon is climbin' high
I want to celebrate
See it shinin' in your eye.
Because I'm still in love with you
I want to see you dance again
Because I'm still in love with you
On this harvest moon.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Do the teen years start at 9?
I was, until recently, under the impression I had a few years left to go before I entered the realm of "teen-agers". My oldest son is 9. I think he was, at some point in recent time, kidnapped and labotomized by aliens with a sick sense of humor.
May I start with a brief history? This child, after an initial scary entry to this world, was a thriving, bouncing baby boy. He is a light of my life. He was the easiest baby in the world. So easy, in fact, I thought...I'll have another one....who wasnt so easy. ( But thats another blog entirely) Jack nursed till he weas a year old despite the fact that he had teeth at 5 months, he NEVER bit me. He walked at eight months. He slept through the night from the first night he came home. I know, you Moms may want to kick me in the baby maker right now.....but this isn't braggadoccia, he was just laid back and easy from the get go. Period. ( Payback is a biatch, I know, I have one who didnt sleep thru the night till he went to Kindegarten-and I gained just shy of a hundred pounds with him and he was the smallest of my three!) So I digress, of course! Back to Ol Jacky Jack.
Do you remember what you were like as a teen? I do. I was a bitch. I was stubborn, and pissed about everything, even if it was what I wanted....It wasnt right. Somehow that is the mode my nine year old is in. Not all the time mind you, there are moments when he is my sweet, sweet boy, but not too often. Mostly it is eye rolling, under the breath insults, and feet stomping.
On top of all of this, at the, dare I say, young age of 33, I have become the biggest DORK ever! The dork who let him grow his hair out, and highligted it for his good report card like he wanted. His father thought THAT was absurd. The same DORK who ok'd an iPod for the 9th birthday. And low and behold, he still hasnt used all of his iTunes gift card, because his DORK mother has SOOOO much kick ass music in her iTunes library, he hasnt needed it.
Now he did tell me I was beautiful on Mothers Day....but I suspect he wanted to go to Pollywoggs. But I got to thinking, since Im such a dork and all....How funny would it be if I showed up to walk him home from school with some pink rollers in my hair, pajamas on, and maybe some zit cream in place? I would never actually do it, mind you....but the threat might improve the attitude. Besides, Mason would probably tell me I looked great and ask me to wear my hair like that all the time! Seriously, he has a wicked sense of humor.
I can't help but wonder, if this is what nine is like....What am I in for when they are actually in their teens?
May I start with a brief history? This child, after an initial scary entry to this world, was a thriving, bouncing baby boy. He is a light of my life. He was the easiest baby in the world. So easy, in fact, I thought...I'll have another one....who wasnt so easy. ( But thats another blog entirely) Jack nursed till he weas a year old despite the fact that he had teeth at 5 months, he NEVER bit me. He walked at eight months. He slept through the night from the first night he came home. I know, you Moms may want to kick me in the baby maker right now.....but this isn't braggadoccia, he was just laid back and easy from the get go. Period. ( Payback is a biatch, I know, I have one who didnt sleep thru the night till he went to Kindegarten-and I gained just shy of a hundred pounds with him and he was the smallest of my three!) So I digress, of course! Back to Ol Jacky Jack.
Do you remember what you were like as a teen? I do. I was a bitch. I was stubborn, and pissed about everything, even if it was what I wanted....It wasnt right. Somehow that is the mode my nine year old is in. Not all the time mind you, there are moments when he is my sweet, sweet boy, but not too often. Mostly it is eye rolling, under the breath insults, and feet stomping.
On top of all of this, at the, dare I say, young age of 33, I have become the biggest DORK ever! The dork who let him grow his hair out, and highligted it for his good report card like he wanted. His father thought THAT was absurd. The same DORK who ok'd an iPod for the 9th birthday. And low and behold, he still hasnt used all of his iTunes gift card, because his DORK mother has SOOOO much kick ass music in her iTunes library, he hasnt needed it.
Now he did tell me I was beautiful on Mothers Day....but I suspect he wanted to go to Pollywoggs. But I got to thinking, since Im such a dork and all....How funny would it be if I showed up to walk him home from school with some pink rollers in my hair, pajamas on, and maybe some zit cream in place? I would never actually do it, mind you....but the threat might improve the attitude. Besides, Mason would probably tell me I looked great and ask me to wear my hair like that all the time! Seriously, he has a wicked sense of humor.
I can't help but wonder, if this is what nine is like....What am I in for when they are actually in their teens?
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Yeah!
Its almost
Sex and the City time!
In case you might have forgotten, or were missing your girls. It is time to get your Carrie on!
Sex and the City time!
In case you might have forgotten, or were missing your girls. It is time to get your Carrie on!
Changes
So I am enjoying my retirement! lol Well, Im not Really retired, but I am for the summer. I am thinking about maybe starting a small business, but havent found any inspiration yet. My hubby would like some tax write-offs! So I am actively brainstorming and planning, and I'll elaborate when Ive decided on a concrete plan. I'm honestly much more interested in working on remodeling the house right now.
I am anxiously awaiting the end of the school year. I love summer vacation. We have lots of fun things planned for the kids this summer. I cant wait to get started. I am keeping my fingers crossed that traveling will be one of those activities. There are lots of places to see, and folks we are missing!
Theres not much else to write other than that, but I hadnt posted in awhile so I felt the need. I am so glad to be free of the stress of the Village of Arkport. I hope when the time comes more good, decent people like Jerry and John will run to fill the vacant posts and get these horrible new people out of office. Its hard to quit a job you love, but loving life and living well is always the best response to a hostile situation. I am better off, and so is my family.
Enjoy the Sunshine and Love each other!
I am anxiously awaiting the end of the school year. I love summer vacation. We have lots of fun things planned for the kids this summer. I cant wait to get started. I am keeping my fingers crossed that traveling will be one of those activities. There are lots of places to see, and folks we are missing!
Theres not much else to write other than that, but I hadnt posted in awhile so I felt the need. I am so glad to be free of the stress of the Village of Arkport. I hope when the time comes more good, decent people like Jerry and John will run to fill the vacant posts and get these horrible new people out of office. Its hard to quit a job you love, but loving life and living well is always the best response to a hostile situation. I am better off, and so is my family.
Enjoy the Sunshine and Love each other!
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