The summer has come and gone in the blink of an eye. It’s weird to think that Christmas is less than four months away and that Layla will be a year old in two months. The older I get, the faster the years seem to go by.
This weekend was a good one. On Saturday Rachelle and I got to break away from the baby for a few hours thanks to Rachelle’s parents. We went to a Japanese restaurant and enjoyed about six orders of sushi and a bottle of wine.
On Sunday our friends Big Steph and Doug came over for dinner. Rachelle and Doug cooked on the grill while Steph and I sat there and didn’t do a whole lot of anything. We offered, though. Rachelle made her homemade macaroni and cheese which is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted. On the downside, it sits in your stomach like a lead pipe for days. Well worth it. After dinner we played board games, and some Uno.
We spend most of yesterday relaxing and trying to forget having to return to work the next day. Our entire family was sick with a sore throat, and Layla sounded like Melissa Etheridge when she babbled.
Layla turned 10 months old yesterday and is standing up by herself without a problem. She is coasting around the furniture with relative ease.
Yesterday she was standing up while holding onto the handle of one of her toys. I was sitting about 4 feet away, called her name and held out my arms. She looked at me and realized she wanted to pay me a visit. You could see the concentration in her face. She figured out how to let go with one hand, and turn her body towards me. Then, slowly she let go of the other hand; so she was wobbling in place, standing by herself. Then, in a quick rush she moved her legs as fast as she could and took her first steps to me. She only took about two real steps. The third one she lunged into me.
It’s a matter of time before she’ll be pidder-paddering through the house and beating herself up.
Speaking of that, she smashed her face into a bookshelf on Saturday so she’s sporting a cut/black eye and looks like a battered wife.
Click here to view the pictures, for those who don’t want to read my mindless drivel.
On Saturday we returned from our week-long vacation to Ocean City. Even though I had 8 straight days off from work, vacations never seem long enough.
I was originally going to try to remember the vacation and go step-by-step and tell what happened but then I realized that a) I’d never be able to recollect everything, and b) nobody really cares enough to read about the mundane details of my life.
I’ll summarize by saying that it was a great time. It was a little crammed with 9 people in a two bedroom, one story condo but we made it work and had fun.
We spent a lot of time on the Ocean City boardwalk and put Layla on rides for the first time. It didn’t appear that she cared one way or another about the rides. She cried on the carousel out of boredom and it being ridiculously humid. I can’t blame her and almost cried too for the same reasons…the thing just keeps going around and around. We put her on the train that rides slowly above the pier, which she was dead asleep for, and also on another two different train rides…both of which she was more fixated on chewing on my keys/cell phone than the actual ride itself. I wanted to throw her on a huge roller coaster to humble her cocky attitude a bit but she didn’t meet the height requirement.
On Tuesday night my brother talked me into going fishing with him. I don’t really like fishing because I find it boring to sit and watch a fishing rod, and also because I almost break down like a baby when I bite my lip on accident; I can’t imagine what it must feel like to bite into a hook. But Jason really wanted me to go so I agreed.
We packed a lot of beer and my mom/Mike dropped us off in Strathmere at 10:00 pm. The spot was pitch black, and we had to walk along this weird coast for a little ways until we officially entered “The Middle of Nowhere”. I unfolded my chair, sat down, and opened a beer. Jason got my fishing pole ready with the lures and bait and whatever else it is they use. He also casted my line and put the pole right next to me so I literally didn’t have to do a thing. It was like a dad taking his 2 year old son fishing for the first time…if the 2 year old son drank beer.
Amazingly, in the first half hour I became one of the two people (out of 5) that caught anything when a sandshark bit into my bait. The thing is, when I reeled it ashore I felt terrible, which is exactly why I don’t fish. They unhooked the fish, threw him back in the water, and assured me that everything would be ok but this poor fish is going to be swimming around with a hole in its face for weeks. That doesn’t sit well with me.
I did wind up having a good time though. It was more of a male bonding thing than a fishing tournament. Not having screaming babies and wives around for a few hours was a treat, and my siblings and I had a chance to get caught up. I also got a little drunk and wrestled in the sand with my brother Ryan. Some things will never change. I was dumping sand out of my ears for days after.
On Wednesday we went to the boardwalk in Wildwood (aka: WildHOOD). I use to go on vacation to Wildwood every year when I was younger, so visiting always brings back memories. I have to say, though, that Wildwood is not at all like I remember it. It has deteriorated so much with trashy people that it really does ruin the experience. My mom and others say that it’s “always been that way” but the pictures I’ve seen and my memories tell me otherwise. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a great time and there is much more to do on the Wildwood boardwalk than there is on the Ocean City boardwalk, but I didn’t feel comfortable having my daughter around that atmosphere.
After going on some rides, and tripping over enough “hood rats” it was time for us to head back to OC.
We did a lot on vacation but most of my enjoyment was from being around my family and doing stupid things like playing pinball, or taking walks in the morning with Rachelle and Layla. For the rest of the year everybody is doing their own thing and nobody really has a chance to relax. Even during Christmas, it’s too hectic to be able to sit down and hang out. So vacation, to me, is a chace to have fun, play games, and get to know each other again.
And by the end of the full week we’re all annoyed enough with one another to last us until next year. I <3 family vacations.
Click here to view all of the pictures from the vacation. The first 10 or so are from the night before at a bar for my birthday…I didn’t feel like seperating them into different albums.
As of 5:00 pm today I’m on vacation….not just from work but from everything that I don’t feel like doing. Don’t be surprised if I don’t answer the phone when you call, or refuse to do chores, or shower. 3 hours left.
I didn’t eat breakfast today, and didn’t bring a snack to eat during work, so by the time 1:00 pm came around for lunch, I was moody and starving. I wanted pizza. Not the typical girlie “two slices” that most people order, I wanted PIZZA. A whole pizza.
The setup: I had a meeting to attend at 2:00 pm, so time was of the essence. Leaving at 1:00 should leave enough time. It would have to be from a pizza shop that is close by, and with minimal aggravation so that the most possible time could be dedicated to eating and not driving or waiting. I settled on “King of Pizza” which is just 2 minutes up the road from my building.
1:15 pm: Couldn’t go to lunch until 1:15. Already starting off on a bad note. I got in my car and tried to focus. I blasted Pantera as if I was preparing for an ultimate fighting match.
1:25 pm: After lapping around the stupid confusing parking lot, I got to King of Pizza. I had planned on ordering a medium sized pizza. A large would have been toilet town for me, and eating a small pizza isn’t even worthy of mention. However, when I glanced over the menu I realized that they only have one size; large…of the 16 inch variety. Things just got serious.
1:35 pm: After waiting for my pizza for 10 minutes, and watching people come and go with their “2 slices”, my order was finally ready. The pizza was HUGE. I ordered a bottle of water with my pizza because the sulacose in diet soda makes you fat. I decided to eat the pizza alone in my car instead of at the restaurant…wouldn’t want people mistaking me as a glutton.
1:40 pm: I got to my solitary parking lot and got to work…running out of time. My first impression after taking a bite out of the first slice was: “THIS F’ing PIZZA IS HOT!” It was right out of the oven and it almost seared my lips off. This would make matters even more challenging because a) Time was really becoming a factor and b) I was hoping to jam 2 or 3 slices down my throat quickly…before my stomach could tell my brain “Hey idiot, you’re not hungry anymore.” Instead I had to wait and baby each slice.
1:45 pm: Two slices were down and I felt good. They didn’t give me a plate so I was using a notebook to lay the pizza on instead. I propped the pizza box open and pointed the air conditioning vents onto it to accelerate the cooling process. A piece of the roof of my mouth was dangling onto my tongue because it was burned so severely.
1:50 pm: At the halfway point, 4 slices in. It was at about this point that my body realized that I’m not hungry anymore and it’s time to take a nap. I turned the music up a little louder and didn’t allow the voices to break my focus. I couldn’t help but glance at the time. I had 8 minutes to eat 4 more slices of pizza. A slice every two minutes was seemingly impossible.
1:56 pm: I threw in the towel. With 6 slices eaten and two more (small) slices left, I simply ran out of time. I know that nobody likes the ole’ woulda/shoulda/coulda talk in the wake of such disappointment, but with an extra 10 minutes this post would have been telling of epic success instead of failure.
2:00 pm: I got to my meeting just early enough to brush the pizza crumbs off of my pants.
The last two slices are still in my car. They’ll be nice and warm for the ride home…
Last Sunday we had my dad’s side of the family over for a barbeque. My grandparents had never been to our house, so it was a big deal for me. Rachelle was a wiz in the kitchen, like usual, and made homemade macaroni and cheese, BBQ chicken, cheese burgers, hot dogs, and a strawberry cobbler. I’m probably missing something but the point is that she worked like a mule.
I posted an album which you can view below. You can find all of our new pictures on my Flickr page.
And on a different, more depressing note, the anniversary of my dad’s death was this week. I opened two beers and invited him down to have one with me but he was a no-show so I just drank both.
So apparently a certain school district in Georgia has reinstated corporal punishment which means that misbehaving students are going to have sore asses. The details are a little wishy-washy but the parents of the student will have to sign a permission slip to allow teachers to put the brats in their place if the situation calls for it.
I’m on the fence about the whole thing.
Let me first say that, if my child is misbehaving and disrespecting a teacher then the teacher can do what he/she sees fit (within reason) to correct the problem. Then, when Layla gets home she’ll get punished even further… Well, Rachelle will punish her while I punk out and pretend to do something else. But the point is, kids seem to be getting worse and worse and the parents either a) don’t care enough to discipline them or b) care, but are scared to discipline them because everybody wants to “talk it out” with their kid instead of laying the law. Again, I don’t know how much “law” I’ll be laying but my wife is an angry Italian with a short fuse so we’ll be fine in that department.
But back to teachers striking students… I think I’m “pro” ass-kicking mostly because, if I’m doing my job as a parent, then Layla wouldn’t get in much trouble in school anyway because she’ll have respect and consideration for the people around her. And if she has an off-day and wants to test the waters, then Sister Elizabeth can practice her tennis swing on Layla’s back side.
And for those “touch my kid and you’ll deal with me” parents… if you were doing your job to begin with then your kid wouldn’t be in the prediciment that he’s in, tough guy.
I remember a time when we lived in Philly…I was in 5th grade and school was canceled one day because we got hit with a nasty snow storm. This was great news for me, since it meant I could go outside and have snowball fights, build forts, and best of all…play tackle football on the snow covered asphalt. We weren’t the brightest bulbs.
Another hobby that we enjoyed was standing on the side of a popular avenue (Lehigh Ave) and slinging snow and ice balls at on-coming traffic. So my best friends Eric, Mike, and I decided to start “pegging cars”. My brother Jason is about two years than me which, at the time, was a big deal because it wasn’t “cool” to hang out with someone who is just 7 years old when you’re 9 years old. But Jason tagged along with us on this particular day.
Cars would pass by with caution due to the hazzerdous road conditions; we would each pack a ball of snow together in our hands, dip it in a puddle to help it stay together and give it some weight, run up to the street and peg the hell out of the same car. Sometimes motorists would pull over and pretend to threaten to get out and chase us, be even stupid 9 year olds like us knew that they weren’t about to get out in this crappy weather and chase kids through 3 feet of snow through the neighborhood.
While the 4 of us were packing snow together waiting for our next victim, there were cars waiting at a red light. Suddenly Eric exclaimed “It’s Mrs. Maureen!”. Mrs. Maureen was our fifth grade teacher and was stopped at a red light with her husband. Before she realized what was about to happen, she smiled and waved at us. We all hurried and packed our snow…dipped it in dirty water, and HURLED it as hard as we could at our teacher. Dirty snow pelted her windshield.
Her husband pulled her car over, yada yada…like almost every car does, but this time the door opened. We realized that her husband was getting out of the car and he looked PISSED. The four of us turned and ran to the alleyway. In Philly, the alleyways are a network of shortcuts and every kid knew them like the back of their hand. So knew we could lose them in the alleyway…
Except for the fact that my brother was 2 younger, and slower.
When I realized that he wasn’t with us, I turned around and saw that my teacher’s husband had caught him. Jason, in his puffy winter coat, looking like Randy from A Christmas Story, was being held in the air by his hood. I’m not sure what was said to him, or why the guy eventually let him down, but the next day at school my two friends and I were pulled into the hallway and given a nasty lecture about the dangers of throwing ice balls into traffic.
Although this story had nothing to do with teachers beating students, it’s funny to imagine my brother being caught and suspended in the air by his dorky hood.
Layla is rapidly approaching the 9-month mark and really carving her own personality. She owns 7,210 toys and figures out ways to crawl around them to get to things she shouldn’t have; like remote controls, cell phones, magazines, and dog toys.
She took her first crawling steps this week; although only about 3 or 4. Usually she rolls her way off of the blanket and on the hardwood floor. That way she can pull herself with her arms and she glides smoothly across the floor.
I have quite a few pictures that I’ll post either tonight or tomorrow.
I’ll make this quick because it’s late…
Tonight our family went to Cape May Court House to watch my brother Ryan graduate from the police academy. He’ll be a police officer in North Wildwood for the summer and continue going to school until he’s able to become a state trooper. It’s definitely something to be proud of, not to mention FOP cards for me.
After the graduation the family went out to a seafood bar in Estel Manor called Crabby’s. Tons of snow crab legs, mussels, and shrimp later, we hit the road back home.
I’m exhausted now and should get to sleep.
We took a family vacation to Busch Gardens last week and I can’t believe it’s already over. My mom and her fiance, 2 brothers, brother’s girlfriend Mallory, Rachelle, and Layla spent a long weekend in a cottage in Williamsburg. The cottage was in a development called Kings Creek Plantation. Our favorite part about it was the fact that it was by itself at the end of a street, and had 3.5 bathrooms. Leave it to my IBS family to get excited about the amount of bathrooms.
Rachelle, Layla and I began our journey on Thursday morning. We were concerned about what a 5 hour drive with an 8 month old baby would be like so we braced ourselves for the worst. From the NJ/Delaware border until the Virgina state line, she was unconscious. There is a god. When she woke up in Virginia she was mildly pissed off about still being stuffed in a car seat, and she let us know. Since we still had over two hours left, Rachelle climbed into the back seat and hit her with everything she had. Fruit, a bottle, juice, clown tricks, magic, a puppet show…Rachelle did whatever she could to keep the baby entertained. And thanks to a performance that would have made Cirque du Soleil jealous, we made it to Williamsburg without one stop.
The cottage was a small, two-story single home with a small “in-law suite” type thing attached to it. It had 3 bedrooms and 3.5 bathrooms so the couples got their own bedrooms and full bathrooms while Patrick got a couch and a toilet. Since he’s only 13 years old, he didn’t mind.
We unloaded our luggage, stocked the fridge, hooked up the Nintendo Wii and relaxed. It was my brother Patrick’s birthday so we sang Happy Birthday to him. Layla seemed to enjoy the festivities.
Since people were tired from driving, we decided to relax at night instead of going to Busch Gardens. After some Sonic fast-food, and playing Wii tennis and bowling, we hit the sack to prepare for our first full day.
I woke up Friday morning to the feeling of my eye being torn off. I opened my (one) eye and got a face full of Layla’s toothless smile. Evidently her way of waking somebody up is to squeeze their face in her nails. I walked downstairs and found Jason and Patrick cooking breakfast for everybody.
We spent Friday afternoon at a water park, Water Country USA. Unfortunately it was tough to go on many water rides since we had to make sure Layla was entertained. I got on just one water ride but it was a good one. I spent some time relaxing by the wave pool, and took Layla to the kiddie area. The water came up to her thighs and she loved trudging though it while I held her hands.
On Friday night we went to Busch Gardens. Rachelle was a nervous wreck because she psyches herself out when it comes to roller coasters. She’s rode every coaster at Six Flag’s Great Adventure, Disney, and Universal Studios/Islands of Adventure yet she was swearing that she wasn’t getting on any roller coasters at Busch Gardens.
That lasted about 20 minutes.
The first ride we did was The Loch Ness Monster. Rachelle had a stone-faced look while we waited in line. While on the ride, Rachelle kept making these weird screaming noises. I’ve heard them before. I can never tell if they are coaster screams, or legitimate cries of fear. These ones were just coaster screams.
We rushed around the park and knocked out most of the rides we wanted to do: DarkKastle, Alpengeist, Big Bad Wolf, and Griffon (thanks, Pat). We had to wait until Sunday for Apollo’s Chariot.
On Sunday we did breakfast at The Cracker Barrel. In standard Layla fashion, she was extremely well behaved up until the time the food made it to the table. When we started eating she started grunting, and crying, and straightening up. We had to eat in shifts.
Later on in the evening we went back to Busch Gardens and hit up a smokehouse for dinner, then followed up the greasy meal with some intense thrill rides; always a good idea. After riding some coasters, going into some stores, and drinking some beer, we called it a night and said goodbye to Busch Gardens.
We got back to the cottage and played a board game while drinking more beer and eating some pizza. This was one of the most fun times on the trip and a great way to close it out.
There are a ton of pictures. You can view them here on my Flickr page.
