A Few of Our Favorite Things

One of the cards I didn't include in my Ghosts of Christmas Cards Past post last week, was our parody of My Favorite Things from 2009. That year's card was perhaps our most irreverent:

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The Words We Use

Words can injure. We all know this. Like me, I am sure you've been on both the giving and receiving ends of nasty language, spoken or written. In light of recent events, perhaps an examination of how we talk to each other, and how we teach our children to talk to others, is in order. Small steps.

Something that happened with Peanut prompted me to examine the words she chooses, but more important, the words I choose. She came home from school with a note from her teacher one day this week. Apparently, she had used some inappropriate language towards another student, then lied about it. A big double no. So her teacher let us know. Always one to assume the best of my otherwise angel of a child, I immediately imagined the possibility that the other kid deserved it. As I snapped back into reality, I knew what she said wasn't right. But I was conflicted about how big of a deal we needed to make of it. (It sparked quite a conversation with plenty of strong opinions on my blog's Facebook page.)

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Calling All Dads

"There is no such thing as a perfect parent. So just be a real one.”~ Sue Atkins

There has been a considerable amount of outrage lately throughout the dad community, particularly the dad blogging community, over a label. In its “Who’s Minding the Kids?” report, the U.S. Census Bureau refers to stay-at-home dads as “child care,” even though those dads are obviously the primary care providers in the family. Essentially, babysitters. The report also lists moms as the “designated parent” if both a mom and dad exist in the household, or in single-parent homes. But dads, stay-at-home dads in particular, are not happy.

Of course, moms have been the traditional primary caregiver pretty much since the beginning of time. Over the past decade or so, a small shift has occurred and more dads are staying home with the kids. Still, we dads have a long way to go before we catch up in the child-care street-cred department.

Just be the best parent you can be.

But that’s not stopping involved dads from circulating a petition to put us on equal footing with moms when dads are the “designated parent.”  I signed the petition in solidarity with the dads I know and admire. Dads who stay at home and take care of the family. Or Dads who, like me, work but are active participants in the lives of their children.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Welcome, Christmas

Christmas Day will always be
Just as long as we have we

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#SundaySupper Christmas Eve Crab Cakes

Crab cakes with dip, shrimp salad,
scungilli salad, stuffed mushrooms

Christmas Eve is the big tradition in our family. It's more important than any other holiday, even Christmas itself. We do a modernized version of the Italian feast of the seven fishes. My family - my mom, my siblings, and I - are a rare breed: full-blooded Italian-Americans. None of my first cousins can make that claim. So Christmas Eve - our tradition - is a big deal.

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The Song That Officially Means It's Christmas

There is a song that I have to hear to officially mark the beginning of Christmas season. Our tree may be up, our halls may be decked, our presents may be purchased and wrapped, but if I haven't heard this song yet, it just doesn't feel like Christmas. And in this digital age when you can play whatever song you want with the click of a mouse or a spin of a wheel, I don't cheat. It needs to happen naturally, like when I was growing up. It has to come on the radio. (Or Pandora.)

A few years ago, I didn't hear it until the morning of Christmas Eve while I was riding around town running last-minute errands. I called My Director, put her on speakerphone, and made her listen along with me. With tears in my eyes I sat in the driveway and listened to rest of the song, singing along hysterically.

Why did we not own this growing up? No idea.

It's Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town by Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band.

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Ghosts of Christmas Cards Past

We take pride in our annual Christmas card. It's one of our favorite, if not our favorite, non-traditional traditions. We are not the kind of people who pose for perfect pictures, or would pose our child for a perfect picture, to evoke an image of the perfect family for our friends, colleagues, and loved ones. No. No. No. Family is not perfect. It is most certainly, and wonderfully, imperfect. We must laugh at our imperfections every chance we get. Here is the image and caption from our first-ever family Christmas card, sent the year after we were married:

2003: "Here's hoping the holidays
don't make you NUTS."

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God Rest Ye, Uptight Gentleman

"Everyone who wants musicals are children in different ways." -Andrew Lloyd Weber

We should consider ourselves blessed. After all, only one church congregation could claim Andrew Lloyd Weber as a member. That's right. The acclaimed composer of Phantom, Cats, and Evita, among others, is now focusing on the smaller stage. The MUCH smaller stage: Christmas pageants.

This is Andrew Lloyd Weber

For the second year in a row, Mr. Weber graciously volunteered his talents and ran our church's pageant. What are the odds, right? Adding to our good fortune, My Director and I were able to see the genius at work since Peanut was a member of the angel choir both years. Double bonus.

Of course, Mr. Weber's involvement totally justifies the four hours - FOUR HOURS - we spent at church one Sunday, including the service. Still, I submit the only people who should be spending that much time at church on Sundays are clergy. What Mr. Weber doesn't realize is we've got other things to do. You see, he can't be bothered wasting his time with such trivial pursuits as food shopping, walking the dog, feeding children, and spending part of your Sunday relaxing and watching football. Why would he? A genius doesn't concern himself with such things. We should be honored to have him produce and direct our little show.

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Mulled Wine: Spiked and Steamy for Christmas #SundaySupper

For several years, we made this glogg ("mulled wine" for easier reference) for our families' Christmas Eve and Christmas celebrations. It's warm, festive, strong, and delicious. Always a crowd favorite. We first had it at a friend's Christmas party and loved it. We haven't made since Peanut arrived. But this week's #SundaySupper theme reminded us of it, and we'll be sure to make it for our Christmas Eve celebration this year. It's really simple, and a lot of fun.

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#PayItForward: A Story of Giving from @SaskaDad on @DadsRoundTable

Most Fridays, I will share with you a post from another blog that I find particularly moving, interesting, or funny. They will be posts that fit the DKL mold... ones I think people who read this blog would enjoy. Another blogger I follow started something similar. I also wanted to do this because someone paid it forward to me, giving me tons of new followers. So this is the least I can do...

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Six Crucial Rules for Grocery Shopping

For me, it's a weekly chore. Maybe for you it's more often than that. If so, God bless you. I'm talking about grocery shopping. Or, as I like to call it, "food shopping." Since I do the cooking in our house, I also do the food shopping. And I do it solo. Over the years, I have perfected my system. And I am here to make your supermarket experience easier. Coincidentally, in doing so, I make my shopping experience more pleasant. Isn't it nice how that works?

The holidays just add more complications and obstacles to this necessary but annoying endeavor. Rookies and neophytes who don't know where anything is, looking for obscure ingredients for random recipes, clogging your aisles with unexpected mayhem. But it doesn't have to be this way. So as we all descend on the grocery stores in the weeks leading up to Christmas, there are certain rules to follow to ensure everyone stays sane. (Relatively speaking, of course.)

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: Comfort and Joy

A long time ago, even before My Director was around, I started a collection. This collection has turned into somewhat of a tradition. But like some traditions, it may be time to retire this one. Pretty much everywhere we go, I insist on getting a shot glass as a memento. Even though my days of chugging Rumple Minze two ounces at a time are long behind me, we have dozens of them:

How COOL is that Nashville one?

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We Made the Right Choice

"I don't know what this life will bring but I know it has us. I choose us." Tea Leoni, The Family Man

Life is a series of decisions. Big ones. Small ones. Every one you make affects your life in some way. From the clothes you choose to the food you eat to the jobs you take. And the jobs you don't take.

The movie I quoted above, a tear-jerker starring Nicholas Cage that is somehow one of those must-watch-when-it's-on movies, is all about a glimpse at the life you could have had. And wouldn't you know, it was on television the weekend before our 10th wedding anniversary.

The movie begins with Cage and Leoni in an airport. He's heading off to a golden job opportunity that will help launch his career in finance. She's having doubts and utters the line above in an effort to convince him to stay. He doesn't. He takes the job and they don't end up together.

In this blog, I use the title to another movie to describe the journey My Director and I have shared to get here: The Story of Us. Our story would have ended if not for a job I DIDN'T take.

My goal - my dream - when I went to Syracuse to study broadcast journalism was to be the next Bob Costas. (He's a Syracuse alum.) I wanted to be the next play-by-play man of the Yankees or the next SportsCenter anchor. Soon I realized those guys (and girls) weren't enjoying college the way I wanted to enjoy college. (Drunk and foolish.) They were too serious and kind of nerdy. Yes, I chose not to be a sportscaster because I no longer considered it to be cool. I was a shallow 19 year-old. But a news guy... a news guy can be cool and taken seriously. Right?

After graduation, I sent resume tapes to dozens of television stations all over the country in towns you've probably never been to, let alone heard of. I received a couple of offers. One from a station in Meridian, MS, where I would be reporting during the week and anchoring on the weekends for $18,000 a year. A great opportunity in a decent market for someone just out of college. The other was from Lincoln, NE. I received the call on a Monday. They wanted me to anchor, report, shoot my own stories, and write and produce the show myself for $12,000 a year... and can you start Thursday?

I knew this was the way to break into the business. Do it all, one-man band reporting. Make no money in a far-away place as you build your reel and work your way back to where you want to be. I also knew that if I went to the middle of nowhere for six months or a year I would risk losing the love of my life.

12/07/2002

So I chose us.

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I Believe

"There's no question in my mind that he does exist. Just like love I know he's there waiting to be missed." -From A Year Without a Santa Claus

Santa Claus is real. I've never seen him. But I have proof. My proof lies in the heart and mind of my daughter. Evidence of his existence can be seen in the excitement, anticipation, and joy of Christmas morning. I've seen it on her face and heard it in her voice. He is most certainly real.

But some people say we're lying to our kids by telling them Santa is real. (Even I joked about it in a recent post.) I've seen several discussions of the subject this week. While I respect everyone's beliefs as much as I expect my own to be respected, I think the people who insist we are perpetrating a fraud against our children need to relax. Kids are smarter than a lot of people give them credit for. They believe what they want to believe until they are old enough to know better. 

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THE PEANUT GALLERY: If a Tree Falls in the House

Some unexpected traffic on the bus ride home meant I would be a little later than normal. So I texted My Director with some basic instructions on how to get dinner started. This way, I could get a jump start on cooking as soon as I got home:

"Can you put some water on for brown rice and heat the oven to 350 please?"

I was planning to make pan-seared tilapia over brown rice with baked Brussels sprouts and bacon. Yum. Her response was quick, and unexpected:

"Our tree fell over. Have to deal with that right now."

I have to admit, I laughed a little when I read that. Have to deal with that right now? Ya think? A classic line from my straight man. When I got off the bus, a stunned Peanut met me at the corner. "Daddy, you're NOT going to believe this." She escorted me inside. My little girl was beside herself. But not because of this:

Yes. That's My Director working on the tree
while I snap pictures for the blog. Priorities.

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The Story of Us

"After changes upon changes, we are more or less the same." -Simon and Garfunkel

I picked up the newspaper. It was the New York Times. I showed it to my fiance. "I hope you're ok with the front page of the paper looking like this every year on our anniversary." It was December 7, 2001. The 60th anniversary of the attack on Pearl Harbor. We got married a year later.

It's funny how your anniversary is sometimes chosen for you. We decided we wanted to get married in December, when every place would be decorated for Christmas. We wanted a Saturday. The thought was with a lot of people traveling to attend, and staying over for the weekend, the 21st was too close to Christmas. The reception hall we wanted was booked on the 14th. So Pearl Harbor Day it was.

The day that will live in infamy. (My Director STILL doesn't think it's funny when I say that.)

This Friday we celebrate our 10th anniversary. That's a big one. It really does seem just like yesterday. So much has happened since then. To us, to our world. Yet, we remain. Older, different, but pretty much the same.

One night recently, as we were laying in bed, My Director told me that she had shared a story of some of her college "exploits" that day with a few of her students. "How much detail did you give them?" I asked. "I was vague," she said. That college girl is the person I fell in love with. And even though our "exploits" are different now - much tamer, thank you very much - she's still the person I fell in love with. Same smile. Same beauty. Same kindness, generosity, and warmth.

I just have a lot less hair now.

And here, I was trying to set her up with someone else in the year before we got together. Good thing she never has listened to me.

Please celebrate our anniversary with us by reliving some of our fondest memories of the story of us:

We are proof that everything happens for a reason. It's How I Met Your Mother.

I knew it was too soon to tell her I loved her. So I came up with something else. Her response was underwhelming to say the least. Read what she said when I told her, "You're My Best Friend."

A few weeks after that, she did something that told me she was the one I would spend the rest of my life with. For This I am Forever Thankful

How did I pop the question? You really should check out the Lies, Deception, and the Three-State Tale That Ended With My Marriage Proposal.

If you don't know the reason why I refer to her as "My Director" on this blog, it was my anniversary gift to her last year. Allow Me to (Re)Introduce...

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Hoping for a New Normal #JerseyStrong

We've managed to return to normal here in the DKL house, here in the DKL town, post-Sandy. It happened a while ago, actually. Normal, of course, is all relative. Before that happened, though, there was a whole lot of not normal...

The Witch Pinata

The warnings were there. We didn't ignore them. Not completely, at least. We just... tabled them. Sandy was coming. It was making a bee-line for New Jersey and all indications were it was going to be bad. We had to get ready, but not for Sandy. For Halloween. Our annual child Halloween extravaganza. So that's what we did. The weather on the Saturday before the storm was eerily calm and overcast. Perfect for an outdoor Halloween party for a dozen or so kids. This day was business as usual. Fun needed to be had. A party needed to be thrown. That witch pinata desperately needed to be beaten down in a violent avalanche of sugary paradise. The hurricane could wait... for Sunday. 

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