First Love?

Song: Ho Hey- The Lumineers

Once upon a time in a land far far away, I had a staff.  Well, it was one woman, Dahlia, but she worked as hard as a staff.  She did everything under the umbrella of homemaking to make my household run smoothly and cleanly. Well, not everything.  She cleaned but didn't cook.  She looked after the third and final baby Henry but not the two older boys. She was here almost all of the time. Once upon a time, I had a live-in housekeeper/nanny.

I never thought I'd be the sort of person who had live-in help.  My mother-in-law insisted we get help with the third. Dahlia had been my husbands nanny when he was four.  She had moved back to the states just this year. It was a sweet story but still I was resistant.  How could I enjoy privacy with someone here? How could I "do-me" with an on-looker?

Boy did that change. I adapted in the time in took to place my five day old son in her arms and get back into bed.  I was recovering from a c-section. When that excuse passed, I was recovering from a broken heart (my dad died three days after Dahlia unpacked her bags). She was the first person I told, "Dahlia, mi padre morte." She looked at me, cradling Henry, "I sorry, Mrs."  Mrs. I smiled, so sweet.  I took Henry out of her arms and told him all about his Papa. I wouldn't let him sleep in her room that night.  When I woke up that morning, after neither Henry or I having slept that night, I returned him to her waiting arms.  From then on, I really cashed in my chips.

I was home recovering unable to drive or see people, but still I wouldn't be the type to telecast my new found fortune.  People can only be so happy for a person, especially when it comes to the person not having to do laundry.  However, our oldest son, Colbert, five years old at the time, was invited for a playdate by a charitable mom from a boy in his class's house- when he was dropped off (how nice was that?!) I answered the door, infant Henry in my arms.

"Oh! Hi!" The mom said. "I'm surprised to see you with the baby."

"Really?" My back molar suddenly needing the attention of my tongue. "Why's that?"

"Colbert said he sleeps in the basement with the woman who does your chores." She said.

The mouths of babes.

"Well, it's heated." I called after her in my mind. "For the most part anyway.... It has a humidifier?"

The rest of that month is a fog.

After two weeks of live-in Dahlia, the help I thought could only feel like an intrusion! I couldn't imagine functioning without it.  It wasn't long before I heard myself saying TO ANOTHER HUMAN BEING I'd rather live in a card board box with a housekeeper than live without help. Which is basically what we do.  If that sounds awful -I don't apologize. At a friends baby shower the family past around a book asking for advice, I said "Get as much sleep as you can and as much help as you can afford." I had really turned a corner.  Her two week stint turned into a near two year commitment.

She didn't stay all week. She came for three nights. On Monday mornings at 7:43am my phone would ring, "I am here." Dahlia would say, in a musical accent that would light up my heart. It never got old. It only got better. On Thursday mornings, her bag would be packed to go, my heart would sink.  That got old quick and never got better. For a while, hating to see her go was because with her went my freedom. Then, as Henry got on his feet, hating to see her go was because with her went his heart.

He loved her.

He would swoon when she walked in the room, bat his eyes, run to me- wrapping his arms around my legs and look back at her.  The nights she wasn't there, he would wake up bawling- calling her name. "Ya-ya!" he cried. "Ya-ya."  A plaintive wail. And there was nothing on top of it.  Not a layer of resentment or self-pity. I wished I could slap a coat of jealousy or insanity on it- anything to make the heartbreak easier to absorb. But no, the scalding pure inimitable cry of a broken heart.  My baby.

After trying a bottle, a pacifier, rocking him, walking him, singing to him- everything I could think of to get him back to sleep I finally said, "You miss Dahlia?" and he put his little head down on my chest, heaving a sigh of relief that I understood.  Or that I stopped singing.

I knew it was the beginning of the end.

Then one Saturday late in November Danny found a a diabetes pen in the refrigerator, wrapped in a paper towel.  He asked me if it was mine...seriously.  Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you- I have diabetes.  (That's sarcasm folks.)

So I asked Dahlia that following Monday about the pen.

"Yes, is mine." She said. "I have the sugar."
"Oh, no. The sugar." I said. "Are you okay?"
"Is okay." She said. "I'm leaving in December."

Homey said what?

"When did you find out you had it?"
"Five years before." She said.
"Five years ago?" I asked.
"In the 2008." She said. "I'm leaving December 29."
"Permiso?"

Wild.

She left for Los Angeles December 29, 2012.  It may as well have been 2010.  It feels so long ago.  She called the first week a couple of times and we would all get on the phone, but then Henry would spend the rest of the day confused and crying and looking around for her. The way a broken heart does.  So we stopped that. Then she called today. He recognized her voice, he smiled when she cooed, "Corazon! Papi! Mi amor!" But then he walked away, distracted by a red matchbox car.  How quick a boys heart can heal.  I was so happy.  God must have done that for their mothers. She asked me if I had found someone else, I said no, I wasn't ready. We laughed. But really.  I had no idea what I had gotten Henry into then...but now that I know- looks like lots more laundry for me:)

Shades of Who Cares?

Song: Bad Romance by Lady Gaga

This post was supposed to be about how hard I've fallen for the color grey and how it has worked its way into every part of my house (and unfortunately my hair;( )but now I feel like...who cares? Who hasn't? So I wrote a long, have-to-say-kind-of-amazing-especially-now-that-it's-deleted-story about a hot bad romance. Deleted. Curtains.

Did I say curtains? I meant pillows.

I did make some cool grey pillows out of Danny's Ralph Lauren cashmere moth eaten sweater this week - I could not bare to throw out all that good cabled cashmere.  Do you remember that post from way back about repurposing your stuff? Well, I finally got around to making these. It was so easy! Especially since I had the tailor at my local dry cleaner do it.  I just asked and described. Only $25. each- we included a zipper- so I can use the green velvet again next Christmas or whenever.  But if you can sew...it'll only cost ya thread.

Came out pretty... pretty! Have a great week! LOVE, Susan

Two green pillows and one XL cashmere sweater with moth holes 

I used an old thick cotton sheet for backing

Had tailor at my dry cleaner make sweater into pillow covers-$25. each

Voila!

Song- Start Me Up - Rolling Stones
GO BIG BLUE! That was me, chanting with the fans at Metlife stadium-Sunday Dec. 30th 2012, dressed for the 20 degree chill factor-in the crowd-with my family, like I did it every Sunday.  I thought I hated football.  And I knew I hated one thing more than football-football jerseys.  Gag me.   Nuh- uh.  I was enthralled.  The mighty fans. A sea of blue.  My two little guys chief amongst them.  But let's back up, because the game really starts at home.

My four and a half year old son Julian has a play date with his friend Jack.  It's their first playdate and Jacks first at our house, so...I guess they wanted (like males with members do) to show some plumage.

After they chucked their coats on the floor about three feet from the hooks I asked them to place them on- this dialogue happened:

"I have goldfish," Jack who is at least a head taller than Julian said, "two died and they're in fish heaven."

"I'm going to go put on my Bronco's Jersey," Julian said, a bucket of compassion. "I wear my Jets jersey to school (he pointed to his shirt),  put my new Bronco's jersey on after." He took two steps and then turned around and said. "Oh yeah, I have a Giants jersey too."

He left before he could hear Jack say, "We might get a couple more fish."

"That's great Jack!" I said,  in a "I'm here for ya bud!" voice. "I hear goldfish heaven is a swell place..."

But Jack had taken off for the basement which left me talking to the empty coats.  Wondering what the jersey just happened.  My son has become obsessed, singularly focused on football.

Christmas morning with the wrapping paper strewn all around the room- not a gift left to open and by the looks of their faces - any joy left to be had- I tell Danny to look in his stocking.  He pulls out a small thin wrapped gift.  I am video-taping his expression as he unwraps and discovers 4 Giants Football tickets for the weekend.  NY Giants vs. Philadelphia Eagles.   My friend sold me her season tickets (plus parking pass) at a HUGE discount.  I had no idea who they were playing or anything- I just jumped at the offer.  I had just seen Silver Lining Playbook with my now oscar-nominated classmate Bradley Cooper-who played an avid Eagle fan. So that was a coincidental bonus.  (If you haven't seen it-it's honest, raw, beautiful-go.)  Danny is smiling but studying the tickets as if to be sure it isn't a gag gift. As if I would ever? Ok, I might. NO! I actually can't stand stuff like that, like, "Oh! You won the lottery!! Just kidding. We taped you. Be a sport-laugh."  And the victim looks like he's not only not set for life, but that he will never be able to trust a living soul again. No. That's just so weird and mean.

Danny was happily surprised (last time he gets a gift) but my two sons, Colbert (7) and Julian, were somewhere between ecstatic and combusting.  Anticipating their reaction bought me a blissful sleepless night.  That it matched my hope, well, as I watched I stepped inside it. Have you ever been inside of a dream come true?

The countdown began.

"How many sleeps Mama?" Julian asked.
"Five, Jule." I said.
He held his chubby little hand up.
"That's this many, right Mama?"
"Yep."
"UGH!" He'd stomp, "That's tooooo long!"
"NO!" Colbert interrupts. "No, Mom it's not."

He calls me mom now.

Miraculously, the day arrives.  The games at 1pm.  They start getting dressed when they wake up- at 6am.   Forecast- 20 degrees. Three pairs of socks, thermals, snow pants, turtlenecks, jackets, hats, mittens, scarves....and on top of it all? Jerseys.

Hell to the yeah.

What can I say? It was awesome. The thing is? I love a parade. Once, when we were living on Thompson Street there was a parade coming down the block. As I watched through my window I saw they were an angry assemble of hostile persons with signs and yelling and then it dawned on me...it's not a parade!! It's a protest!! Still, got me outta bed. I liked it. I like community and gathering- generally speaking.

Well, the crowd at MetLife Stadium was something to behold. The fans! Their energy and enthusiasm is like a tidal wave of adrenaline. Faces painted royal blue, guts hanging out, their favorite players numbers shaved into their heads- and that's the women;)

NY Giants were the home team and wouldn't ya know-there dared one lone Eagle fan dressed like a bird in our Giants midst and a Giant screamed, "GET OUTTA HERE YA TURKEY!"and The Bird looked at The Giant and then back at the field as if to say "I'm not going anywhere. Make me." It was so fun I forgot how cold it was. I hate the cold. HATE IT. But these guys were so fun I actually never felt cold. I like fun more than I hate cold. Jack and Jill went up the hill.  I write like a two year old.

Henry with his best friend Girlie 

One thing that was a bummer was Michael Vick on the field. Not only did he suck as a player- but he sucks because he is a dog abuser. Danny said, "Well, I'm not defending him -but he's done a lot of nice things since then and he got a dog." Oh! Well, I'm not judging him but he's a psychopath.  I try hard not to get into the business of judging,  but I feel like this is such a clear case.  Have you seen ID TV? Evil exists in the world.  I would do a lot of nice things too if I wanted my *40 million dollar a year job back.  That doesn't impress me. As for him getting a dog? That's like giving a kid to a pedophile. Who's allowing that craziness? There is no rehabilitating a human being who can engage in slaughter of innocent creatures. I had to put down our 13 year old family yellow lab a week after Hurricane Sandy, after struggling for months - she slipped in the Nor'easter and broke both of her hips- it broke my heart. I can't imagine getting pleasure or gaining in any way out of seeing a dog in pain.  UGH! I didn't want to get started, and I started. Now I'm upset and I haven't even mentioned the film The Cove yet- a must see. But back to my point-  Does the NFL need talent that badly? Aren't there a few hundred young men out there battling themselves, not dogs, to get into the game? Look a little harder at signing fella's - having a record clean of carnage not yardage should be a bigger part of the equation.

I get turned off by entertainers that get political, but whatever its my blog and i'll rant if I want too:) Next week- SHADES OF GREY!! No, it's not over.  In my house it's taking over...

*something like that