Monkey Man Springs Into Action!

Monkey Man DOES. NOT. STOP. moving, making us laugh, making me beg for bedtime, making me wonder as soon as I wake up, "What will today bring me?", making me smile.

We welcomed spring with lots of activities and to officially kickoff spring and lots of days outside playing and enjoying the sunshine, here are some pics of Monkey being...well, Monkey Man!


Here comes Peter Cotton...wait! Since when did Peter Cottontail start using an iPod? Oh, it's just Monkey Man! He announced as he walked into the office, "I wanted to make you laugh!" Mission Accomplished!


We welcomed the Easter Bunny with some sidewalk chalk art on one of our unusually not-crappy spring days in NJ!


Monkey Man dons his designer tie for the preschool Easter parade. Fabulous tie design by Mommy, Inc.


Now you can all see where Monkey Man inherited his wackiness!

Shhh…I Have a Secret!

I have a secret that I just need to get out there in the open. It’s one that few would expect of me, even my closest friends. So, I figured this is the perfect forum to let it out. Because with a secret THIS BIG, why not do it big?

Okay, deep breath, here it goes.

When I’m in my car, I listen to Christian rock radio. (GASP! Jaws agape. The crowd roars, “NO! YOU?”) I know, I know. You are thinking, “But you have raised your child on Def Leppard and Winger! Monkey Man rocks out and YOU! - YOU listen to Christian music?” Yes, blasphemous. I know. But please, rest assured, the Christian Rock will never squelch the raging 80s rocker and 90s dancer that lives inside me.

So my retreat, my respite upon getting in my car is tuning the dial to Star 99.1. I can’t help myself. I am not a particularly religious person. (Okay, brief rundown on my religious beliefs - I do believe in Jesus but I also believe that everyone has the right to their own beliefs. I don’t think my way is the only way. I am very open to all walks of life. Okay, there you have it.) But I love getting in my car and listening to inspiring music, music that restores my faith, reminds me to hope, and tugs at my heart to remember the truly important things in life. But I can also totally get down with Timbaland and Justin Timberlake’s “Carry Out.” That’s just how I roll.

My husband thinks this little quirk about me is funny (the Christian rock thing, not so much the “Carry Out.” He’s known for a long time my love of bad pop music). He KNOWS me, and knows I am so not the girl that walks around praising the Lord and throwing around Hallellujahs (Please Note: There is absolutely nothing wrong with this. I am just not one to do it). So he thinks it’s hysterically funny when I walk around the house dropping the F-bomb when I walk into the wall for the 3rd time that day (but NOT when Monkey Man is around!), then he gets in the car that I was last driving and he’s reminded about how much Jesus loves him. But I tell him, “Jesus loves me so much that he understands how freaking annoying it is that I have no depth perception!”

So, my perfect concert? Let’s start it off with a few Def Leppard songs. Throw in some Christian rock to remind us that life is not all about spandex and mullets. Then top it off with Rick Springfield. Because what would a great concert be without attempting to grab Rick’s butt?

Thank you, Jesus!

Monkey Man was having some trouble buckling his seat belt today. It kept locking when he pulled on it, so he asked me for help. I twisted my body to face the backseat, pulled on it a few times, broke a sweat, but finally got it to stretch out so that I could buckle it. When it clicked, Monkey Man, said, "Thank you, Jesus!"

"What are you thanking Jesus for?" I laughed, thinking he was in the middle of some sort of silent prayer and getting all charismatic on me.

"I thanked Jesus for helping me with the seat belt."

Okay, fine. I guess I'll let Jesus take the credit. This is his big week. Next week, though, it's all mommy.

Past 4 1/2 But Not 5

Monkey Man turned 4 1/2 on September 11. Over the summer, he asked over and over again when he would turn 4 1/2. So once the day came, the day when he officially got over that hump and was cruising on his way to 5, he made sure EVERYONE knew precisely, exactly, how old he was.

Stranger, Family member, Friend, Anyone on the street: "How old are you?"
Monkey Man: "I'm past 4 1/2 but not 5."

Now I miss that phrase. Monkey Man turned 5 yesterday. And I might as well have turned 40 because that's how I'm reacting. His turning 5 is more upsetting than me rocketing into my, (gasp, choke, puke) last year of my mid-thirties in 2 weeks. Total aside: 36 is still mid, right? Just because mathematically we round up once we get to the 5s, I'm still in my mid-thirties, right? RIGHT?

So Monkey Man turning 5 is like a smack in the face that he is a big boy. I am a bright girl. Bright enough, anyway, to understand that he is not a baby. He is a very independent child, and I actually love and appreciate this independence. I love that he can open the door for me when I'm carrying all 50 things I didn't need from Target. I love that he can dress himself and demand that he wear the same sweatshirt that he rolled in the dirt in just the day before. I love that he can put that dirty sweatshirt in the laundry basket and understand when I tell him it needs to be washed and he can wear it tomorrow when it's clean. And he DOESN'T throw a fit.

But this turning 5 thing, it is making me sad and nostalgic. He's not a baby, a toddler, a preschooler. He's IN preschool, but when someone asks, "How old are you?" and he says 5, they might think he's in kindergarten. And being in kindergarten is fine, and when the time comes and I've cried away that first week, I'll be ready to accept it. But for now, he's still home, having fun a few days a week in his small preschool.

There are times when I can really feel that peach fuzz atop his newborn, almost-bald head rubbing against my cheek. Or when I can see clearly, like it happened yesterday, Monkey Man standing in his crib doing the sign for banana because that is what he wanted first thing in the morning when we stopped the bottle. And I can play back, almost by the minute, everything that happened on March 11, 2005 that led up to his birth and turned my world upside down.

But I'm a little crazy. And an upside down world is a lot of fun. Especially when looked at through the eyes of a 5 year-old.

Monkey Man - you are truly one of a kind, a piece of work, something else. I tell you this all the time - Even when you are a big man, you will always be my little boy. I love you to the moon and back, bunches and bunches. Freddy Spaghetti, Goofy Goofenheimer, Bud.

Now Appearing: Kip Winger & Miley Cyrus!

One of my New Year’s Resolutions (which I totally forgot to put in my New Year’s Resolutions post, but that’s nothing new. I forget everything. My head should just be a giant, yellow, sticky post-it. If it’s not written down, the thought is lost and gone forever.)

Now, where was I? Oh, yes, New Year’s Resolutions. I have declared Family Fun Nights in this house. Because, dammit, we are going to have fun, whether you people like it or not. No, really, it was born out of the extreme busy-ness that my husband and I have been immersed in these past few months. We both work, and on top of work, my husband has been contracted to write a book, which is beyond exciting, thrilling, stressful, and just about one of the most wonderful things that has happened to him (us). He has been working long and hard toward this, and it’s been difficult to find time to spend together as a family. Weekends together are practically non-existent, as he is working while I take Monkey Man on some adventure to get out of the house to give hubby some peace to work. And by adventure I mean a trip to the grandparents. So I can take a nap.

I know it’s not a novel idea these Family Fun Nights. And although together we do have fun as a family, this is a structured, one night per week, get-over-here-and-have-fun-with-us-or-be-banished-from-the-clan kind of fun night.

My first idea was breakfast in bed for dinner. I am a huge fan of making breakfast for dinner. So on this night a few weeks ago, I decided to get a little crazy and have our breakfast in bed. Pancakes and fake sausage (we don’t eat meat – well, hubby and I don’t eat meat, Monkey Man eats chicken nuggets, which again, as I stated in my New Year’s post, doesn’t really qualify as meat because who knows what the hell those things are made of). Of course, when one eats pancakes, syrup is the proper condiment choice. Please note: Syrup eaten on the bed, on your nice, clean comforter, is not smart. Waking up the next morning smelling like Cracker Barrel because, hey, look at that! Syrup was on the pillow, too! That just makes your co-workers follow you around salivating.

When dinner ended, we took the family in all its fun-ness downstairs and kicked this party up a notch. Dance Party! I plugged in the disco ball, turned off the lights, turned on the iPod, and here you have our super fun, super eclectic, playlist:

Song #1: Seventeen, by the 80s hair band Winger, has become Monkey Man’s new favorite song. This kid has a raging metal band member living inside him. One day when I figure out how to download a video (like one day when I swim with sharks, or one day when I jump out of an airplane – i.e. these things will never happen), I will post him singing, in all his naïve almost 5 year-old-ness, “She’s only seventeen (seventeen) Daddy says she’s too young, but she’s old enough for me!” He belts it out with such passion, such gusto. I fully expect him to emerge from his room one day with eyeliner, a curly, teased wig, and a pair of leopard skin pink spandex. Kip Winger would be proud. I know I am.

Song #2: Party in the USA, by Miley Cyrus just because it’s fun and kid friendly. As if kid friendly has any bearing on our musical choices. Hey, I try.

Song #3: Surfin’ USA by the Beach Boys has become a favorite to dance around and play “at the beach.” We build sandcastles in the family room and pretend we are surfing and jumping waves.

Song #4: The Indiana Jones theme song is played almost everyday as Monkey Man runs around pretending he is his new favorite hero.

Song #5: Cotton Eyed Joe gives us the excuse to dance around like we’re at some kind of crazy Square Dance while kicking up our heels and letting out a few, “Yee Haws!”

Song #6: I Got a Feeling by the Black Eyed Peas is another Monkey Man favorite. This is one that he sings to himself while he’s playing, just like an adult would sing a song that’s stuck in their head. He likes to rephrase it to, “I got a feeling, that tonight’s gonna be an awesome night.” I’m not sure why it’s going to be so awesome, and I just hope the awesomeness does not involve a 17 year-old girl.

Song #7: Pour Some Sugar on Me by the legendary Def Leppard, is Monkey Man’s new favorite Def Leppard song. We went through the Let’s Get Rocked phase, the Animal Phase, and now this. Although Seventeen is his favorite song, I have to say Def Leppard is his favorite band. And yes, I’m talking about an almost 5 year-old boy. Not a 35 year-old. Perhaps the best part of him singing this rock classic are the following lines that leave his little mouth:
“Love me like a mom…” (the beginning intro which is actually, “Love is like a bomb” and the one that makes us crack up everytime:
“You got the beat and I got the feet” (You got the peaches, I got the cream)

Family Fun Nights will continue. I have lots of ideas and we’ve already had another one that was a smashing success, however lower key in that we put our pj’s on at 4 p.m. and camped out in the living room to have a pajama party and watch a movie. But I have a sneaking suspicion that the dance party is going to be a staple. I’m just waiting to see what the new Def Leppard hit of the week will be!

It’s in Writing…Crap.

I made a few simple New Year’s Resolutions. Nothing to get crazy about. Not a long list, because really, who needs that kind of stress and depression if the resolution is not resolved?

Go to bed by 10 p.m. Sunday through Thursday (work nights)
In an attempt to read more and sleep more, I am trying this one. 25 days into the new year, I’ve been somewhat successful. It’s at least lurking at the back of my brain when it’s 10:15 and I still need to fold the laundry. It’s kind of liberating to let the laundry sit for another day because I need my beauty sleep.

I have been reading a lot more and there have been a few mornings that I haven’t felt like I’ve been hit by a truck. I’ve never gone to bed really late, 11-11:30 was the latest, but if I don’t get 8 hours of sleep, I am a miserable human being. And since Monkey Man still has not received the memo that waking before 7 a.m. is simply unacceptable, I’m really doing this for him. What 4 year-old wants to wake in the morning, all chipper and ready to start a new day, a day that he feels has endless possibilities with mommy barking, “It’s too early! Go back to bed! Okay, fine, get in our bed and I’ll put on that annoying little yellow sponge that sucks every brain cell out of your head but will buy me 30 more minutes.” So really Monkey Man, this resolution was born out of my love for you.

Stop the addiction to Facebook
As Spongebob sucks the brain cells from Monkey Man’s head, so does Facebook do to mine. I’ll get on the computer, check email, get ready to write a post, then “just check Facebook.”
Translation: I’ll get my world news from the Live Feed, find out HGTV and Food Network are back on Cablevision, get pissed at some person’s status because they are voicing their opposing political opinions a little too loudly for my taste. Then I’ll get lost on someone’s page looking at photos of my friend’s cousin’s friend’s mother’s nephew’s birthday party. Two hours later, the laundry sits, I need to iron and make lunches for the next day, I haven’t emptied the dishwasher, and I STILL haven’t written that blog post. So, on January 25, a new resolution was born: to only check Facebook on weekends.

Stop eating meat
My husband has been a vegetarian for almost 4 years. When he started, I did it for 6 months. Then I just kind of stopped, eating it (it being chicken or turkey, I haven’t had a real hamburger in probably 4-5 years) here and there if we went out to dinner. I never cook meat at home. I’ll eat it out, but I cannot stand to touch any kind of raw meat. I became very used to “fake meat” – veggie burgers, soy crumbles, fake meatballs, fake chicken – and that’s what Monkey Man eats, too (well, that and occasionally real chicken nuggets. If you can call chicken nuggets real. But he also eats the fake chicken nuggets). There really isn’t a reason for me to eat meat. I’m perfectly happy with all the meat substitutes and I know of plenty of other sources of protein and vitamins (more so now than 4 years ago). So on January 2nd I decided to go meatless again.

Maybe next year I’ll decide to give up chocolate chip cookies. Or Pop Ems. Yeah right.

Drag Queens & Preschoolers

The 'tude on this kid rivals that of a drag queen having a bad hair day. I’m finding it hard these days to come up with a funny, sweet, or witty story about Monkey Man. Because let me tell you LOUD AND CLEAR, shouting from the rooftop of my suburban home, that these days, Monkey Man’s behaviors haven’t erred on the side of funny or sweet. But witty? Well, I am most certainly at my wit’s end.

So now, I give you…
The Top 5 Things I’d Rather Be Doing Other Than Raising a 4 Year-Old:

5. Shop naked in a Beverly Hills boutique while bloated with PMS. I would rather have wealthy, snobby, nipped, tucked, carved, starving size 0 women see my body in all its water retentiveness than say one more time, “If you don’t stop whining I’m locking you in the broom closet until they do a documentary on what exactly happened in your life to turn you into the Michael Myers of our neighborhood.”

4. Relive my entire 6th grade year. At least now if my BFF passed me a note stating she is no longer my BFF because, and I quote, “You know what you did,” I would have the nerve to say to her, “F**k off bi**h.” Sometimes I think, if I survived 6th grade, there is a good chance of me making it through this stage of Monkey Man’s life.

3. Be puking drunk because at least during some part of the night I was having a good time dancing on a bar. I always had (notice past tense) a good time dancing on bars. And not for money, I’m not that kind of girl.

2. Give up any kind of product that contains chocolate for an entire year. I’m sure the shakes and sweats wouldn’t last too long, and by the end of the year, my body might be worthy of shopping naked in that Beverly Hills boutique.

1. Relive Monkey Man’s first 8 weeks. You know, that time when the newborns lay there like parasitic blobs, just taking all your sleep, your smiles, your boobs, your SELF formerly known as YOU. Because this 4 year-old thing, it’s JUST. THAT. BAD.