As Mike and I got ready to hit the road to head to the lake for the Fourth of July, I gave my dying house plants one last drink of water as he stood at our fridge putting things in our cooler. “Kath,” he said as he searched in the fridge, “I thought you said you bought a small coffee creamer that you wanted us to take to the lake.” “I did.” I said, “It’s right on the bottom shelf there.” He looked around some more and finally gave up saying, “I don’t see it. Are you sure you bought one?” I shook my head and finally walked over to the the fridge, “It’s right here! I said as I lifted up my French Vanilla coffee creamer. “If it were a snake it would have bit ya!” I said with a chuckle. ‘Classic men! Can’t find their way around the kitchen!’ I thought to myself. (And then I chuckled some more at the sexist joke I made in my head.) But he just looked back at me appalled and said, “THAT BIG THING?! That is not a small coffee creamer!” I looked at it again wondering if we were looking at the same coffee creamer. “What are you talking about?” I said back, “This is small! It’s like travel size!” He laughed as he took it and placed it in the cooler. “No, it’s definitely not small.” He said. After thinking it over, I could see he had a point, that maybe they do sell smaller coffee creamers SOMEWHERE in the grocery store where I clearly don’t shop. Finally I said “Well.. it’s smallER than the 64 ounce creamer that I normally buy.” He just shook his head and smiled as he pushed aside the extremely large jar of garlic we have in our fridge so he could access a few more things to place in the cooler.
Above is the “small” creamer that sparked the controversy.
I used to avoid recipes that instructed you to “mince garlic” because I just didn’t know how but now I don’t have to-I have 32 ounces worth of minced garlic!
Buying very large grocery items is just in my genes. It is an inherited family trait I have from my Grandma, Margaret Coleman. She passed away in 2016 but she would have been 99 on the Fourth of July. (Your birthday on the Fourth of July-talk about American!) She was an amazing woman. She was smart, funny, generous and compassionate. She was a doting grandma (“Gramma” is actually what she went by) and wonderful mom. Her and my Grandpa raised 14 children that are all now really awesome and successful adults. (With 14 kids she definitely needed to buy those large grocery items!) She was a fantastic example on how to live a good and meaningful life.
As my Mom (Margaret’s daughter) put it when I stopped over a few weeks ago, “you can’t help but think of Gramma on the Fourth of July.” While this is true, I find myself thinking about her just about every day.
A Fourth of July party in my Grandma’s big backyard.
As I mentioned, I received the “buy in bulk” trait from my Grandma. I also inherited the “just stick it in the freezer” gene from my Grandma as well. I know my Mom, many of my aunts, uncles and cousins also have this gene. We learned from my Grandma that you should not waste food. If something is about to go bad-just stick it in the freezer to save it for another time. There is no limit to what can be frozen! You can even freeze bread! In fact, I grew up having to defrost two slices of bread in the microwave before making myself a pb&j. Sometimes I’d have to bang the bread loaf on the counter a few times in order to get two slices loose, but I never really thought twice about it. That’s just how we were raised.
Mike and my freezer now is pretty stocked with leftover meals that I just didn’t have the heart to throw out. It even still has part of our wedding cake from two years ago. We were told we were supposed to freeze a piece of our wedding cake and take it out on our 1st wedding anniversary? But we completely forgot about it when anniversary #1 rolled around, (neither Mike or I are big cake people) and I couldn’t just throw it out, how wasteful! So lots of times when one of us opens the basement freezer to grab something, there goes our wedding cake, tumbling out and almost hitting us in the face. It can be inconvenient and sometimes dangerous keeping so many things in the freezer, but every time that frozen cake comes tumbling out at me and I shove it back in next to the frozen hamburger buns and quickly close that door before it has the chance to tumble out again-I smile and think of my Grandma.
While my Grandma was a saver she really enjoyed life to the fullest. She believed in celebrating all the good things in life. She was an epic host, planning very fun parties for just about every holiday. Christmas, Halloween, family reunions, Fourth of July parties, etc. You name the party and Marge hosted. With such a big family, her home was always packed during these gatherings. When it came to sharing a meal, there were never enough seats, but everyone found their place. You were never guaranteed a roll at Christmas dinner, but you were guaranteed a set of plastic silverware lovingly rolled in a festive napkin and tied with ribbon by my Grandma. But you didn’t dare throw out that plastic silverware-That would be wasteful. Plastic silverware of my Grandma’s was to be washed and used again for the next party. We treated it like fine china. I think my Grandma had some sort of silent alarm that went off if a plastic fork was about to be tossed because any time you were accidentally about to throw out a plastic utensil with your garbage, about 30 people would pop out of no where and yell “SAVE THE PLASTIC SILVERWARE!” It was slightly awkward when this happened to someone’s new boyfriend/girlfriend but it was kind of like, ‘hey, if you want to be a part of this family you have to hold on to that plastic. Otherwise, beat it!’
I was really proud of the bubble letters I made on that sign and so was my Mom so she took our picture. And that’s not a typo-Margaret liked to go by “Gramma.” (Although I was very bad at spelling)
The morning after a party at the lake, hanging out on the patio.
Pictured above is my sister Jane at my Grandma’s big annual “Tree Trimming” Christmas Party. If you didn’t get stuck in the bathroom as a child at one of these parties then you haven’t lived. (Bathroom door knob was a tricky one!) Nothing like being a terrified 5 year old banging on the door hoping someone will hear your cries from the bathroom as you listen to everyone belting out Mitch Miller and the Gang’s “Must Be Santa” on the other side of the door.
A Mother’s Day gathering when my Grandma had her fill of photos but my mom made her take one anyway.
No matter how packed these holiday parties were, before dinner was to be served, we’d all gather around the dining room table and my Grandma would say Grace. After the prayer she’d always give a killer speech about how blessed we are to have things that lots of people take for granted-a good home, food on the table, but most of all- each other.
I don’t get to hear her speeches anymore on the holidays, but I always think about the messages of gratitude she spoke.
So while I think about my Grandma every year on the Fourth of July, I also think of her when I buy that extra large coffee creamer. I think about her when I go to sleep with my heating pad on even a 90 degree day, just like she did. I think about her when I see an Altoids tin because she used them as ash trays. (She didn’t like the mints but she thought their containers made for great travel ash trays.) I think about her when I’m flipping through channels and see Blue Bloods, Law & Order or The Golden Girls on because those seemed to always be playing on her tv. I think about her when someone orders a Manhattan because that was her drink. But most of all, I think of her when I see my mom, because she inherited all my Grandma’s wonderful qualities and traits. And when I see my mom interacting with her own grandkids, I smile and think, ‘I hope they know how lucky they are’ because they have a really amazing Grandma.
My Grandma, sitting at her spot on the living room couch with my Mom, Maureen, whose grandkids call her “MoMo”
My Grandma was also a fan of turtle necks, just like my mom is now.
Clearly Old Navy had just had a sale on overalls and me and my Aunt Cath (OG Aunt Cath as I call her now that I am also an Aunt Kath) are rocking them.
A few weeks ago I drove up to the lake with my parents and spent a few days with them at our cottage in Michigan. My husband Mike was out of town and I had a few days off from nannying that week, so my parents were kind enough to invite me along. It was a pleasant surprise for me, as usually when they go to the lake during the week they only ask me to bring in their mail and garbage cans and water my mom’s flowers. I was honored that they wanted to spend a few days vacationing with their favorite child.
Mo has been practicing her selfie-taking skills.
When they arrived at my house to pick me up in their luxurious and very spacious Honda Mini Van with 16 cupholders, I of course was not ready. I was rushing around trying to finish up things at my house before getting in the car, a little flustered. My always sweet Mom tried to calm me down, “Don’t worry sweetie, no need to rush! We have all the time in the world! We’re on lake time now!” She said with a smile, wink and squeeze of my arm. But my Dad usually likes to take the opposite approach as my Mom in these situations (it’s probably why their parenting style worked so well!), mumbling a sarcastic comment to himself and then grouchily saying, “I thought you were going to be ready! We’ll have to check the traffic report again now, Mo.” As he paced back and forth. Given his experience with his four daughters, you would think he would know by now that we will never be ready on time. I quickly responded, “Excuse me, old man, but aren’t you retired? What are you rushing up there for? So you can go and RAKE?!”
A few minutes later we were all in the car. I offered to pull up Google Maps to check which route might be fastest, but my parents told me they were going to “listen to the traffic report on the radio.” (I still don’t understand how anyone can get any traffic information from the radio since those reporters talk so fast.) So they turned on the AM radio and listened to the 4 nanosecond traffic report and knew which route to take. My Dad was ready to drive with his pack of peanut butter crackers in the middle console and can of Diet Coke in the cupholder – a “pregame” Diet Coke, if you will, to the Diet Coke he would surely get at McDonalds later. My Mom was ready in the passenger seat, her trusty black bag at her feet. It’s actually like a reusable grocery bag, but Mo likes to keep her book, glasses and newspaper in it for the car. Her water bottle, which actually used to be my water bottle but my mom slowly claimed it as her own, was filled. I was in the back, buckled up for what I knew should only be a two hour ride but would most likely turn into three hours due to my Dad’s slow driving. I had my 40 oz water, a Body Armor and Dunkin coffee to keep me company throughout the trip.
During the ride my Dad listened to an extremely boring talk radio show. My Mom pretended to listen along, making a comment every now and again until she finally said to my Dad, “Honey do you mind if I read my book?” as she positioned her glasses on the tip of her nose and zoned out in her book. I told my Dad from the start of the trip that I would not be listening to his boring talk radio show, but putting my AirPods in and listening to a funny podcast instead. “Oh,” he said as he rolled his eyes, “What? Are you afraid you might learn something from listening to this?!” “Maybe I’ll turn it on when I have trouble falling asleep, Dad.” I said back. He ignored me and continued on his tangent, “You snowflake Millennials with your heads in the sand not knowing what’s going on in…” I’m not sure what else he said next as I then put in my AirPods and could not hear him.
A little while later we got off at an exit to swing through McDonald’s. Mike Sr. and Mo Money love their McDonald’s so I knew this would be part of the journey, but they also told me several times in their excitement. (I had just finished my breakfast not long before ,so I refrained from any food but obviously got a large Diet Coke.) Since they got their food from the drive-thru window, I thought we were going to continue on the road, as that’s typically the purpose of using a drive-thru. But no. They drove out of the drive-thru lane and right into a parking spot in the McDonald’s parking lot. I was very bewildered. “What’s going on here? Why are we stopped?” I asked. “Well, Dad likes to eat his cheeseburger and then go.” My Mom said as she looked for the pack of salts she always keeps on the passenger side door. “Why don’t you guys just eat inside then?” I asked. “Well, you know…” My Mom started “They were closed for the longest time during COVID and they wouldn’t let you eat inside.” I was still confused as that really had nothing to do with where we were sitting that day, but finally I said, “Well okay, I’m going to go and use the bathroom inside while you guys eat.” So I tried to kill some time while they had their little parking lot picnic.
We finally arrived at the cottage after our long journey. As soon as we got out of the car we discovered there unfortunately had been an intruder on our property – my Dad’s arch nemesis, the groundhog, which has been taunting him for almost a year. This groundhog has taken up residence under our side deck and my Dad has tried every trick in the book to get rid of him. We heard trying to get rid of squatters was difficult, but we didn’t know it was this challenging. The eviction process has not been going well.
Our neighbor caught the groundhog in an attempted deck break-in.
Our encounter with nature didn’t stop there. While my Dad was having an unpleasant experience with wildlife, I was attracting so many friendly animals towards me I felt like Snow White. For the next couple of days I had a giant woodpecker that was following me around (from a safe distance). He wasn’t pecking any wood either (which I appreciated), probably because he knew that would annoy me and hurt my ears. He would just fly to a nearby tree, stop and look at me. “What’s the hidden meaning of a woodpecker?!” I asked my parents. “Because I think this means good things to come for me!” Did I know what it meant? No. But obviously I was going to think it meant something good.
My stalker, the woodpecker, staring at me.
Then, while out on a walk around the lake one morning I saw a deer. This was great because I was able to say, “Oh dear! It’s a deer!” when I saw it and then repeat the joke numerous times when telling various people my story about seeing a deer.
I asked the deer if he needed directions, but he ran away from me. I guess he already listened to the radio traffic report and was set.
Later, while I was sitting out on the swing drinking my coffee I saw who I think was “Little Kathleen’s” older brother or sister. “Little Kathleen” was a baby bunny that used to hang around the cottage the last few summers. We all concluded that, knowing the OG Kathleen, she most likely did not survive the Michigan winters, so we thought maybe she passed on. But I was just sitting on the swing and she came right over to me!
We discussed the challenges of not having a Dunkin in the area and then the bunny went on its’ way.
In addition to getting in touch with the animal kingdom, Mo Money helped immerse us in the native plant culture. She recently had me download a plant identifier app on her phone and she “LOVES” it. I heard people could get addicted to their phones, but I never thought my mom would fall victim. We went on what should have been a half hour walk, but it turned into two hours as Mo Money stopped to identify each plant along the way. On one walk she forgot her reading glasses so extra time was needed just to be able to find the app on her phone and then read the small text.
One of many stops on our walk.
One night on our little vaca, we decided to go for ice cream and check out the clothing at Driftwood, a gift shop/ice cream store that is a must-stop every summer. The three of us checked out the apparel and then sat down to eat our ice cream. My ice cream was melting way too fast and my Dad’s wasn’t melting quick enough (he likes his ice cream slightly melty), but my mom’s scoop of ice cream was just right, so she was thoroughly enjoying her cone. As we sat at the table, my Dad and I had our backs to the apparel part of the store and my mom was sitting opposite of us, licking away and looking past both of us towards the gift shop part of the store. She licked away and stared intently at all the items behind my Dad and me before saying, “Kathleen, what is with those creepy stuffed animals there with the big eyes?” I turned around and looked at some children’s toys, turned back to her and simply said, “I don’t know.” I was confused as to why she was asking me specifically about the stuffed animals. Did she think I was the vendor that supplied the toys to the shop? That I had stock in these things? But her questions did not stop there. As I tried to eat my ice cream that was turning into a puddle and she licked away at her perfect cone, she continued to grill me on the items for sale in the shop:
Mom: Kathleen, what is with those blankets over there? [Said with a disgusted look on her face.] [I turn around, look at the blanket hanging up on the other side of the store and turn back.] Me: I don’t know. Mom: I mean, are they some type of special material or something that people would buy them? Me: I think it’s just a regular blanket. [Mo licks some more and continues to stare behind us.] Mom:Kathleen, what’s with those hats?! [Said again with a look of disapproval on her face.] [I have to turn around YET AGAIN.] Me: Looks like they are just normal baseball cap type hats. [She looks and licks her ice cream some more] Mom: Kathleen, what’s with-
Finally, I had to cut her off. If I turned around any more my spine was going to twist in half. My Dad and I started laughing as I said, “Mom! I don’t work at this store or any apparel store. Why do you keep asking me all these questions?!” “Well I don’t know, I figure you kids know these things!” We all had a good laugh.
After our ice cream and my interrogation session, we went back to the cottage and watched an episode of “Unsolved Mysteries.” A favorite of Mike and Mo’s. In fact, my four siblings and I grew up watching it with our parents, because what better show to watch with your five young children than one that encompasses everything scary in the world? Ghosts? Check. Murders? Check. Kidnappings? Check. Alien abductions? Check. Name something a child might be frightened of and Robert Stack and the producers of “Unsolved Mysteries” have covered it.
Before we knew it, the days had gone by and we were packing up to go home. I yelled goodbye to the Groundhog (my Dad did NOT think that was funny) and we headed out in the Honda Mini Van for our final stop at McDonald’s and then home. It was a great couple of days spent with my parents – we had pizza, McDonald’s, and ice cream – every child’s dream vacation. Even if you are 32, right?
Posing in front of my Dad’s pride and joy, his shed.
She wanted to make sure we knew she was working while on vacation.
Every time she turned I was afraid she was going to accidentally knock my Dad or me out with one of those headphones.
The other day I was over at my parents’ house helping my Dad with some things on his old work computer. He turned 65 this year and retired from his company, but he was able to keep his laptop. The IT department wiped it clean though, so he needed to call his own “Lil Tech Girl” (AKA me) to help him get it back up and running, and navigate the journey from Microsoft Outlook to Gmail/Google Apps, etc.
As my Dad and I both sat there at the kitchen table in front of his laptop, I worked on it and showed him how to use different Google Apps. He sat there and watched intently, glasses on the brim of his nose, as he tried to follow along as best he could. “Here Dad, it’s really easy,” I said as I noticed him looking a little confused and unsure. “Let’s go through and do a sample document together and print it out on your printer so you know how to do it.” My Dad continued to watch my every move as I opened up a new Google Document and typed out the sentence “Dad is an idiot.” I held in my laughter as I watched him lean forward to read, very concentrated, the print and slowly come to the realization of what the sentence said. Very focused he started to say “Dad is a…” and then he started to laugh. “Oh Mo! Look at this!” He said to my mom, who was fixing her breakfast in the kitchen, “Do you see what this little BRAT wrote about me?! Where do you think she learned to do something like that?!” My mom did a half laugh and responded, not even looking up from stirring her yogurt, “She learned it from you.”
Although we are not even halfway through 2023, it’s been a big year for my Dad. After turning 65 and spending 34 of those years at the same company, my Dad decided to retire. When my parents first told me and my four siblings this news earlier in the year, we all had a few concerns. First and foremost, if he retired would his company let him keep his printer in his home office in the basement? Being five grown Millennials all off on our own, OBVIOUSLY not a single one of us owns a printer. We do all our printing through our Dad. Thankfully, they did let him keep it. Our next concern: how would he fill his time? Our Dad likes to stay busy and there is only so much vacuuming and raking that can be done in this world. (His two favorite activities-vacuuming and raking. Mopping the floors and cutting the grass both come in at a close second, though). But, our Mom assured us that he would keep busy somehow and that their marriage would survive his retirement.
So to honor the end of our Dad’s successful career in sales and celebrate his 65th birthday, we had a special dinner with just our immediate family at Mike and my house (luckily we hired a chef so I did not need to do any cooking). In preparing for the party, I was going through some old photos as I thought they might make for some good decorations. One of the photos I stumbled upon was a picture of my Dad and sisters, Bridget and Jane, from a year we celebrated Father’s Day up at our summer vacation spot- Dewey Lake. In the photo my Dad was holding up one of his Father’s Day gifts- the book “Wisdom of our Fathers” by Tim Russert. I remember that Father’s Day back around 2007ish and I remember my Dad asking for that book on his list. At the time, being a punk high schooler, I recall thinking it was just another boring book my Dad wanted to add to his bookcases that were already overflowing with dumb train books in my mom and dad’s bedroom. But seeing the photo and the book as an older and wiser daughter this year made me pause. While I still think my Dad owns a ridiculous amount of dumb train books, the photo got me thinking about all the wisdom and life lessons my dad has passed on to his five children in his 65 years thus far.
The classic “Hold up the gift you got” photo my Mom likes to take on birthdays, Christmases and other special days.
Through example, my Dad has taught us how to work hard, be kind, and always try to find the humor in every situation.
Working Hard: I remember when I was in fifth grade and I came home with a C on my report card. My Dad was at work and when I handed the report card to my Mom she was not too pleased. I knew that I should have done better but I had goofed off that semester and didn’t really put too much effort into school. “You’re going to have to show this to Dad when he gets home.” She said, sounding disappointed. It was definitely a threat, as our Dad was always the disciplinarian between my parents. In fact many time when we knew we did something bad and our Dad was away on business we’d beg our Mom, “Don’t tell Dad! Don’t tell Dad!” In this bad report card scenario I probably should have been more worried with my “little talk” with Dad later that night but I knew that for our “good report card reward treat” our my Mom always took the five of us out for ice cream sundaes at her favorite ice cream place. This was actually a reward my mom gave herself, as she loved hot fudge sundaes, so I knew whatever my punishment, it couldn’t be that bad-I’d still get ice cream in the end. When my Dad got home he called me into the living room. He sat on the living room chair “that cost a million dollars to reupholster” according to him, looking at my grades. I laid on the floor, doing weird gymnastics moves, already bored with waiting. After studying my report card he finally looked at me:
Dad: So you got a C in English? Me: Yup. Dad: Do you think you could have worked harder and done better? Me: [I stopped my living room gymnastics and thought about it for a minute] Yeah. I could have. Dad: Ok. Work harder from now on. Me: Ok.
And with that he handed me back my report card and went upstairs to get out of his business attire. While my Dad was the disciplinary of our parents, he never really got too mad at us or yelled at us. He just had a way of talking to us sternly so that you knew he meant business. From then on I always tried to work hard at whatever I was doing. And from then on I always got A’s in English (Math was a different story, but English I did get A’s). My parents were never too strict with us on getting perfect grades in school, they just always wanted us to put in the effort and do our best. If they knew a C in English was the best I could do they would have been happy with it, but they knew I could have done better.
Grades were poor, but our Dad shoes and socks game was strong that year.
My Dad made sure we were staying focused in school while my Mom made sure we were always dressed in turtle necks.
Kindness: My Dad is one of the most thoughtful and kind people I know. He usually hides this with his insults to us, but throughout his 65 years and 34 year career he has always put others before himself. Many times in college and through our twenties, my Dad would drop us off or pick us up from the bars to ensure we got there and home safely. Even though it was WAY past his bedtime by the time we’d be heading out for the night, he’d give us a ride. He’d usually tell us he had to thoroughly hose down the car to get the smell of the alcohol seeping from our pores our of the car seats too. We affectionately started referring to his car service as “Dad’s Taxi” he drove us places so often.
After I graduated college and lived back at home I was a frequent “Dad’s Taxi” rider on the weekends.
The Taxi vehicle-Honda Mini Van with 16 cupholders. Can’t get any more luxurious than that.
In addition to his taxi services our Dad also serves as a Grub Hub delivery man. Since we were little he would get us donuts once a week from the local bakery. Even though we’ve moved out of the house he’s continued this tradition, dropping me off a donut and a Dunkin’ coffee once a week at my doorstep. Sometimes I even get a cupcake or apple pie slice too. Am I a spoiled little princess? Yes I am.
Always Seeing the Humor in Life: My Dad is not just a goofball, he is the biggest weirdo I have ever met. (Unfortunately he definitely passed down the weirdness trait to many of his children.) He’s always doing things that you would never imagine like doing weird movements, putting a napkin on top of his head while out to dinner, always trying to either make us laugh or embarrass us.
When we were little, but had outgrown stuffed animals, he’d sneak a stuffed animal in our backpacks while we weren’t looking so that when we got to school and opened our bags, out fell a doll or teddy bear in front of all our friends. When my oldest sister Maggie was in 7th grade, she came home very upset because my Dad had shoved a Simba stuffed animal in her book bag, jamming the zipper, so she could not get any of her books or homework out for school that day. My Dad did manage to get an apology out during his laughter. To retaliate, Maggie put a Barbie in my Dad’s briefcase the next morning, but my Mom stopped it because my Dad had a presentation that day and she did not want him to have to take out a Barbie in front of his customers. Looking back now I often wonder if she did manage to get that Barbie in his briefcase if that would have helped or hurt his 34 year career in sales.
In classic me form I had my big mouth open and was probably getting in trouble right after this photo was taken.
Bridget was clearly earning her degree at the local clown college that year.
It took many years of therapy but Bridget and I did finally forgive our Mom for giving us those haircuts.
Ah yes, one of Dad’s classic wheelbarrow rides. What is more thrilling than being shoved in a steel wheelbarrow that your Dad had just used to haul away dead leaves and dirt minutes earlier?
One time in grade school art class we had to bring in sticks from our backyard and make a paper mache Jesus on the cross (classic catholic school art project) Little did I know that there was a little termite in the sticks I had picked up though so when I brought it home it kept leaving stick dust on the table. Instead of throwing it out my Mom stuck Jesus in our freezer for a few weeks to try and kill the bug. Jesus remained in our living room bug free for years until Michael rediscovered him and made sure Jesus was in just about every family picture that year. So yes the weirdness trait my Dad definitely passed on to his children.
Here we have my Dad regretting he and my Mom’s decision to have five kids.
We still have yet to take a normal family photo.
Our Dad has guided us in the business world, serving as a mentor, sharing his experiences and helping set us up for successful careers. As a skilled painter, carpenter and handyman he has helped many of us navigate homeownership. I am constantly calling my Dad for help and advice on things with my old house. And by help and advice I obviously mean I need him to just come do things for me.
I was “in over my head” (pun intended there) when I decided to paint a bedroom at my house so it was Mike Sr. to the rescue!
Looking back, I think one of the most important pieces of wisdom my Dad and Mom passed on to all five of us was to always keep in mind, and I quote “We have a lot to be thankful for.” In fact I can hear these words echoing through my head, having flashbacks of my Mom and Dad saying this while trying to guilt their tired high school or hungover college-aged children into going to mass.
It is hard to put into words how extremely grateful we are to our Dad for all that he has done and continue to do for his family. Throughout his career, not only did he provide for five children financially-food always on the table, donuts on the reg, clothes on our backs, putting us all through Catholic school, he even managed to somehow pay for that travel coffee mug my sister Jane opened in our hotel in Disney World in 1999, (Honestly my parents were so distraught over the cost of that Little Mermaid mug I’m surprised my dad is risking retiring right now because they must still be paying it off the way they talked about how expensive it was.) But through it all he and Mom provided us with a home that was always filled with love, happiness and laughter. It is because of my Dad and Mom that the five of us kids truly have so much to be thankful for.
After a Saturday morning of working away on the house, my Dad always goes and sits for a little bit in his La-Z-Boy chair in the basement with his Diet Coke and pack of Ritz peanut butter crackers. He’s done this for years and he always loved to announce jokingly to us, “Kids, I’m going on break!” to which the smart asses of us would respond, “We Don’t Care!” So this one is for you Dad. We hope this next chapter brings you more time at the lake and more time to rake. Let’s cheers to Mike Sr. everyone, because he’s going on break!
Recently, Mike and I did some construction on our house. We decided to not just renovate our kitchen, but move our kitchen into a whole different room in our house-we are extra like that. You hear a lot of construction horror stories from couples or families who have renovated their homes and dealt with disasters, but Mike and I really lucked out in the whole process. We had awesome contractors who were reliable and attentive to us and they did amazing work. Sure we ran into some hiccups and delays during construction, but I think after planning and replanning a wedding during COVID, nothing really could phase us.
All smiles on the day before construction as we prepared our three-season room to become our kitchen!
Any sort of work being done on your house gets annoying after a while, but when I found myself starting to get irritated or frustrated with the inconveniences of living in a construction zone for so many months, I’d think about my parents. Mike Sr. and Mo Money did major construction to their home back in 1993, when I was just two years old. After realizing it probably was illegal to shove four children in one bedroom they decided to add a second story to their ranch-style home. They moved our family of (then) six plus Boxer dog, Sam I (Not to be confused with a dog we got after Sam I died and named Sam II, but that’s a story for a later time) down to the basement while construction workers built a second story, completely reconfigured the first floor of their home and renovated their kitchen. Four children ages 2-7 and my parents in one little basement living like refugees. This was of course the pre-Jane years when I was still living my glory days as the youngest child in the family. Jane, in a classic youngest child move, rolled into the family two years later when my parents already had a big enough house for her to sprawl out in and a brand new kitchen. Jane never suffered like the rest of us-Classic.Youngest.Child) I don’t remember anything from this big construction project, but I’m sure my parents remember it all. I often wonder if they still have nightmares that they are back living in those close quarters with their young children. I did find a few photos of the 1993 construction to try and “jog” my memory of the events the last time I was at my parents. Let’s take a look:
Here we are looking like a bunch of Hill Billys out on the front lawn. I’m in the red sweatshirt, looking dazed and confused, holding my head. My older sister Bridget is in the green. Let’s zoom in a little:
I don’t remember what happened here but knowing Bridget and myself, I’m going to assume the two of us possibly got into a fight involving the rake in front of Bridget, resulting in injury. If you look closer my mom is behind me, tending to her garden, probably trying to disassociate both mentally and physically from her children/all that is going on around her.
And here if you look closely you can see me in the red shorts, shirt lifted, exposing my bloated white belly, being restrained by my sister Maggie. You can tell 1993 was a good sales year for my Dad seeing as I was clearly well-fed AND my parents were putting a whole second story on their home. Looking back at these photos I’m starting to wonder if my parents actually allowed us inside at all or if we spent all our time outside. I would not blame them in the least if they kept us outside.
Mike and I do not have children yet, so thinking back to the construction my parents went through all while keeping four small children happy and alive, I could not complain. We really only had to deal with massive flies getting in the house during construction, which I guess in a way IS like dealing with children sometimes.
When Mike was away on business I was left on my own to battle the flies. I also had a very traumatic experience with a bee that caught in the house. I tried to save it and let it free but the rescue mission soon went south and I ended up stomping it to death with a boot. It was a sad day for me.
Although we did not physically do any of the work ourselves, any construction project is a lot of work with all the decisions that come with it. After work and on the weekends Mike and I were out looking at cabinets, handles for the cabinets, countertops, appliances, backsplash, lighting, etc. We made so many trips back an forth to Home Depot and Menards too that we lost count.
Mike is super sporty everyone-he played soccer in high school and was captain of the tennis team. It wasn’t until just recently he told me that all the seniors were the captains of the tennis team by default, but it still counts.
Getting a good price on cabinetry took some work as well and we had to go to a few different places to find the best price while still getting quality cabinets. We finally settled on a cabinet place in the neighborhood. I remember sitting at the cabinet place with Mike, waiting for the woman who worked there to finish whatever she was doing on her computer to give us the final cost. Mike was probably sweating thinking about the price but I was distracted looking at a cup of very nice promotional pens on her desk. They were awkwardly placed in the middle of her desk-halfway between her side and the customer side so you weren’t sure if they were just “For the taking” or you had to be “gifted” with one. I mean they looked like nice stylus pens and they were very shiny. I could have reached over and grabbed one but then I would have to lean and stand up ever so slightly from the sitting position. Doing this would draw attention, which I wanted to avoid. I’m sure she placed the pens there knowing the customer would have to do this, which didn’t exactly scream “Here, take a pen!” and I didn’t want to be rude. So I just sat there staring at the pens and then Mike and I discussed the pen situation on the ride home. (We’d discuss the price later but the pens were more important). He agreed that it was unclear whether the pens were for the taking or not, but he made it clear that when he went back to drop off the check, he was getting a pen. “We’re paying enough for these cabinets that we should be able to have all the pens we want!” he said. Sure enough the next week after dropping off the check he arrived home with a pen for me. Not all heroes wear capes.
Appliance shopping was another thing that took up a lot of our time. Driving out to the stores one day Mike asked me what kind of appliances I may want for our new kitchen. “I don’t really care,” I said “Just as long as we are sure to get a good, quality microwave. That’s all I really want.” Mike nodded, smiled and said saracstically “I’m so glad we are redoing our entire kitchen just so you can have a good microwave.” I laughed as I realized how ridiculous I sounded but I use the microwave A LOT. I heat up a lot of things-I love heat. Our old microwave was just awful, I couldn’t stand it. I’m pretty sure it was one of the first microwaves ever made. It had a DIAL! Plus it was too small for me to fit my Dunkin’ coffee cup in to reheat it. (Yes I know you’re probably not supposed to microwave the Dunkin’ cups but I was already probably glowing in the dark from the radiation that 1980s microwave was omitting so just LAY OFF!)
Thank goodness the “Cooking Guide” on the right gave us instructions on how long to heat up our TV dinners and bacon strips we are eating so often.
When we were trying to decide on whether or not to get the double oven or standard stove-top oven that was an easy decision for me-The less ovens I have access to, the better. I do not enjoy cooking so having a double oven seemed like a nightmare to me. I could just imagine my siblings suggesting things like “Why don’t we do Thanksgiving at Kathleen’s she’s got that double oven.” I could not let that happen so we decided we could “Add it down the road” if we thought we wanted it later.
Shortly after our new oven came I tried to clean it because I’m basically Suzy Homemaker these days but must have done something wrong because ever since then the racks have not fit in properly.
During the kitchen renovations, I thought I was going to get a break from cooking. I even found myself smiling at the thought of having no excuse but to order take-out for dinner because we had no working kitchen. But to my disappointment, since we were MOVING our kitchen to a different room, our contractors informed us we would have full use of our old kitchen while they built our new one. After hearing this devastating news I told Mike I needed to “be by myself” for a while.
The months went by and before we knew it our beautiful kitchen was done and ready for us to move into it. Mike and I thought it would be a great idea to go through our old kitchen items and get rid of things before we made the transfer over. It was a great idea in theory but unfortunately after starting this task we soon learned that we are both psychopaths and have emotional attachments to certain kitchen utensils. I tried to get rid of one of our old, ugly, very rusty spatulas but Mike informed me that it is his “favorite spatula” and he likes to use it when reheating his pizza. I told him as long as we stay up-to-date on our tetanus shots the spatula could stay. Then Mike suggested we go through our silverware and get rid of any forks/knives/spoons that didn’t match our newer set. But in going through the drawer I had to stop Mike from getting rid of the knife I specifically like to use for butter AND my honey spoon. The knife is more lightweight than our other knives so it’s just nice not to do any extra heavy lifting when I need to spread some butter. And I don’t use honey often but when I do I know what spoon I’m going to grab. So off to the new kitchen our junk went.
Our newly renovated space. Try and guess which is the before shot and which is the after.
It’s taken some time to get used to our new kitchen. One big learning curve is our garbage disposal. We never had one before and neither of us had the luxury of growing up in a garbage disposal household. As children after finishing dinner Mike and his brother manually scraped any remnants from their plates into the garbage. Me and my four siblings were basically fed scraps to begin with by my mother so we never had anything left on our plates to scrape into the garbage after dinner so this whole garbage disposal thing has definitely taken some getting used to. But everyone said we HAD to have one and Mike really wanted one so being the loving wife that I am we got one. Mike likes our garbage disposable but I am not sold-they seem like they have a lot of rules about what can and cannot go down them. After weeks of shoving potato skins down our garbage disposable I found out this is on the “do not put down the garbage disposal” list. Whoops. I mean any potato type out there took a trip down our disposal-russet, red, sweet you name it. I was also putting carrot peelings down there too which I guess is a big no-no.
One thing we both agree that we love is our new dishwasher and it’s third rack-yes it has not just two racks but three, allowing us to be extra lazy and shove extra dishes in our dishwasher so we don’t have to hand wash them. We were very confused by the additional top third rack when we initially got the dishwasher, we had so many questions-Is this factory error that we have more than two racks? What do we put in this special rack? How does this work? But now we love it. It is also a big conversation piece when out with friends. In fact one night I even asked Mike to send me pictures of it while I was out with a group of friends and we were discussing dishwashers:
Being the always supportive husband he is he actually tried to go above and beyond and send me a video of the dishwasher but unfortunately my service wasn’t great where I was out at and the video would not download:
I mean is that not the hottest third rack you’ve ever seen or what?
We almost didn’t get the dishwasher because Mike was unsure about the bar on the outside. He was worried it was a “Safety Hazard” and people might bump into it. “Bump into it?!” I remember saying in disbelief because this thought never would have crossed my mind, “You’d have to be a complete DIMWIT to bump into that bar, it doesn’t even stick out that far! If someone bumps into it, that’s their own fault for being an idiot and not looking where they are going.” Mike agreed that it might be far-fetched so we ended up purchasing the bar-handle dishwasher with the surprise third rack. Two days after it was installed who do you think accidentally ran into the bar, resulting in a giant bruise on her leg? Me.
For a some time we grappled with the question “what do we do with the old kitchen?” For a while we were kind of in a limbo stage, still trying to figure out what to do, so we were kind of just put junk in our old kitchen for a few months. My nieces and nephews started calling the old kitchen “the play room” after I brought up a dusty box of toys from the basement and stored them where the oven used to be. We loved the suggestion but there were a few things in there that didn’t exactly scream “play room” during that limbo stage. See if you can spot them in this photo: (and please note, we moved the box of toys out for the kids, we did not actually let them play in there)
From left to right you can see the toys, then you have a sharps container of used needles, some chemically based cleaners, a drill, screwdriver, etc. All great children’s toys right?
We love having our new kitchen. I have been practicing my cooking skills in it, we’ve hosted many parties and had a lot of laughs around the kitchen island already. We are excited for all the happy memories we will make in our new space!
My niece Bridie approves of the new kitchen and even claimed “Her Spot” at the kitchen island.
Guess which of us is the youngest of our friends in the picture above.
I made “The perfect Pizza” one night for dinner so Mike had to take a photo. Half cheese, half veggie and fully delicious.
We really like dips.
The new kitchen is great to cook in and all but it’s also great for calling in take-out.
A few weekends ago, I FINALLY finished putting away all our Christmas decorations. It was a process I had started on about January 2nd and over Martin Luther King weekend, I finished putting the last of the Christmas boxes away on the shelves. If you are the type of person who can put your Christmas decorations away all in one single day then I am very impressed. For me, I treat the task of putting Christmas decorations away much like I treat putting my laundry away: it takes at least 10-12 business days to complete. The intricate Post-Christmas process that I follow is one I learned from my mom. Here is how it usually goes:
Day 1: Undecorate tree. Unfortunately undecorating the tree took me twice as long this year because I had to sweep up LOTS of extra needles from our Charlie Brown tree. Mike and I were lazy and just went to Menards for our tree since it was closest to our house. They didn’t have much of a selection of real trees and they were all tied up in netting so you couldn’t really see what they looked like. BUT Menards was closest to our house and we were NOT about to make the effort to go anywhere else. So we brought our “6-7 foot” (so they claimed) real tree home in a shopping cart:
Taking ornaments off a tree is an extremely depressing task so after doing so you must treat yourself to a delicious lunch from one of your favorite local fast food establishments. Only fries can cure the “undecorating the tree” depression that sets in. But before you can eat you must collect all the knickknacks and set them on the dining room table so they are all in one spot, shoving aside the normal junk you leave on the dining room table to make room for the Christmas junk. After a long lunch break you bring up the Christmas boxes from the basement and start to put the holiday knickknacks away. BUT (and this is key) you don’t fully finish because you get tired/distracted by doing other things.
Day 2: Finish wrapping and putting knickknacks away in their boxes, making sure all garland and lights are taken down but leave garland/lights in a pile on the living room floor because you don’t have the energy to box those up quite yet. The Knicknack box on the other hand, is filled and lid is closed but that will remain in the living room for a few more days.
Day 3-7: Make some half assed attempts to finish putting everything away, maybe bring some boxes to the basement but do not put them away/on the shelves where they belong. Leave them in an inconvenient spot for everyone else in the household, blocking something all other house members need to access regularly or leave in a main traffic area of the basement. This year I decided to leave a pile of Christmas boxes right at the bottom of our basement stairs, forcing us both to go around the barricade every time we needed to go to a certain part of the basement.
Day 8-9: This is “The Limbo Stage” where you will see decorations you missed in the house when you aren’t even looking for them, just going about your day. Then you’ll say to someone, “Ah! Look at this! A Christmas decoration that escaped us!! It’s a good thing I didn’t put those boxes away yet so I can add this to them!”
Day 10-12: Look at the Christmas boxes and hate yourselves just slightly for being the way that you are, and finally put them away. A process that takes about five minutes but you’ve successfully dragged out over a course of a few days.
As sad and depressing as putting away Christmas decorations are, as I was doing it, I was thinking back to the Christmas prior and I smiled because I felt grateful that this Christmas we did not have the same creature stirring this holiday season that we did the previous. Yes, last Christmas a mouse decided to Air BnB our home during the cold winter months. For a while I was too ashamed and embarrassed to say this publicly but I am tired of that mouse silencing and controlling us. WE DID NOTHING WRONG. We keep a clean house. We store our food properly. We wondered what we did to deserve such a thing. Mice will do that to you. They will make you feel bad about yourselves and keep you living in fear. The mice are gone now but every time Mike and I see a small shadow or something grabs our attention on the floor we jump a little thinking it might be a mouse.
We think the mouse moved in while we were away in Ireland. We arrived home from our trip on December 1st and soon realized we were not alone. We had squatters. It was a Saturday night and we were staying in, I had just made us a delicious meal of chicken nuggets and fries that I had spent A LOT of time taking out of the freezer and we were sitting down to watch “A Christmas Story” with some cocktails when the mouse first showed himself. We both thought we were seeing things when something scurrying across the floor grabbed our attention. Then he ran by again and I’m pretty sure all three of us let out screams.
Right from the start Mike was ready to fight to the death, but I wanted to go about it in a more humane way. I wanted him to maybe trap the mouse and let him go many miles away where he could live happily in a field somewhere? I didn’t want to kill the little guy. I mean, in my experience, mice were always pretty harmless, even cheerful and friendly-You have Mickey and Minnie Mouse, Stuart Little, etc. Plus what if it turned out we had one of the Three Blind mice staying with us? How bad would we feel if we killed a BLIND MOUSE?! Just awful.
Well my tune quickly changed when I started to feel personally victimized by the mouse. First, he got into the basket where we store our blankets and my heating pads and ate through all MY microwavable heat wraps. No one messes with things that keep me warm! NO ONE! Since this incident happened while my husband Mike was away on business and I was the woman AND man of the house that week, I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. So being the independent woman that I am, I rolled up my sleeves, texted him a photo of what happened, and left everything until he returned:
This was the third heat wrap he ate that little fattie. Also side note but since I am such a strong and brave woman though, I did not end up crying.
Since I am basically Saint Francis of Assisi and love all animals, I let the heat wrap slide with the mouse. BUT THEN, one night, he somehow got into MYbackpack that I take to work everyday and ate a packet of oatmeal I was going to have for breakfast that morning! (Quaker Apples & Cinnamon Instant Oatmeal in case anyone was wondering). That was the final straw.
It was after these vicious attacks from the mouse that I finally gave the order to “take care of the mouse” in a manner much like Pontius Pilate did to Jesus. “CRUCIFY THAT MOUSE, MIKE! I WANT HIM OUT OF HERE!” I yelled.
From there, Mike turned our house into a war zone against the mouse, setting all different kinds of traps everywhere:
Who needs presents under the Christmas tree when you could have a dead mouse?
I swear, Mike set up more elaborate traps for this mouse than Macaulay Culkin did trying to catch Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern in the movie “Home Alone”. But despite his best efforts, this turned out to be a very smart mouse and somehow kept avoiding all the traps he set in place. The mouse and trying to catch him consumed us both. It was all we could talk about. We hardly talked about our excitement over recycle can pick-up garbage day anymore! (Which only occurs every OTHER week, super confusing). To make matters worse, I was starting to think the mouse was paying my nieces and nephews, who I nanny for everyday, to harass me. Each day during story time they “just so happen” to pick out a mouse-themed book. Coincidence? I think not:
As you can tell, after reading about the mouse, Bridie was Team Kill.
The mouse got more and more comfortable in our home the longer he stayed with us. On Christmas night as we were sitting in our living room, enjoying the Christmas tree and the glow of our fake fire from our broken fireplace, we both heard a noise coming from the kitchen. We paused the movie we were watching to listen again. It sounded like someone taking aluminum foil off something. We both jumped up and ran to the kitchen and quickly flipped on the light just in time to see the mouse eating the Christmas coffee cake that was wrapped up on our counter. I was grossed out but Mike was LIVID that the mouse decided to eat that specific coffee cake, one from the local bakery that he was really looking forward to having for breakfast the next morning. “OUT OF ALL THE LEFTOVERS,” Mike said fuming, “HE WENT FOR THE ONLY ONE I WANTED! He could have gone for the store bought donuts we left wrapped up on the counter but no, he just HAD to go for the good stuff! The Wolf’s Bakery Coffee cake. I am so disappointed!” Mike was angry and upset. Even though I too was not happy with the mouse, feeling the Christmas spirit, I did encourage Mike to think about how the mouse felt. The mouse was probably just as disappointed to not get his Christmas treat. He probably thought we had gone to bed and snuck in for his little midnight snack and we caught him before he could dig into his Christmas feast. It was a real tragedy all around. There were no winners in the coffee cake situation.
One night when out with friends, we finally confided in them about our mouse ordeal, sharing the big shameful secret we had been hiding for a while. We were worried how everyone would reacted (Would they still be friends with us?!) But it turns out EVERYONE’S life had been touched by a mouse in some way, shape or form. Everyone had their own mouse story to share and tips on ways to slaughter the thing. One friend even “had a guy” who could take care of the mouse for us.
After using everyone’s mouse tips and tricks, Mike got the mouse. We thought that was the end of our mouse journey, but no, there were more. I was the one to discover this and so I had to gently tell Mike, who was still celebrating his victory over getting the mouse, that there were others. “Mike,” I said with a sigh, “I think that mouse you killed had offspring, there are more mice in our house.” “Aww no,” He said sadly, “Please don’t say that.” “I know,” I replied, equally as sad, “I don’t like the idea of killing mice children either, I’m sad about it too but I think it has to be done-” Mike quickly cut me off “What? No! I don’t care about killing the mouse’s children!” He said sternly, “I’m just upset there are more mice!” “Oh,” I said with a laugh “I thought you were sad about killing a whole mouse family like I was!” “NO!” He said quickly, “These mice need to go!”
So after that, I don’t know how he did it because I don’t like to ask questions about it, but Mike got all the mice. We are now a mouse free household again. We no longer have to live in fear, but we still have some PTSD from the traumatic ordeal.
Recently, while nannying one day, I was telling my nieces and nephews our mouse story. They wanted to see a photo of the mouse, which I of course didn’t have and I told them that. But they demanded a photo and wouldn’t leave me alone about it until they saw photographic evidence. So, knowing that children are notoriously dumb, I used my quick thinking skills and showed them a stock photo of a mouse that I Googled:
Didn’t even take the time to crop this screen shot I took and yet they were satisfied knowing that this was the exact mouse that was in “Aunt Kath and Uncle Montag’s” House.
After telling them the story, the kids ask me about the mouse almost every day. I think telling it has helped me heal. I am happy that now, I have all new heat wraps/heating pads and my only roommate now is Mike.
(A continuation from the riveting “Mike & Kath Go International Part 1: Piggies in Ireland) After saying goodbye to all our friends at the bar and getting a good night’s rest, (Well, Mike slept well) we packed up our things and began our journey to Galway. On the way, we stopped in the town of Sligo and walked around there for a bit. There was a sign for “Kelly’s Barber Shop” so I made Mike take my picture next to it so I could send it to my family. The Barber Shop owner was looking through the window, wondering what we were doing, and probably about ready to call the police, but it was worth it. I knew my Dad would especially appreciate it as he used to love going to “Tony’s Barber Shop” in our hometown, which was confusingly owned and operated by a guy named Joe. I’m sure my Dad was Joe’s favorite customer as I assume it only took him about 3 seconds to snip the 4 strands of hair left on my Dad’s head, (My Dad blames his baldness on his five kids) then Joe could relax for the rest of the appointment time.
My Dad would always do impressions on how Joe would answer the phone at Tony’s Barber Shop so we all knew he answered with a stern “Tony’s Barber Shop, Joe speaking.”
Later we stopped at at a gas station to fill up the car and also so Mike could make his one billionth bathroom stop on our trip. I say “we” in this but I of course waited in the warm car as I was not about to offer to fill up the gas-I am an independent woman but when it comes to anything car related-filling up the gas, brushing snow off my car, etc my arms seem to suddenly forget how to work. But my mouth works just fine in these situations so I did ask Mike if he would please get me my one billionth water on our trip, and possibly a Propel if he could find one when he went into the gas station. As I sat there I saw a baby in another car and we were staring at each other for a while until we started playing peek-a-book from our respective cars. I’m not sure which one of us was having more fun. I won the game though.
Exhausted from my game of peek-a-boo, and Mike tired from driving, we arrived in Galway very, very HANGRY. We ordered food and a drink at a bar but the food took FOREVER so we became more and more cranky. We sat there in silence, both just focusing on keeping an eye out for our waitress bringing out our chicken tenders. “Happy Thanksgiving.” I finally said to break the silence, as it was Thanksgiving day back in the good Ol’ USA so this was our big Thanksgiving meal. After finally getting our food we walked through Galway and hit up a Christmas Market. Mike bought us some overpriced mulled wine-It was supposed to have “extra alcohol in it” (What a Thanksgiving day treat!) but we both couldn’t taste it so were very suspicious. After walking around a bit more we went back to the hotel to FaceTime with our families to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving because we are both PHENOMENAL children. We decided to head to bed early because we were still so tired from the wedding festivities, long travel day, and game of peek-a-boo.
The next morning Mike had researched a coffee shop in Galway he thought we should check out. Mike doesn’t drink coffee, he drinks tea, but he knew I was going through WITHDRAWAL since we were on about day seven of me not having any Dunkin’ coffee. Every new town in Ireland we’d pass in our travels I’d ask Mike if I could borrow his phone (because of course I didn’t think to get an international data plan for my own phone for this trip, why would I? Thank goodness Mike did) and I would Google “Is there a Dunkin’ in Sligo? Is there a Dunkin’ in Galway?” But no such luck. At one gas station bathroom stop I saw a package of Dunkin brand donuts so I thought we might be getting close but it was a false hope.
So we walked to this coffee shop and upon walking in I think we both knew it was a mistake. I am not a fancy coffee drinker. I like my basic Dunkin hot coffee loaded with some cream and sugar. This place was a far cry from a Dunkin. It was one of those very boujee, hipster, “We are really into coffee” places. Very minimalistic decor, the chairs were those uncomfortable metal ones that are always cold and have no back support. The guy working the counter was wearing a LEATHER APRON. Like is that necessary? I mean maybe he was a blacksmith by trade and just working at the coffee shop on the side but I kind of doubt it. But, I was trying to be adventurous and give the place the benefit of the doubt so I went up to the counter to order. I wanted to pick just one but instead the apron guy went into a long winded spiel about each coffee, describing it in painstaking detail and how it’s brewed and basically each coffee bean’s family tree and lineage. He went on and on and I was not listening at all. Finally I just picked one and I asked him for cream and sugar in it. He then took another 7 hours to “prepare” it. Finally he placed a coffee down on the counter for me and looked down at it, seeming very pleased. But I was looking down at that same coffee and not very pleased because I was seeing that it was straight black and had no cream or sugar in it. So I said, “Thanks, but can I get that cream and sugar please?” He then looked up at me with such disappointment and heartache in his eyes, I will never forget it, and he replies, clearly hurt, “Don’t you want to try it first?” I looked at him and I’m not totally sure but I think I saw a single teardrop fall from his eye. I really did not mean to insult this man so I I fumbled my words and said “Oh right, right!” Our eyes were still locked as I took the cup and brought it to my lips and took a sip of the horrid black coffee. “Mmmmm, Good!” I said. After I took my sip I slowly started to back out of the shop. He smiled and shook his head in triumph and said “Great! Do you still want that cream and sugar?” “Nope! Bye!” I said quickly and I ran out of there to meet Mike, who because the coffee took so long, left the shop and sat outside on a bench to wait for me. I could not stop laughing telling him what happened as we walked down the street and then I tossed the coffee right in the garbage.
Look at those glass beakers. Did I stop in a science lab or a coffee shop? I was confused.
We walked ourselves right into a donut shop and got ourselves some donuts because we are donut fatties. Mike thought it would be fun to eat them on the streets of Galway but he led us to a bench that was basically in a wind tunnel. “Ummmmm, did you not like the table and chairs they had INSIDE the donut shop?” I asked him laughing as we sat there in pretty much the eye of a tornado, eating our donuts, hair flying everywhere, “Yea this was not a good idea.” He said. But no tornado could stop us from finishing our donuts so we sat there until we were done and then went on our way.
We explored an area called Salt Hill and then met some Irish friends of Mike’s for dinner and bar hopping. It was a late night but a very fun one.
The next morning is when things started to take a turn for the worst. Now, I’m not sure if anyone is familiar with the Children’s book series “The Berenstain Bears” but my parents used to read them to me and my four siblings growing up. One was called “The Berenstain and Too Much Vacation.” Cliff notes version of the story is it rained a lot on their vacation, they got grumpy and they were ready to go home. Well on this particular morning on our vacation, I think we had our fill of fun and were just very tired because we woke up and became “The Montag Bears.” We just went on a rant complaining about everything-the cold, the rain, tiny garbage cans in the hotels, ketchup packets, mayo on everything, lack of water, hand dryers instead of paper towels etc. Once we got all our complaints out we got dressed, changed our attitudes and found a DIFFERENT coffee place. I ordered the largest latte they had which turned out to be the size of a flower pot and Mike got a tea and they gave him an entire tea set. He looked like he was going to host a tea party.
Mike enjoying his Tea Party for one.
Wondering what type of flowers I should plant in the coffee cup flower pot.
After I downed my flower pot and Mike was finished with his tea party we drove to Cork. Cork for us in a nutshell: We drank a lot of Irish coffees at the same bar (We started referring to it as “our bar” we went there so much) and ate most of our meals at the hotel restaurant. Every time we tried to eat at an actual restaurant we we were turned away because of COVID capacity restrictions. On our last night in Cork Mike was able to get us dinner reservations at an ACTUAL RESTAURANT!! Which was quite a treat! It was a nice restaurant too but they still had ketchup packets. But the best part about that dinner was as we were getting ready to leave our table and Mike was putting on his coat, he accidentally knocked over one of the restaurant’s Christmas trees putting his arm in his coat sleeve. The tree fell right to the floor and glitter from the tree went EVERYWHERE! People were staring and I could not stop laughing. I thought it was hilarious. In fact, I am laughing writing about it now. We picked up the tree and quickly got out of there after that.
So many Mayo packets. Not enough ketchup.
Just hanging out at the hotel bar because no other bars would let us in due to COVID rescrictions
The next morning we were eating breakfast at the hotel. Mike got up to get more orange juice and he asked if I wanted anything. I asked if he could grab me a banana from the breakfast buffet. He came back with his orange juice and an apple in his hand instead. He went to hand me the apple, saying they didn’t have any bananas. Suddenly I turned into Kathleen “Montag Bear” again. I looked at the apple disgusted, scoffed, and then angrily said to him, “What?!!!! What kind of breakfast buffet doesn’t have bananas! Bananas are like THE POSTER FRUIT of breakfast!! This is ridiculous!!” I scoffed again and shook my head while I made no effort to grab the apple. It was like we were both frozen as Mike stood there at the table with his arm stretched out with the apple, ready for me to take it, and I sat there at the table, continuing to shake my head at the apple in disgust, too upset to take it. Finally after standing there for a while he placed the apple on the table and sat down to drink his orange juice. That’s when I woke up from being Kathleen Montag Bear and realized how dramatic I just was about the banana and starting laughing hysterically. “Ah sorry about that outburst,” I said through my laughter, “I don’t even want a banana that badly I actually like apples better!” We both had a good laugh.
After our banana-less breakfast, we walked to the train station with our suitcases to begin our journey back to Dublin. As we were entering the station I was behind Mike and suddenly let out a gasp and an “Oh no!” Mike quickly turned around, “What’s the matter?” He said sounding terrified. Poor Mike thought I was about to be kidnapped or something. But I awkwardly had to explain my gasp was because I realized I had gotten a mark on my athleisure shoes walking through the streets of Cork and I was very worried they would stain. I had no Tide to-go pen or the stain fighting power of Oxiclean with me so I was worried that dirt stain would set in on my shoes.
I was able to get the stain out of the shoes but they were never the same after that.
After arriving in Dublin we thought our hotel was a quick walk from the station but it turned out to be over a mile which is very hard to do when you have a just under 50lb suitcase. As we were walking one of the wheels came off our suitcase so we just continued to drag it the rest of the half mile to the hotel.
We got to our hotel exhausted, lounged for a while and then made a half-assed attempted to go do things. I wanted to find the hotel pool but after a pathetic search we couldn’t find it. We tried walking around the streets of Dublin but we were so tired we made it about two blocks before we ended up sitting back at the hotel restaurant. I did see, what I thought was some very pretty birds, but it turns out the birds were like the pigeons of Dublin.
The next morning we had to be up very early for our flight home. After a listening to our chatty taxi driver we arrived at our gate and plopped down on the airport chairs. Mike is not much of a morning person so he was struggling HARD. I was fine as I am used to not much sleep due to CLASSIC INSOMNIA. Finally Mike mustered up the energy to get up because he wanted some breakfast. He grabbed himself a muffin and brought me back a vanilla latte (Since there were no Dunkins I had to switch to drinking Lattes). “Thanks for the Latte!” I said I said smiling and chipper. Mike just gave me a nod, not even really looking at me, and still half asleep. But I was about ready to burst because that really wasn’t how I wanted to say “Thank you.” So after after a few more seconds of silence and me smirking to myself I couldn’t hold it in anymore so finally I turned to him, a huge smile on my face still, and said, “What I really wanted to say when you got back was ‘Thanks a Latte… for the Latte’ but I know you’re tired and really wouldn’t appreciate my joke.” “And yet,” Mike, said, still dead inside, “you still managed to say it.” Finally he started laughing. And then we got on our flight (This time I had about 50 water bottles with me) and we made our journey home.
Finished those bad boys before our plane even took off.
I was so happy to see my space heater when we got back.
Not long after we got home from our trip, I was over at my parents’ house and stumbled upon the “Berenstain Bears and Too Much Vacation” Book. I opened up the first page and who did I discover wrote their name in big letters claiming ownership of the book some 25 years ago? I did. “KATHLEEN” was written proudly above the title. “How fitting,” I thought to myself.
Unfortunately my handwriting has not improved much in the last 25 years. Still reading “First Time Books” too.
Our trip was amazing. We had so many laughs and saw and did so much. But there’s nothing quite like the feeling of being home. As was written in the Berenstain Bears Book, our trip to Ireland had way more rain than sun, but it has by far been one of our most fun trips yet.
A year ago, Mike and I took the trip of a lifetime to Ireland for our friends’ wedding and we had an absolute blast! Weather was a bit chilly but that didn’t stop us from having a very memorable and fun trip with our friends. We often talk about that trip and laugh at all the memories we made and fun we had. I kept a journal of our adventures during the trip, so in honor of the “one year anniversary” here is a little throwback to our Ireland adventures back in November 2021:
We left on a Friday in November, so the day before we were both rushing around trying to get packed up and do some last minute things around the house. Of course when I say “we” I really mean “I” because Mike had his suitcase packed up and ready to go with ample time to lounge on the couch. Honestly though guys have it so easy when it comes to packing. A couple of pants, shirts and a pair of shoes and they are done. While he was downstairs lounging on the couch all ready to go, I was trying to figure out which shoes would go with what outfit for what day. We would be gone for 10 days, attending a wedding and then doing traveling on our own after so it was a lot to consider! Even as Dad’s Taxi, aka my Dad, picked us up in the Honda Mini Van with 16 cupholders to take us to the airport, I was still shoving last minute outfits in my suitcase, just in case. If there is one thing I am good at it’s overpacking, so I couldn’t disappoint my fans now.
The whole week leading up to our trip people kept asking if we were excited. I said “yes” but secretly I was very worried. Was I worried about traveling to a different country during a global pandemic and possibly getting sick? No. I was extremely worried about whether or not my suitcase would make it under the weight limit when I checked it in at the airport. Mike kept saying it would be ok if my suitcase was over the weight limit, that I should just pack what I needed and we’d just pay the fee. But he didn’t know the charge was $100, and I wasn’t going to tell him. I was worried he might have a heart attack if we got to the baggage check and my suitcase was over the weight limit. The night before as he was downstairs watching TV, I was upstairs secretly trying to lift my suitcase on the scale in our bathroom. But you know what? Human scales are not made for suitcase. I also had trouble lifting my suitcase so I thought I might be in trouble. There I was at about 11 o’clock at night trying to wrestle my 50lb suitcase onto the scale. Every once in a while Mike would hear a loud thud and yell up and ask if I was ok and I would just yell down “Yes! Everything is fine!” At this point I don’t remember if the thuds were me falling or the suitcase. It’s all a blur now. On the ride to the airport in Dad’s Taxi I shared my concerns with my friend Maura, who was also going on the trip:
Luckily, when we got to the bag check, my guardian angel must have been looking our for me because my suitcase made it under the the weight limit! Watching my bag go on the conveyer belt to be sent to our plane I felt as if the weight of that bag was finally lifted from my own shoulders. I was so relieved. It was then that I became excited and was ready for a pre-flight cocktail to begin our festivities.
We met up with our friends at an airport bar, having a grand old time but then ended up having to run to our gate because they mislabeled our boarding time for our plane. We thought we were going to miss our flight but we made it! Running through the airport I felt like I was in the scene from “Home Alone” when the McCallister family missed their alarms and had to run to make their flight. Because we were rushed I did not get to stock up on water for the flight and Mike did not get to do his “pre-flight routine” so we were both uncomfortable. This was the first time Mike and I were flying outside the country together and poor Mike had no idea how much water and liquids I need on long flights. I tried to warn him, and so did my sister Jane, who traveled to Italy with me, but Mike didn’t know what he was in for. “Oh my God I’m so thirsty! When are they passing out the drinks!” I said to Mike, “I’m turning into a raisin here I’m so thirsty! I need water!” “Kath, we haven’t even gotten to our seats yet!” he said back. “Well since they closed all the water fountains because of COVID, I wasn’t able to fill up my water jug, so maybe they should pass out water or something as you get on!” I was very distraught not having any water.
Once we found our seats and settled in, Mike and I immediately started looking at the various movie options. One of our favorite hobbies to do together, besides drink alcohol at bars and other locations, is watch TV, so we were anxious to see what options they had available. “Oh my gosh look at this Mike!” I yelled excitedly. He turned to look at my screen to see a movie called, “Kathleen Was Here.” He looked back at me very unimpressed, asking “What about it?” “A movie with my name in it?! This is so exciting! My name is never in movie titles! HOW THRILLING!!” I replied. (I was extremely excited about this.) My excitement drained a little when I read the synopsis of the movie and it was actually a very depressing storyline about a girl who was “18 and alone” (Classic middle child Kathleen I’m sure). But it was still very exciting nonetheless.
I decided to save this movie for the flight home-it was very depressing.
We took off and they began passing out PATHETIC sized waters and soft drinks so the whole time I was extremely thirsty. “These are shot glasses of water and Diet Coke!” I said to Mike, “Are they serious with this right now?!” But other than feeling like I was going to keel over from extreme thirst, the flight was great.
A “One Sip” Can of Diet Coke
I felt like a giant with my tiny Diet Coke and tiny bag of pretzels. I practically needed a tweezers to get the pretzels out of that coin purse pretzel bag they gave me.
We landed in Dublin and I immediately went on a search for water, with no luck. We got our rental car (cupholders were a little lacking) and we found our way to our hotel. It was early in the morning Dublin time but the hotel people were nice and let us get into our room. Once in we both immediately fell onto the bed and passed out-I didn’t even get to check the brochure to see if our hotel offered a free breakfast, unlimited lobby coffee, or if they gave you a free shower cap in the bathroom-that’s how tired I was! After a few hours of rest we walked to a restaurant to grab some food. We hadn’t even been sitting down for more than a minute and I immediately spilled the Diet Coke I ordered all over the table. It was like watching liquid gold go down a sewer drain. My dehydrated body just needed all the liquids it could get. Once our food came we realized there was a major problem. Extremely small ketchup packets. Mike and I looked at each other and silently prayed that maybe other restaurants might offer the ketchup bottles and this wouldn’t be a theme for our entire trip. Turns out it was definitely a theme in Ireland. Tiny ketchup packets are like our kryponite. Mike can never get them opened, my clumsy hands struggle with them as well, and it’s just not enough ketchup. I don’t like to be limited by how much ketchup I can have with my fries. Please give me the bottle and I will choose how much I use thank you very much. Plus then the empty packets are just on your plate and it’s just a mess. American restaurants started doing this during COVID and it was awful. One of the worst things about COVID, really. Here we were back in that nightmare.
After I made the whole restaurant sticky by spilling my Diet Coke, we left to walk around and explore a little more. It was raining so I was really regretting bringing my athleisure gym shoes because I do not like to get them dirty. The only reason I brought them was because they are lighter than my other shoes and I was so worried about the weight limit thing.
Once we explored a little bit we went back to our hotel, got ready and met friends out for a very fun night.
The next morning we began our drive from Dublin to Donegal. Mike drove and I was “Co-Pilot” as I always like to refer to myself. Any time Mike and I drive somewhere we know it will take WAY longer than Google Maps tells us because of the amount of pee stops we make for Mike and water/drink stops we make for me. At our first rest stop while I was waiting for Mike I was looking at all the gas station merchandise and what do I stumble upon?! A “Dad’s Taxi” keychain! It was fate and I had to get it for my Dad. I was very excited and immediately texted my siblings about the treasure I found.
We hit the road again and I sat back and enjoyed the beautiful scenery. I saw some animals in the distance and excitedly yelled, “Look Mike! Piggies!” I got out my phone to take a picture of the Irish piggies. Mike turned to look and said back, “Kath…those are sheep.” I looked again and he was right, they were in fact, sheep. I had been meaning to make an eye doctor appointment for a while because I thought I needed new contacts, but I never did make that appointment. So I just said back, “Hmm you are correct, I guess I really should get to the eye doctor soon.” Also in my defense, and not that I would fat shame any animal, but those sheep were in need of a shave so all that wool made them look larger. No matter my excuses, my mistake became a running joke of the whole trip. Which honestly I didn’t think was fair because Mike accidentally called the shoulder of the road the “elbow” and he didn’t seem to get made fun by our friends of quite as much as I did.
Once we arrived at our beautiful hotel we met up with the wedding party for a delicious dinner. Then we all enjoyed drinks at the hotel and engaged very intellectual conversations which included the awkward “step” in front of the urinals in the boys bathroom and whether or not one was supposed to step up on it. Some thought it was to cover up plumbing, others thought it might be an actual step. To help settle the case the boys brought the girls into the boys bathroom to get their take on the matter. We all decided the step was not for stepping.
The next morning, our friends Mallory and Maura, Mike and I all went on a walk to explore the area. None of us knew where we were going so as we were leaving the hotel grounds my fourth grade Girl Scout instincts kicked in and I knew we should try and look for some sort of marking so we could find our way back. “Ok everyone, just remember where we came out so we don’t get lost on our way back!” I said and looked around for something to use as a marker. “Ok lets all remember that skinny branch up there.” I said with confidence. Maura and Mallory looked up. “Or…” Mike said, “We could all remember that bright red sign right there.” All of our heads turned and about three feet away was a big red sign pointing to a house for sale. “Damn,” I thought to myself. “Maybe this is why my Mom never sewed those patches on my Girl Scout sash-she knew I had no future as a Girl Scout so she wasn’t going to waste her time.” Every Girl Scout meeting I’d show up with my empty brown sash on, patches in a plastic baggie in my hand. Other girls were running out of room for places to sew their patches on their sash. Lucky for me I didn’t have that problem-my mom could always switch from a plastic sandwich bag to a gallon zip-lock bag if needed. Once I got home I’d put my Girl Scout sash and patches right back where I got it before my meeting-on top of her sewing box in the pantry.
Here’s my sash, empty and brown, making the Girl Scouts of America proud I’m sure.
Circled above is the branch I wanted us all to remember.
Once our troop established proper markers, we began our journey and walked around the cute little town, admiring everyone’s Christmas decorations. Maura commented how she loved that in Ireland ‘They don’t have Thanksgiving as a barrier in putting up Christmas decorations, that they can just roll right into it after Halloween.’ We all agreed. Who needs to give thanks anyway? After walking through the town we explored a historic fort. I asked Mike if he wanted me to take a picture of him next to the dumpster in the historic fort and he did not. So Me, Maura and Mallory took a picture with the historic dumpster instead.
That dumpster looks so historic doesn’t it?
After taking a photo with the historic dumpster we walked a little more around the streets of the tiny little town. We were the only ones out and about in this town. It was-what we thought-a quiet day. That’s when an old Irish man came out of his house and in a thick Irish broth said “What’s all the commotion about?! Is there a parade in town?!” What’s going on?” We told him we were in for a wedding, he said something else none of us could understand through his thick Irish accent so we did what any polite person would do which was laugh politely and went on our way.
Later that night we had the rehearsal dinner which was a blast and then the next day was the big wedding. Mike, Mallory and I drove to the mass together and in our rental car. We weren’t used to the narrow roads and had a few near accidents where we thought we were going to die a horrific, fiery death but luckily we made it in one piece. The church was beautiful, set on a hill overlooking the water with a little old cemetery right next to it. As we finished parking and walked up to the doors we all admired the breathtaking scenery. “Wow!” I finally said. Mike and Mallory both said the same thing, as we all looked around. I must have still been thinking about our near death experience in the car because while Mike and Mallory were looking at the beautiful church, I was looking at the cemetery. Then I said, without skipping a beat, “What a beautiful place to be buried.” As my eyes continued to gaze over at the cemetery. Mike and Mallory looked at each other a little confused and started laughing saying, “Or married.” “Well of course that too!” I said quickly trying to save myself. I didn’t even realize until they corrected me what I said probably sounded so dumb. But I guess after seeing my life flash before me so many times on those narrow and windy rural Irish roads I was only thinking of my death. My bad. Pretty sure our bike paths in America are wider than some of the roads in Ireland.
Here I am doing my “Take the picture, I’m cold” smile in front of my burial plot.
The wedding ceremony was beautiful and the bride and groom were stunning! After, we headed back to the hotel for the reception and that was so much fun! Mike’s three piece plaid suit really stole the show. It’s like the suit was made for this specific day. We danced the night away and then I got the chance to sit down with the bride, Meg, to discuss car cupholder expanders. I had recently purchased one for my car for my cumbersome 32 ounce water bottle that, tragically, did not fit in standard sized cupholders. Switching to a 24 ounce water bottle was out of the question for me as I am always thirsty and need mass amounts of water at all time. I thought I would be doomed to a life of awkwardly having to balance my water bottle in my lap while I drove. But then I had the idea of investing in a cupholder expander. Let me tell you-LIFE CHANGING. Probably one of my best purchases. Meg was very interested in this item and even suggested we go into the cupholder expander business as it would surely be a lucrative one. We agreed it be future business partners. (Business plans have yet to be drawn up, we are still in the “brainstorming stage.”)
The stunning bride and groom
Mallory slaying it at petitions. When she told us to ‘pray to the Lord’ after each phrase, we sure did! She really captured her audience, looking up and down at all the right moments.
Meg and I got the chance to take a photo with the three piece suit.
And here she is, in all her glory the cupholder expander. Mike hates it but it’s one of my best purchases. It even has a phone holder on the side!
The wedding was so much fun that everyone needed a good majority of the next day to recover. After some much needed rest we all got ready for the wedding after-party at a local bar. Mike, Mallory and myself drove together. It should have been a quick drive to the bar but we ran into some car trouble. Your first thought might be “oh no, they must of had a flat tire or their car broke down on the way.” No. We got in the car and then could not figure out how to defrost the the windshield. We were Googling things, fiddling with the car temperature, I even took out the car manual (THAT is how desperate we were-I was looking through a car manual!) and we had no luck. How many Millennials does it take to defrost a car windshield? More than three that’s for sure. We could not figure out what the internal car temperature vs outside temperature needed to be in order for the frost to go away. Then we started second guessing if it was frost or fog. And was it inside the window or outside the window? I thought about enrolling in Ireland’s nearest school of meteorology it was taking us so long to defrost the windshield. Becoming a meteorologist would have been quicker. We could not figure out what we were doing wrong. Finally we decided to blame the car. “Faulty system” we said to make ourselves feel less stupid about the whole situation. We eventually figured out something and we were able to safely make it to the bar.
After a few hours Mike and I decided to call it an early night as we were leaving early the next morning to continue our travels to Galway. We said our goodbyes to everyone and got back in our semi-defrosted rental car. We were sad leaving because it had been such an awesome experience with an amazing group of people and we did not want it to end! But we still had the second half of our trip to journey off to…Part two of our adventures coming soon. Stay tuned!
Mike did the self timer on his phone for this one-It took us about 20 tries.
The other night I made dinner for Mike and myself. Like all of my cooking attempts, we really weren’t sure how this dinner was going to turn out. (We always keep our medicine cabinet stocked with Tums, Pepto Bismal, antacids, etc so we are prepared for my dinners). Much to our shock, it actually tasted good! AND I made the dinner using fresh tomatoes from my garden in the backyard. Did I feel confident enough to be on the cover of “Good Housekeeping” Magazine after my one amazing dinner? You bet I did. Not only did I cook a dinner that was edible, but my summer project of “Having a Garden” turned out to be a success as well. It wasn’t an easy road to get those tasty tomatoes into our dinner though.
Honestly could not believe it ACTUALLY turned out ok so I had to text my Mom. Sometimes, I surprise myself.
My vision of a garden all started this past spring. It was another cold, rainy, dreary day in Chicago. At that time it seemed it had been raining every day for weeks! After so much time, weather like that started to affect both Mike and my mood and we were feeling a little down. I started thinking towards the summer and needed a project to keep me busy. That’s when the idea of having a garden popped in my head. At dinner that night I excitedly explained my plans to Mike. He was very supportive and on board with my big idea. But he did delicately question my project choice. “Sounds like a great summer project, Kath!” He said, trying to match my enthusiasm. “But, just curious…why are you choosing to grow a garden for your summer project… given your track record with accidentally killing most of our plants in the past?” He said it in the kindest way possible, but we both knew I was a plant serial killer. Not on purpose, of course, but it was the truth. Any plant someone would give me or I’d buy seemed to immediately die in my hands. It was as if my thumbs were poisonous and not green at all.
My Husband Mike sent out this Snap Chat. I thought I’d give one of my plants I was gifted a little more breathing room, “set it free” outside if you will, but it backfired on me.
I was able to get “the paddles” out on this plant and bring it back to life. It’s currently on life support though.
Anytime my Mom, who basically runs her own house plant hospital, came over to our house I could feel her looking around at my dead plants and judging me. My house was like walking through a plant funeral home to her. “Looks like your plants here could use a little water…want me to give this one a little drink?” She’d say and she walked around frowning at all the houseplant corpses I had. “I DID WATER IT BUT I THINK I ACCIDENTALLY DROWN IT SO JUST LAY OFF, MOM!!” I’d think as I’d watch her judging eyes scanning my plants.
I was determined to prove that I could keep something alive so I told Mike that I was going to, as my Grandma used to say “come Hell or high water” grow us some vegetables that summer. He, as always, offered his support and wanted to know how he could help. But I knew this was something I needed to try do on my own.
As I tell you about my journey, readers should know about a few of my many characters flaws. First, while I am a big “ideas” person, my follow-through could use some work. So when Mike cautioned me to “Maybe start out small” I basically shut him down and shared with him my plans to become a full-time farmer. I was going to grow any vegetable you can imagine, plus pumpkins and watermelon, different herbs and spices, etc. Why would we buy produce at the grocery store when I could grow it in our own backyard! The other thing readers should know is that’s while I come to the table with great project ideas, I tend to procrastinate a bit on starting, sometimes waiting until the last minute. But at this time, I was still riding high from this big project I was excited to start, so the very next day after telling Mike my plans, I went to Menards to check out the garden center and get my supplies. I got in the store, realized all the supplies I needed was in the “outdoor” garden center, and turned right around and left as it was a rather chilly spring day and I did NOT want to be outside looking at plants in the cold springtime weather. I went right home and snuggled up by my space heater and promised myself I’d go back when the weather was slightly warmer. (I mean the wind chill that day- no thanks. It was in the 50s).
A few weekends later Mike was going to Menards so I decided to join him and check out the garden center again since the weather was more conducive to garden center shopping (Unlike my last attempt!) But I ended up getting distracted by the basil section. My soon-to-be Brother-in-Law’s nickname is “Basil” so I had to take some photos with the basil plants and send it to him! It’s not everyday you see basil plants so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share the experience with other Basils!
It’s true, people were wondering why I was acting like the Basil plant was a celebrity and we got a lot of looks our way.
Most of the month of May I spent telling people about my plans for this amazing garden but not actually doing anything to make it happen. I talked about it to anyone who would listen-at family dinners, Bridal showers I attended, out at the bars. Pretty much everyone in the Chicagoland area knew of my gardening plans. I was taking vegetable requests from people and even told my mom I’d “lease her some of my land” if she wanted to grow some tomatoes of her own after I finished tilling the soil (which I hadn’t started yet).
A few weeks later on a Saturday when Mike was doing yard work I announced that I was going to start clearing my land for my garden. I made a big deal about it, acting like the town crier as I announced to him how I was finally starting work on my garden. If I had a bell I would have been ringing it throughout our backyard as I yapped away to him. Once I was done running my mouth and making myself laugh, I got out a shovel to start digging. Unfortunately for me, the first time that shovel hit the dirt it was like hitting concrete. Yikes! I didn’t say anything at first but in my head I thought “Oh HELLLLL NO! I am NOT dealing with this today!” It was a Saturday and I wasn’t in the mood for all that work and getting dirty. We had plans later and I already washed my hair the night before. (It was not a hair washing shower day for me, only a body washing shower day) But I couldn’t just say that out loud because I knew Mike was watching me with a grin so I turned to him and said, “You know what? On second thought, I think I’ll do this gardening later in the week. It’s supposed to rain tomorrow and the ground will be much softer after that.” And I put down my shovel and went right back inside.
The correct answer was none of the above because it was not a hair washing shower day for me, only a body washing shower day so I couldn’t not risk getting my hair dirty doing yard work.
As summers tend to do, the summer days somehow flew by and suddenly we were coming up on the Fourth of July. I had bought vegetable seeds but did no tilling of soil and no planting. I didn’t even have overalls. I’d say my land was barren but it was not, it was full of weeds and other wild plants that I was supposed to clear away in the spring. The vegetable seeds just sat on our kitchen counter starring me in the face every time I walked by.
But, lucky for me, a farming miracle happened. I got together with some old work friends for a little Fourth of July party and one of my friend’s asked how my garden was coming along. When I told her I hadn’t started, she told me her father had a surplus of vegetable plants that he would be happy to give me. All I had to do was plop them in the ground and water them. Talk about winning the vegetable garden lottery! Fast forward a few days and I am having a lovely summer afternoon with my friend Jan and my new friend “Papa” out in his backyard. Papa walked me through his amazing and expansive garden and taught me lots of things about growing vegetables. He then generously gave me all different types of tomato and pepper plants. It was a great day. And it finally lit a fire in me to clear that land and get those vegetables in. I did not want to let Papa down.
I was not playing soccer goalie here but clearing my farm land. I picked a nice sunny spot behind our garage.
I finished clearing my land and soon I had some lazy-ass birds hovering around me and my new garden looking to score a worm from my freshly tilled dirt. I told them to beat it. Where were they when I needed help shoveling and weeding? No free lunches at the Montag House.
Once I got my vegetable plants planted I took VERY special care of them. Full disclosure, there were a few weeks over the summer that the plants did not receive much water due to me “forgetting about my garden” (in my defense, a garden behind the garage is a forgettable location but it was sunny) but I think that made my plants stronger. So really I did them a service. Right around Labor Day my first crop came in. I was over the moon:
I will confess I did get a little jealous when I discovered another tomato farmer in the area, who also happens to be my three year old niece, was yielding more crops than me. But it wasn’t a competition, OK?!
Those tomatoes look genetically modified if you ask me.
While I think I could make some improvements for next summer’s garden, overall, I’d say my garden project was a huge success this summer. I learned a lot, made a wonderful new friend and even hosted a few farm conferences with some fellow farmers to discuss the challenges of backyard farming:
Farmer Ciara’s speciality is growing extremely large zucchinis.
Unfortunately at the conference we did have one disrespectful Farmer fall asleep during our discussion on the use of Miracle Grow. Clearly she’s in the wrong profession and was just there for the free lunch.
We think she’s a Dairy Farmer.
Here we had Farmer Michael leading the group in a discussion entitled “Zucchini: Tasty Vegetable or Dangerous Weapon?”
Farmer Ciara always handles giant zucchini with caution.
So put in your vegetable requests now, because its official and I am happy to report that after a successful 2022 season, Farmer Kath’s Garden will be returning for the Summer of 2023.
In July, my family gathered together for our annual “Family Week” up on Dewey Lake in Michigan. This has been a long tradition in our family, started when we’d go up for a full week to my grandparents’ cottage on Dewey Lake. Now my parents have a Lakehouse of their own on Dewey Lake and have kept the tradition going. Through the years we’ve grown from a family of seven to a family of 17, so it’s harder and harder to find a week in the summer with everyone’s busy schedules. The group texts usually start in February to try and lock down a week in July. After much discussion we managed, yet again, to find a week to all be together for a few days, and what a fun week it was!
Since my husband Mike had to work, I hitched a ride up with my sister Jane on Tuesday. My parents had already been there a few days, and my brother was on his way up with his three kids. In classic Kelly family fashion, Jane and I had scheduled to leave in the morning, but we were running late, so we didn’t end up leaving until around noon or so. The two of us had a great ride, jamming out to some tunes, Jane BELTING out every word, while I struggled to find places to put all my drinks for the car ride (Jane has a nice car but the cupholder situation is a little lacking). We were excited and energized about the upcoming week. I asked Jane if she planned on breaking any coffee pots this year during family week. Jane has a long history of accidentally breaking the family coffee pot. So much so that my Mom keeps an extra coffee pot on hand just in case Jane “I break coffee pots” Kelly comes out to ruin your morning. To my relief Jane informed me that my mom no longer allows her to wash or touch the coffee pot so we should all be properly caffeinated all week long.
About an hour and a half into our ride we realized how hungry we were. All that packing and running around really worked up an appetite in both of us. We paused the music and started to get serious about how we would solve our hunger situation:
Me: Maybe we should stop and pick up sandwiches for everyone for lunch on our way, what do you think? Mike is bringing our cooler so I have no food to offer accept that spaghetti squash I threw in your back seat and I only brought that because it’s been sitting on my counter at home for two weeks so I am down to the wire on cooking it. I know Mike won’t cook it while I’m gone and it will just go bad. **Editor’s Note:Secretly I was hoping one of the 16 other people up at the lake might be “inspired” to cook the spaghetti squash so I didn’t have to. I only really brought it to prove a point to Mike-he wanted to just throw it out but I kept claiming I had big plans to cook it for dinner. I am a big “ideas” person when it comes to cooking but my follow through could use some work. Honestly I just needed it off our counter at home.** Jane: I don’t know, don’t you think there is food at the cottage to eat for lunch? I mean Mom and Dad have been up there for a few days already. Me: If I know Mom and Dad, and I do, there won’t be much food, maybe a can of tomato soup since they like to eat like it’s still the Great Depression. I think we should just stop and pick stuff up. Or Mom will tell us to make quesadillas. No one loves quesadillas more than Mom. Jane: You’re right. She does love quesadillas. Can you just text Mom and ask her if there is food there? I don’t want to eat out so I’d like to avoid it if I can. Me: Ok, HEALTHY JANE! I will text her but I know she will just tell me there’s stuff to make quesadillas and I am just not in the mood for all that work and cheese! And I sure AS HELL am NOT making that spaghetti squash I brought and eating THAT for lunch on my first day of vacation! I don’t feel like breaking my hand trying to cut that thing today. I am just too tired! And it’s too healthy to eat as our first meal on vacation.
So, I texted my mom and here is her response:
Do I know my Mom or do I know my Mom?
So after much more discussion we made a quick decision to stop for sandwiches at Subway. I had talked to my mom prior and she said her and my Dad didn’t want anything for lunch if we stopped of food on the way, but being the saint I am I called to double check if they wanted lunch. She said “Mmmm, Subway?!!” Sounding very interested, “Let me check with Dad when he comes in and call you back in a little while with our order. He’s working outside cutting down some bushes!” But we were about three minutes from Subway and didn’t have all day to wait for my Dad to finish hacking away every square inch of Michigan forestry so I said, “Well we are almost at Subway, do you mind just asking him now and then could you TEXTme what you guys want? It’s just easier if you TEXTwhat sandwich you want so I can just read it off my phone and to the Subway worker. I don’t have a pen and paper with me.” “Oh right, right! Sure sweetie!” She said “I’ll ask Dad what he wants and we will get our order to you right away!” “Great, thanks!” I said, “TEXT it to me!” We pulled into Subway and I turned to Jane laughing and said, “How much do you want to bet Mom is going to CALL me back with their order?” Just as I finished my sentence my phone rang. I answered the phone laughing because it was my Mom, getting right down to business with her Subway order “Hi sweetie! Dad and I will have a six inch turkey on whole grain with lettuce, tomato-” “Mom, can you text this to me?” I said laughing “Oh right, right! I’ll text it now! Love you! Bye!” She said. Jane and I had a good laugh. True to her word she DID text me her order. Once we arrived we all had our sandwiches on the patio and my Dad called me a “Little SNIP” for calling him out for asking for a bottle of Diet Coke OR Fountain Pop Diet Coke from Subway. But my parents practically had to rent a U-Haul truck to bring up all the cases of Diet Coke (cans) they brought up for this family vacation, so I was just making a point.
In case anyone ever wants to get my parents Subway, this is their order.
After lunch my nieces and nephew gave a Taylor swift performance for everyone using Jane’s karaoke microphone. Then Connor did the most serious performance of “Monster Trucks” I have ever seen. He really got into character. If you haven’t heard this jam, add it to your playlist.
After their performance Jane and I went for a walk around the lake and we saw a swan. We talked about what we should name the swan and whether it was a boy or girl swan because we were not sure. Then we got into a discussion about what our parents told us we would have been named if we were boys. I just assumed since my parents were going to use the name “Tom” on me if I were a boy it would just trickle down and they’d use it for Jane but apparently they were going to name her Joe. Mind blown! “Well that’s good,” I said “Because I can’t see you as a Tom but I can definitely see you being a Joe.” She took offense to this for some reason but I told her I just could not see her being “Tom” if she were a boy but I feel like I would have pulled off the name better. After that important conversation was out of the way we moved on to discussing who’s skin was more dry. “Jane, don’t even kid yourself you know my skin is way more dry. Have you seen my arms?! FEEL THESE!” I said, shoving my arms in her face. “Like sandpaper. You could file down the corners of a picnic table with these babies.” That’s when Jane agreed, I won the dry skin contest. Jane and I always have only the most deep and meaningful conversations when we are together.
A throwback Dewey Family Week picture. Looks like Maggie (on the left) jumped in on an in depth conversation Jane and I were having about which orange pop brand is the best tasting.
Once we got back from our walk we went on a boat ride and then my sister Maggie and her family arrived in their Honda Mini Van. We all helped them unload and I swear I don’t think I have ever seen a mini van more packed to capacity with stuff. I helped get her three children out of their carseats and I felt like I was looking for survivors of a building collapse through Paw Patrol suitcases, boxes of Cheerios, toys and stuffed animals. We got everyone settled, figured out the sleeping situations and then went to sleep.
Wednesday my sister-in-law Alyssa, sister Bridget and her Fiancé Steve all arrived. Everyone was happy to see them but we were a little distracted by a much more exciting event-a dead bat was found on one of the trees outside on my parents’ property! So honestly the dead bat stole the show that day-the week really, we all couldn’t stop talking about him. After that anytime someone asked me how I slept the night before I told them I slept “like a dead bat.”
Thursday, Jane decided to make brunch for everyone which included a French toast casserole, eggs, and bacon. Unfortunately she very much underestimated the amount of bacon to buy so she had to ration it. Before we were allowed to get our food she made a big announcement that adults were only allowed one slice of bacon and the children were allowed a half of a slice of bacon. She felt kind of bad about it but I reassured her, saying we were used to Mom starving us growing up with the skimpy meals she would divide among us so we’d all be ok. Our bodies were used to going into starvation mode.
We were all sitting outside on the patio enjoying our brunch with one thin slice of bacon each when my sister Maggie said, “Jane, this French Toast Casserole is delicious! I really love the pecans on here! It really adds a nice crunch!” Everyone enthusiastically agreed about how tasty the crunchy pecans were. But I just looked around confused at everyone’s plates as I had NO pecans on my French toast casserole Jane gave me. Bewildered and disappointed that I was missing out on the pecans, I finally said, “Hey… you guys got pecans on yours?” Jane quickly and flatly replied back, with no remorse in her voice, “Oh yea, I served you and I think maybe a few other people a part of the casserole that didn’t have any pecans on it. Sorry about that.” But she really didn’t sound sorry AT ALL. “Well!” I said dramatically, “I didn’t realize it was ‘Bring Your Own PECANS’ to this brunch! MY APOLOGIES! BUT I’M GLAD EVERYONE ELSE IS ENJOYING THE ADDED CRUNCH THEY BRING TO THE CASSEROLE! IT SOUNDS DELICIOUS BASED OFF THE CRUNCHING NOISE I HEAR!!”
The kids really enjoyed their 1/2 piece of bacon they were allowed to have.
After everyone BUT me had their brunch with plenty of crunchy pecans and only one slice of bacon, we took the boat to the island and hung out, getting into a deep discussion about a tattoo contest Nestle Drumstick was hosting. Basically if you tattooed a drumstick on your body you would get free Drumsticks for a year. We were a family divided on whether or not we would do it. After the island we went around the lake and then through the channel so people could see turtles-which I of course didn’t care about-turtles are the squirrels of the lake. I am over them. A dead bat is impressive, but turtles are old news. It was an awesome day though. We spent all day long on the boat. So long that my skin started bleeding from too much sun exposure and we had to stop for Band-Aids. But it was totally worth it. And everyone commented on how bright my blood was which I think is a compliment. We docked the boat and then my husband Mike arrived so our family was finally complete!
The Sun doesn’t like us but we smile anyway.
Friday morning I walked with Alyssa and the kids from the house where we were staying to my parents’ house so we could get coffee. (Jane had kept away from the coffee pot so it was still in working order!) The distance from the two houses wasn’t that far but my three year old nephew Connor led everyone a certain way specifically so he could be sure we all saw the dead bat on the tree again. As if we could forget the star of the week. Then we talked about the dead bat for the next half hour or so. Later in the morning it started raining and the rain didn’t stop all day so it was kind of a lazy day. We all kind of just hung out until it was time to start drinking again. Bridget and her fiancé Steve made tacos for dinner and then we watched the rain from the gazebo while we warned Steve about all the “Catholic things” and “Bridget things” he should know. The most important thing being the family rule my parents had to establish long ago because of Bridget: No one could-under any circumstances-order chocolate milk and pancakes together. You could order them separately but NEVER together. This was because one time we were out to breakfast and Bridget threw up all over her plate right at the restaurant after eating chocolate milk and pancakes. I guess the experience was so traumatic for my parents they felt the need to establish this rule, but I don’t think the rest of us were that phased by someone in our family puking yet again. It was almost a daily or nightly occurrence in our house. Real sensitive stomachs in the Kelly family. I remember the incident and I don’t think any of Bridget’s four siblings even asked if she was ok, we were all just yelling at her that ‘NOW the rest of us can’t have chocolate milk and pancakes anymore.’ 25 years later and we are still working on forgiving her. There’s nothing like washing down a plate of sugary pancakes with an icy cold glass of sugary chocolate milk. A luxury the Kelly family will never get to experience again. We wanted to be sure Steve knew that in marrying Bridget he would accept the fate that he and their future children would never be able to eat chocolate milk and pancakes in one sitting again. He accepted and that is what we call true love.
The pancake puker, Steve and me. One big happy family.
Saturday, our final day together, the weather turned beautiful again. We grilled and took a family photo with my tripod selfie stick complete with remote. If you don’t have one of these babies I’d highly recommend:
Testing out the remote
My testing subjects did a great job.
Photo taken right after my Dad and I got in a heated debate about whether a piece of produce on Alyssa’s plate at lunch was a cucumber or a watermelon rind. I was correct in stating it was a cucumber.
I always like to take a candid right after everyone gets “released” from the family photo. You just never know what you will capture.
After that we went to the island and played catch with a football. Even the girls joined in! On a scale of zero to spicey, us girls were definitely the sportiest of the spices that day. Until we accidentally hit a sleeping child on the head with the football. Connor was ok though. He looked up for a minute and then went right back to sleep. A win for everyone! After that Jane made a Jeopardy game which was a ton of fun to play. For dinner Mike and I ordered pizzas for everyone because we didn’t want to actually cook anything (Each family provided a meal for the group. Everyone else cooked something but since Mike and I are lazy we outsourced our meal to the local pizza place). Then we karaoked all night long. It was a blast.
Bridie assisting Jane during the game. Bridie was clearly was trying to take over MY role as family Tech Girl. That role is taken, Bridie! But you can be assistant TO the Tech Girl. I will allow that.
After Connor got hit in the head with the football he looked up, smiled and went right back to sleep. Talk about a team player!
Jane and Steve really getting into karaoke
Michael singing his song from deep within his soul.
And just like that the week was over and Mike and I were loading the spaghetti squash that I never cooked into our car to go home. Another Dewey Lake Family Week on the books. Like every “Family Week” we spend together at Dewey Lake, it was a week filled with great weather, a lot of fun, lots of laughs, and my dad ranting about how we are all putting too much stuff in his shed. And like every year, I left feeling grateful to be part of my awesome family of 17…well 18 now if we are counting the dead bat. Because after the week we all agreed he felt like part of the family. I was also very thankful Jane didn’t break the coffee pot this year so we had coffee all week. Thanks Jane!
Family Week is a vacation that’s only a few days but it always leaves us with a ton of happy memories that keep us smiling all year long.
Our Matriarch and Patriarch: Mo Money and Mike Sr.
We did eventually cook the spaghetti squash that spent family week with us. It definitely didn’t taste great and we treated ourselves by NOT cooking and ordering a pizza the following night.
Drunk on s’mores
This Lily Pad raft is fun but it takes up too much room in my Dad’s shed.
The Kelly Kids practicing their soft smiles
Awkward that Bridie and Ciara showed up in the same outfit and they both refused to change. Bridie clearly was not happy.
Mike Sr and Mo Money decided not to get the Nestle Drumstick tattoo but just pay for their own ice cream.
Instead of getting ice cream with a side of hot fudge my mom prefers hot fudge with a side of ice cream.
The OG Kelly kid Crew. Family week circa 1999? Did Jane just pee on Maggie’s lap? Maybe. So many questions.
Last week my husband Mike was out of town on a business trip so my Mom invited me over for dinner. It was nice of her to invite me over but she definitely had ulterior motives-her and my Dad had just bought a new TV so they needed their “Tech Girl” to come over and set it up. (My family refers to me as “Tech Girl” as a way of putting an affectionate spin on to getting me to do their Tech ‘bitch’ work for them. Smart, right?) I finished setting up the TV but had to break the news to them that the new TV would no longer fit on their 80’s style TV stand. My Mom was just appalled and disgusted. “I bet the TV companies do this on purpose just so that you have to go out and buy a new TV stand!” She said, “It’s all a scam to get you to spend more money!” She was just shocked that a flat screen TV would not fit on a stand her and my Dad bought back when Reagan was in office, one that had compartments for a VCR and even storage for VHS tapes. “Mom, this TV stand is made for those old box-y TVs,” I said back, “This stand is older than I am. I don’t think the TV companies are trying to scam you, I think maybe it’s just time to get a TV stand made for TVs that have been made in this century.” I then told her I could order a new TV stand for her and it could be there the next day but instead she ignored me saying, “Hold on, let me get Dad from his office downstairs and see if he has any ideas.” So there I stood with the TV all hooked up on the floor as I waited for my Mom to get my Dad from his basement office. As they came back up the stairs I could hear my mom filling my Dad in “the problem.” As they made their way into the TV room my Dad looked at the new TV on the floor and the old TV stand and just said, “Oh Hell! This crappy new tv probably wasn’t even made in the United States! Well, let me see what I can do.” Then I just watched as he tried to make the TV fit on the TV stand without success. “Yea, like I said… you guys need a new TV stand,” I started to say, “They are pretty cheap at Target I can order you guys one-” And that’s when my Dad, who was not listening to me at all, abruptly cut me off and said to my mom “Hold on Mo I’ve got an idea.” I’ve heard my Dad say that before, so I knew I wouldn’t like what was coming next. That’s when my Dad went into the garage and got a piece of wood, came back inside to where my Mom and I were standing in the TV room with the TV, placed the board on the old TV stand, and then placed the new TV on the board. Then he took a step back, smiled and admired his work and said, “There! Problem solved!” I was stunned. I looked around the room, thinking ‘this cannot be happening right now,’ what is this crazy old geezer I call my father doing? And then, just when I thought things could not get any worse my Mom says, “What a great idea Mike! Good thinking!” My first thought was ‘Mom how dare you encourage this behavior’ and the second was ‘Have the Baby Boomers gone mad?!!’ I snapped out of my catatonic state and finally said “Absolutely not! No, no, no, no. This is not ok and I cannot be part of this! It looks like you are building an altar here and then gave up and decided to place a TV on it!” That’s when my dad tried to argue that the set up was “perfectly fine” and my mom tried to say “It would just be temporary.” But I was roommates with these two Baby Boomers for a long time so I knew their game.
The TV Altar. If any of you Catholics missed mass this weekend I’m sure Mike Sr. and Mo would be happy to move the TV over and call in a priest to say a quick TV Room mass for you.
I then texted my four siblings for emotional support:
Once I was done making fun of my parents, and after my Dad called me both a “little smart ass” and a “little brat” we eventually had dinner. Over dinner we talked about the grapes my Dad had bought at the store, whether it’s better to have “fair grapes” (meaning grapes that don’t taste very good) or “no grapes at all” (My mom, sister Jane and I voted no grapes and my Dad was team fair grapes) and then we went on to discussing the ungrateful “welfare birds” (As my Dad calls them), just the usual things. After dinner I drove home laughing. When you stop at Mike and Mo’s, they always provide you with dinner and a show. You never really know what kind of hilarious antics they are getting into.
Mo Money keeps buying “welcome blend” and Mike Sr. would prefer if she didn’t.
A few months prior my Mom kindly invited me for dinner while my husband Mike was traveling. (Mo Money and Mike Sr like to keep me fed). I was doing what I do best-sitting on the couch, going through their DVR, looking for a good Inside Edition or Dateline to watch while my Mom was in the kitchen prepping her meal. (I did offer to help but she told me I’d be on for clean-up). My Dad came downstairs from doing his favorite activity-emptying all the wastebaskets in the house- and into the kitchen/TV room area. Just as I was about to relax and settle in for a juicy “Inside Edition” with Debrah Norville, I heard my Mom say to my Dad in a rather serious tone. “Ok, Mike, should we do it now? Are you ready?” “I’m ready if you are, Mo.” He replied back. My head immediately turned as I could tell something was up. “Oh no…what’s going on?!” I said, rather frantic. They both ignored my question. I could tell they didn’t want to tell me but I persisted. “WHAT IS GOING ON WHAT ARE YOU TWO UP TO?!” “Well…” My Mom said rather quietly, “We didn’t want to tell you since we know how sensitive you are to smells, but the sauerkraut in the fridge has gone bad…turns out it expired a while ago, so Dad is going to help me dump it out right in the garbage outside. Then we are taking the jar right to the laundry tub in the basement so I don’t think you should smell a thing!” “OH MY GOD WHAT?!” I cried. I had so many thoughts running through my head I didn’t know where to start. Who eats sauerkraut in our family? Why have they come up with a whole mission to save this jar? What is sauerkraut exactly? What is it used on? (I later Googled this). My Dad chimed in “Well since you have a nose like a HOUND DOG and are over today we are doing this special procedure for you, you little brat!” “Ahh Thanks?” I said sarcastically “But I don’t understand. Just throw the whole thing out! Right in the garbage! Don’t even open the jar! If it’s expired it’s going to smell horrible!” “No!” My mom said firmly, “It’s a good jar and I want to keep it.” “I will buy you a new jar! I replied, “They sell them places!” But my Mom stood firm. “No, this is a good glass jar, I want to save it for when I make my mustard.” Wow. Shots fired. She KNOWS I also HATE MUSTARD so she was not messing around. “It’s a nice jar.” My Dad confirmed. I started laughing and said dramatically, “I’m gonna VOM all over the place!” Then I started doing an impression of our old dog Duke throwing up (I’m really good at that impression and it always gets laughs) “Mo, look at this weirdo!” My Dad said laughing. “You guys are the weirdos that are saving a sauerkraut jar!” I said back. “Um, don’t you need to go home soon?” My Dad asked. “Don’t lie!” I said, you know you miss having your little smart ass around.
Yup, I’ve been an old married HAG for a bit now but before that me, Mike Sr. and Mo Money used to be on and off roommates for quite some time. I used to experience incidents like the sauerkraut jar or TV altar daily back when I was living with them. The three of us would have some ridiculous conversation and banter and then we’d gather for dinner where we’d have more ridiculous conversation and banter. I’d make fun of my Dad, he’d call me a “little snip” or a “little smart ass,” my Mom would laugh and then my dad would make fun of me. After dinner, when my Dad had had enough of us he’d retire to the basement and watch his show in his recliner and my mom and I would stay upstairs, our heating pads set on high, and settle on the couch for a good murder show.
My Mom liked to multitask during shows because “they kill you with commercials on Dateline.” Pun intended by Mo? So she would put me to work helping her with her phone AND PUT ME ON REMOTE DUTY while she read the obituaries. But Maureen “Phone Calls” Kelly would have so many after dinner calls to make it would take us FOREVER to get through a show.
Whenever something happened with the TV my parents would just say “The TV is broken” and wait there until I fixed it. It was as if suddenly they could not move their arms whenever a tech issue arose.
My Mom once watched the world’s most depressing Dateline without me and then wanted to RUIN MY DAY by making me watch it too.
There was an incident when I lived with my parents that I thought my Mom was trying to make me the subject of the next Dateline-The “tortilla soup incident” when my Mom may or may not have tried to poison me. It was a normal day just like any other, my mom was preparing one of her famous “fend for yourselves” dinners, not to be confused with her “clean out the fridge” dinners. “Fend for yourselves” was when there was nothing in the fridge except probably that jar of sauerkraut and my Mom informed us to just heat up something in the fridge. My parents were “splitting a salad” and did offer me some but since I am not a bunny rabbit and it looked like my dad had mulched the lawn and then threw everything from the yard in the salad, I respectfully declined. That’s when my Mom informed me there were cans of soup that I could crack open and from there things took a dark turn:
Me: Yea, I’m just going to have soup, it’s freezing in this house anyway. Is the heat even on? Mom: Well I keep telling you, the sweatshirts you are wearing are too thin! You need to put on a thicker sweatshirt! Me: Mom! I keep telling YOU that I don’t own a sweatshirt factory! I can’t designate how thick or thin they make the sweatshirts! I just buy them. Mom: Look at me, layers! See I have a turtle neck, sweater and my Columbia fleece on! (During this time I had cracked open a can of tortilla soup and started heating it on the stove) Me: Mom, this soup looks a little weird, are you sure it’s still good? Mom: I’m sure it’s fine. Dad: I don’t know Mo, how long have those cans been in there? Mom: Here, let me taste. Taste fine to me, you can eat it. (I finish heating up my questionable soup, pour it in a bowl and sit down, trying to force myself to eat it. My hand shakes as I bring the spoon to my mouth. After two spoonfuls I give up) Me: Ok I can’t eat this, I have to dump this! This taste awful! I think it’s gone bad. Mom: Yea, it didn’t taste very good when I tried it. Go ahead and dump it. (Me and my Dad look at each other and start laughing) Me: Well then why did you tell me that it was fine and that I should eat it?! Mom: Well I don’t like that type of soup, so you shouldn’t have asked me to try it in the first place. Me: (laughing) Well maybe you could have informed me of that to begin with! I’ll probably get food poisoning from this.
My mom just shrugged her shoulders. That night, despite the murder attempt, I was able to make it to the couch for our show time, but I did request we watch Inside Edition and not Dateline that night-it just hit too close to home. And I allowed a little more space between us on the couch, just to be safe. I almost went so far as to go in the basement with my Dad, but the thought of having to sit through one of his dumb shows was too much, so I risked it and stayed upstairs with my Mom.
My Dad never really watched any shows with me and my mom, not because he was scared of my Mom would murder him, he just preferred his alone time in the basement. Once during showtime my Dad just decided to go for a walk and I went down to the basement and I discovered that he had just left his show on pause when he left the house! Growing up my Dad would NEVER let us do this, and if he caught us he’d ask “Is the couch watching TV?” So I decided to give him a taste of his own medicine:
As you can see, I took photos at several angles so there was indisputable proof that he had in fact, left the tv on in an empty room. At least when my Mom went with him she had the common decency to turn the TV off and leave a note for me:
Mo Money is all business, she has no time to sign her full name of “MOM.”
My parents have always been so generous towards their five children and I am grateful that they allowed me to be their on again off again roommate for so long. Other than the one incident, the the service at Mike and Mo’s is always great. You can never leave their house in a bad mood, it’s nearly impossible. I always leave laughing. After I moved out it dawned on me though that I never left my Yelp review, like I always joked I would. So Mom and Dad, from your fourth child and “Little Smart Ass” you get a glowing review with five stars all around.
Surviving Life Post College 