Pepperoni Purgatory

We're not even halfway through December and I'm already breaking out the Tylenol.  Although this year I might need something a little stronger.  (Horse tranquilizer maybe?)

My brother and I baked a dozen loaves of pepperoni bread last night, keeping the tradition our father started with us going.  I had insisted we do it this past Sunday but, God forbid, the Eagles were playing at 1:00.  Instead my brother and my 4-year-old nephew came over last night, a school/work night.  Big mistake, because guess who got stuck with having to finish baking, cooling and slicing half of the truckload we made?  This girl.  The one who had to get up at 4:30 this morning.  And guess who was rushing around just trying to get it done instead of enjoying our time spent together and baking this stuff with the love and care that we used to when our Pop was alive, because Nico was wired as hell and doing his 4-year-old thing while our mother is down for the count with an upper respiratory infection?  Yup, my brother.

Four burnt loaves of pepperoni bread and one small grease fire later, the chaos finally ceased and the seasonal treat our friends and family love so much was finished baking.

To keep in mind for next year,
- Buy the dough at least a day in advance.  An hour to thaw?  Bullshit.
- We need 4 pounds of sliced pepperoni - 3 doesn't cut it - and not from just any deli counter.  I believe that to be the cause of the grease fire.
- We also need to have about six pounds of mozzarella cheese on hand.  I did not appreciate having to make another grocery store run in the middle of the baking proceedings.
- It's smarter to start during Nico's nap time because then he's less apt to be a maniac while we're fighting grease fires and ending up covered in shredded mozzarella and flour.
- Ma's baking pans are shit.  Guess what she's getting for Christmas this year?

Now to brave the snow and go get chocolate chips so I can bake even more.  Because, you know, I forgot all about them the two separate times I was in the grocery store yesterday.

More Comic Relief From the Home Front, Part 3

I get a little upset when people say to me, referring to Nico, "Well, yeah, but he's just your nephew."  No.  He's so much more than that.  He's my brother & sister in law's baby, he's my baby, he's my mom's baby.  I love to look out the window and see my brother's big-ass white truck pull up, knowing our house is about to turn into chaos.
And the scenario today goes:
My brother is ordering pizza via online (something I still can't even comprehend,) Nico is playing with Ma's decorative stuff sitting on the china cabinet in our dining room.  When asked what he's doing, the response is, "I'm cooking!"  My brother and I discuss what pizza toppings we want while you can hear Nico in the background make believe cooking, "It's hot!  Ouch!  I drink mah coff-ee!"
Hammie goes upstairs to take a shower, (thank God, he smelled pretty bad,) so Nico is downstairs with me, content playing with a ceramic sugar bowl, coffee cups and coffeepot.  Until, of course, he realizes Daddy is no longer in the room.  Once he discovered Daddy was in the shower, he decided he needed one too. (Truthfully, the baby did, having come in the house all sweaty from playing on the playground at school and remnants of lunch still on his face.)
"Dane, does he have any clean clothes here?" yells my brother from the shower.
"I don't think so man, I think he's worn them all home to your house.  We have some pajamas..."
I turn around and Nico has his pull-up at his ankle and is about to hurl it in my direction.  Luckily I thwarted him because, damn, that thing was heavy with pee.
I mean, I don't think it's weird that I'm in the bathroom at the same time my brother is taking a shower, looking for a bar of soap for him - "Just use whatever body wash I have in there!"
"I don't like body wash!"
"Whatever dude, just don't use up a new towel, the one you used last time is still hanging up."


After pulling out Nico's "I *heart* MomMom" tee shirt and leaving it on the bed, I go back downstairs to work some more on my blog, (hence the start of this post.)  Nico bounds down the stairs a few minutes later, his MomMom tee shirt now short enough to show his belly, and runs around the house like a madman.  This is all before dinner.



Now my brother in weirdly engrossed in the movie D2:  The Mighty Ducks, & I find myself peeking up from my laptop every so often to watch.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                
This is time spent with my family that I wouldn't trade for the world.  The random facial expressions Nico makes at the dinner table, my brother pretending to fart on his head, then the baby in turn running up to me and pretending to do the same, hearing him tell Ma he loves her a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck, playing This Little Piggy... with his toes, even the constant heckling my brother slams me with.  Nope, wouldn't trade any of it for the world.

More Comic Relief From the Home Front

Is it so wrong that my brother and I get a huge kick out of my nephew making farting sounds?  Or actually doing it and grabbing his little butt exclaiming, "Oh! My hiney popped!"  We for some reason think bodily functions are hilarious.  A classy people, we are.  My mother is always just shaking her head and telling us, "Don't teach him that!"
The scenario:
Last Thursday night we're sitting around the table after dinner and a conversation about how the word "fart" makes one of my aunts giggle uncontrollably, just like it did my grandmother.  I'm almost positive it was triggered by my brother ripping ass for real and Nico giving his infamous shocked expression.  So my brother just goes with it and yes, he starts making farting noises with his hand.  Like he's ten.  And we laughed and laughed.  I got the brilliant idea to try and videotape it like Nico was the one expelling gas.  It didn't work out quite as planned but the footage I got is priceless.

After all of the trauma this family has been through, we've learned that the stupid little things that make us laugh are what's important.  Even if it's something as crude as a fart joke.

How About A Little Comic Relief?

I don't want this blog to be all serious, all the time.  So I'd like to sprinkle it with little anecdotes from my family life, because honestly, someone should make a reality show out of us.  Times like yesterday are why I love being a part of my family.

  The central air conditioning is not working.  Jammed compressor or something.  Thankfully someone is coming out to look at it soon, as I sit here writing this, sweating, and drinking blazing hot coffee.  I'm a glutton for punishment, whatever.

  My brother, his wife, and the baby, Nico, all came over yesterday afternoon to swim because this heat is pretty damn brutal.  Well, you can't swim when it's lightening and there's a storm brewing.  So we battened down the hatches and went back inside, where it was hotter than hell.
  Now work with me for a minute, and just try to visualize three sweaty, grumpy albeit still good-natured adults and a 2 & a 1/2 year old losing their minds.  Thank God we all have a sense of humor.  My brother is running around opening windows, grabbing any fan he can find and positioning them around the family room. My sister in law is laughing at him and making sure her bathing suit is drying so she can sit on the furniture because she didn't want to put her clothes back on, I'm laying face down on the floor trying to cool off and Nico is climbing all over me.  We're pretending to go "night-night" because the fan that is in his bedroom is now downstairs and he thinks it's time to for "night-night."  We're making snoring sounds.
  My brother goes to change Nico, and the baby decides he'd rather run around naked.  (I really couldn't blame him.)  He's also feeling the need to show us all his behind, and playing with his little pee-pee.  My sister in law and I are dying as my brother struggles to get some clothes on him.
  My mother walks into this circus as my sister in law announces, "Hey guys!  My butt is dry!  That's good news!"
  Meanwhile, I'm blowing up my new exercise ball and attempting to use it.  Picture me, the girl with very little coordination and not much grace, trying to balance my ass on this thing, falling off and nearly busting my head on the fireplace hearth.  We were all in tears from laughing so hard.
  Then dinner arrives, the storm breaks, and life goes back to normal...
  Well, whatever it is that we consider normal.