A Boy & His Na-Na

Something that slapped my perspective back into (some kind of) focus was when my nephew came into my bedroom early last Saturday morning.  I heard my door open and sensed him standing at the edge of my bed, where I was burrowed under a mountain of blankets.  I peeked at the clock and saw my alarm wasn't to go off for 45 more minutes.  Instead of getting out of bed, I motioned for him to climb in with me and I'll be damned, he did.
He tucked his little 4 year old self with me into the cave of pillows I had created and fell right back asleep.  His quiet little snores lulled me back to sleep as well, and when my alarm went off he didn't budge.  I got up but he kept on snoring so I let him be.

One of Nico's Christmas gifts to me this year.

How can you not be reminded that there is no secret to life or happiness, it just is, when you look down at the little one tucked safely under the covers next to you?  Everything else seems almost painfully insignificant when you look down at that little one who has latched onto your heart with a death grip, realizing he looks up to you as his Na-Na, his aunt that will always love him and protect him.  He is sleeping in your arms because he trusts you, he knows you will never hurt him, that, in essence, you will always be there.  

Whenever I dare to let myself think that I might not ever actually get the chance to have my own children, I quickly divert my thoughts to Nico, my crazy, energy-charged, blue-eyed "baby."  (I know, I know, he's not a baby anymore - he reminds me all the time.)  My love for this little boy transcends everything I thought I knew.  The other day I remarked to my mother, "I never knew I could love something as much I love that little stinker.  It blows my mind sometimes."

People might think it's strange, and if they do, I feel sorry for them and hope that one day they experience a relationship like the one I have with Nico.
"Wait, your nephew's separation anxiety is just as bad with you as it is with his own parents?"
Sometimes, yes, like when he needs "one more huggie" 60 times  when I'm about to leave for work or going out with friends.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.

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.

Trying Hard To Stay Positive & Love My Life

Since one of my recent posts focused solely on negativity and the demise of the human race, I feel the need to write one with a positive vibe.
We all know that it has become hard to see the good in the world, but I usually don't have to look any further than within the circle of my family.  I realize how fortunate I am to be a part of it.  If I'm having a bad day all I have to do is look at my nephew and I'm reminded that good does exist in this world.  I mean, is there anything better than coming home from work to have a dance party in the kitchen with your brother and 3-year-old nephew after a rough day?
It's funny how it usually only takes something small in order to make me smile.  The other day I was very agitated because of work, and had to stop at the grocery store on my way home, which I didn't feel like doing after driving down three quarters of the New Jersey turnpike and then dealing with the tension and misery in the company office.  I ran into the store, grabbed the loaf of bread I needed for dinner and got in line at the self checkout lane.  As I'm standing there, trying not to look annoyed with the people in front of me, a gentleman said, "Excuse me miss, there's a lane open over here," and let me go in front of him.  I smiled and thanked him, and as I walked out the door, the kid who runs the carts told me to have a good evening.  I said the same to him with a smile.  It made me feel nice.  Some other things that restore my hope in humanity, or brighten up my day when I think about them -

• Occasionally someone lets me merge in front of them when I'm exiting 95 into the construction mess on 141.  I always make it a point to roll down my window and wave a thank you to them.
• Occasionally someone lets me in front of them when I have a jackass tailgating me on the highway.  I wave to them as well and return the favor when said jackass is then tailgating the person who was in front of me.
• On one of my jobs the other day, the principal of the school my coworker and I were at came down to the library to introduce himself and welcome us, even offering us coffee from his own personal stash.  The lady who was overseeing the shoot bought us lunch.  Such niceties are rare in my field, and my coworker and I were so appreciative.
• While getting gas at the Woodrow Wilson rest stop on the Jersey turnpike one day, as the attendant handed me my receipt and card back he said, "I hope the red jolly fat man brings you everything you ask for this year!"  I laughed and said, "Same to you!" with a big smile on my face.
• On the drive home from The Smashing Pumpkins concert, my brother and I laughed so hard the entire time that my chest and abs hurt for two days.  It's good to know that even though times are tough for the both of us, we can still act like kids, have fun, and laugh until we cry.
• Last weekend my house was filled with friends and family during the annual Evans Family Christmas Party.  The majority of guests have been a big part of my life since the day I was born.  They have been by my family's side for all of the good times and held our hands while we coped with tragedy, and to celebrate the holidays with them is a blessing I am so grateful to have.
• Little things like having someone get a whiff of my perfume and comment on how nice it smells, or when a rockstar tells me he wants to take me home to New York with him (you know, those little ego  boosters that we all like to hear every once in a while.)

These days we can't switch on the news without hearing of tragedy throughout the world.  It's depressing, it's heart-wrenching and seems to be never ending.  That's why I make it a point to take a break from social media and networking every once in a while and focus my attention on the things that are invaluable - the love I have for my nephew, my family and my friends and the time I get to spend with them.  Those things cannot be bought, but they can still be taken away from me in the blink of an eye, so I know never to take them for granted.

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.

More Updates

• My Mama will never have to give up her home.  The black cloud that hung over this 4 bedroom colonial that she has made her home with her blood, sweat and tears, (a bit of mine as well,) is gone.

• Mine and Buzzard's relationship has reached some form of normalcy, if one can call it that.  He's been very supportive these past few months, letting me vent and cry to him about my Pop.  I've gotten over my disgust for the way things were going between us; it's almost like we've come to a truce.  I can text him in the middle of the night when I'm lying on the floor in tears, and I can text him at 9 in the morning if I'm horny and need cigarettes.  I still can't let myself fall like I did all those years ago, but right now, he's all I've got.  

• Drugstore Cowboy broke my fucking heart.  I think the worst part was the disappointment that came with it.  I put him on too high of a pedestal with expectations that he failed miserably to meet.  I fell under the spell of his cock and became addicted to the whatever drug it was that emanated from his skin.  I came to believe he was more of a man than he ended up being in the end.  It's his loss, right?  But fuck am I going to miss the late night rendezvous with him in my bed, his bed, someone else's bed, the swimming pool...fuck.

• My nephew is growing up so fast!  He's walking, forming words, and is an eating machine.  He has been the light of our lives, especially since losing Pop.

• Maybe I'm maturing, maybe I'm not, but the one night stands have considerably come to a halt, and I've even unconsciously cut off a few of the stand-bys, friends-with-benefits if you will.  I don't know why, maybe it's because I've become lazy, and if you can't be at my house within 20 minutes and vice versa, it's not worth it to me anymore.

So that's where I'm at right now.  Am I lonely?  Yes.  Am I in mourning?  Yes.  Am I learning new things about myself with every passing day?  Yes.  But look, here comes the sun, little darling...

The Baby Boom Is Getting Old

I'm writing this as little feet are pitter-pattering around the kitchen.  And hearing the occasional grunt of frustration as my nephew tries to peel magnets off of the refrigerator and stick them to the sliding glass door to the sunroom.

If you have any clue, you know that I absolutely adore my nephew.  When I'm having a bad day, all I have to do is think about his pudgy little smile and when he reaches for my hand to walk me into another room to show me something.

But when my brother or my sister-in-law picks him up, and either my ma or myself are cleaning up the tornado streak he leaves behind, I realize how not ready I am to have children.  I was watching him nap on the couch this morning, (seriously, passed out in his tracks from playing too hard, all sprawled out and everything,) and I started thinking, How do people do it?  I can barely take care of myself, how will I ever be able to raise a child?  My mind started running through all kinds of scenarios...for instance, it snowed a pretty decent amount here last night.  Now, if I had a baby, and I had to shovel myself out, how would I do it?  I can't leave a baby alone in the house, but the driveway has got to be shoveled.  Because, as I've learned in the past, you can't depend on anyone but yourself. 

Sure, ideally I'd have Baby's Daddy to take care of all of that manual labor kind of shit, but let's face it, with my track record, that ain't gonna happen.  Ideally I'd wake up, the driveway would be shoveled, my car would be cleaned off and there'd be rock salt put down so I don't slip, fall, and bust my face on the concrete.

I wish my biological clock would shut the fuck up.

Oh, Nickle Pickle

Seriously.  He's gorgeous.  (And yes, that's a Bobbi from Cappriotti's on his high chair.)

I can't smooch on him enough when I've got him in my arms.