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My humorous thoughts about life.
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Today, April 13th is not only Thomas Jefferson's birthday, but it is also my husband's birthday. This birthday makes me look like a true cougar. You see, he's been aging backwards ever since he hit fifty. As for me, I prefer to lie upwards. Remember how great I look for 82? So, if I'm 82, and he's 45, Grr!
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Today, Friday the thirteenth is a lucky day for my husband who turns 47--he counts his years backwards ever since his fiftieth birthday. I'd love to get him a scrumptious cake, but it's Passover, so I'll have to figure out something else to make his birthday special. How about a post devoted just to him?
Although Mr. Lansky's first name is Mitchell, I refer to him as Superman. He's run seven or so marathons and has participated in too many triathalons to count. Last fall, Superman trained 150 people to bike 100 miles. Of course his unfit wife freaks on the major streets.
Not only is Lansky a super athlete but also a super husband as well. Superman does dishes, which every woman knows is highly sexy.
Furthermore, if I need something, be it feminine products or whatever, he will race out the door for me... and as an athlete, he's fast too. Also, Superman is highly intelligent. Not only did he get through law school and has been practicing for many years (still hasn't gotten it right since he practices), he also had the good sense to marry me.
In case that's not enough, my husband has been an outstanding father who has guided our three children into adulthood with patience and understanding. He knows how to talk to people whether its telling the kids what to do or negotiating million dollar deals.
This January 29th reminds me of my youngest child who not only turns nineteen today but is also the silliest person I can think of this Sunday.
Erica, aka Bear or Erca, loves to snap goofy pictures of herself and post them on my cell phone. She also enjoys playing with my computer's photo shop, or at least she did years ago. One of my favorite shots is when she barged in on my parents' honey moon.
Wherever we go, she's great fun to have around, especially when she teams up with her brother to do the college strut. The two of them headed down the sidewalk as if they owned the place. Judy, my middle child, respectfully pretended not to know them as strangers stared. Erica said, "They're looking because they're jealous."
She also once called her brother's cell phone and said, "I'd like a cheese pizza and an order of chicken wings."
He said, "Erca! This is your brother."
Without missing a beat, my baby replied, "Da-nel. When you start working at Papa Johns?"
In case you missed it the first time, here's Erca and Wilberfoss giving a news report.
Don't you wish you could be silly too... or just turning nineteen? Happy Birthday, Erica!
Funny that this week's topic should be about surprises because my husband is planning my surprise birthday party right now. We've been invited to Vic's Dirty Santa party on December second (close to my big 50). Although my husband claims this is Vic's annual party, we've never been invited to it.
He said, "Oh, sure. He's invited us before. I just never wanted to go."
Yeah, right.
Mitchell threw me a surprise birthday party when I turned 30 and 40, so I figure it's time again. Of course, I'm a stink pot when it comes to these things, so he might not want to plan one for 60 (or this year). Ten years ago at the last minute, I told him I was sick of the restaurant we were headed to and wanted to go somewhere else. My bad. I don't deserve him.
I of course, threw surprises for him on his 30th, 40th, and 50th too. The most recent was quite fun. My mother-in-law bought airline tickets to bring our two older kids to town. Without telling my husband, I took the afternoon off and picked up the kids. Later––when I'd normally be home, I called him at work and told him he had to come home because the upstairs toilet was over flowing and I didn't know what to do. When he said he was in the middle of something, I faked anger in my frantic state and told him he HAD to get home now.
Mitchell rushed to the rescue and proceeded to inspect the perfect toilet. "I don't see anything wrong with it," he grumbled.
"Me neither," our son said from behind him. The look on Mitchell's face was priceless, but the picture didn't come out well. :(
I'll let you know how my surprise birthday party goes--or maybe I'll be surprised when it doesn't happen. NAH! By the odd chance that it's not on the second, I'll just figure it's going to be late since the kids can't make it to town until after Christmas.
Here's a funny YouTube clip about a surprise birthday party.
Vic, my husband's goofy friend, is always good for a laugh (but usually they're of the dirty variety). His poor wife has been trying to lose 170 pounds for years, but he still hangs around. He'd drive me to drink, but this woman is a saint through all his "take my wife, please take my wife jokes." If she didn't laugh along, she'd probably slug him.
On New Year's Eve, Vic reported that 30% of New Year's Eve accidents involve alcohol. If that's the case, 70% do not involve liquor, so we have a better chance of getting home safely if we drink. Most recently he told my husband that our daughter didn't need to bring her checkbook with her to Prague. After all, there are plenty of Cheks there. Pretty funny, Vic.
The most outrageous Vic-ism happened on his fiftieth birthday party. He had it at McDonalds! Each of us received a Happy Meal complete with a toy of the boy or girl variety. He had balloons, streamers, and even a clown performing magic tricks. Although it's been a few years since his party, I still remember the double takes from those passing by. I could actually read their minds. They'd pass by, spot the balloon, think it was a five at first, then double take when they realized it said, "Fifty." Only Vic!
Today is my husband's birthday. He says he's 48, but I know better. I mean if you're going to lie about your age, you need to make it a good one: like 34 or 29. I like to lie upwards. After all, I bet I look great for 74! Anyway, happy birthday, Mitchell. He has been a wonderful husband of almost 25 years, and he's not sick of me yet. Amazing!
Today, April 6, means it's been 23 years since I gave birth to our first child--and to think, I was only six at the time. My husband and I have vivid memories of bringing that sleeping baby boy home from the hospital, setting his car seat on a table, looking at each other and saying, "What the heck are we supposed to do with it?"
Happy Birthday, Danielson!
We figured out what to do after dipping the poor kid in cold bathwater and sticking the snot snatcher up the baby's nose then squeezing. It's okay, the son is no longer cross-eyed and eventually we figured out how to suck his buggers out. In fact, we did such a good job at this that when Daniel woke after surgery from a soccer injury, he even asked me to pick his nose.
Judy Woo
Soon we added two female bundles of job (yes it's a typo, but I thought it was fitting) to the mix to create a full house of, "Mmmoooooommm! She looked at meeeeeeee!" Ah the pleasures of raising children! And of course big brother became a master at egging the little two into a fight then stepping back to watch.
Erica - Baby Bear
Yes, we've had many wonderful years of joy and vomit, but those days are quickly coming to an end for the youngest of the crew is now a Senior in High School. She has chosen to attend the furthest school possible, Zhejiang University in China. Just kidding, but she is going to UCF in Orlando, which is quite a jog from little Memphis.
Seriously, we will miss our baby as we do the older two, and once again my husband and I will look at each other and say, "What are we supposed to do now?"
