“When I grow up I’m not going to have babies, Oliver will be my baby.”
– Penny
Our Everyday
Sharing our stories, big and small.
On March 5, 2015 my baby turned 8. He received the best birthday gift, six inches of snow and no school!
Ingredients
2 heaping cups of humor, and not just farts and yo momma humor, but self-deprecating humor
2 cups confidence
2 cups thoughtfulness
1 cup of observation like noticing a haircut, a new necklace or the biggest slice of cake
1/2 cup tenderheartedness
1 cup smart, like street smarts
1/3 cup empathy
4 tablespoons sensitivity to cold, to hot, to sweating, to criticism, to losing, to meanies
2 tablespoons rhythm (if buying pre-packaged rhythm be sure beatboxing and rapping are included)
2 tablespoons smart, like fractions and double-digit subtraction smart
1/2 teaspoon sentimentality
1 large, cozy lined baking pan
Directions
- Preheat oven with lots of big warm hugs and if its still not warm enough toss in a few foot stomps and huffs and puffs followed by a door slam
- Combine all ingredients in a large bowl and stir gently
- Slowly pour all ingredients into baking pan, being sure to coddle
- Place in preheated oven and wait ten years for it to rise and leave you for college
Saying “I love you” is not something I grew up with. It didn’t end our conversations, console our boo boos or send us off to school. Perhaps it is the nature of my parents, perhaps it is cultural. Koreans don’t express affection that way. Phone calls end with the words “hang up”, seriously, that is the literal translation. But this is entirely normal. This is what I knew, this is what my Korean friends knew.
“Snowboarding” 
Children’s Museum of the Arts is a nonprofit arts facility that brings hands-on art programming to children. Located in the Hudson Square neighborhood of Manhattan, the space is entirely dedicated to hands-on art activities ranging from clay to painting, sound to computer graphics. This jewel box of a space was our playground for a cold Thursday afternoon.
Birthdays are special, stressful, extraordinary, dull, celebratory, dreaded and chock full of expectation. I expect friends and family to call, text, email, and post on Facebook their most heartfelt birthday wish, I expect everyone in the service industry to comp me something in recognition of this special day, I expect homemade gifts from my children, and I expect my spouse to lead and facilitate and ultimately carry the burden of making this day as special as possible.
Expectation is a real bitch, impossible to please.
Expectation tells me to have that second glass of champagne, that I deserve a Chanel bag, gives me a dozen balloons only to float away with them.
So for today, January 29, 2015, carpe diem.
Happy birthday to Anthony, a friend, extremely loyal to the few that truly count. Happy birthday to Anthony, a son and brother who loves his family fiercely, who thinks of what he wants to tell his Dad the next time they talk, silently reminds himself daily to call his Mom and has hour-long conversations with his sister.
Our Everyday 