I Love It When Karma Makes You Laugh Out Loud!

Today we went out for lunch with my mom. We always have fun with her because my mother is just amazing and a delight to be around… today wasn’t any different.

During lunch my mother shared a story that made me say, “I’m totally blogging about that!”

The story took place many years ago when my mother’s Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Frank both worked as toll collectors on the Connecticut Turnpike (I-95).

They had to drive their own vehicles to work because they worked opposite shifts.

One morning, my Aunt Evelyn woke up to find that her red Ford had been stolen from their driveway.

They reported the theft to the local police but the car was never recovered. Not being in a position to purchase a new car, they had to come up with another plan.

Everyday, Uncle Frank drove Aunt Evelyn to work in the morning, picked her up from work in the afternoon, then went to work his shift at night… only to repeat the entire process the next day.

Aunt Evelyn knew that this was a lot on my Uncle Frank. After a few weeks, she told him, “You don’t have to drive me to work anymore, I’m going to take the bus.”

And take the bus she did!

Back and forth on the bus from home to work and from work back home.

Weeks passed and turned into months.

On her way to work one morning, the bus slowed to stop at a red light.

Aunt Evelyn was sitting at a window seat, watching the morning hustle and bustle outside.

“Wait is that my car?” She thought, as she noticed a red vehicle parked on the side of the street.

She got off the bus to get a closer look and read the license plate.

It was her car!

She reached deep into her pants pocket and pulled out the car keys that were still on her key chain.

Slowly, she slid the key into the door and it unlocked.

Aunt Evelyn moved into the driver’s seat and put the key into the ignition.

To her surprise, the engine started with a roar.

You could say, my Aunt Evelyn “stole” her car back that day, or just “reclaimed” what was rightfully hers.

Feeling victorious, she drove to work in her own car.

I would have loved to have seen Uncle Frank’s face when Aunt Evelyn returned from work driving her red Ford and recounted that incredible story.

I think the only thing that would have given me more pleasure than that, would have been to have seen the look on the thief’s face when he walked outside and realized that the car he stole, had now been stolen from him.

Karma! I love it when it comes full circle… and I love it when it makes me laugh out loud!




Why Is It So Dark?

These days, I’m mostly resting in bed with a book or a computer on my lap. I tore a ligament in my knee eleven days ago and this has become my new norm. My boys come in and out of my bedroom often, with questions or just to see how I’m doing.

And, yes they yell “Mom!” from the bottom of the stairs that lead to the third floor when they want to ask me something but they’re too lazy to make the trek.

My son, Kevin is here for a visit from Long Island. I am always happy to see him, but this ultimately leads to late nights for all of my boys.

Last night was one of those nights.

Today when my fifteen year old son, Marc returned from school, he was so tired that he went straight to bed. Kevin and Rocky went out and John went to visit his mother after he had finished preparing dinner.

Finally, peace and quiet.

I read for a while then decided to take a short nap.

I awoke to the sounds of the shower running. It is not abnormal for my boys to shower at whatever time of the day or night that the desire hits them.

I glanced at the clock, 7:00 PM.

I picked up my book and started to read, then paused as I saw Marc pass by in the hallway and disappear into his bedroom.


I went back to my book.


A few minutes later I saw Marc exit his bedroom, fully dressed and then I heard his sneakered footsteps going down the stairs. I called out to him, “Marc where are you going?”

No reply.

There were some banging sounds coming from the kitchen below. Then Marc yelled up, “Mom, there is chicken and rice on the stove but where is the low carb chicken that John said he would make for me?”


(Note: My three boys are constantly pairing workouts with all sorts of different diets and it’s enough to drive anyone who does the grocery shopping and the cooking right over the edge. This week Marc is going to the gym and eating a low carb diet…translation, there will be no protein left in the house for anyone else.)


“Marc, I can’t go down the stairs. You’re going to have to look around and find the separate meal that John made for you.” I yelled loudly, so that Marc could hear me.

Five minutes later Marc was back in my room. “I can’t find it. Can you Google how many carbs there are in rice?”

I grabbed my phone.

“Forty-six grams.” I stated

Marc replied, “Can’t have that.” and went back downstairs.


(Sigh. Insert eye roll here.) Back to my book.


Then, from the floor below, “Mom, Can you call John and ask him where he put my chicken?”

God forbid this kid ingests a piece of rice. I sent John a text about the location of Marc’s chicken. He immediately replied.


“Marc,” I yelled, “Your grilled chicken with a side of vegetables is in the oven.” (I know, who would have thought to look there.)


Time to reread the same sentence in this book that I read four times before.


Some time passed before Marc was back in my room. I assumed he was downstairs eating his dinner.

I asked, “So, how was your chicken?”

“I packed it.” Marc stated

Image result for image of a hand lunch bag

Before I could ask why he packed his dinner, Marc stared out the window, looking confused. It was then that I noticed that he was wearing a lightweight jacket.

“Mom, why is it so dark?” Marc asked

“What do you mean, why is it so dark? It’s 7:45 PM.” I said

“It is? I just got up and got ready for school. Didn’t you hear me in the shower? And, I packed my own lunch.” Marc said

“Well, if it was twelve hours from now, you actually would have made the bus!” I laughed

Marc sighed and walked out of the room. I guess he didn’t find it as amusing as I did. Let’s see if he can make the bus on time tomorrow…


My life, I swear…

















Taking It To The Top

It’s too nice of a day to play inside, I thought, as Marc and his friend Angel returned from school and ran up the stairs to Marc’s bedroom. They were both quiet so I figured that I would give them a little time inside before I suggested they make the best of the nice weather and find an outdoor activity.

I was busy cleaning up the kitchen when Marc entered the room with Angel in tow.

“Mom,” Marc called as he extended his right arm and motioned to hand me what appeared to be Angel’s cell phone. “Can you talk to this lady?”

I was a bit caught off guard, not knowing who was on the phone or what I needed to speak to them about.

“Hurry up mom, she’s waiting.” Marc said urgently while moving the phone closer to my ear.

Perplexed, I managed a brief “Hello.”

“Ma’am, was that your son I was just speaking with?” the woman on the phone inquired.

“Yes.” I replied, as I glanced around noticing that both Marc and his friend had left the room. Just great, I thought. I still had no idea about the nature of the phone call.

The woman continued, “Your son, I have to say, is very intelligent and very well spoken…and I do realize that assigned seating on the bus is a very big deal to a fifth grader…but here at the State of Connecticut Legal Department, well, we don’t handle those issues.”

Shocked, I managed a brief, “I understand.” in response.

“Now, you can certainly take the bus seating issue to the principal or to the superintendent, or the board of education if you are unable to get any satisfaction otherwise…” I heard her say, while I contemplated how I even ended up taking part in this conversation.

“Yes, I understand. ” I mumbled.

Before hanging up, the woman added with a laugh, “You have quite a little boy.”

“I know, thank you.” I said before saying goodbye.

I walked to the foot of that stairs and yelled Marc’s name. Before Marc even reached the bottom he had a flurry of questions…

“So, what did she say? Do we still have to have assigned seats on the bus? Can I sit next to Angel now?”

While Marc was excitedly awaiting my reply I said, ” Marc,  I have one question…why in the world would you call the Connecticut State Legal Department, on Capitol Hill in Hartford, to complain about seating on your school bus?”

“Well mom, it’s not fair for them to tell us where we have to sit on the bus,” Marc began, “And I just want to sit next to Angel…so I figured I’d start at the TOP.”

“Marc, the lady said we have to call the school,”  I stated,  “And don’t ever hand me a phone again without telling me who I’m speaking to.”

“Okay, Mom.” Marc said, “I’m sorry.”

The door slammed as they went outside to play and I had to laugh out loud.

That’s my boy.






Flying By the Seat of My Pants

As a mom, I’d like to say that I have it all together, but I know that most days, I’m just flying by the seat of my pants. I consider myself a seasoned multitask-er, in fact, I pride myself on it. Yet try as I may, It’s hard to pinpoint when I went from handling all of the challenges of home, work and kids to just winging it.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’d have to say I lost a little ground with each beautiful life that I brought into this world. Sleep deprivation is a tactic used on prisoners of war and also a staple of motherhood. After my first son was born, I thought I was doing great. The house was clean, laundry was folded and vacuuming the rug was next on my list. I spent 40 minutes looking for the powdered, shake on carpet freshener that I loved to apply to the carpets before I vacuumed. I eventually gave up looking for it, chalked it up as a lost cause, and (cringe) vacuumed the rugs without it. It wasn’t until the baby woke up for his next feeding that I found the carpet freshener perfectly chilled next to the baby bottles in the refrigerator. Could I really be that tired?

Fast-forward to raising teens,  and I’m pretty sure that I had slept more during the infant stages of my sons’ lives. Now, I pace the floor, lie in bed staring at both the ceiling and the clock, all the while repeatedly calling their cell phones, unanswered, until well past 1 a.m. Am I ever going to get any sleep?

On one morning in particular, (which is just one example of a day in my life) I woke up to Eric’s groaning announcement, “Mom, I puked in the tub!” What better way to start your day at 6 a.m.?

But wait there’s more…

There is always more.

The usual morning argument with Marc has begun as I am trying to call the high school to report Eric’s absence.

“Mom, I missed the bus! Can you drive me?” Marc yells.

“Okay, you have to wait a minute. I’m on the phone with Eric’s school,” I reply. I then finish cleaning the puke, wash up, throw my hair in what I call a “mommy clip” and grab a fresh pair of jeans from the clean laundry basket that I’ve yet to fold.

On the heels of my third consecutive night of work, I am up at sunrise and once again making the twenty-minute trek to the middle school. I drop the grouchy “morning Marc” off saying, “I love you honey. Have a good day!” and drive the twenty minutes back home.

Just in the door, my phone rings. It’s the school. Are you kidding me?

“Mom. I forgot my gym clothes,” I hear Marc say. “Can you bring them?”

“Yes, Marc.” I say while thinking just the opposite.

Driving back to the school all can think about is lying down. I have to work again tonight. I just want a little rest.

The only parking space available at the middle school is a block from the front door. I shiver in the cold the entire way until they buzz me in. I make a stop at the security desk, sign in and am greeted by a security guard who, of course, knows my name.

“How are you today?” He chirps.

“Living the dream,” I reply.

I enter the main office and I am warmly greeted by the secretaries and the school principal who instruct me to bring Marc’s gym clothes to the nurse’s office.

Back in my car, I glance at the clock. No sense in lying back down now. Maybe I’ll stop and get a cup of coffee at the corner gas station near my house. I am counting down the hours until I have to be in work while I’m factoring in all of the things that I need to get done today.

While I’m at the coffee station preparing my fresh, hot cup of morning java (my first of the day), a man walks in. I notice that he’s looking at me. The morning bustle at the store begins to peak at the coffee station and I have the unsettling feeling that all eyes are upon me. “Should I feel uncomfortable or flattered?” I think, as yet another man gives me the once over, looking me up and down.

Maybe I’m just rocking this no make-up and mommy clip thing, I start thinking…

Until…I glance down at my leg and notice that I have a hot pink pair of satin and lace panties stuck in the cuff of my pant leg, and static cling against the front of my shin.

All eyes are still on me (and I’m pretty sure that my face matched the shade of my lace panties) as I attempt a discreet peeling of the panties from my leg and stuff them into my purse.

Maybe they were all thinking that I had a  night of unbridled passion or an amazing one night stand.

I’ll just let them keep guessing. I know that I’m just flying by the seat of my pants…

…and those pants just happen to be satin, lace, and hot pink.