The 4th of July has always been special to me. I was born just a few days before, on the same day as my grandpa. Our birthdays, and later just mine, turned into a week long celebration. Some of my best childhood memories were made during this time of parades, parties and fireworks.

The home I grew up in was on the main street in a small ocean town, right across from the water. The view was to die for. The house, a Queen Anne Victorian, a masterpiece. It had a turret, original stained glass windows, chandeliers and the most spectacular staircase. It was flawed for modern living though, as all old houses are. There was no family room, no master bath, the washing machine was housed in my brother’s room, and its formality wasn’t ideal for young kids. But, once a year, for celebrating our countries independence, it was perfection.

The fireworks were set off from a barge directly across from our house. For a dinky little town, we sure knew how to put on a firework display. Each year was fantastic and our porch was the prime location for watching them. My parents would have parties, ranging from large to small. We’d pile on and look below at the folks who had to settle for a street view, vendor’s hot dogs and folding lawn chairs. We ate delicious food, wrapped ourselves in blankets and felt like the rich and famous for a night. I’ll never forget the sight of the bright colors dancing in the sky or the loud bangs as they exploded above “our” beach. It was the best night of the year.

A few short years after I left my childhood home for college, my parents divorced and sold the house. My childhood wasn’t perfect, but somehow that house represents all things good to me. The year our house was sold, the fireworks combined with the next town over and are now set off there. It gives me closure knowing we were the last family to celebrate with that view.

Every year at this time I feel like a little girl again. I long for my home town. I long for the beach, the fireworks and my whole family. I now have the daunting task of building 4th of July memories for my kids. I’ll try, knowing it will be hard to beat what I had.

Impossible, actually.

Originally published July 4, 2008

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You know those posts that you wrote way back when only your mother was reading? The ones you wish actual people had read? That’s what Flashback Fridays are for. Don’t have any? How about that old story or photo that you could never find a reason to post? Republish it today, grab a button from my sidebar, sign Mr. Linky and play along! Don’t be shy! I’d love to see what you’ve got…

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I would proudly wear a black eye received under the following circumstances:

1. Being elbowed in the face while fighting for the perfect wedding dress at the Filene’s Basement famous bridal dress sale.

2. Defending my children from any sort of harm.

3. Fighting for the last morsel of chocolate while being stuck on a deserted island.

4. Bolting down an airplane aisle when one seat in first class is offered on an international flight.

5. Tearing a drunk, slutty, half dressed woman off of my husband.

6. Being punched in the face for not being afraid to voice an unpopular opinion.

7. Landing face down on a rock while sky diving off a mountain top.

8. Wrestling a child from the grip of a vicious lion, escaped from the local zoo.

9. Having a leprecon throw a pot of gold to me and getting accidentally pelted by a big chunk.

10. Being kicked in the face while holding back the leg of a laboring woman in an elevator.

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However, opening a car door on my face while headed to my birthday lunch doesn’t quite make the list.

{But I did get showered with slobbery kisses, take a nap, have the sweetest post written for me and eat delicious cake. All in all, not a bad day. And thank you all for your sweet comments and tweets. They made me feel all warm and mushy despite the ice pack plastered to my face.}

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Today marks the 14th birthday I have had the privilege to spend as Scary Mommy’s significant other. I still fondly remember that first birthday together: two kids so intoxicated with new, young love that it didn’t matter that we were underage and unable to toast the occasion. Oh, how much I thought I knew about Jill then, after just 10 months! I can unequivocally say now that I hardly knew her at all.

What I love most about birthdays is that they allow you to take stock of the events of one year: the good and the bad, the extraordinary and the ho-hum. Having celebrated every birthday together since we were 18, I’ve also come to view birthdays as an opportunity to recollect what I’ve learned about my darling wife over the previous 365 days. For instance, that first year after Jill was diagnosed with Level III Melanoma, I discovered that courage was at the core of her being. I also learned that she has a crazy-high tolerance for pain that, to this day, makes me look as masculine as Tinker Bell glowing at night.

Since then I’ve learned about the vehemence of her heart and the veracity of her eyes, the taste of her tears and the strength of her mind.

But it’s what I’ve learned over the past year that deserves recognition today here on this blog: the girl is a writer! The irony is hard to ignore. As students, Jill explicitly designed her class schedule around the likelihood of having to write papers, avoiding the words “term paper” like most people avoid a fallen bar of soap in a jailhouse shower. Me, on the other hand, I was a literature major with a focus in creative writing. I used to practice iambic pentameter for fun! I fantasized about a writing career that would afford me a generous salary and the freedom to work from home.

The time I’ve spent writing has dwindled over the years, as the demands of my career in public relations have taken precedence and the joy of spending time with my three children dictates my “free time” activities. Meanwhile, the once word-phobic Scary Mommy has smartly turned her homemaker gig into a career as a confessional author and domestic lifestyle satirist. She has the joy (and, admittedly, at times, the burden) of staying home with our kids and chronicling their days and nights on this blog. Through her witty writing, self-deprecating humor, and keen observations, Jill has done in just over one year what many more experienced writers fail to ever do: connect. All you have to do is read the comments (I read every one) to see that Jill has built a true community of men and women—young and old—from all parts of the globe, who turn to Scary Mommy to laugh, to learn, and most importantly, to connect. That’s the impact every writer dreams of.

So, on this special day, I celebrate a wonderful wife, mother, and author—a woman whose considerable talents continue to reveal themselves year after year. Happy Birthday, love.

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I’m That Mom

June 29, 2009

in Guest Posts

Being gone for two weeks, I asked some of my favorite bloggy friends to help fill in for me. I suggested that they they might share some “scary mommy moments,” to create a theme among posts. To me, that meant those moments where you feel imperfect, unfit and downright… scary. They interpreted it as their scariest moments as a mom. Duh. Of course they did. Clearly, the problem was me and I suck at communicating. Which is why I blog. Alone. Not wanting to frighten you all with two weeks of heart stopping parenting tales, I’m sharing a past favorite of mine by Kate of The Big Piece of Cake. Kate is lovely and funny and you need to be reading her if you aren’t already. And I’m also enrolling in some communication classes. Obviously, I  need them.

I have a running list in my head of things that fall under the “what not to do” category of motherhood. Not that I’m saying I’m a bad mother. I do many things well. I’ve had uncounted triumphs, moments of genius and mental high fives. But I often fall short as well. At the very least I’ve had to look at myself from time to time and say “not your personal best, Kate.” Here are some examples:

1. I’m that mom who lets my three year old eat Goldfish crackers for breakfast when we’re in a rush – because “it’s just easier that way.”

2. I’m that mom who allows my nudist children run around in underwear all day as long as they stay inside (although I sometimes have to retrieve them from the front lawn).

3. I’m that mom who doesn’t even bother trying to force my kids to eat vegetables at dinner anymore. They eat them for lunch with that magical woman at daycare – so that takes some of the pressure off.

4. I’m that mom who lets my toddlers believe that Tic Tacs are “candy” and that they’re a BIG TREAT. They will find out about Reeces soon enough.

5. I’m that mom who accidentally locked myself and my twins IN my three year old’s bedroom with him on the outside (you can click to read what happened but if not, don’t worry, we all made it out without tragedy).

6. I’m that mom who hoisted my three year old over a chain link fence rather than walk a mile carrying him while his “accident” soaked through my shirt. More on that one another day…

7. I’m that mom who sometimes skips every other page of the longer bedtime stories because I’m tired and hungry for my own dinner which is at that very moment sitting on the kitchen counter getting cold.

8. I’m that mom who may know the children are doing something in the other room that I expressly told them NOT to do, but pretend I don’t see it so I don’t have to deal with it.

9. I’m that mom who will yell at my children and then hug them and tell them how “good” they are. Just to stay consistent…with the inconsistency.

10. I’m that mom who let my three year old grab all of the tampons that fell out of my purse onto the floor of the car – just because it was easier to let him have them than to try to take them away. Then I had to fight him to get them back once we arrived at the grocery store and I discovered that he had systematically opened each of them and ripped them to pieces. THEN I had to explain everything to my husband when he arrived home with wads of cotton clenched in his hands. Yeah…that was me…

11. I’m that mom who threatens my three year old with naps even though he hasn’t napped in over six months and I have no intention of following through.

12. I’m that mom who will finally break down and offer my children candy if it will make them submit to my will.

13. I’m that mom who will bring my kids out to run errands before cleaning the magic marker off of their arms and legs.

14. I’m that mom who says I won’t let my kids taste raw cookie dough because “it’s not good for them” – when what I really mean is that I’m afraid that they’ll find out that it is in fact, much better raw. Then I eat some when they’re not looking.

15. I’m that mom who will let my toddlers play with things they shouldn’t (i.e. our cell phones, the dishwasher, the clean laundry, toothpicks) because I’d rather have them be happy and quiet than screaming while I try to assert my authority.

16. I’m that mom who will wait until Monday morning to realize that I have no clean school clothes for my son and then madly search through the dirty clothes for something that can pass for clean.

17. I’m that mom who will trick her son into leaving the (dreaded) pet store by saying, “I bet John and Cheyenne [John's dog] will be out playing ball when we get home.” I’d rather deal with the consequences of that later in my own house where it doesn’t smell like gerbil poop.

18. As a continuation of #17, I’m that mom who will let her son believe that we are going to the park or the pet store, when we are actually going to Target or daycare. I don’t TELL him that we’re going where he thinks we are – I just don’t tell him that we’re NOT. So it’s not a lie as much as an omission. Right?

19. I’m that mom who answers my daughter’s thousands of calls for “MOMMY!” with “ELEANOR!” instead of just saying, “what is it honey?” And then she answers my “ELEANOR!” with another “MOMMY!” And because I find this incredibly entertaining I just continue the cycle until we end up enacting a personalized game of Marco-Polo. Except we’re not in a pool. And she knows exactly where I am.

20. I’m that mom who believes that ice cream is the solution for everything. For my children – and myself.

What kind of mom are YOU?

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The Ocean Blue

June 27, 2009

We’re headed to New England tomorrow for the next two weeks. I’m going to attempt to tear myself away from the laptop a bit and maybe even read a book while we’re gone (doubtful, but worth a shot.) I’ll blog a bit, but have some fabulous bloggers lined up to fill in for me as [...]

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Adventures in Babysitting

June 25, 2009

I babysat a lot as a teenager. A lot. My Saturday nights pretty much consisted of a standing date with George Clooney on Sisters and whatever free snacks I could score. (Not so bad, in retrospect.)
There were the good houses to babysit for and the bad houses. The good ones were stocked with Oreos and [...]

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