Category Archives: Family

Last week we celebrated a joint birthday (mine and my Dad’s) with a lobster and steak dinner at my parents’ house in Amsterdam, NY. It was the house in which I grew up, largely remaining the same (with some new questionable additions, such as a backyard pond, which, had I asked for one a few years ago, would have gotten me laughed or yelled at). But times change, and there are two new faces being raised there, as seen here.

Noah was simultaneously captivated and slightly apprehensive about the lobsters, but he was braver than me in the end, petting their rubber-band-bound claws before they hit the boiling water.

Emi was quite content to pose for a few photos, and introduce me to some of her stuffed animal friends. That’s much more my style.

When my brother and I were little, we used to sneak away mid-dinner-meal, sliding slowly down beneath the dining room table, unnoticed (or so we foolishly thought), and then hanging out surreptitiously until dessert was served. The twins tried to do the same thing. Apparently, it’s not so unnoticed.

It’s amazing how history repeats itself. We are rarely the first, or the last.

Since it went live in 2003, this website has always gone dark on September 11, in honor of what happened in 2001. But aside from being a sad day of remembrance, it also happens to be my Dad’s birthday, so he always gets short-changed when it comes to a birthday post. As is tradition, here it is, one day late.

If I am in any way noble or concerned about the well-being and welfare of my fellow human beings, it comes in large part from my Dad and his example. He’s one of those old-fashioned doctors who got into the medical field to actually help other people more than anything else. It was there in his willingness to take calls at all times of the night, to forego family vacations to work more, and to help out any neighbor who needed medical assistance in an emergency. He taught me the value of working hard, of respecting others, of protecting and providing for family. That’s not something you can do just by telling your children to behave or to be good – you have to lead that life. I’m thankful that I had such a good example. I love you, Dad. Happy birthday.

When we were kids, my brother and I used to go to Sammy Fariello’s to get ice cream, baseball cards, candy, and soda. We’d either walk or ride our bikes the few blocks it took to get there, and leave them outside on the sidewalk while we perused the antique shelves for pop rocks or root beer hard candies. It was a different time then. Now I don’t think kids are allowed to walk so far on their own.

The last time I was in town, my brother and I took his kids to Fariello’s, still somehow running all these years later, for milkshakes and sundaes. It’s the site of this holiday tradition, and always brings back happy memories. Noah and Emi are now carrying on one of the few Ilagan traditions, whether they know it or not.

Everyone loves a milkshake!

Let’s do it all over again next year.

We had the family over for the 4th of July, and the sun and high temps conspired to put everyone in the pool – and the twins couldn’t have been happier about that. They still need their swimmies, but they’ve started to jump, and Noah even does a little flip (if you follow me on Instagram you’d have seen the video of that…) so swimming with them is always fun now. It also tires them out, which I’ve come to realize is the number one goal in raising children.

My Mom brought the twins over for a Sunday afternoon cookout by the pool. They rode the inflatable lounger and dodged alligators and mermaids. They watched the baby robins from a safe distance and ate fresh pineapple. They went on a garden tour and remembered the name of the dogwood tree. In all, it was a perfect day by the pool.

A couple of weeks ago we had my niece and nephew over for a pool visit. They’ve come a long way as far as their swim skills go, and with a couple of swimmies on their arms they’re unstoppable (I have it on good authority that ‘swimmies’ is the proper name for those flotation devices). Thinking their aquatic exertions would allow for a nap at 5:30, their Dad let them sleep for an hour or so (against my judgment, but I don’t have kids of my own so it’s not my place to criticize). The fact that the kids were up until midnight made any criticism self-evident and unnecessary anyway.

That was the question I was asking myself as I entered the Palace Theatre surrounded by what at first glance appeared to be dozens of munchkins. It turns out they were just kids, like my niece and nephew – the only reasons I was attending a live performance of the ‘Super Why’ PBS show. Friends had advised against it (“They don’t serve wine at kids’ events, you know”), but I didn’t heed the warnings. “What are they going to be doing?” I asked defiantly, “Changing the kids on the floor?!”

I walked in to the theater to find someone in the corner, changing their kid on the floor.

Another friend had said that I should be prepared to engage and possibly dance with some of the performers. When I said that one look from me would be enough for them to know not to engage, they laughed and said that it wouldn’t dissuade anyone. “Would me screaming the word ‘cunt’ at the top of my lungs work?” Yeah, I thought as much. Fortunately for me, and the kids, it never came to that.

The show itself was impressive enough for Noah and Emi, who stood for most of it, excited to see their favorite characters come to life on stage. They actually behaved as well as anyone else there (and, compared with the screeching, crying thing behind me, often better). There were the minor annoyances that attend all children’s events (they did not take kindly to sharing soda)  – and I swear that someone (not my niece or nephew) peed on my leg like a dog, but all in all it was a good time.

(And for those concerned that I was left alone with these kids, my Mom was present to see that things progressed safely and without incident. I never even had to make an emergency martini stop at McGeary’s that formed the back-up plan should the heat from the large number of kids get to be too much.)

It hardly seems possible, but my niece and nephew turn three years old today. I still remember the slightly rainy and overcast day they came into the world, knowing that they would change our lives in the best possible ways, turning this previously-child-unfriendly chap into a doting Uncle. They continue to be a bright spot for all of us – two little points of light that enthrall my parents in ways I never could. Happy Birthday Emi and Noah!!

God, kids get up early. And for what? They don’t have a job, they don’t even have to go to school at two years old, but still they’re up at the crack-ass of dawn, waiting for someone to join them. The problem is, when your fun Uncle doesn’t get to sleep until 2 AM because you’re screaming, he’s not going to be able to get up that early. That’s what Dads are for.

Give me a couple of hours to adjust to daylight, and then we can begin again.

That said, there’s no better way to greet the morning than with these two smiling faces.

Donning our pajamas (and a terry cloth robe I found in my childhood closet), we hung out on the couch for a Friday night in the same spot where we used to watch ‘The Dukes of Hazzard’, ‘Mr. Belvedere’, and ‘Dallas’. Tonight it was a DVD – ‘Adventures in Babysitting‘ – fitting for any number of reasons.

We had but one incident of trouble, when Noah looked at me out of the blue and said, “I will hit you.” Huh? What did you just say to me? “I will throw you in the garbage!” At that my brother started laughing, but while Fun Uncle may be fun, he doesn’t tolerate that type of talk. I told my brother to stop laughing, and I looked at my nephew and said sternly (in the unmistakably-non-joking tone that means serious scary business to children and adults alike), “Don’t ever talk to your Uncle like that. That’s disrespectful. Your Uncle loves you and would never say anything like that to you. You will never talk to me like that again.” And I took him into the other room for a time-out until he said he was sorry (all of about a minute.) We rejoined my brother and Emi for the movie, at which point he promptly told my brother, “I will throw you in the garbage.” Where did he learn that??? Needless to say, the second time-out was worse than the first, and I wasn’t the one giving it.

I’m told this was the result of not having a nap. (But I did have one!) Luckily, the rest of the evening passed without incident, and we watched the remainder of the movie in relative peace. It was one of the nicest ways to spend a snowstorm – memories of my childhood intermingled with the memories my niece and nephew may one day have of their Uncle.

(As for my wardrobe, Emi & Noah didn’t seem to mind, unlike the rest of you bitches that will no doubt come for me on FaceBook…)

Bringing it on home this weekend, I spent Friday night at my parents home, with my brother and the twins. When I arrived, the house was empty (I wanted to get there before Nemo hit) so I walked around in the quiet and surveyed what was happening to the house under the presence/pressure of the twins, starting with crayon on a number of doors.

Soon the twins returned, and it was time for a nap. That’s the kind of plan I can get behind, and I made the most of it, sleeping for about an hour and a half. Unfortunately, the twins did not follow my example, staying up with my brother and resulting in some crabbiness  later on. (Oddly enough, I can be crabby with or without a nap. I will say this: being awakened by the gleeful shouts of two younglings is much preferable to the shouts of an impatient husband.)

For dinner, I roasted some winter vegetables, and we had the asado that Dad had made earlier in the week. (Well, my brother and I did – the twins had a little rice I believe.) The light was growing dim, and the snow was starting to come down. It was time to get into our pajamas… and a robe…