I have to make a disclaimer before publishing…I am not making light of this horrible outbreak. Although my thoughts are similar to most, that it will pass, there’s really more to it, and less to it than we know, etc …
However, as much as I love my Italian peeps, my heritage, my ancestry and my own immigrant family as well as the zillion trips to the motherland I can never forget, it only punctuates why Italy is the perfect partner for Corona hysteria.
Italians freak over many things. Germs and illness are one of them.
Let me explain:
1. You will not drink anything with ice…ever in your life. Why? There is no real medical reason except anything cold will kill you…possibly within minutes. If you ask a waiter for ice, immediately they converse with the other waiters in a secret enclave and decide if this is a good move or not. Most times you are quickly labeled a cretino, and basically…buona fortuna.
2.Air conditioning is your neck’s worst enemy. Italians do not believe in air conditioning…ever. Visit Rome in August, and you will know I’m not lying. Air blowing on any part of your body is dangerous, but if you allow it on your neck, this might result in un “Colpo d’aria” which is literally a blow to the neck, (from the air). and you could be paralyzed from the neck down. That is probably a lie, too. I’m just guessing. Cold air from an artificial man-made device might put you in traction, and not allowed. My mother told me the story of her visit to Zia Maria in Genoa in the heat of the Italian summer. Her bedroom was a stifling hot box and she and my Aunt Lena opened the window at night but forgot to close it. Big mistake. Zia Maria found the open window and started screaming. “Chi aperto la finestra?!!!” To the dungeon with you…if you survive the blow to your neck.
3. Italians have an obsessive love affair with “I reni” or, the kidneys. These blood filtering organs are of the utmost importance to every Italian activity. Everything you do that’s bad will cause you to become labile with a kidney disorder…especially a wet bathing suit. I remember as a little girl, swimming at the beach in Riccione, my mother’s friend, Silvana, would count the amount of times I went in the ocean to remind my mother to change my bathing, suit. Every dip in the Adriatic warranted a change. They would count :”Ha fatto un bagno…due bagni.” Literal translation: One bath, two baths. Not changing of suits could result in dampness which would penetrate to the kidneys and have you on dialysis within hours. Not really true. I think the beach merchants just wanted you to keep buying bathing suits.
4. Cover your head at any temperature below 80 degrees Fahrenheit. Heat escapes from your head at all times, and even a slight night breeze could send you to the hospital with pneumonia. And, never, ever, ever go out with wet hair. This is the kiss of death. My mother’s uncle, Zia Nicola, married to draft dodger, Zia Maria ,used to wear a ski cap to open the refrigerator. He died from a cold. In addition to head gear, one must always wear socks to bed, really for the same reason. If you go to bed every night dressed like La Befana, you will fight off many germs which might come to kill you in the wee hours.
5.Never go back to a store and purchase the same thing twice…in the same day. You might be talked about. My Aunt Lucy wanted to purchase more focaccia for a train ride, and Zia Maria would not let her go back to the same bakery for fear they might wonder why she came back in the same day for more bread. Is someone sick? Do you have a focaccia psychosis? Are you giving it away? Why would you need more? The nun who purchased more focaccia might be an imposter. Of who? Not really sure.
6. Too many grapes will give you diabetes…but wine is ok. Diabetes doesn’t find you if you eat too many grapes. Nobody can really control whether or not they are prey to diabetes. The Italians say sugar begets sugar, unless of course it’s red wine, which if it’s homemade wine from Zio Pietro’s itty-bitty grapevine which contains alcohol, which naturally cleans out the body’s systems. It’s because of Zio’s grapes you are healthy and viable. Grappa as well, especially when taken in the morning with breakfast is the Venitians’ homeopathic version of “Raid.” Kills anything on contact.
7. My good friend, Nick, whose household is just a Barese territory tells me he still cannot shower after dinner. Why? Digestion. Right. Digestion. Any movement after dinner can cause unresolvable dysentery, cardiothoracic emergencies, angina or “appendicicte” (appendicitis). He also has fear of going into any body of water, even if he remains motionless for at least two hours after a meal. You could drown if your saltines were not digested properly. Nick is 42 years old.
8. Pastina in brodo. Always the answer. Corona: pastina in brodo. Cancer: Pastina in brodo. Pneumonia: pastina in brodo. Pastina in brodo was the answer to any ailment. My nonna taught my mother, and I, too, have swallowed the Kool-Aid…I mean brodo. Whoever is sick in my house not only gets pastina, but now they are so conditioned to ask for it first. “Mom, I hurt my ankle at basketball. I need some pastina.” “Mom, I failed my Algebra final. I need pastina.” The Italians might actually be working on a pastina vaccine with ubiquitous cure-all antibodies. Don’t laugh. It might work.
There you have it. This is exactly why Italy was the WORST country to get a Corona outbreak amidst all the hype. My nonna would have been there with corn starch. She found that a topical analgesic for just about anything. One day I’ll tell you the story about when I was seven and had a UTI…
Go throw on some socks, a hat, eat some pastina and maybe, just maybe you might be the answer. But, remember to thank the Italians. As my mother used to say to the other cultures “we were using forks while you were still swinging from the trees.” Never doubt an Italian.
ODE TO HARRY THE TALKING DOG
I think sometimes, or actually, I know always, that when we choose to love an animal, to knit their little paws, or big ones into the needlework of our family, we put aside the macabre and untouchable thought that they will, with nature’s law intact, go before us.
This past week, my big brother, Steve lost his twelve-year companion, Harry, a snow white Golden Retriever who boxed himself in as an only child. Well, really, he was. Since puppydom, Harry was raised inside the hallowed halls of Perillo Tours, family owned and operated since 1945. So, it would only seem right, that Steve, now CEO, would raise his “dog son” surrounded by marble from Carrrara and authentic wood bannisters from Abruzzi. I mean, shouldn’t every puppy be raised the Italian way?
Harry loved his treats, and his humble and obedient servants always provided. His office traipse always lead him to those snackers who just happen to have dog treats, and he was relentless: don’t leave unless you come back with a treat. Almost like the Wizard demanding the witch’s broomstick. He would sit, and dance on his paws, and his message was clear, without speech…I need a yummie.
I “babysat” Harry for many years when Steve would go on business trips. I loved him because he was my brother’s dog, but with seven kids at the time, and two other dogs, he would come barreling in like “where is my room,” with his virtual suitcase and entourage of doggie supplies. He could care less about incorporating himself in the dog world of then Lello and Blitzen, and more about getting my attention as doggie mom. He reminded me a little of Stewie from Family Guy the way he would bark at me, and then just want me to say “WHAAAAT HARRY?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aOLxQGLJouI. He would wait for me at the bottom of my stairs and growl at my own dogs like they had no place there.
Steve and I both have “canine fences” for our dogs since our properties are not hard fenced in. As Harry got older and knew his boundaries, when for whatever reasons his collar wasn’t on, he would appear at my front door, at any hour of the day or night, and just bark. I had to let him in, and he just wanted to hang, and bark. Steve would pick him up on his golf cart, (Harry’s favorite mode of transportation), and go back to doggie palace. Once, I was five months pregnant with Gianmarco, and I had to get Harry across the street at my brother’s house and bring him to mine. I drove the five seconds, because I knew…as predicted, Harry would be temperamental about going on his leash and coming. BINGO! There I was, ready for YouTube reality, pulling the shit out of this full grown Golden Retriever to get him into my car. I lifted him like a Volga boatman pushing cargo onto a ship, and he sat in the passenger’s seat. I felt my uterus dilating by the second. It was a 10 second ride to my house, and he would not exit. Ok, Harry, just sit there…and he did. Until he realized he was not getting chauffeured anywhere. He just came to the door and barked…he was done, now.
Kudos to my brother for walking Harry on every beautiful day to and from the office. He loved to journey back and forth, and was, for sure a faithful friend to my brother, who probably prefers dogs over people.
When a dog starts to deteriorate, there is no mistaking it. Harry survived a knee operation, a hip operation, and was strong like bull until recently. Lello, Blitzen then Stella and Harry used to bark at each other across the street for many years, every morning. At the crack of dawn, the Harry howls and choppy bark of my shepherd used to mimic the IPhone dog bark alarm. But recently, Stella would bark, and there would be no response from across the cul de sac. I knew Harry was slowing down.
So this past week, we said goodbye to Harry, who sadly passed away at the age of 12 after a short bout with pneumonia. The saddest part was that my brother was away with my son when his spirit crossed the rainbow bridge. But, you know, God has a plan, and if Steve had to make hard decisions for his buddy, that would have broken his heart even more. God made the choice, and Harry, a wonderful companion to my brother died in happiness. Steve buried him in the backyard Harry loved so much, with a cherry tree to shade him. He will forever be part of the Apple Ridge scenery, as my sister, Chris said.
I learned from Harry that animals need no voice to communicate. They can get their point across without knowing how to speak your language. But, alas, they have taught you theirs, which is one of the most beautiful to learn.
Here is my favorite tribute to Harry:
"I really didn't say everything I said." - Yogi Berra
As a die hard Yankee fan, so many Yogi quotes come to mind during the day, and I have to just crack up. You may think they don’t make sense, but they really do. In this case, I have to add a Mario Perillo/Yogi Berra disclaimer to my travel critiques.
One of the reasons my dad was as successful as he was, is that his business acumen and ethical prowess transcended even the most acceptable boundaries or bars set by businesses. He was all about loyalty, honesty, and never forgot that every penny in his pocket came from hard work. That Italian kid from the Bronx who rubbed poison ivy all over his face to impress a girl and wound up in bed for two weeks, was obviously into first impressions, and making them last. He parlayed this unquenchable scrupulousness into care and thought for his business, and his passengers who made it all possible.
He once told me the reason the travel business was so delicate and so difficult to maintain and keep afloat was that “you can’t return a vacation.” He explained that so many people, especially those traveling to Italy saved pennies for years for one dream vacation, and now you were responsible to make it happen and make it right. Of course things like delays and weather cannot be controlled, but on the whole, what you CAN control, you need to make perfect. A vacation doesn’t have a broken zipper … you can return a dress and get the same dress. You can’t do that with someone’s vacation.
When I travel, I keep this concept tucked into my travel heart and I tend to be very particular about where I am, and what was promised by a property. I not only think about myself and what I have shelled out, but for other families who may be on a budget and save and save and end up with the short end of the stick. I don’t want to say this place was great just because I have to, or because it makes a good blog post. If a place delivers, fantastic, I love you! If they don’t, they need to know, and so does the traveling public. Properties have a responsibility to give clients what they paid for at the very minimum. Coupled with this comes a clean environment, fresh food, a happy, accessible staff and no hassles, from check in to check out.
Keep in mind too, that travelers need to be open minded, because, well, shit happens. Be realistic in your expectations of a property based on price and destination. Don’t expect a 40 floor Hyatt in Bologna with seven elevators. Don’t expect the speediness of the the northeast in Jamaica. Get what you paid for, but be cognizant of the differences in your homeland and your vacation spot. That is why you travel. Also, remember that customer care and customer service are not about what happens when you don’t have a problem, it’s how they react when you DO have a problem, and how they correct it. If there is an issue, report it to management and give them a chance to react reasonably.
My job at Perillo Tours before I had Devin was (as archaic as it is now,), answering letters and calls from the happies and the not-so-happies. When the not-so-happies were not budging, we needed to make amends, and let them know we wanted them back again to make it right. I take that philosophy with me wherever I go.
Passengers do have responsibilities as well, but the onus is on the company to make it right, within reason. My goal is not to put anybody out of business or to smear a reputation or two, but to get them to “straighten up and fly right,” . Nobody can get their time, their life or their kids’ ages back.
Money is replaceable, but the time shared and moments granted can never be replaced.
My dad had this on the back of his brochure many years ago, and I noticed that many companies have adopted it. I love it, and it puts travelers in a realistic frame of mind as well ...
A TRAVELER’s TEN COMMANDMENTS
In the end, it takes two to tango, but a vacation is not like any returnable item, and for this I say that properties need to be as perfect as they can be, and remember ... returning customers are 90% of good business.
We hadn’t cruised in a long time. I’m thinking this might have something to do with the last two cruises we took: the one to Bermuda where everyone got seasick and Valentina ate a hot dog from her vomit and I had my one and only chemical pregnancy (different from a miscarriage). Or, the *(&^%$ cruise where Eva, age two, got some kind of bug and was in the cabin on borderline IV fluids, gray and motionless. Good times.
We have also had a few good ones to remember which continuously evokes the romantic feeling of that big ship, the all-inclusive, no brainer type of travel. So, since I changed venues for my big 50th, we decided to venture again. Al and I looked at each other and took a big breath, and said ok, let’s give it a shot.
I put my trust and my money in the hands of Melissa Zagans at NCL, and she did not disappoint. We took a Western Caribbean cruise with ports: Miami, Roatan, Belize, Cozumel and Costa Maya. A few caveats I will report later, but all in all, I was completely impressed.
The Norwegian Escape is a mega ship, but that’s what made it so great. It was literally a floating hotel. It was one of the widest, quietest vessels I had been on in my life, and I have to say, I have a tendency for sea legs, but not while I was on board. Sometimes I didn’t even feel the motion at all. (It wasn’t until I got home I had pretty bad rocking for a good three days...ugh).
The food was excellent. The Garden Café was by far; the best cruise buffet I have ever experienced. The selections were always fresh, and incredibly endless, all day, every day. It was creative, non repetitive and the kids just ate and ate. I had my first turkey and ricotta sandwich…wow!! No gaps either from breakfast to lunch to dinner, snacks. They get an A+ here.
Al and I treated ourselves to a HAVEN suite for my big b-day, with a connecting cabin for the little ones and a family cabin for the older kids. Both of the kids’ cabins seemed tiny, until we discovered the top bunk in the ceiling, which was fun for the kids, and added to the sleeping space. Our suite was nothing I had ever experienced on the high seas…spacious and hotel like…large bathroom, the most comfortable bed, ever… (I’m not the only one who thinks so…https://blissbedcollection.com/) the HAVEN amenities were also out of the park with a separate restaurant, pool, sundeck, bar and lounge all reminiscent of a 5-star hotel. Well worth the extra bucks for fun and comfort.
The casino was a ding-ding winner as far as beauty and space, although my wallet didn’t seem to think so, but my luck is nobody’s problem but mine. Lol But, it was so big and roomy you didn’t feel like you were on a ship. Gone I guess are the days of the six slot machines and three tables. Plenty here to sustain your gambling habit.
The kids enjoyed the pools, although, and this is very typical of any ship because of space constraints, they were crowded, but they had two super slides, one of which goes over the water, and the sports deck on the top of the ship was awesome. There was tight-roping, zip lining, mini golf, basketball and other stuff to keep everyone occupied on days at sea. FYI the zip lining and tight-roping is only good if you can channel your inner Evil Kenevil or Arthur Fonzarelli…some moralistic support from Kris Angel might be good, too.
Now, as for the caveats, which, as I found out, seems to be congruent with many luxury liners these days. These did not really put a damper on a great a great vacation, but equivalent to that fly that keeps landing on your food at a barbecue. It’s stuff to be aware of before booking. Always read the fine print.
1. DINING: NCL offers Free Style Cruising, which means free style dining as well, which I love. Gone are the stuffy cruising days of two seating dinners, same waiters, be on time and get dressed, formal evenings. We kind of just said, let’s shoot for whatever time, and even as a group of eleven, we showed up at a restaurant and we ate!
NOW… NCL as well as some other lines offer restaurants above and beyond your cruise price, which are yummy, (Al and I dined away from the kids one night ... guilt!) but, there are more of them than “complementary dining”.
You can certainly add on the ULTIMATE DINING PACKAGE which will cost you more, but allow you much more variety: Japanese, Italian, Brazilian (Churrascaria) and even Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville (which is completely a la carte). There was a decadent bakery, Gelateria and even Starbucks, but of course, all out of pocket.
Complementary dining was all good and we rotated for seven nights. As a basic diner, you could eat in the specialty restaurants but for 15-25.00 per person additional. That would have been a few nights in the casino for one night at dinner for us. If you are traveling as a couple or a smaller family, the upcharges may be ok and worth it.
2.SERVICE CHARGES: Tipping was included…or so I thought…hmmm...but each passenger gets charged approx. 14.00 (yes, per person) per day for service charges, which even when I approached guest services were nebulous. I found out from a friend who sailed on another line recently, she was charged the same. The upside to this is, I did not tip anybody else when I left. So, the good with the bad, I guess.
3. BELIZE: NCL cultivated an island off mainland Belize. There is not even a glimmer of the mainland unless you took an optional tour, but we were fine with the relaxation of the beach and pool. I thought I would have the same privileges as Disney’s Castaway Cay, where everything was on my room charge, and I would be able to eat and drink to my tropical delight. The island was beautifully landscaped, a huge, deliciously inviting pool and the beach was pristine, adequate chairs, (not a lot of shade…lots of searching for umbrellas if you got off the ship too late), gorgeous surroundings. But, surprise, surprise…nothing was included...not even my room charge, and my poor AMEX felt left out and orphaned because they didn’t accept her anywhere. :( Food, drink …all extra. We hung out for a while and got back on the ship, along with most of the passengers in search of food and sustenance they had already paid for.
NCL did a supercalifragilisticexpialidocious-ly job of keeping the kids and me entertained. What a jolly, well organized entertainment staff!!! My girls fell in love with Tyler Gray and Jackie Tang who were the most enthusiastic, effervescent hosts I had ever had the honor of playing Bingo with! There was always some fun show or game going on somewhere on the ship that appealed to everyone! And, as my husband can attest to, superlative karaoke!
Cruising, in general, is one of the best bangs for your buck (usually) for family travel. It keeps everyone in one spot, while simultaneously allowing for some frolicking, freedom and fun for parents and kids. Your kids can pretty much roam free but can’t get very far.
Hip Mom Hint: Read ALL the fine print and be an educated traveler.
I gotta tell ya…I debated this one for my entire vacation. After reading about our expedition, you might feel my pain. So, pack your bags and come along for a turbulent ride…kind of.
Listen, Atlantis has always done well by myself and my family. My kids love the aquatic chaos, and the ex Merv Griffin Paradise Island Resort and Casino, which still has ghostly presence in the Coral and Beach Towers, was transformed into this beachfront mega resort which I used to find pristine and well run by island standards. Restaurants such as Carmine’s and Virgils, even Starbucks and Ben and Jerry’s found lucrative homes seaside, and the massive casino ding-dings with excitement and money hungry gamblers 24/7. We always invested in the dining package, which could be anywhere from three full meals and high end restaurants like Mesa grill or, ample for us, two meals per day and decent dining establishments.
But, this summer, Atlantis took it’s chances on an all-inclusive package available from August to December (trying to make up for lost revenue in the low season), and it sounded great, but I think a good business move was informing their staff they had an all-inclusive package.
We have done a few great all-inclusives, i.e. Beaches, Barcelo Bavaro, which, with my family, is the way to go. Pay once, eat, drink, vomit…do whatever you want and don’t ask me about it. So, I thought for sure Atlantis with it’s reputation for fun in the sun and food for your brood would have his this out of the park: foul ball.
At check in you receive a map indicating the restaurants that are on your list, and bars where you can utilize your key to gluttony, but when you approached anybody…front desk, bartender, cashier, nobody could answer if you were on a free for all, or a diet. We never knew how much if anything we could have. One staffer said, “well, in the memo it said you could have as much as you want.” In the memo?????? Mega resort Atlantis couldn’t find it somewhere on their to-do list to have a staff meeting about such a huge endeavor as an All-Inclusive package? Just weird and underdone, and unprofessional. Anytime we took a drink or purchased food, we had to ask: “Included?” “Yeah, I think so,” was usually the response.
If you were following my Insta and FB, you were also privy to three days worth of photos of a half eaten pizza slice, and box, and a dismembered chocolate cake which greeted me in my nightstand. My husband who is much less squeamish than I am slept on the side of the bed that flanked the grossness of someone’s last Bahamian meal. Many calls made to housekeeping resulted in a clean up on the last night. I guess they didn’t want me to touch it either. The nice attendant who showed up turned green and apologized after almost dry heaving in the hallway as he carried out the corrugated cardboard box.
In their defense, after I tweeted and posted, I received a call from management begging me to take the post down, and offering me 250.00 resort credit. I thought about it, but I felt it better that travelers knew how an establishment such as Atlantis handled a dirty problem rather than washing it away like it didn’t happen. That’s where true customer service gets the grade. How did they troubleshoot? What was the result?
I was ready to take the 250.00 gesture and shut up after all the hassle with their not so all-inclusive all-inclusive and the late night frat party that died in my nightstand, but, at check out out I begged for all charges to be removed…we had none. We stayed with the pre-paid all inclusive, and I walked out with a zero bill (every hotel holds on to your credit for incidentals), only to find out after boarding our NCL cruise in Miami, that my 250 credit was not immediately issued, and guess what, Atlantis was holding on to 2300 of my Amex credit, which, until I tweeted again, was not removed.
I was ready to give Atlantis a gold star for a customer service remedy, but after seeing another 91.00 charge on my Amex just yesterday, it ticked me off, and the fact that I spent the first three days of what should have been a relaxing cruise trying to recover 2300.00 from Amex via Atlantis, I said, no way….
Atlantis…clean up your act, stop taking massive amounts of credit at the front desk at check in when clients have already paid up front, and here’s an idea….let your staff know when policies change. Maybe we will consider coming back when you really “clean up.”
Whenever I plan a trip, it usually has some semblance of “kid’s menu” written on it. But, since I turned fifty…vomit…and Gianmarco is four and gave my husband and myself the gift of a new king size bed (we’ve had it for fourteen years, but everything old is new again) we didn’t realize we had, we decided to take a grown up weekend “down the shore,” as we Jersians say. I think the shore has its charm for low-key beachy fun with the family, and short jaunts for the casual, no heirs, no make up (good luck) are a great getaway, but not my first choice for a real vacation. However, Cape May made me reformulate my skewed view on the beauty-less ( I didn’t say charmless) Jersey shore. I loved it, loved it, loved it.
We live at the second to last exit on the Parkway, 171. Cape May is exit “0,” literally. Any true Jersey Babe or Guy will understand what the question “Are you from Jersey? I’m from Jersey! Oh yeah, which exit?” when you ride up and down the Parkway for most of your life. Some of this can be captured in Jersey boy, Joe Piscopo’s several part rendition of “New Jersey” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7NT_4SLXvc. But, Cape May is in it’s own world. It’s clean, manicured, cultural and charming.
I found this new town (new to me, that is), that had the illusion of visiting a hybrid of Savannah and Santa Monica. The Victorian dwellings, from small to gargantuan, ranging from B&Bs to restaurants and private homes, that lined the side streets and Beach Avenue, must all use the same landscaper, on schedule, because the baby lawns were pristine, without a hair out of place. The flowers and foliage were some of the most colorful and freshest I have seen aside from Capri, Italy. The beach, which is typical of Southern Jersey, from the Wildwoods down to the Cape was welcoming and wide, and not a drop of garbage. I think Cape May town hall must be well versed in the age old art of cleaning up after yourself, or the town has it’s stealth bombers, just like Disney, who clean up and plant without you ever knowing they were there.
Al and I stayed at the Ocean Club, to which the only drawback, as it is with other hotels on Beach Ave, is the highway running between the front door and the beach. We sat at the pool one afternoon, and I got a great tropical feel, similar to Punta Cana, until I realized there were cars and parking meters on the other side of the pool. On the bright side, the pool was immaculate and warm, with a shallow end, probably just for kids, but we sat in the water for hours. We ventured to the beach the day prior, but even as a welcomed hotel guest, the town gets you for beach badges at 6.00 a pop, and the hotel provided comfy lounge chairs and towels, but if you didn’t want to get basal cell in one afternoon, you needed to spring 10.00 for an umbrella…am I buying the umbrella? Anything on the beach is cash, so if you left your wallet at home, you could die of dehydration.
I have to say, I loved, loved the bedding and the sheets in our room, whose outside was quite deceiving. The lobby of the hotel was similar to an upscale Caribbean resort, and echoed the feeling of the Cape May streets, that you may not really be at a Jersey shore resort. But, the small elevator and rustic room entrance threw me off. Behind the blueberry steel door, with a tiny laminated room placard to the left with the room number, was surprisingly, a great room, a tiny suite, clean, vacuumed, crisply linened bed, (which was one of the most comfortable I have slept in) and cute balcony overlooking the pool. (But DO NOT walk around your room naked. You will be the poolside entertainment unless you close the blinds). The hallway façade was just a masquerade for a better than most beach hotel room.
We were able to dine at a few hip joints, and finally just ask for a table for two, which got us in much quicker, and we were able to soak in the ambience. Thumbs up: The Mad Batter, The Blue Pig, 410 Bank Street..all great eats, each with their own signature grub. My favorite find? The Cape May Peanut Butter Co., which will get its own blog entry….
There were a lot of kids around, strollers, parents pushing strollers, fumbling with beach toys, coolers and bags of crap you just need for a three hour visit to the beach. For the first time in a long time, I could just walk by them and think for 72 hours, “better you than me.” I heard “mom,” about ten times a morning as we walked, but it was a relief that I didn’t have to answer, although I had to psych myself into adult mode that it wasn’t my kid.
A definite travel thumbs up to an undiscovered Hip Mom hideaway in my own state. Not a great family spot, for a couples get away, it fit the bill.
Hip Mom Hint: Nothing is cheap here…not a bargain to be found, so before you come down, scope out http://www.jerseycapecoupons.com for some possible bargains. If you are on a budget, take this into consideration. Lots of fun places to eat, too, that are not sit down. Dying to try this spot…looked yummy and great reviews. Take lunch to the beach: http://www.hotdogtommys.com/
When you were born, Dev, it seemed I would have you that way forever. It was unfathomable that babies would turn into 21 year old juniors in college. I used to hear mothers chatting about SATs, college acceptances and graduation, and I said to myself “I will be the mother whose child has Benjamin Button syndrome…my kid will stay five, and be five, even in twenty years.” I didn’t imagine you would ever get big. The reality of my denial would not set in for a long time.
As you grew, each year, although you grew with those years, did not seem a big deal. You were still my little boy, and even in grammar school, with every passing lost tooth, hockey tragedy, family trip, bigger shoes, bigger pants, I still said to myself “He will never get older…just watch. He will stay this age forever.” It wasn’t until high school graduation I said, “Oh shit, this is really happening.” And, I asked God, where did he go? We had a deal, remember? I promised to have as many kids as you would send me, and they would stay little. God, you reneged, and I’m pissed.
So now that you are 21 years old and four thousand miles away from me in Europe, I had the rude awakening, that time really waits for no man. That adage should be, “time waits for no mother, and spits on her while she is wailing on the ground holding on to a 21 year old baby blanket.” You are an independent, free-thinking human being, who, although your Florentine apartment on that adorable Italian cobbelestone laden street, with the tarantella like name, Via St. Antonino is a complete contrast to your dwellings, veiled in filth and a foul odors which can only be attributed to six twenty something males co habitating, you are doing it on your own, traveling the world on your free weekends, and well, living without your mama…in a land far, far away.
But, I realized something. Although our life has changed, nothing changed. When I visited you with Brynnie, our threesome resurrected, with love, care, hugs, and inseperability. My little boy was hugging me again, wrapping his big boy arms around his little mommy, and even though we conversed like adults, shared adult thoughts, opinions and curses, I realized that little boy never left me. You never thought twice about putting your arm around me when we walked, or hugging me tightly even when the guys were there.
I realized that although the kid who needed rides, help with homework, help lacing his skates, a binky, an oversized Yankee jersey, and little feet was still alive…but only in my heart. The man you became still needed hugs from his mom, advice, and love. I realized a mother is a mother forever, and that little boy who morphed into a man, will always be my baby Devin, and that’s ok.
I got “unangy” at God, (but only for a moment), and said “thank you for the opportunity, although fleeting, to have that little boy in my life. That was my gift for opening my door (and other things) to motherhood. Thank you for letting him grow, allowing him to fly, and for being exactly where he is supposed to be.”
There is a song, written by Marvin Hamlisch from the not so hit musical, SMILE. The poor kid who sings it is pining for a better life, somewhere. When he dreams of this magical place, he dreams about living in Disneyland ….. and there is a reason for that.
Disneyland itself is in California. It is the original, and Walt’s dream. We are Disney World people, since it’s a two hour plane ride and Gianmarco can deal with that and his iPad and Legos rather easily, while I binge watch anything and everything I can on the plane. In addition, when we are in Disney, we are so consumed by everything fantasy, we forget we have a home, school, garbage, bills, taxes, messy closets, mean friends, and well, a real life.
The Disney conglomerate has managed to suck everybody in, and age is not a criteria. It’s so cult-ish and brainwashing, you forget about the lines, the endless sea of strollers and screaming kids, and imbibe in the smells of buttered popcorn, the wafting from the bakery on Main Street, the steam from the turkey legs, and everything else that beckons, “eat me.” We don’t just go for the food, although it is a draw. Here, I can wear things I wouldn’t wear at home on a daily basis, like, ever….sneakers, jean shorts, bunhead, and nobody cares. (Although hipmom stays casually hip..lol) Kids can be messy, noisy, drooly, unkempt, and it’s all ok, cuz Disney is here.
Disney, I must say, keeps up with times with every beat of the Lion King’s conga drum, and nothing is left to dangle. We utilize their meal plan every time, and since it is like meal time on a mission trip to the Ozarks with my family whenever we eat, it is a plentiful dream come true. They have several levels, so what is good for us, may not be good for you, but we have abundant food and drink, snacks, and with the “dab” of your Magic Band, it is all at your service and already paid for. (You forgot you paid before you left…that’s the best part…you almost think it’s free..lol)
Disney also invites you to use their Disney Experience App, which kept me organized on on target. Making dinner reservations as far in advance as possible is key, and if you can swing it, make your fast pass selections then, too, although, that usually is too far in advance for me, but if you can swing it, you can get on the primo rides. The fast pass is pretty streamlined, although now, you have to use up all your rides before you can get a new one. I had my kids deal with all that because I get too flustered moving everybody around and clicking who goes where. But, in the end it’s simple, and now seamless. I will admit three years ago, I had such a bad experience with the advent of the band and the fast pass, they ended up giving us a free vacation…but that’s a long story. In the end, Disney will follow through, and is so happy to accommodate they will do everything they can to make your visit “Magical.”
Pregnant woman: I think I am having my baby now.
Disney Employee: No problem ma’am, we now have a birthing and delivery center right in Tomorrowland. Your other kids can enjoy the park and the magic, while you deliver your new mousketeer! We have a team of specially trained Disney OB’s waiting for you…
That’s exactly what it’s like…you forget your own existence…nothing is real there, and that’s why we like it. Thank you, Walt Disney, for creating a place that is so smitten with me and my happiness, I go home depressed.
But, it’s well worth it!