Anatomy of a Dylan

I have NO idea where Dylan came from.  He looks like a Renuart/Castiglione in many ways, can be very overdramatic in a Renuart kind of way, but there are things about this kid that floor me.

First you take a little bit of silly:

A little bit of helpful:

A little bit of brotherly love:

A little bit of dramatic: 

A LOT of bits of athletic (this is the weird one):

A little bit of daring:

Mix them all together, and this is what you get:

Never a dull moment!

Our Beloved Nana

Thomas's grandmother, Julia Ferrara, passed away this past weekend.  While it wasn't unexpected, there is unbelievable sadness in the Castiglione/Ferrara households.

Nana was an incredible woman.  A New Yorker through and through, she loved her family and her friends with a fierce passion.  So fierce, that it was common knowledge that if Julie walked into the hair salon where she worked, owned by a long-time family friend, you had better hide, or she's going to show you more pictures of her great-grandchildren.

Nana was always ready to play, can you tell by the pirate game that Sydney created:

Full dress up, and 100% commitment to her role, that was our Nana.

She loved nothing more in the world than to play with Sydney and Dylan.  Sitting on the ground, climbing on things that she REALLY shouldn't have been climbing on, we never really knew who to worry about more...Sydney or Nana!

She was always fully alive when she was with her family, new and old.

You could not have seen her more proud than on Thomas's graduation day.

Nana, you're the best.  We're going to miss you.  We love you.

This Diva Needs Her Stage

Sydney is turning 10 in July.  I have no idea how this happened.  I keep threatening to cancel her birthday so that she can't get any older.  Dylan thinks it's hilarious.  Sydney rolls her eyes at me.

SHE ROLLS HER EYES AT ME!

Are we there already?  I'm a bit freaked out.  So, we start talking about her birthday party, and she says that she wants a theatre themed party because, "Theatre and Musicals are my LIFE!"  After explaining that many of her friends would balk at having to sit in their pajamas watching Bernadette Peters in Into the Woods (silly kids, who WOULDN'T want that!) she broke down into full-on diva tears and saying that her birthday will be ruined if we don't have a theatre party.

I have NO idea where she gets this from.  Maybe I should have seen this coming from the following hints:

 This was her Christmas present (the scooter). The coat was from my mother-in-law.  She stopped traffic A LOT that day. (that also could have to do with the fact that she wasn't watching where she was going.)

For her fourth-grade multi-genre project, she chose Shakespeare, and has since become a complete Shakespeare fanatic.  Many an awkward conversation has been had over why Othello killed Desdemona.  Remember, this is the girl who thinks that life is glitter-pooping unicorns and doesn't know about the "birds and the bees."  So, she dressed up as the Bard for the parent presentation, and spent all night in character.

Continuing the love of the Elizabethan Era, we decided to visit the Renaissance Festival in Southern California.  She literally bounced the whole way there, and immediately spent all of her money on costume rental and those garland headband thingies (plural).  Then, pitched a fit when it was time to leave.

Now, we are prepping for her recital on Saturday.  She's in a jazz number and has decided that she's going to focus on tap next because "duh, Mom, you need tap for musicals."

She's in rehearsals for Bye Bye, Birdie.

I've created an almost ten-year-old, eye-rolling, Shakespearean-obsessed, tapping Musical theatre nerd.

I'm pretty proud, not gonna lie.

On your mark....Get set....STOP and wait for an hour.

Summer is the time for relaxing....for catching up on your DVR....for afternoon backyard BBQ's. I guess we didn't get the message.

Now to be forthright, I do this to myself.  I'm not good with having "spare time," and as soon as I sit down, the Catholic guilt rears its head and tells me to get up and do a, b, or c.

In addition to that, I have a problem.  Well, lots of problems, but that's for another day.  I have a problem with time.  Or, more specifically, being ON time.  Sydney and Dylan call it "Mommy time." My students call it "C-time." My husband calls it obsessive-complusive.  My idea is this...if you're on time...you're late.  If you are at your destination and ready to participate at the start time, you're on time. If you're ten-minutes early....perfect.

This makes being "fashionably late" to any sort of party very troublesome.

It is this "quality" of mine that also leads to extreme road rage.  I normally need to be somewhere NOW, and why can't these other drivers understand???

Well, this week is a true test.  After the 6- pre-8:30am walks that it took for everyone to properly poop (the dogs, that is) we rushed across town to Girl Scout Camp.  Upon arrival, I realized that I forgot Syd's permission slip.  This combined with the fact that is was 9am and therefore late in my book, Dylan promptly steps in something brown and sticky, forcing me to lock the wee one in the car while I signed Sydney in for the day.

Then, we race to school where I needed to be today, only to find out that since the fire alarms are being fixed, no students are allowed in my room.  In case they look at the kid funny?  So....schlep ALL of my books (100's) into the band room where I sit for four hours.  I don't like sitting.

Then, we RACE to Girl Scout camp, find Sydney and jet to the car.  Both kids are now busting the Houdini acts by changing into swim attire in the car.

We get to swim 5 minutes early, which has freaked me out because there is still swim-capping that must happen, sunscreening, and "accessory" organizing.  Then I sit for an hour.  I don't like sitting.

Then, we RUN home, I throw food at the kids, make them change, walk the dogs, then RUN to drop Syd at rehearsal.  Come home (stopping for milk on the way) and sit for 45 minutes.  I don't like sitting.

Go back to rehearsal, only to find them not done, and find a way to entertain Dylan in the car for an additional 1/2 hour.

Get my drift?  I run like a crazed bi-polar freak, then slam to a stop where I contemplate my blood pressure.

I think I need a valium.

The Reluctant Dog Walker

So, my husband, Thomas, was an animal trainer for film and television when I met him. This means that over the years, we have had any of the following living in our house:

 -dogs (up to 5 at a time)
-cats (up to 3 at a time)
-an iguana
-a bearded dragon
-a Burmese python
-an otter (in the bathtub, I swear)
-two piglets
-one BIG freakin' pig
-a capuchin monkey and her baby
-an orangutan
-multiple baby chimpanzees

 I've always loved animals, and I have loved having them around. But, at this stage of my life, there are two problems.

 PROBLEM NUMBER 1: Birds

 I am NOT a fan of birds. Don't get me wrong, they're beautiful to look at, I understand the premise behind To Kill a Mockingbird, yada yada yada, and I'm not afraid of them, but I really don't like them. My mother is TERRIFIED of birds (thanks Alfred Hitchcock) and has been know to swat at pigeons in the park with her cane (yup, the mental image of that IS as funny as the real thing). Perhaps it is because of her aversion to birds that I really don't care for them. Here is where the problem begins. 

Thomas knows I don't like birds, and has always been great about not bringing them home. However, three weeks ago, we moved into our new house. I love to sit in my backyard with a good Nook and a glass of wine, and I spent lots of time and money on making the backyard a nice, relaxing place. Enter the bird. A bird has made a nest in the roof directly above my bedroom window. This wouldn't be the only problem, but said bird LOVES to stand on a small overhang right next to the open window (the new house gets a brilliant cross breeze)and sing its god-damned little head off 21.5 hours a day, starting at 4am. Ok, I can handle that....sometimes. 

PROBLEM NUMBER 2: The Geriatric Four-Legged Set

 At this moment, we have three dogs, a cat, two guinea pigs, and a bearded dragon. The pigs and the lizard aren't the issue. The cat, Isabell, is roughly 16 years old, and has been recently diagnosed (by Thomas, mind you) with dementia. This means that at 3am, she starts yowling like someone is killing her. Upon investigation, she can commonly be found in the hallway three inches from the wall, staring at it, having a jolly loud conversation. When you approach her, she's surprised to see you up at such a ridiculous time, turns, and heads to Sydney's room where she promptly deposits herself on my sleeping child's head.

 Dogs. I love dogs. I have always had A dog. However, our brood is a mixed bag of crazy. Thomas usually has complete dog duty, and for that I am always grateful. However, Thomas is in New York for his grandmother's funeral, and I am here to deal with the furballs.

 Holly, the 2 year old Golden who Thomas rescued from under a car on the 91 freeway likes to pee on the carpet in my new house, which of course, happens to be as close to white as you can get. She also likes to eat poop, and with this many animals, there's a LOT of it, so you basically have to follow her around the house and take her for a walk ever 4.5 minutes.

 Lenox, my 13-year-old pug mix, is so protective of me, and doesn't like Holly getting any attention, that the other night, while I was petting Holly, he decided to make sure that Holly knew that I belonged to him, and he peed on me. I guess he marked that territory.

 Niko, our 15-year-old boxer mix, has one foot in the grave, and one on a banana peel (I stole that description from a friend). She wakes up at 5am and is ready for a walk, which consists of pooping as she walks down the sidewalk, standing in the grass, and staring vapidly off into space, only to get home and realizing that she REALLY needs to pee.

 So....it is now 8am on a Sunday morning, during my vacation. I have been up for almost three hours, gone on two walks, fed four animals and had two cups of coffee. The bird is chirping, and the dogs are sleeping. Of course.

At least they're cute...right? RIGHT????? RIGHT????????

The Dog Days of Summer

So, this summer is different from other summers in our family's life.

No one is in school (got the Master's degree, Thomas is done, kids are out for the summer). After 6 years of renting in California, we have just bought a house and moved in (pictures to follow), and there's no traveling on the books for this summer.

 Here's what we DO have:
 1) Swim team for both kids (practice 5 days a week)
2) basketball for Dylan (1 practice, 1 game a week)
3) flag football for Dylan (once a week)
4) Bye Bye, Birdie for Sydney (she's playing a "sad girl")
5) Girl Scout Day Camp for a week
6) Apple computer camp for Sydney for a week
7) the reading program at the local library

 I think I may have lost my ever lovin' mind. What kind of crack did I take when I thought this would be a good idea? We're still trying to move in and get situated so that we can throw a housewarming party, and Sydney turns 10 next month (how the hell did that happen?) So, I've unearthed this blog, and will be talking more about how I've turned myself into the Castiglione cruise director, complete with color-coded calendars. Yup...crack.