Michael Jackson died

Master of the obvious, I know, but this is what Ayla has been telling everyone she has met all summer long. It must have been a monumental event in her 3-year old world. "Dead" is a new word in her vocabulary (thankfully), but that doesn't mean she gets the concept. She will say, "... he was dying and dying and dying." She just knows that it was, and is, a big deal. Both Mommy and Daddy cried. We started playing his music non-stop and the old posters went up in her little brother's room (more on that later).

It has been a few months since I shockingly saw on the news that MJ was hospitalized... and then that he had passed away. I was at work, trying to convey to my co-workers that, yes, seriously, I was upset. Don't misinterpret this - I couldn't care less about celebrity gossip. Yes, it's always sad when a person passes away, but just because I saw them in a movie doesn't make it personal. I didn't know them and nothing gets on my nerves more than a mediocre celebrity becoming infamous just because of an untimely death. The actual people in our own lives deserve more attention. But, with that said, my man MJ is an exception to that rule.

First of all, I was a product of the 80's. Anyone growing up then can pinpoint a time in their young childhood when "Thriller" debuted on Mtv or watched Moonwalker endlessly or made up dances to his music at slumber parties. And this wasn't an individual obsession, my entire family was there. It was the only time Mtv was even allowed. John Mayer said, "A major strand of our cultural DNA has left us. RIP MJ. I think we'll mourn his loss as well as the loss of ourselves as children listening to Thriller on the record player." So true. The loss of ourselves. We have somehow connected a love of his music and dancing to an innocent, happy, awe-struck period in our lives.

Secondly, I never grew out of that. A good friend and I once dictated letters to Michael onto a cassette tape. This was around the time of "Heal the World" and the Free Willy movie. We told him how we thought he was a wonderful person and his lyrics really meant a lot to us. Yeah, we were dorks, but I never did that for any other celebrity! I could totally relate to seeing people freak out and faint at his concerts, how would YOU react if you really saw the moonwalk in person? And when I watched the "Remember the Time" music video, I saw my life's dream as becoming a back-up dancer for MJ.

Then came the poster in college, given to me by Jenn. Quite possibly the greatest gift of all time. Most of the pictures are posted on Facebook, but this poster followed me everywhere I went. Yeah, it's funny to joke about grabbing his crotch or the white glove or a high-pitched, "Hee- hee"! But you know it's cool. Deep down, you know it. Don't deny the King of Pop.



And Michael was there at every wedding, every party, every time you made a mix tape for someone. So many happy memories shared with our friends and family - there's Michael making you dance like crazy. "A slave to the rhthym," as he put it.


Thirdly, can you guess why my son is named Jackson? Yeah. I like him that much. When Gregory and I were first dating, we thought Jackson Michael would be the coolest name for a baby ever. We've edited it a little since then, but thankfully, I married someone who shares the same adoration for MJ. I seriously doubt I could be with someone who disagreed with me on this. Just like politics, religion, child-rearing... there are some core values that have to be shared!

I just watched the Oprah show yesterday where she showed portions of her original 1993 interview with Michael Jackson. (Yet another moment in time that I remember sitting down with my entire family to watch it.) And, I'm realizing that the other side of it, is that I'm sad that in life MJ was so sad. He had all the things we spend our lives trying to attain: money, recognition, fame (in some respect, we all want it), opportunities to travel, etc. But when those gifts come to you at the age of 6 or 7 - you can't live a normal life. The poor man couldn't have both. While we can pinpoint the happy moments in our lives when we watched a video premiere or felt moved by "Man In The Mirror"; he was at yet another point in his career. Must be weird to be on the other side of that.

But, in death, Michael Jackson has impressed yet another generation. Albums are still best-sellers and I know my own kids will know his music. Hopefully all of the negative media can fade away and we'll be able to just appreciate how unique his status in our lives really was.

If they say, why, why? Tell 'em that is human nature
Why, why does he do me that way?
If they say, why, why? Tell 'em that is human nature
Why, why does he do me that way?
I like livin' this way, I like lovin' this way

Thank you for the music

Thank you, ABBA, for the music. Yeah, I said it, I'm an ABBA fan. And so are a lot of other Pittsburghers, apparently. Let me explain...

Last week, Erin, Gregory and I went to see an ABBA tribute band at the Benedum Center. Maybe their music has gained more popularity recently due to the musical Mamma Mia! (which should not be compared to the movie Mamma Mia!, which was horrendous). But ABBA has always been near and dear to my heart. In fact, the first I ever listened to them was at Erin's house in high school - and I've been in love with "Take A Chance On Me" ever since.

Gregory and I went to see Mamma Mia! the musical in Toronto right after we were married. It was the mini-honeymoon. This is when I introduced him to the beauty of a four-person (two couples) group in white spandex, singing about Fernando and Waterloo. We've been listening to the soundtrack in the car and Ayla is also becoming the avid fan. On her list of favorite songs, it is first "Quiet Girl" (or, more commonly known as "That's Not My Name" by the Ting Tings), second "Mamma Mia" and third, anything else playing on B94. But I'm getting away from the point!

So, I was hooked on ABBA in the '90s... the other people at this concert, however, have probably been hooked since the '60s. I'm guessing this because they were old. Almost all of them. We should have known how this crowd was going to behave by the high percentage of animal print blouses.

The show was great. It was highly enjoyable to see a bunch of Swedes dancing around on the stage in clogs (this was the men, by the way!), pure white get-ups and rocking the keyboard. Two of the original band members were there, playing saxophone and the drums. But, in the end, the show on stage was secondary to the show in the audience.

Erin said she had been to some eclectic shows - but this might have won the award. It takes a special kind of music to make these geriatrics bust a move. Of course there were a few teenage girls who stood up and danced just because they knew they looked cute and were trying to get attention. But the majority of people dancing, clapping, bopping their heads, were very old AND not very rhythmically inclined. The lady in front of us sure did clap along - but she never, not once, hit the beat. That takes a distinct non-skill in listening. But she was loving it!

We had a great time crowd-watching and dancing to the music (on-beat I might add). I'm proud of Pittsburgh and its' ABBA fans.

Holden Beach, Part Birthday Bash

You never know which part of the Holden Beach vacation is going to come next! Well, it's Ayla's birthday party!

This is the second year in a row that we've spent Ayla's big day at the shore. I think it's pretty cool that she gets to celebrate while on vacation (come to think of it, what part of a toddler's life isn't vacation?). We had been talking up the party for about a month, saying "You're going to have a Wall-E party at the beach!". I always thought kids who had summer birthdays were really lucky - they could have pool parties OR have their birthday announced at camp. It's weird, I know.

August 14th was our last night before departure, so Gramps & Nano treated us to take-out chinese food. It was a much smarter plan this time around to eliminate as many leftovers as possible on Friday so we weren't stuck with too much food and too little cooler space on Saturday morning. All I had to do to prepare for the party was make cupcakes. Luckily, Gregory helped and commented on the overly-stickiness of the batter and I realized I had forgotten to add water. Apparently, my brain was sunbathing and I almost ruined the party! But the cupcakes were successfully baked, frosted and adorned with Wall-E decorations.


Aunt Margaret and Gamma joined us to make the night even more exciting. But, as with any important evening, Ayla was NOT on her best behavior. There was a tantrum about the outfit, about where she would sit, about who could touch the balloons (certainly not Jackson!). I even had a tantrum and told her I wasn't coming to the Wall-E party. She responded with a crying tantrum. She won.




But once we had all been fed chicken and broccoli - and cupcakes were served, all was well. Ayla received some beautiful presents, and more tutus to add to her collection. We were true to our word and really did make it a Wall-E party by giving Ayla her own "plush" Wall-E and Eve. As soon as they were taken out of the gift bag, they must have been overcome with love - because they started to kiss. (?)
Our little girl is so lucky to have a family that loves her so much. It's a given that as her parents, we'll put all of our efforts into celebrating three years of knowing Ayla. But to have her aunts, uncle, grandparents, great-"gamma" and great aunt (sorry Margaret, we don't think of you that way - just being technical) there too, that means everything. She'll never be able to fully appreciate how special that is, simply because she has it.

I can't believe we've actually celebrated her 3rd birthday already. She was just born! She was a tiny baby who needed to be walked up and down the hallway for hours. She was learning to crawl, then walk, then talk... and now, count to eleven, try to read, sing songs, ride a bike, give wonderful hugs and ask the question "why" about a million times a day.

Happy Birthday, Ayla! I know the journey from 3 to 4 will be amazing. We love you. (And someday you'll appreciate that your parents are weirdos!)

Drawing goes digital

Our dining room table is covered with markers, crayons, crayon paper (which is ripped into tiny little shreds), stamps, lined paper, construction paper, coloring books and Moonsand. It's craft heaven. I've partly given up on cleaning this area of the house because even if I organize and stash the art supplies away at night, they are magically back out on the table by morning! Ayla stealthily slips down the stairs in the morning and helps herself to some drawing AND occasionally some candy. ("But I'm getting a treat for being good in my bed!")

Anyways, in the past couple of days, Ayla's art has gone digital. That's the normal thing now, isn't it? Do they have computer lessons in pre-school? I've seen Bert making digital images out of his oatmeal on Play With Me, Sesame.

Gregory is teaching our daughter the nuances of using the mouse and choosing colors to create her masterpieces. Here are some of the prototypes, soon to be submitted to PIXAR for consideration:

Holden Beach, Part Pictures

The photogenic Abell clan deserved a post with only pictures, so here goes!

Apparently, Jackson likes his solo time on the beach.

A nature walk with Nano

Ayla is enthralled with Uncle Raul

Gotta love their faces...

The only time throwing sand is allowed.

Ayla loves throwing her laundry...

Where's Genevieve?

Teen model shoot!

My feet (and poison ivy) enjoy the water!

Rachel's baby talks to us!

The infamous Chinese cat hat!

Back to school, back to school....

"To prove to Dad that I'm not a fool..." Every time I see a commercial about back-to-school shopping or an ad in the paper, I hear Billy Madison singing that song in my head. Back to school.... it really is one of my favorite times of year. Of course I'm sad to see summer end and I'm not the biggest fan of cold weather. But in September, at the beginning of the school year, so many things begin. Another grade, first semester at college, last semester of college, new classes, new activities, etc.

Maybe I'm just proving how much of a nerd I really am, but now that I'm officially out of school, I really miss it. I miss learning (gasp!!!). I might even miss homework. But I always loved the excitement associated with moving forward another grade in high school or moving to a new place to start college or going back to dance classes at Carol Leone's. I got to see my friends again (after all those promises to hang out over the summer that never quite happened as much as you would have liked). Even back-to-school shopping was a thrill. Pencils, notebooks (left-handed spiral bound), paper, Trapper Keepers(!), clothes, shoes, shower caddy and all of the things to fill a dorm room.

I remember all of the places I've been in the start of fall. So ridiculously long ago, when my family got in the car to drive me to Purdue - my first year of college! I moved into THE smallest dorm room of all time in Meredith Hall where I was paired up with the perfect roommate for me. I was probably wearing my lame overalls and sporting my backpack. My sister, Eve, walked down the hall first and knocked on the door. When Sara opened the door, Eve must have panicked and just stared at her. I don't know if Sara thought she was getting a junior-high prodigy roommate, but it broke the ice and started a friendship that I still treasure today. Along with Amy and Jen across the hall, we explored the campus together, joined APO and followed Amy on adventures with ROTC friends. We took the hike over to a far dining hall for chicken fingers on Thursday nights. We dressed up for "pimp and hoe" parties and spent all of our money in the convenience store downstairs while watching ER.

A transfer to Penn State, after hustling with 18 credits of summer classes and one spot in the overflow study lounge! Once I set up my bed-tent, it was quite fun. There I met Kate, who is crazy in a very good way, and some others who were crazy in a bad way. There I met Liz who later was my confidante apartment-mate who listened to me through a very emotional year.

Countless moves in apartments, where I shared my life with friends like Darcy (who always made delicious coffee and made me laugh) and Ilyse (who made me laugh even harder and helped throw the best Halloween party ever.) So many times, I loaded up the car with clothing, groceries, laundry detergent, hangers, those expensive textbooks and picture frames.

So, September always brings back those memories. Now I have children who will very soon start the process. I'll feel conflicted and terrified the first time I put Ayla on a school bus, but I know she'll be entering the same journey. It's good for us to meet new friends and new challenges. Perhaps that's what I really miss. We spend the first half of our lives with constant change - new subjects to learn, new friendships and old friendships falling apart, new goals and new ideas. Then - we get jobs and settle into a career, and all of a sudden you realize that consistency is now the new ideal.

Here is a picture from my first grade class, I dare you to look at it and not feel some kind of wistfulness for that back-to-school feeling! All we had to worry about was whether our lunches were adequately packed with PB&J's and Billy Madison's favorite, Snack Packs.

The Diaper Catch-22

Instead of the highly anticipated Holden Beach, Part Two (insert sarcasm here), I've decided to post an update about Jackson's butt. Seriously. It's not a happy butt right now. And as a parent, I'm pretty obsessed with the happiness of my childrens' butts.

We've gone down this road before. It's a tiny red dot one minute and the next it is a raging rash. But when you combine an upset stomach, cloth diapers (which I truly adore except for this one annoying quality - they exacerbate any slight irritation) and Jackson's sensitive butt - you've got an apocalyptic situation!

We had been concerned about the bright red quality of Jackson's poor little butt, and the pediatrician had not called back with a prescription cream. When I got home from work last night after ten, Gregory had just put both of our children to sleep. The inconsolable screaming began at 10:45. Anyone who knows Jackson will attest that he is NOT a fussy baby. He will cry maybe once every few weeks. But last night, he was shrieking, screaming and shaking with pain. That's when I lost it.

It was off to the tried-and-true emergency room at Sewickley Hospital. Perhaps I'm a little bit of a spaz, but when it's late at night and your otherwise passive baby won't even be held... it's hard to be rational. The best part was that I drove Gregory's car, a manual, and literally yesterday was the first time I'd driven it alone. I probably looked like a crazed mother at midnight, stalling and revving the engine down the highway. (Let's not even mention when I had to use reverse in the tight hospital parking lot.)

All of the scenarios pass through your mind, especially after reading our go-to parenting book The American Academy of Pediatrics Age 1-5. Rotavirus? Food poisoning? Dehydration? His lips looked awfully puffy. Allergic reaction? And this damn diaper Catch-22. The wet diaper is causing the horrible dermatitis but you have to keep the diaper on - we have a wet-vac, but I certainly don't feel like using it every 15 minutes.

The emergency room doctors and nurses are always wonderful, though, making an unpleasant experience just a little bit better. The best part is they never make you feel like you're overreacting (even if you are). For some reason, the staff we saw last night were all men and they were especially sympathetic with Jackson's condition. No man likes to see another man like that! They had all dealt with the same situation with their own babies, and showed no problems helping me gently rinse his chafed butt with water every 10 minutes or so.

(FYI: It may seem counter-intuitive, but they advised that they LAST thing you should ever use on a rash is baby wipes. Say what? Yeah, apparently they burn like hell. Makes me all the more wary of the chemicals in those things. Luckily, we are stocked with cloth wipes that are just soaked in water.)

We were given the prescription to stock up on Pedialyte, Vaseline and lots of naked time. His tears in the ER proved that he wasn't yet dehydrated and while the rash looked terribly painful, it wasn't infected. And I was rushed out the door so I could get to Giant Eagle before the 1 am closing.

He is looking better today and sucking down that Pedialyte. Aahhh, the details of our lives. Babies and butts. And that's the end of the story about Jackson's heinie.