Kaboom, Kaboom - A Fourth of July Tale

The Fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays - possibly because it too qualifies as a drinking holiday and there is the added bonus of fireworks. The combination of nighttime explosiveness with cheap beer is one of the pleasures in life worthy of awesomeness. Growing up, because we had a pool, my family would have an annual 4th of July party. My parents, each the middle of seven children, would invite our family -lots of uncles, aunts and cousins. It was fantastic for us kids - barbeque, swimming, playing - and equally fantastic for our parents - barbeque, beer, the kids not driving me bonkers (I now know this).

A few weeks prior to one 4th of July party, my father came home with a gift. During my Dad’s drinking days, he would often come home from the bar with a surprise. One time he came home with a dozen cream filled Dunkin Donuts because they were my favorite (best Dad ever), another a pizza with everything on it, including anchovies (what the hell Dad?), but that night he came home with a box of fireworks. Living in Massachusetts you can’t buy fireworks anywhere because they are banned. But my Dad gave me and my brother, ages 8 and 10, fireworks for 4th of July - again, BEST DAD EVER!

I can’t completely describe the level of obsession my brother and I had for those fireworks, but it bordered on unhealthy. We would take them out of the box one by one, examining them, talking about the order they would be fired, how the one shaped like a tank was his, and the roman candles were mine. We pretended, we plotted, and we prodded along in a firework haze waiting for the party, where we could enact our extravagantly thought out plan.

That day was one of the happiest of my life, it rivaled Christmas morning. When will it be dark? When? WHEN? Our many cousins arrived, and each one was brought them up to Michael’s room where his closet held our magnificent treasure. The day progressed. We swam, we ate and we showed the fireworks approximately 300 times. As it began to get dark, we brought the fireworks outside in their box. Carefully going over the order of what would be done. Michael was first with a bottle rocket, and I would follow with a roman candle. Finally, after what seemed like a century of waiting, we were given the okay. Most of the family was situated on the lawn by the tree, my mother on her lawn chair with beer in hand. (An example I am proud to follow.)

Michael held the bottle rocket up and ignited it to a screaming ear popping blast. Hurray! Now the real display was to begin, I reached down and grabbed a roman candle. Michael lit it. I held it to the sky when boom, one went off, two went off. Wow, there are lots of sparks. Another boom and more sparks. Then it happened, below my feet catching all those sparks was our utter happiness, our box of fireworks. Lesson to you, when setting off fireworks, the box containing said fireworks should never be below the ones that you are currently lighting. I remember turning and seeing explosive light everywhere. Some people screaming, but most people running. They went everywhere, all at once - flashes of light, booms, and bottle rockets screeching. Five minutes later, my Dad managed to grab the hose, so that it was over. The box a sodden charred reminder of what was. We walked over, my brother and I, looking upon the wreckage in tears. He picked up his tank, and then dropped it defeated. I think he may have forgiven me, but I can’t say for sure.

My mother still says that it was the best fireworks show she ever witnessed, because unlike the rest of us she remained seated and watched - her possible death only 10 feet away (again, she is kind of awesome, right?). But for my brother and me, it was our first true heartbreak. We thankfully managed to get over it, and now that story is one of our family’s funniest. Which in a way, is what 4th of July is all about. Taking a break from it all to be with the ones we love and remembering our history all while drinking beer and watching explosions in the sky - or around your backyard because some dumbass decided a box of fireworks would be best by her feet. Fourth of July, I love you.

Kay Jewelers "First Christmas" - A Reaction

Owen turned four years old and there are all sorts of how the heck does time go so slow and so fast associated with that, but I like to instead focus on a commercial that is running the rounds this Christmas. Perhaps you have seen it, the romantic image of a new family. Father, mother and baby happily cloistered around a tree. The baby is very young, seemingly just born. The mother is bushy eyed at what is indicated to be the wee hours of the morning. The father is gleaming at his son. Now while most watch this with hearts warming, I have a much different reaction. This is because I had a baby on December 19, 2006. When Christmas rolled around, Owen was a mere six days old. I can tell you the first holiday with Owen was not so idyllic. I was battling mastitis, a breast infection. Because Owen latched improperly created a cut in which bacteria grew that resulted in a fever of 104 degrees and hallucinations. This was easily remedied with antibiotics, but I was not the only one suffering that evening. On Christmas Eve, John “felt something” on the top of his ass. What was it? An ass boil. I know this because a few weeks when we finally emerged for the daze of having a kid I looked it up. It was stress related boil (because John was pretty much under the assumption that birth for me meant death). On that Christmas Eve, I sat with a pin over a burning flame in order to disinfect it so that I could pierce the boil atop my husband’s ass. What came out was a river of pus along with a smell that only can be described as what Lance Armstrong’s balls must smell like after the Tour de France. Gut wrenching waves of a most inhumane scent. So screw you Kay Jewelers and your “First Christmas”, because I don’t remember getting a freaking diamond necklace, but instead one boob as hard as a rock and a husband whose anxiousness and stress manifested itself as a boil on his ass that under the terms of “for better or worse” I got to pop. Happy Holidays everyone!