Posts Filed Under Family Life

A Plague Upon This House

posted by Momo Fali on November 11, 2008

This is a glimpse of how a family manages to get through a bout of the plague. I highly recommend keeping these suggestions in a mental file.

Here is said family’s recycle bin. Note how Mom and Dad deal with stress by drinking cheap beer and large quantities of wine. Oh, and see the Mueslix box? That’s what happens when you haven’t been to the store in over a week and want to make Magic Wheaties Meatloaf, but after you’ve started mixing ingredients together you realize there isn’t a Wheatie to be found.

If your substitute choices are Kix or Mueslix, go with the Mueslix. It’s a good alternative, but you will have to take some time to pick out the raisins.

This is what happens when a six year old plague victim gets tired of playing with his Matchbox cars. He makes stick figures out of the track. Don’t be alarmed when he tears it apart limb from limb.

These are bath toys, and because Mom’s tend to make plague victims bathe a lot, these toys get frequent attention. If the victim happens to name them…oh say, Jessie, Jessley, and Jorley. I highly suggest knowing those names, which one is which, and be able to make up some great stories about the three of them on the spot. Because a soaking-wet, tired, rash-covered, feverish, projectile pooping kid tends to be a little sensitive.

Get used to running out of clean clothes. It’s okay. There is absolutely nothing wrong with sending your daughter to bed with plaid pajama bottoms and a camouflage top, and putting your son down for the night in fire engine pants and a green, dinosaur shirt. No one can tell they don’t match in the dark.

And finally, about that laundry…if you wear a zip-up sweatshirt to pick up your daughter at school, and you don’t have a clean shirt to wear under it, make sure the plague victim you’re holding doesn’t pull your zipper down. Just sayin’.

I Actually Always Look Like That

posted by Momo Fali on October 30, 2008

In honor of Halloween, I would like to share our family’s costumes that have been my favorites…

This is my daughter as Jessie from Toy Story II. I know, she’s adorable.


This is my son as Frankenstein. They have a lot in common, what with the stitches, scars and speech delay.

This is my husband. He really likes bananas.

And, here I am as Milk, Gone Bad. Get it? You can tell I’m a chain smoker by the way I’m holding the cigarette backward. Speaking of hands…with palms that large, I should’ve gone as Meadowlark Lemon.


Tell me, boys and girls…which one is your favorite? Hint: Don’t vote for the monkey.

My Fear Is Real

posted by Momo Fali on October 20, 2008

Saturday night, I left my nine year old daughter downstairs while I went up to take a shower. She was watching a Harry Potter movie, which can be a bit spooky when you’re alone in a room and it’s dark outside. But, when I asked her if she was okay staying downstairs by herself, she shrugged as if I’d asked her the dumbest question ever and she replied, “Sure. I’m fine.”

A few minutes later, I was washing my hair and our dog started to bark incessantly…and I started to get anxious. Obviously someone was outside and my daughter was alone downstairs, and I was not in any condition to answer the door should someone knock. My husband wasn’t home and my last post about Amityville Horror was fresh in my mind.

Eventually the dog stopped barking, but as I finished showering I came to a realization. When someone jumps out to scare me, there’s a reason I burst into tears.

This is not about the boogie-man or being scared to go to haunted houses. This is not about getting spooked. My fear is real.

When I was eight, my aunt not only took me to my first horror movie, but that was also the year that another eight year old girl, who lived near me, was picked up on her way home from school, sexually assaulted, and murdered. They found her body a few miles from where I lived. They never found the killer.

Her death was the reason that my childhood memories include staying up all night reading, because I was scared of my own dreams.

After my kids go to sleep, I go into their rooms and marvel at how they are peacefully slumbering when their closet doors are open. Then I shut them. I move hanging clothes so they don’t cast frightful shadows if they wake during the night. I shove toys out of the way should they need to come running to me. These were the things I did, and still do, so I can sleep through the night. I don’t do it because my kids need it, it’s because I do.

In my teens and early twenties, I was involved in an abusive relationship. It ended with him stalking me and threatening me. I bought a gun and learned how to use it. The police had enough evidence to press charges against him, but that’s never stopped the nightmares.

Then shortly after my husband and I were married, I was home alone when I saw a car drive slowly past our house, over and over. Something about it was unsettling. A short time later, a strange man approached my window and looked inside.

I was standing a few feet away, in a dark shadow with my gun in my trembling hand. I didn’t know if he was going break in while I stood within an arms length. He left as quickly as he appeared, but I still don’t know what he was doing or what he wanted. The police caught him that night at the end of our street and pressed charges against him. That is why we went out a few weeks later and bought our dog.

These random events have made me paranoid. These random events have done enough to scar me so that the slightest “boo” completely freaks me out.

But somehow, I have not transferred any of this to my children. They can go to sleep with their closet doors open. Somehow, despite the anxiety I have deep inside of me, my daughter can watch Harry Potter alone, in the dark, with the dog barking at someone outside.

And if that doesn’t prove that I’m conquering these demons, I don’t know what will.

In Contrast

posted by Momo Fali on October 15, 2008

Today, I’ll be giving you a view of our master bathroom. Please don’t think me a bad housekeeper because of the hideous shelf paper and chipped wood. We’ve been redecorating this room…for almost eleven years.

This is my husband’s shelf. The trimmer set is only used for about a month out of the year when he grows a goatee. Also, keep in mind that we share the dental floss and mouthwash. I wouldn’t want you to think the jumbo Blue Mint is because the poor guy has a major case of halitosis.


This is my shelf. Actually, there’s even more stuff hidden in a nearby cabinet. About three times more stuff. It takes a village, people. It takes a village.