The Sound of Music

posted by Momo Fali on January 27, 2009

I normally don’t touch on anything too deep around here, but I am about to reveal some very troubling information from my past. Really, really bad music choices.

It all started when I was five years old and would lock myself in our bathroom where the acoustics were best. I would take my handy-dandy tape recorder and belt out “The Way We Were”, and my childhood theme song, “Rhinestone Cowboy”. Also, whenever Donny and Marie were on you couldn’t peel me away from the television.

When I was seven, I got an 8-track player. One with a shoulder strap so I could walk down the street, looking cool, while The Village People, Olivia Newton-John, and The Bee Gees blasted from the speaker.

After that, I moved on to Journey, Loverboy, Prince, and Pat Benatar. Wait. I was Pat Benatar. Then Night Ranger, Van Halen, and Bon Jovi.

In high school, I was all over the place. I listened to pop music, like U2, but obscure bands played on the sound-system at my very contemporary, retail sales job and I liked that music too.

This is also when I developed my love for Led Zeppelin, Joni Mitchell, and what my best friend refers to as “hippie music”. My husband calls this my tree-hugger period. Whatever, dude. If that’s the case, I will forever be hugging trees. Trees are groovy and Stephen Stills rules.

My husband is also a Zeppelin fan and he’s more than fond of Metallica, my son likes classical music, and my daughter gets her kicks from country. We have learned to get along. We have learned to appreciate each other’s music. Well, except for my daughter’s taste in country tunes. Unless, of course, it’s “Rhinestone Cowboy.”

Tell me, boys and girls, what do you listen to?

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A Weiner and a Hound Dog

posted by Momo Fali on January 26, 2009

Here is the winner of the giveaway. Ladies, please don’t be intimidated by a) my manicure or b) my raspy voice. Nails don’t stay pretty when you work with second graders and wash your hands 50 times a day, and the voice is the result of a sinus infection and lungs full of mucus. See how much the hand washing helps?

I asked my son to show you his Elvis impersonation and you will note he stays in character throughout the clip. Well, at least his upper lip does. He is a consummate professional.

Congratulations, Chuck!

They Played Me Like a Fiddle

posted by Momo Fali on January 22, 2009
Thanks to everyone for your concern for my son. He did extremely well, and I’m pretty sure it was because heaven was stormed with prayers on his behalf. Blog readers are awesome.

I have never done a giveaway of any kind on this blog. It’s not because corporate America isn’t beating my door down, because they are. The e-mails are relentless. You don’t know how many tubes of lipstick I have turned down. Not to mention the pain relievers and feminine hygiene products. One question, where are the free shoes?

In all honesty, I have never done a giveaway or a review because that’s not what this is about. This is my creative outlet, not a place to offer up goodies and bribe you to show up. Not that I am above being bribed, because I’ve entered into many a giveaway. And won exactly nothing.

There is also a small matter regarding a certain agreement, with a particular company, who may or may not reside permanently on my sidebar, and who shall remain nameless.

But, last week I realized that the real problem is that these companies have been going about their approach all wrong. If you really want me to talk about your stuff, then kick me where it hurts. Right in the sentiment. Also known as “girl parts”.

So when showed me that they could take one of your pictures and turn it into artwork, and that they would let me give away a $50.00 gift certificate in the process? Well, hot diggity! I jumped on board.

One, because I love the idea. Two, because I know what it’s like to have no money. And three, because Valentine’s Day is coming up, and who really ever comes up with an original Valentine’s Day gift? You are all welcome for the awesome idea.

You can take a picture of a pet and have it turned into a watercolor-style, like this…

Or, a picture of your child can be turned into an oil painting-style like this…

Or, a photo from your honeymoon can be changed into impasto-style, like this…

And, there are plenty of other options for you to choose from.

To enter this $50.00 gift certificate giveaway, just leave a comment between now and 6:00 PM EST on Sunday, January 25th. Even if you don’t win, you can get a 15% discount at by entering the code mom15 on the shopping cart page in the promotion code box.

Happy Photofiddling, everyone!

The Mask

posted by Momo Fali on January 21, 2009

If all goes as planned, tomorrow morning at 6:00 AM my husband and I will be arriving at the hospital with our six year old son for surgery.

This is not major surgery. It is as minor as minor can be. The ENT could probably do this tube surgery with his hands tied behind his back.

But, there is enough risk to my son that they changed the location from an outpatient surgery center, to a main hospital. Plus, it requires general anesthesia and that always makes me nervous. But, more than anything…there’s The Mask.

My boy has developed an extreme dislike for The Mask they use to put him to sleep. He’s terrified of it, because he knows it all too well. This will be his ninth time on an operating table, and sixth time under general anesthesia.

Two years ago, when he was in preschool, a group of firefighters visited his class and when one of them demonstrated a breathing apparatus, my son had a complete meltdown just hearing him breathe through it. He’s that scared.

He doesn’t comprehend the fact that this surgery is no big deal. He’s certainly been through worse. He doesn’t remember having a catheter inserted into his thigh that traveled all the way up to his tiny heart. He doesn’t realize that he stopped breathing in recovery after his tonsils were removed. Or, that he had to stay in the ICU for that surgery because, for him, it was a risky operation. He doesn’t know there were times we didn’t know if he was going to live.

His only concern is The Mask.

Personally, I’m looking forward to this surgery. His hearing loss is so bad that it’s like we’ve been living with a 90 year old. Everyone walks around yelling all the time, and even with our voices raised he still says, “What?” about 50 times a day. We can even see that he’s starting to read our lips, as if to say, “I’m done trying to listen to you people. I’ll just watch you talk.”

With the exception of the moment when they wheel my son down the hall to the operating room, tomorrow will be a good day. He’ll have a lot less pressure in his ears and his hearing should be better instantly.

Unfortunately for my son, the anesthesiologist won’t let me drive him around in a car until he falls asleep in the back seat, or rock him into a deep slumber. The Mask is unavoidable. And that stupid, little piece of rubber? Well, it breaks this Mommy’s heart.