For the first time in about a year and a half, I have clean carpets. Hoo boy! Nothing says “1950’s housewife” like the excitement I felt about getting the carpets cleaned, with the exception of maybe obtaining some kind of household appliance. And let me tell you, the excitement was contagious. It was like the freaking circus just came to town for the boys. All day they waited, anticipating Mr. Carpet Cleaner’s arrival. His van was spotted outside at 3:27. “HE’S HEEERRRRREEEEE!!!!” screamed Jake. Mark flung the door open as the unsuspecting carpet cleaner started up our walk. “HEELLLLLOOOOOO!!!!” Judging by his somewhat alarmed expression, clearly Mr. Carpet Cleaner was not accustomed to such an enthusiastic welcome. That was just the beginning. “Is that your vacuum? Is that your vacuum hose? Is that how you plug it in?” The questions were nonstop and the glee was not containable. It kind of made me feel bad. Like how deprived are my children that the carpet cleaner brings them such joy?

Any time we have had people working in our house the kids have been completely engrossed by the progress of the job. A couple of years ago we had the interior doors replaced, and Mark practically stalked the guy doing the job. There was a constant, running commentary from him: “Look, he’s taking off his hat! He’s picking up a hammer! He’s drinking water from a water bottle!” It was a little awkward, not unlike yesterday’s mayhem. I always have a nagging concern that these guys are going to mistake the boys’ enthusiasm for MY enthusiasm, and mistake me for a cougarish, lonely housewife, as in certain adult films. Like maybe I’m going to show up in a short satin robe with those fluffy mule slippers. “Is that your screwdriver? It’s really BIG.”

Anyway. The carpet is clean, even the stain from Barkley throwing up potting soil has been removed. So I am excited! Because forget the lonely housewife, that stain was turning me into a crazed Lady Macbeth.

I had the good fortune to attend a workshop/discussion with Kino Macgregor, an amazingly talented and lovely yoga instructor. The majority of the discussion centered on transformation and cultivating inner peace and acceptance. It was incredibly inspiring, and it really is how I strive to live my life, with compassion and mindfulness, although I will admit here that at times I feel less like a peaceful being and more like Frank Costanza – SERENITY NOW! – especially when I am trying to get out the door and Jake is sitting on the step, shoeless, yelling “I JUST CAN’T DO IT. I CAN’T PUT MY SHOES ON” and Mark is talking, obliviously, over the din of his brother’s complaints about dinosaurs and Doc Hudson.

Where was I? Oh, yes, inner peace. I was completely inspired by this workshop and the beauty of this woman’s mind. Then, abruptly, my inner peace shattered with the sight of my neighbour – this neighbour – mowing the lawn shirtless. Recall that I live in a city where the average daily temperature, in the hottest month of the year, is 22.9 degrees Celsius. It is not the tropics, people. We do not actually need to be shirtless. Do I do yard work in a thong? No. I do not. That is because I have respect for my neighbours, and I expect the same in return. GO PUT A SHIRT ON.

Of course, hypocritically, if this scene was like something from a Diet Coke commercial, I probably would not complain. But as it is, I really do not need to see your gut, your man boobs, and your back hair, so clothe yourself, neighbour! DO IT NOW!

Right. Inner peace. I’m working on it. I swear.

Father’s Day dawned, like it frequently does here, with a torrential rainstorm and gloomy grey skies. Fortunately, I have lived here long enough to know that you never should plan any outdoor activities in June, i.e., a barbeque, without having a bad-weather Plan B. Actually, forget June, that rule applies for any month in this city. Anyway, our plans for this Father’s Day were actually non-dependent on the weather – the boys were headed to a lunchtime birthday party and Rob and I went out for a rare lunch date. Prior to that, Rob opened his gifts – golf balls! – and took the boys on a trip to Home Depot. Oh boy! Nothing says “Dad” like a trip to Home Depot. Apparently much fun was had by all.

Rob is an awesome dad. He’s wonderful with the boys and they, of course, adore him. However, and I’m going to whisper this very softly, I don’t think he would be as good of a dad if we had girls instead of boys. Is that a terrible thing to say? I’m not saying that he wouldn’t love them, or be a good dad, but I think he is a better father to boys.

“Brian would just be too tough on boys” a friend told me, regarding her husband and his relationship with their two girls. I thought about that for a long time. Is Rob too tough on the boys? I think about when they are whiny, and he tells them to “man up” – something I would never do. I think about when they hurt themselves: Mark won’t cry, and Jake will furiously wipe away tears with a stoic expression.

Meanwhile, the boys want to grow up to be JUST LIKE HIM. Well, Mark wants to be just like him, even going so far as to say he wants to work in the same building and same office, he wants to be exactly the same height and play with the same golf clubs. Exactly the same. Jake, however, wants to be BETTER. He wants to be taller, and stronger, and – despite the fact that he is not yet four, people – he has been quoted as saying “I am going to make more money than you and have a faster car”. Yes indeedy.

Sometimes I will come into the living room to see the three of them squished together on the big chair, to hear them saying “I love you” to each other, and I know that he is not too tough, that the boys know their dad thinks they are the best and will always be there for them. And the love affair goes both ways, the boys climb into bed with him in the early morning for a snuggle, they clamor with excitement when he gets home from work, they can’t wait to tell him about their day. They think he’s the best dad ever, and I think so too.

When my husband got home after my fabulous day on Monday, he said “It’s interesting. It’s hard to know who I’m coming home to.” What? Just because I was competing, and won a blue ribbon, in the Wow I’m Bitchy Today Contest on Sunday, which was immediately followed by my blue ribbon win in the Today is all Sunshine and Rainbows Contest on Monday? He should feel LUCKY. Things are not boring around here, what with my mood swings and all.

Nonetheless, I would like to report that summer vacation, so far, is going nicely. This is massively helped by sunny weather, despite the fact that there was an immense thunderstorm and downpour yesterday afternoon. We took that opportunity to try out some science projects from the Usborne Big Book of Science Things to Make and Do. Let me tell you, I purchased this book through Scholastic, and it was the best Scholastic money I ever spent. Much, much better than the Scooby Doo Early Readers Pack. MUCH BETTER. The projects are aimed at children who are older than mine, but they are so simple that there is no way I can screw them up, which is a very good quality in a science book, no? The only problem is that I have now run out of white vinegar, and am getting very low on baking soda. So, you can probably imagine the kinds of experiments we are doing.

All of which is to say, my pure joy at doing junior science experiments probably qualifies me to win the blue ribbon for Not So Cool But Tries Really Hard award.

Because my personality type can be best described as “A”, I had written down “playground” in my agenda for today, the first day of summer vacation. Even writing this, I feel a bit lame. I mean, “playground” on the to-do list? But hey, we all have our quirks, right? Even if mine tend toward the lame and nerdy.

With all the horrible weather of late, we had not been visiting many playgrounds, and the particular playground I planned for today’s outing is one that we hadn’t been to since last summer. The morning was unusually warm, and the boys were excited, and I remembered to pack bug spray and put ice in the water bottles, I had a blanket in the car for a picnic snack, and really the morning could not have been better. I looked around at the other moms there and felt a certain kind of sympathy for the very tired looking ones, who were chasing toddlers but also carrying tiny babies in slings or car seats. I looked at my own hooligans, climbing and running and happy, and I felt like I had become one of those moms that I used to be jealous of – with little kids but not too little; little enough to be happy to be at the playground with their mother, but not so little that they were clinging like barnacles onto the ship that is my body.

The rest of the day passed very pleasantly, with waffles and water squirters, and lots of imaginative play. I felt like a rockstar of a mom: I didn’t raise my voice even once today, which must be some kind of record. I foresaw issues before they became issues and resolved them. I felt relaxed and happy. Today, I was the kind of parent that I want to be.

It was the perfect start to the summer.

It was the last day of preschool today, but don’t worry! I am not going to regale you with some melancholy post about the passage of time, boo hoo, my kids aren’t at preschool anymore, boo hoo, I have to figure out some good summer activities, etc. Instead, I’m going to regale you with some odd and entertaining events in my day today.

1) I asked the boys to draw pictures of their teachers to attach to our year-end gift. After completing his portraits, Jake, whose artistic skills are, shall we say, not entirely developed yet, looked at said portraits, and announced that they really looked more like a lion and an octopus, rather than our beloved teachers. Truly, this was the case.
2) I walked by a large patch of lily-of-the-valley in bloom, and the scent reminded me of my grandma. I used to give her lily-of-the-valley talcum powder for her birthday. I wondered, if I’m ever lucky enough to be a grandma, will my grandchildren give me lily-of-the-valley talcum powder? Or will I be more of a lavender grandma? Will they even still manufacture talcum powder then? Or will it go the way of the housedress and lisle stockings?
3) As I was walking the dog, I was ogled by a City of Calgary Waste Management employee. Hoo boy! Is there anything more uplifting to the spirit than being catcalled by the garbage man?

Here are the boys on their first day of school:

And here they are on their last:

Awww….

This morning I woke up ten minutes before my alarm went off, with a strange and unusual feeling. What is this? Oh right! I feel rested! I kind of forgot what that felt like.

A friend with a nine-month-old baby was telling me the other day that the baby still wakes up once or twice a night, and I tried to look and sound as sympathetic as possible, but the fact is that Jake, who will be FOUR in a few months, wakes up once or twice a night, at least half of the time. Now, I hasten to add, when he wakes up he needs little more than a pat on the back or maybe a kiss, and we are both back to sleep. In fact, the trip to his room and back probably only accounts for thirty seconds of my time, and because I’m so used to these middle-of-the-night interruptions, they really don’t affect me.

But the boys have been a bit short on sleep these days, and it has started to add up for them. Normally I think they are very well-rested, but it’s tricky to ensure adequate sleep at this time of the year, what with the sky being bright from 5:00 am to 10:00 pm and everything. Add soccer, school, and lots of outdoor play to the mix and you get two very tired boys. Tuesday night Jake woke up seven (seven!) times and was clearly so over-tired he just couldn’t settle back down. Then yesterday he and Mark played pleasantly together all day. Kidding. Of course with that kind of sleep deficit, their behaviour was somewhat hideous and bratty, and I felt like I was slowly going insane. With MY sleep deficit tossed into the mix, you can well imagine what our harmonious household was like: about as harmonious as the “parades” that occur with some frequency around here, which are comprised of the kids playing a harmonica, banging on a cowbell, and shaking maracas all at the same time.

Yesterday was also the preschool family picnic, and let’s just say that by the time we were in the car going home there was quite a lot of whining, complaining, and general discontent. Amazingly, I was alert enough to realize that they were not evil demon-children, but actually really tired children. It’s funny how I can sometimes forget that, and think that they are just out to get me. Anyway, after dinner there was much shrieking and sobbing about ridiculous things (“Mark squirted me with water! My bubble wand isn’t working! I have no feet!” and “Jake is crying too much! He said your flower is purple, but it’s really purply-pink! I don’t want a snack!”) and so I made the executive decision to put the kids to bed a full hour earlier than normal, and they both slept solidly for twelve hours. Suffice it to say that today has been much, much more enjoyable. Actually harmonious, no cowbells involved.