Monthly Archives: May 2011

Pneumonia! It’s pneumonia!

Posted on by

So it turns out that Mark has pneumonia.  Pneumonia!  Here’s a tip for you: if you are ever feeling a little low on the mother guilt factor, try sending your child to school with pneumonia.  Mother guilt deficit erased immediately. 

I was speaking with my elderly neighbour about Mark’s chest x-rays, and she cheerfully replied, “Just be glad you live when you do, because kids used to die from pneumonia ALL THE TIME!”  Believe me, I am thankful every single day, for numerous reasons, that I live in the modern age, so I found that reminder unnecessary, although somewhat cheering.  I am a big believer in home remedies and natural remedies and vitamins and foods that heal, but I also love the miracle that is modern medicine. 

Speaking of modern medicine, Mark is already happy and on the road to good health, and he insisted on going to school today.  “I’m FINE, Mom, please stop asking” he sighed as I bustled around him, worrying and fretting and reassuring myself about his temperature.  I took him to school, not without phoning AND talking to his teacher in person, asking her to phone me if he even looked slightly listless.  Then I spent the morning checking my cell phone and rechecking my cell phone and phoning my husband to make sure the phone was still working.  It kind of reminded me of dating in the nineties.  “Is he going to call?  When is he going to call?  I have to go to the bathroom – what if he calls?  Did he call?”  What is dating like now?  Between texting, cell phones, email and Facebook, people are virtually connected all the time.  There are just so many ways to wonder if someone is going to call.

In the end, when I went to pick him up at lunch, Mark bounded out the door with no coat and no backpack, saying that he was going to go back after lunch and it was really too warm for a coat.  So it appears things are getting back to normal.  I’m looking forward to getting some normal sleep, although tonight is a school council meeting and that is never conducive to a good night’s sleep, unfortunately.

To calm my nerves this morning, I went to the garden centre, which is a place I should never be allowed to set foot in without supervision.  I now have a number of frost hardy plants sitting on my deck, just waiting to be planted.  Then I baked a giant pan of brownies, courtesy of Swistle, which are to be taken to the meeting tonight, and which turned out so well that I have been telling every random person I meet about them.  “Hey!  My kid has pneumonia!  But let me tell you about these brownies.”  I’m planning on adding them to my cooking blog, which right now has a terrific recipe for cinnamon bread, if you are looking for a great snack for kids. 

Now I’m off to my meeting where I am going to officially become the chair for the school council!  The chair!  Bossiness in action, let me tell you. 

Just This

Posted on by
On Friday Jake’s kindergarten class had a Mother’s Day Spa Day, in which all the moms brought in deck chairs and lounged in the darkened classroom to the sound of soothing spa music while their five year olds rubbed lotion into their feet, rubbed their shoulders, and brushed their hair.  After untangling the brushes from our hair, we were treated to manicures.
Lovely!  The photos don’t quite do it justice. 
In addition to the spa day, Jake also gave me a “hug book” filled with pictures and sweetly phonetically spelled sentences about me (“My mom is so pritte and wundrfl.”) as well as a very scented lilac made out of purple tissue paper.  Mark, not to be outdone, made a construction paper card with a picture of an elephant on it – my favourite wild animal! – and we all went out for brunch at my husband’s golf course.  My ego got a boost when my husband told me that I got “checked out”, and my ego only deflated a small amount when I discovered that the man “checking me out” was close to seventy.  A lovely day, and a lovely end to the weekend, which was slightly marred by all the nocturnal coughing being done by Mark. 
Each year I remind myself that Mother’s Day is not a day that is met with fanfare and celebration by all, despite the many commercials implying that failure to purchase flowers, jewelry, or spa gift certificates will result in a direct trip to hell in a handbasket, or at the very least, will show your mother/wife that you don’t actually love or appreciate her.  Mother’s Day, while a joyful and lovely day for me, can be terrible for some.  For those who are estranged from or have strained relations with their mothers, for those suffering infertility, for those who have lost a mother, wife, or child, Mother’s Day can be complicated and painful, and I try to remember that with sensitivity each year.  I once stumbled on a website that discussed all the ways family members had disappointed their mothers on Mother’s Day, from forgetting altogether to not getting the lavish gifts that these women had anticipated.  Reading the stories, I felt the same way that I felt when I found out about “push presents”; a feeling along the lines of you are missing the point. 
When the boys were babies, and my days were filled with chaos and crying, diapers and drudgery, all marked with vast underlying exhaustion, the gift I wanted most for Mother’s Day was just a few hours to myself.  I wanted a few hours of silence, of time to do anything I wanted to do without someone crying or asking me for something or fetching a snack or feeding someone or having a small person stuck on my body like a barnacle to a ship.  And now every day I have long stretches of time to myself, whole mornings of complete silence and solitude, hours to run errands alone.  Those days that seemed endless have ended.  This is such a golden time, this time of crafts and drawings and uninhibited hugs, and I know it too will end one day.  I look at my boys and this life that I never thought I wanted but now I see that it is perfect for me, and I can’t believe my good fortune.

Just this.

Tell me now, baby, is he good to you? Can he do to you the things that I do?

Posted on by
I received an invitation for the school’s Volunteer Appreciation Tea.  I smiled happily until I realized that the date coincides with the next book fair, which I am running.  I cannot attend the Volunteer Appreciation Tea because I’m too busy volunteering.
Some days are just like that.
I have not been sleeping well lately and I am feeling very, very tired.  I’ve been waking up at my usual early time and I feel great for about two hours; then it all goes downhill.  I’m pretty much mainlining coffee by mid-morning.  My poor sleep is not helped by Mark’s barking, seasonal allergy-related cough, which apparently does not affect his sleep one iota, but keeps me up at night.  Also, I heard “I’m on Fire” yesterday, so last night I lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling while the following soundtrack looped through my head:
Did he go and leave you all alone, mmmm….What if that cough isn’t allergies?  Should I do something?…Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife baby edgy and dull and cut a six inch valley through the middle of my soul…What if it’s croup?  Croup probably sounds like that….At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head…But could someone have croup with absolutely no other symptoms?…Only you can cool my desire…Maybe I should get up and google croup.  No, that’s probably a bad idea.  Remember when I googled fifth disease and thought everyone had it?…Whoooooo I’m on fire…
Last night the boys had soccer for the second time since April 19, and it was actually quite nice.  My new goal is to not complain about freezing to death on the soccer field, and so last night I dressed up in five layers of clothing, boots, and gloves, and I felt quite comfortable.  The boys are both in teams with blue uniforms, and so the kids generally name the teams in a way that coordinates with the colour.  Jake’s team name, for example, is the Blue Berries.  One year Mark was with the Blue Bubble Gums, and last year they were both in the Green Geckos.  I happened to be listening in when Mark’s team was asked for name suggestions.  The first one out of the gate was from one of his teammates, who suggested the Burning Blue Balls.  The coach, a friend of mine, deserves everlasting credit for nodding seriously and saying, “Okay.  Anyone…else?”  Fortunately they went with another suggestion – the Blue Jays – so I don’t have to cheer for the Blue Balls. 
Since my run-in with the dog boarder-who-no-longer-boards-overnight-but-who-still-will-groom-my-dog-for-the-low-price-of-$80-plus-tip, I have been on the search for a new groomer.  Evidently this is a difficult task.  There is a place close to my house that has a two month waiting list.  To get my dog groomed.  Now, my hair salon also has a two month waiting list, but while I don’t mind making several advance appointments for myself, I would like a little more flexibility for the member of the family who likes to eat his own frozen fecal matter and roll in the dusty dead grass.  Maybe that’s just me.  So I found yet another place, which will take him next week, and I’m only slightly unnerved by the fact that I need to have a consult with the groomer.  If this consult is more detailed than “give him the kennel number 3 cut” I am going to just give up and lock myself in the bathroom with a bottle of wine for a while.  Maybe it will help me sleep.

Mayday! Mayday!

Posted on by
After watching The Wedding on Friday, I sank into what can only be described as a state of complete obsession and sloth.  I performed the absolute minimum in terms of child maintenance, instead staring at the television, watching and re-watching the highlights, pausing only to trade wedding-related analysis with my mother and grandmother over the phone about everything from the hats to Camilla Parker-Bowles to the Archbishop’s eyebrows.  This non-stop television watching continued somewhat into the weekend, to the point that Jake came into the room and, seeing the couple walk down the aisle, said “Oh, this is a good part!  They’re going to get into the carriage.”  I was starting to wonder if I needed to seek some sort of support group or maybe enter rehab, since not only was I completely obsessed with wedding coverage, but I was also completely obsessed with consuming the gigantic bags of Mini-Eggs in my cupboard. 
Fortunately my addictions seem to be subsiding.
Consuming my body weight in chocolate and rewinding the vows over and over were not the only things I did this weekend.  I also had lunch with my very dearest friend, which was lovely.  We met at a restaurant at the mall, where I took the opportunity to purchase a gift for a birthday party that Jake is attending next weekend.  This is the sort of errand that fills me with anxiety, even if the birthday kid is a boy with similar interests to my own boys.  As it is, the birthday kid is a girl, and not one I particularly know well.  I walked through the bright pink aisles and felt completely overwhelmed and bitter, about having to choose a gift and also about the strange amount of pressure I was putting on myself about choosing a gift.  I mean, it’s a gift, and as a general rule children like anything so long as it is gift wrapped, within reason; unless I chose something completely obviously wrong like a toy rifle or a set of little army men the birthday girl will most likely be happy.  Still, I stared hopelessly at the aisles of Barbies and Zhu Zhu Pets and baby dolls, making my way through the pretend food and dress-up shoes, until I found a box of mosaic sticker artwork with the promising caption “Posh Puppies”.  Fortunately my friend, whom I met after this purchase, assured me that her girls – of similar age – would love it, filling me with relief.
Am I the only one who feels this way?  I’ve spent much time trolling the toy aisles only to choose something that the birthday kid already had, sometimes in duplicate, making me feel like I could have just as well given a card full of cash and skipped the middleman.
The weather has finally turned springlike, and only the tiniest patch of snow remains in our backyard, with the result that my husband’s golf course is now open for the season.  Ergo, I am now golf-widowed.  It’s not a bad thing.  He’s happy and I am going to be able to watch my recorded wedding coverage without anyone saying “Why are you watching that again?”  Because it’s all about happiness, dammit.  I was also extra emotional this weekend, in a very special feminine way, swinging that lovely pendulum between irritable bitchiness and weeping.  I love this goddamn wedding.  Everyone is so happy.  Bring on the chocolate eggs.
*****
Speaking of spring, over at the cooking blog I have a recipe for oven-roasted asparagus, the ultimate spring vegetable!