Monthly Archives: July 2014

Back in my day…

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Today was cool, windy, and drizzly and so I decided we would have a lazy indoor day, as opposed to the playground afternoon I had planned. Jake wanted to show me something on the Wii and so I acquiesced, sitting down in the armchair to watch him. Apparently I promptly fell asleep and woke up a while later, drooly and disoriented. “Wow, Mom!” Jake said pleasantly. “You were sleeping for a long time!” He didn’t seem at all put out that I’d missed whatever it was that he wanted to show me.

Falling asleep during the day is so unusual for me that, when I related this to my husband, he immediately wondered if I was well and also which chair it was I fell asleep in, a detail that seemed irrelevant at the time but, upon further reflection, is actually quite important. Falling asleep in a comfortable armchair with the soothing tunes of Star Wars: The Clone Wars playing in the background is significantly different than, say, passing out at the table or computer desk.

It’s been a fairly uneventful week. I had planned to take the kids swimming but it was a bit chilly this week; instead we went to the library. I picked up a copy of The Tipping Point and I highly recommend it to anyone who is interested in socioeconomic phenomena and epidemiology, which I am. Lest you think this sounds terribly pretentious, I just finished reading the Anne of Green Gables box set, which was lovely, excessive ejaculating notwithstanding.

The boys wanted a book for me to read aloud, and so we chose a Beverly Cleary book; Henry Huggins and the Paper Route. I had to field some difficult questions: what is a paper route? I was a little startled, but realized that, other than at their grandparents, the children never see actual print newspapers. I had to explain that that was how kids primarily made money, back in my day, that and babysitting. It was also a little startling to realize that no kids ever would have a paper route now, because who gets the paper?

BACK IN MY DAY has been something I’ve been thinking a lot lately; there’s so much press lately about free-range parenting and people getting arrested for leaving their kids in the car or leaving them at the playground all day. So many sad stories and so many people pretending to be Good Samaritans when in reality, they are Bad Judgmental Unhelpful People. I mean, back in the 80s it was pretty common for elementary school-aged kids to run to the corner store to buy cigarettes for their parents, and now I feel like I cannot leave my almost-nine-and-ten year olds in the car while I run into the grocery to get a loaf of bread, lest someone be filming me as a negligent parent. When I was a kid all the adults in the neighbourhood knew what the kids were doing, but in a “keep you safe and be sure you’re not being an asshole” kind of way, not a “let’s arrest your mother” kind of way. It’s a different world; mostly that people seem to be less inclined to help out their neighbours.

Speaking of neighbours, one of the elderly men down the street was straining the decorative rocks beneath his fir tree, to rid them of the fir needles. It seemed like a massively arduous task, and made me imagine my husband twenty years hence. Would he be shovelling decorative rocks onto a gigantic homemade sieve? Maybe.

Yesterday we went to the zoo, and it was lovely as usual. What caught my eye was this adorable little topiary:

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I am now trying to figure out how to get this into my own garden. I’m also trying to figure out what to do this lovely Friday night – I’m so rested, thanks to my impromptu nap. I’ve actually watched TWO movies in the past week – one was “I Give It A Year” which was a witty British comedy, and the other was “Despicable Me 2”. This exactly sums up my entire cinematic desires: either witty British humour or complete slapstick. All I know is that I’m not going to fall asleep before nine o’clock tonight, so I’m starting off the weekend with a bang.

 

What to expect when you’re expecting tween boys.

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You know when you’re a new mama, and you have all sorts of ideals in your mind as to how you’re going to raise your children. You imagine the summer days full of dappled sunlight where you are cannonballing into a turquoise pool with your children, or maybe eating homemade freeze pops on long, warm evening walks? Those days are great, to be sure, but what I never imagined was being schooled by my children in Cars 2 racing games on the Wii, or having intense conversations on which model of car will be best for which race track.

Also things I’d never thought I’d deal with: saying things like “Don’t put your foot on other people’s faces”, “Don’t elbow your brother in the crotch”, and “No farting or talking about poop at the table”, listening to a litany of complaints about the unfairness of a video game that blew up someone’s car just moments before the finish line, and finding papers in the recycling bin that are divided down the middle with “Marmots” on one side and “Haters” on the other, “Marmots vs. Haters” scrawled across the top. What is going on here? I don’t know.

After the busyness of last week, this week seems to be all about staying in our pajamas/ sweaty yoga clothes as long as possible and taking things slow. Monday I went to Costco with the kids so that felt like a gigantic accomplishment. There were the customary arguments about who gets to put that item into the cart so I had to ridiculously instigate a rule in which the children had to take turns being helpful. I also had to rule against the children trying to pick up flats of sparkling water that was half their body weight. As per every mother everywhere, I got talked into buying a few things that weren’t strictly necessary. Unlike every mother everywhere, those items were blankets. The boys fell in love with “Sherpa Throw Blankets” and it’s been a struggle to explain to them that this does not mean that Sherpas are being thrown around in these blankets. They’ve been walking around the cool basement wrapped in these soft blankets, the blankets trailing behind like they are medieval royalty. Another thing I didn’t expect would happen.

Lately in order to fill that hollow space in my heart left from Mad Men and Breaking Bad, I’ve been watching House of Cards. I oscillate between fascination and curiosity as to whether or not politics is really like that. I’m inclined to believe that it is, sadly enough. The kids, on the other hand, are obsessed with watching Wheel of Fortune. It’s considered to be a huge treat to watch Wheel of Fortune before bed, and I don’t know if you’ve watched it recently, but it’s pretty much the same as it was 30 years ago, except that occasionally Vanna White wears pantsuits. Pat Sajak is exactly the same as he always was. I also discovered that Alex Trebek is 74 years old! Isn’t that incredible? I would have never guessed.

I just said “If you guys are going to wrestle, don’t mush each other’s face in the carpet” and “Don’t kick the exercise ball into the air!” so it is time to close for the day and reflect on the strangeness and unexpectedness of daily life.

Productivity Week Is At A Close

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Today is the last day of karate camp, and I’ve been SO PRODUCTIVE this week. Some of the accomplishments have been less fun – like taking the car in to get the tires rebalanced, and getting teary-eyed and having to call my husband because the guys at the tire place said we didn’t have an appointment and I’d have to leave the car there all day. Doing anything car-related, whether it be a tire issue or an oil change, makes me feel terribly anti-feminist and clichéd because I honestly have nearly zero understanding of car-related issues and my first reaction when anything goes wrong is to cry and call my husband. I know! It’s terrible. The most terrible part is that getting teary-eyed and calling my husband works every time, EVERY TIME, PEOPLE, and so I have no motivation to change this repellent behaviour. It always ends up with the car guys quickly fitting me in and apologizing for any inconvenience this may have caused me, and would I like a coffee? Sigh, I know. I hate being a cliché and yet, at the dealership where we bought our car, there is a manicure bar, a MANICURE BAR, PEOPLE, for women just like me who need to bring their cars in for oil changes but who also have anxiety attacks at the thought of it so hey, pretty lady, how about a manicure?

When I was in grad school I studied gender differences in incomes and I had two posters on my office wall: one was a fish riding a bicycle and the other was the Feminist Manifesto. Fast forward sixteen years and I’m crying at the tire place and getting my nails done at car dealerships.

Anyway, other than the tire balancing, it’s been a great week. Save for a half-day camp at the local farm/ petting zoo five years ago, my children have never been to a day camp. I’m kind of wondering why not, because they have gotten so much out of this camp, and it’s not just the improvement in their karate katas. For example, Jake has suddenly learned how to dive for rings at the bottom of the pool, which he would never do before. I realized the motivation behind this sudden act of athletic bravery when I learned that he was swimming with a very pretty thirteen year old brown belt. I see! Jake does not have any confidence issues on that front, given that he heard me singing You’re So Vain while I drove them to camp, and then casually mentioned that he thought that song WAS about him, since he’s so handsome and whatnot.

It’s been beautifully hot here, and we’ve had very few storms, which is highly unusual for Calgary. I could tell one was coming yesterday afternoon by the feel of the air and also because I am now 90 and I can feel it in my bones. Anyway, once I got the boys home from camp I threw their disgustingly dirty camp stuff in the washer, whipped up a batch of cookies and put it in the oven, and started dinner. The boys were relaxing like little non-evil Frank Underwoods, playing video games, and suddenly all went dark. The power went out! We rarely have power outages so I wasn’t overly prepared. I took the cookies out, put the just-thawed chicken breasts back in the fridge, and wondered what to do. Apparently I’m not at all like Ma Ingalls because I literally had no idea what to do. The house was super dark even though it wasn’t yet 5:00, what with the storm and black clouds. Eventually my husband came home and we all went out for dinner – being my car was trapped in the garage with the electric door. How dependent we are in this modern existence! God, I wouldn’t last a damn DAY on the old homestead. The power was off for over two and a half hours, but by the time we got home the power was on, the washer had finished its cycle, and I put the cookies back in the oven. Note: they turned out way flatter than normal but still were edible, so if you should ever be in a similar situation, try re-baking. It works, apparently.

The other day I was watching the news and there was this guy, Michael Bridge, playing the accordion. Now, my “experience” with the accordion is hearing the polka and while polkas are fun and all, they are not exactly remarkable. THIS GUY. He played a few tunes of a classical bent, and then suddenly ripped out with Sweet Child of Mine. On the accordion. It was the single most amazing thing I’d seen, music-wise, and I’ve been scouring the internet trying to find a video of it. No such luck, but if you find it, please let me know. A friend, after hearing about my fascination with this accordion-playing wunderkind, sent me this video and while it’s not an accordion, it IS pretty cool. A ukulele version of Billie Jean? Sign me up!

My productive week is almost at its end; this afternoon I will be watching two and a half hours of a karate tournament and demonstration, and tomorrow I will also be at a karate shiah tournament, and so I feel like my new identity as a sports mom is complete. I’m totally going to be Lynn Raisman, just give me a couple of years.

Empty Nest Overcompensation

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The kids are in karate camp this week, which means that I am kid-free for SEVEN HOURS A DAY. This is not something that happens ever, even during the school year, since they come home for lunch. I seem to be compensating for this empty nest by DOING ALL THE THINGS. I have been unbelievably productive, to the point where I’m starting to question my sanity. I mean, do I really need to be frantically busy every second that the children are not here just because they’re not here? Do I need to seize every single moment to do something useful or work-related? It’s not like they are toddlers; I can actually accomplish things when they are at home.

In the face of all this me-time, I did what any girl would do: book an appointment for a dental cleaning and check-up. Perhaps not the most hedonistic thing to do but my dental experience has improved exponentially by the introduction of an electrosonic dental-scaler. Maybe it’s hydrosonic. I don’t know, in any case it’s so much better than the old-school scalers of yore which would leave me with bleeding gums and in a foul mood for the remainder of the day. (note to self: floss EVERY day). I used to think that a Pap smear was highly preferable to dental scaling but the advent of this electro/hydro thingy, and my recent experience with a substitute OB/GYN who could only be described as “ham handed” has me singing a different tune. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a trip to the spa, but then again I’m not desperate for me-time pampering, given that I just had a weekend at my parents in which I was completely spoiled. For one thing, my mom and I had pedicures and lunch out; for another thing, I spent hours like this:

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And watching this:

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And also consuming lots of wine and chips and other tasty things. So, I’m feeling pretty relaxed going into this nearly kid-free week, with the only stressors being a) packing lunches and b) making sure the kids are covered in sunscreen before 8:30 am. This is more challenging than it sounds; apparently I’m off my school-year game.

Another thing I’ve saved to do this week is bra shopping. My very favourite black bra finally gave up the ghost, as I uncomfortably discovered when the underwire broke loose. I had to walk around wearing my ridiculous “for special occasions” push up bra. I just wanted a regular bra, not one that would “add two cup sizes”, not one that is described as “sexy” or “flirty”, just an everyday bra to wear under everyday tank tops. A trip to Victoria’s Secret was in order! You all know how I love Victoria’s Secret: the pretty, generous, and nicely lit change rooms, the fancy displays, the sweet and business-like salesgirls who don’t yell at you for wearing the wrong bra size like the ladies who work in The Bay. Now, I know it’s not for everyone, but for us run-of-the-mill B cups, Victoria’s Secret is excellent. Plus they have this Body by Victoria collection, and it is amazing. Super soft, non-ridiculous bras.

Speaking of ridiculous, look what I saw at the mall:

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A one-piece, strapless, DENIM short set. Why. WHY.

Nicole’s Favourite Things – Summer Loving

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I love summer. I love heat, I love sunshine, I love seasonal berries and vegetables, I love not feeling like my hands and feet are those of a ninety-year-old woman’s. Despite – or perhaps because of – my propensity to schedule and organize everything to the minute throughout the school year, I love having lazy unscheduled days. I love writing ONE activity on my calendar: “afternoon swimming!” or “zoo?”. I love the fact that I’m still in my sweaty yoga clothes at 10:00 in the morning and the boys are in their pajamas some days until noon. Sure, around September I will somewhat willingly switch my sandals for boots and my tank tops for sweaters but for now? I’m soaking up every minute I can of this (strangely warm and glorious) summer.

It’s time for Nicole’s Favourite Things – the summer edition! Reminder: all products mentioned are not sponsored in any way. I am not in any way being compensated for this post – I just love these things and want to share!

Nicole’s Favourite Things – Summer Loving

Sun Protection

At least once a week I like to take the boys to the local outdoor pool. What’s not to love? It’s a big sunny area with some shade, grass, and picnic tables. Ice cream sandwiches cost $2 and it’s a great meeting place for friends. My kids are at the age where they can swim and I can hang out and watch them. I love soaking up that Vitamin D but I don’t want to look like a) an Oompa Loompa, b) a leather purse, or c) an apple doll. I also have known people who have died from melanoma and so I cannot emphasize the importance of sun protection.

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I’m going to get on my soapbox now and tell you that there is ONE way to safely apply sunscreen, and that is NOT at the pool when you have already been exposed to the sun. I am wagging my lecturing finger at you right now if you are someone who gets to the pool, hangs out for half an hour, notices skin pinking up, and THEN applies sunscreen. NO. DO NOT DO THAT. There is one way to do it and that is to apply it to your body after your shower: naked and in front of the mirror. I know! Who wants to stare at themselves naked and covered with sunscreen? No one, but it’s important. I am generally not a “spray” girl – I haven’t been a fan of aerosol sprays since 1988 when I realized that my Salon Selectives addiction and my penchant for vertical bangs were in part responsible for the destruction of the ozone layer – but I love these Neutrogena “Wet Skin” and “Beach Defense” sprays. I can spray my whole back and I don’t have to rely on anyone else to help me. This is how you get bikini ready – it has nothing to do with diet, in my opinion, and everything to do with getting sunscreen on your back by yourself. I only use the spray on my back; for the rest I love Hawaiian Tropic. It smells like vacation!  For my face I like Ultra-Sheer Water Light, which doesn’t make my face all shiny and oily. DON’T FORGET TO REAPPLY. Also, if you’re reapplying, and it’s windy, don’t use a spray. The spray will get carried away in the wind and it will be ineffective. This seems obvious but based on the number of people I’ve seen applying spray in the wind, it needs to be said.

For the first time ever I bought a sun hat. It’s gigantic and ridiculous and makes me feel like I’m wearing a sombrero, but it keeps the sun off my face – who wants wrinkles? – and off my shoulders, which are usually the first thing to burn. I bought it at La Vie En Rose, from their Aqua collection. They have some great sales on right now, including on their beach cover-ups, so check it out!

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Another benefit of wearing a giant hat? My processed hair doesn’t get over-dry and bleached by the sun.

My Garden

The problem with Calgary is that it’s largely colourless for so much of the year. When it is finally, finally gardening season I go all out. I have something blooming all the time in my garden.

 

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These annuals were called “Strawberry Shortcakes” at the garden centre. Am I made of stone? No. I had to have them.

 

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These Siberian irises were planted by the original owners of our home. I love watching them bloom every year. The blooms are almost done now, so I have to enjoy them while they last.

 

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I planted three new John Cabot roses this year, and this is one of the new ones. Blooming already!

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This is one of my old John Cabot roses. It was just budding when I took this photo a week ago; now it’s covered in blooms!

 

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Love my little garden Buddha.

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Barkley!

 

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Gratuitous Barkley shot.

 

Summer Style

I’m not going to go all Adam Glassman on you and tell you what I think of shorts. You probably already know. But, as someone once said to me when I went on a diatribe about shorts, It’s not about style. It’s about practicality. It’s true that in the winter I don’t wear an ankle length puffy coat with gigantic Sorel boots because it’s stylish; I wear such items so I don’t die when I walk the dog or pick up the kids. But people, let me speak up in favour of the running skirt.

A running skirt is an amazingly cute little number that has shorts underneath. It is genius. Cool, comfortable, and no fear of wardrobe malfunctions.

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I know, two colours AT THE SAME TIME. What is the world coming to? Barkley obviously is confused.

 

Skirts are great too; I bought a couple of super-comfy ones on sale at Old Navy for about ten dollars.

Essential Oils

My friend Julie told me about DoTerra essential oils, and while I wasn’t exactly skeptical – I love that crazy hippie stuff – I wasn’t over-the-moon excited either. I mean, I was happy to use lavender oil on my myriad mosquito bites and lemon oil to deodorize the bathroom, but it wasn’t totally life-changing. And then I tried the cleaning products. Dear reader, I am not exaggerating in the least when I say the DoTerra On Guard cleaner and oil have revolutionized my life. This is a discovery on par with green smoothies. It’s antiviral, antibacterial, and it is THE most powerful cleaner I’ve ever used, and that includes bleach-based products. I’m doing weird things like cleaning out my kitchen compost bin and the bathroom garbage can JUST so I can use this product, which smells like cinnamon and cloves. Now, you know I’m a vinegar-and-water kind of girl but to be honest, that always left my hardwood floors a bit streaky. I thought that was just the way it was with hardwood floors, and then I used a few drops of the On Guard oil in a spray bottle of water. My floors are amazing. All summer long the kids are leaving bare footprints on the floor and the dog is tracking in dirt with his “I walked through wet grass and then through the garden” paws. But this has CHANGED MY LIFE.

 

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The Terra Shield works great as a bug spray, for those of us who are constantly covered in gigantically swollen mosquito bites. Mosquitoes are the one downside to summer.

 

Cold Snacks and Drinks

A little self-promotion here: I have been making frozen treats for myself and the kids constantly this summer, and have been posting them over at Yummy Mummy Club. Click the photo to go to the recipe!

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Knock-off DIY Frappucino

 

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The kids love these fudgsicles!

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DIY Dole Whip

 

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Chocolate soft-serve – no ice cream maker required!

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Key Lime Pie – made with avocados!

 

Also, you all know I’m a red wine girl. But sometimes it’s actually too hot for red wine. I know! I hardly know who I am anymore either. But I’ve been making cosmopolitans like nobody’s business lately, and the recipe will be up at Yummy Mummy Club next week! Stay tuned! In the meantime…

Cosmos

Is it me, or when anyone says “Cosmo” do you think “Kramer”? If these pretzels are making you thirsty, maybe try a Cosmo to alleviate things.

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I had to do a LOT of testing to get JUST the right proportions. The sacrifices I make for this job!

And now, dear reader, I turn it over to you – what are your favourite things about summer? Are you a summer lover or can you not wait until September? Tell me everything. xo

These are the people in my neighbourhood.

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Proving my theory that every single day is special, yesterday was International Kissing Day, followed by today’s festivities – International Chocolate Day. I think I can get behind this romantic turn of events. Just this morning as I was opening up my drapes, I noticed my across-the-street neighbour walking his girlfriend to her car, kissing her goodbye. Awwww! Sweet! My across-the-street neighbour is not exactly the grand prize to womanhood, so I’m very happy to see him with a lady friend. In related news, I am now in the running for the nosy neighbour on the street. I’m in competition with all of the octogenarians in the surrounding houses.

Years ago, one of my across-the-street neighbours was a man in his eighties, and he had a girlfriend who was probably about 65. They were both widowed, and every Saturday night they would go to 5:00 mass together, then to the Legion for dinner and dancing. It was one of the cutest things ever. One Sunday morning I was opening the drapes to witness Henry walking Frieda to her car and kiss her goodbye; moments later Henry’s adult children pulled up for a visit. It made the romance a little more illicit in my eyes. The moral of this story is that romance is ageless. This is good to know for those days in the future when I’m an orange-haired old lady with bleeding lipstick in my slacks-and-pumps with plastic white purse containing a roll of mints and a change purse.

Ah, romance. It’s everywhere, from the sanitation worker across the street to the teenaged ride operators at the amusement park, from the elderly man down the street who told me his secret to over half a century of happy marriage was saying “Yes, Dear” right to my own home. Yes, the romance is alive at the Boyhouse, even if no one appreciates my kale chips or my version of The Greatest Love of All.

I’ve been re-reading the Anne of Green Gables series, which I haven’t read since I was a kid. I love them as much now as I did then; maybe more. I love the old-timey romance and the descriptions of the college girls entertaining their gentleman callers decorously in the parlor, I love the descriptive details of the landscape and the furniture, but most of all I like how it follows a woman throughout what is really quite an ordinary life. All of us ordinary people are stars of our own stories; everybody’s life is book fodder.

The only thing that’s not great about the Anne books is all the ejaculating. “Anne, what do you think you’re doing?” Marilla ejaculated. Awkward!

It’s been warm and sunny here, happily enough. I’m driving around with the windows open in the car and wearing sleeveless shirts, and it feels wonderful. A man riding a motorbike was stopped in front of me at a red light, and he was wearing a shirt that said boldly, across the back, “Go Big Or Fuck Off”. It made me think of my across-the-alley neighbour who frequently wears a t-shirt that has a picture of a clock on it and the words “Fuck The Time”. I was driving the kids to school one day when he was wearing that shirt, having a conversation with the elderly lady from three doors down. He cheerfully waved; the boys were fascinated. Did you see his shirt, Mom? Do you think that Mrs. D noticed what it said? Yes, I did, and maybe? Then again, maybe she has cataracts.

The other day I was working in my back garden, and I could hear my next-door neighbour talking with her next-door neighbour – that’s Beeps’ “daddy”, for those of you who have been reading about the Boyhouse for a while. My ears perked up when I heard my name mentioned. Did Nicole change her hair? Beeps’ “daddy” asked loudly. Because it sure looks different. Was it always that colour? It seems awfully…red. I thought of Anne Shirley, and how she would flip whenever her hair was referred to as “red”, rather than “auburn”. I’m just glad mine wasn’t being referred to as “orange”. I wondered if I should make my presence known, but then I decided to stay quiet just in case they started gossiping about me. Sadly, the conversation moved on to tree pruning and the weather, so I never did find out about my hair’s approval rating in the neighbourhood.

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For the record, I did not change my hair. But my roots ARE out of control.

A 1970s Summer, But With Helmets and Seatbelts and Sunscreen

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It’s hard to believe that one week ago today was the last day of school. It feels like much, much longer, but not in a bad way. We just got back from three nights at my parents’ lake house and it was wonderful. But of course! How could it help being anything but when everyone – including me and the dog – gets insanely spoiled by Grandma and Grandpa? If anyone needs me I’ll be detoxing from my wine and chip consumption.

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There’s a lot of buzz around a certain theme this summer – a give your kids a 1970s style summer theme. I read the original article, smiled nostalgically, and was only a little surprised to find out a few days later that this idea, the idea of a free-range, lots-of-TV, drink-from-the-garden hose kind of summer had been taken very seriously. I didn’t realize that it was meant to be taken any way but as a heart warming nostalgia piece, but evidently, I misjudged the internet.

I don’t remember too much about the seventies – I was still pretty young – but I do remember watching The Dukes of Hazzard as a child. Age-appropriate shows weren’t exactly a thing back then, but fortunately, the law-breaking, moonshine-running plots went over my little bowlcut-sporting head. I was twenty-three before I realized that the underlying theme for Three’s Company was that Jack was pretending to be gay so he could live with two girls. I literally had no idea. I just remember feeling mild resentment that I, as a brunette, was forced to be on Team Janet. Add that to the Little House on the Prairie books – Beautiful Golden-Haired Mary versus Very Bad Brunette Laura – as well as the fact my best friend had thick, wavy, white-blonde hair, and it’s no wonder I have hair issues.

But back to the Dukes of Hazzard: while at my parents’ place, we went into town for the Canada Day festivities. A few blocks off the main street is this amazing place:

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I did not go in, despite the exciting claims of “Daily Food” and “Patio Pool Table”. But oh, how I wanted to.

Sunday had pretty much the worst possible weather imaginable for late June – high winds, pouring rain, and a high temperature of thirteen degrees Celsius. And here’s where the 1970s summer comes in: in the absence of video games and other technological distractions, Mark and I played approximately one million games of Go Fish, only one of which I won. Jake and I played a 40 minute game of War, and the only reason it ended at 40 minutes is because I eventually put a time limit on it. It was like playing a low-rent version of Risk. Mark made up his own games by drawing Pokemon and making little cards, and Jake played a game racing various Hot Wheels against each other.

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Eventually the rain stopped and we sent the boys OUTSIDE.

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Clothing wise, it does seem like we are having a 1970s summer. Last week I took the boys to the local amusement park, and I felt like some kind of fashion anthropologist, pinning the year onto the styles all the kids were wearing. We arrived at the park and there were busloads of teens from surrounding rural areas, clearly on an end of school celebratory trip. The temperature was about eighteen degrees, but the girls were almost exclusively dressed in Daisy Duke short-shorts and tank tops. A few had sweaters around their waists that their mothers probably forced on them. The only thing that was confusing to this fashion anthropologist was that I counted four pairs of overall shorts and one pair of acid-washed short shorts, which seemed more eighties than seventies.

Since there were so many people arriving at the park, the boys and I made a beeline for one of their favourite rides, the Dream Weaver, which is basically a bunch of swings that go around in circles high in the air. The boys jumped into the very short line, and I snapped a picture of their angelically happy faces. Look at those angels!

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They must be so excited and happy to get on the ride, one might think from looking at this photo. In reality, they are looking in an amused way at the swings that were stuck high up in the air. “EVERYBODY STAY CALM!” screamed the operator. “STAY IN YOUR SEATS WITH THE SEATBELT SECURELY FASTENED!” I’m not sure if anyone was about to quickly unbuckle and jump thirty feet down just to be free of the Dream Weaver, but in any case, we steered clear of the ride for the remainder of the day, even after the maintenance people deemed it ride-worthy.

With the Dream Weaver off our radar for the day, the boys chose to participate in a water gun activity in which they were paired against a couple of teen boys, and let me tell you, nothing gets my kids’ spirits up like the idea of a battle challenge. They didn’t win.

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They were happy with their efforts, and didn’t complain at all about spending the day in soaking wet clothes. Later we had peanut butter sandwiches and bought cotton candy, which seemed ridiculously expensive. What is the markup on a $5.50 bag of cotton candy? I’m guessing $5?

Cotton candy, card games, and broken carnival rides – maybe it’s going to be more of a 1970s summer than I thought! In any case, a great first week. xo