Category Archives: Birthdays
It’s Great to be Eight!
Happy birthday, Jake! You’re an awesome kid.
It’s not easy being green.
I was digging through my bottom dresser drawer on the weekend and found a little bag containing a number of cards, including a Blockbuster Video membership card. How long has that been there? There was also a Northwest Airlines World Perks card I had from my working-girl-business-travel era, which was some time ago. Clearly I need to clean out my drawers more often. At least I didn’t find any maternity pantyhose, like I did last time.
In case you missed it, it was my birthday on the weekend! Best weekend ever, I tell you. My mom made me a cake and my husband went out and bought me a case of wine, including a very nice bottle of Amarone that we shared while watching my new copy of Les Miserables, which as you may know I’ve been wanting to see for…well…for as long as it’s been out, I guess. It was a great movie, and I restrained myself from singing along to the entire score. I am only human though, and occasionally I would slip out with a Who am I? 2-4-6-0-1! which is when my husband would wander downstairs to see how the boys were doing on their video game or into the kitchen to fetch me more wine. Good husband!
The boys gave me a new yoga outfit, which I proudly wore on Sunday morning, negating the Shala’s need for lights:
I felt a bit like a walking glo-stick or lime popsicle, but in a good way. I kind of love it. And hey, my birthday is right before Earth Day and right after Pot Day, so wearing green seems like a great idea.
Other things I love:
1) We have finally finished reading the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. I have been reading it to the boys at bedtime for the past couple of months and believe me when I say this: I cannot think of another series of books that I have so loathed. The kids loved it, mind you, but I felt that it was the lamest, most mean-spirited series in the history of time. It pushed so many buttons for me and reminded me of why I hated the tween years. Obviously I am not the target audience but in any case I’m ecstatic it’s all over. Next up: Charlotte’s Web! Hooray! No one knew that a little grey spider played the biggest part. No one was with her when she died. Wah. Poor Charlotte.
2) 31 Inanimate Objects With Secret Inner Lives. The gherkin!
3) 14 Engagement Photos. Although, the train track picture is giving me heart palpitations. DON’T PLAY ON THE TRACKS!
4) Mad Men. I am really enjoying this season, especially the swingy fashion of the late sixties. If I could get away with wearing minidresses, go-go boots, false eyelashes and white lipstick every day I would. If I wouldn’t look like death with white lipstick, that is. And if it wouldn’t look strange to wear false eyelashes, minidresses and go-go boots to the school, dog park or grocery store, which are my three main destinations.
I think it’s almost time for another Nicole’s Favourite Things, now that the temperatures are actually ABOVE freezing and little green things are starting to poke out of the ground. Watch for it in the coming days! Spring! Finally! Things feel grand. xoxo
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Thanks everyone for playing along for my giveaway. Justine was the big winner! Congratulations Justine – something fun will be on your way, just as soon as I get to the post office.
Moar Happyer; A Diversion
“I don’t get it,” Mark said from the back of the minivan, the minivan that was rocking with hip tunes from the seventies. “Why does that guy want to be a Fireside Girl?” “Maybe he wants to sell those cupcakes or get badges.” Jake suggested.
For reference, this was the song that was on the radio. I know, I should really listen to more current music, and I DO, I really do. But sometimes I need a break from accidentally belting out the uncensored lyrics to “Thrift Shop” in front of my kids. “Mom, that word is really bad. It’s even worse than FRICKING. It means the same thing as this,” the kids will say in their best reprimanding manner, raising their middle fingers so I can see for myself just how inappropriate it is.
In other words, I’ll keep my old-people radio station that advertises for Grey Power Insurance. Related: it’s almost my birthday! Time to break out the tiara, drink lots of wine, and eat cake! So, pretty much like every weekend. Last birthday I celebrated turning-older-than-Mrs-Robinson; this year is kind of anti-climactic since I don’t know what cougarish fictional character I’m going to be older than. I have a good ten years before I will be older than Dallas from Suburgatory.
Although I do have one of these foam fingers, only it’s green:
My foam finger is highly underutilized in the bedroom department, however.
Speaking of sexytimes, Barkley has finally stopped attempting to, ahem, dominate a certain little Shih tzu dog named Freddie at the off leash park. This is big news. It is also the end of a short lived, yet very embarrassing era in which I would have to grab Barkley’s collar, yelling “Barkley, NO!” while simultaneously apologizing to the older lady to whom Freddie belongs. I was somewhat curious why Barkley continued to try to have his way with Freddie given that a) Barkley is a eunich, and b) Freddie is male. Perhaps Barkley is gay? My friend Nan informed me that if Barkley is gay, then her dog, who regularly attempted to dominate pillows in a similar manner for many months, must be a foamosexual.
Foamosexual. It’s a word that never fails to make me smile, although now that I posted a picture of a foam finger, it’s kind of disturbing.
Other cheerful things that are happening around here: Jake told me he loves school, and that is because in his mind school is a video game and whenever he accomplishes a goal or a difficult task, he considers it a “level completed”. I feel like something is a bit off with that, but whatever works. Level up, buddy. Mark is finishing his last swim class today and I’m fairly sure he did not “level up”, as it were. “I’m the slowest swimmer in my class!” he told me, to which I did NOT respond that I was consistently the second worst athlete in every single phys ed class growing up. He should just be glad I procreated with his “Award of Excellence” father, just to get some athleticism genes. I mean, that’s not the only reason I procreated with him. He’s number one! *raises foam finger*
It is also “Tacky Tourist” day at school, and I for one welcome this dress-up day as being much, much easier than “Dress As What You Want To Be When You Grow Up” day or “Dress As Your Favourite Storybook Character” day, both of leave me bemused and devoid of all creative ideas. At least, I thought it was easy. This is what they looked like this morning:
Of course, we got to school and all the kids had crazy straw hats and sunglasses and cabana wear but STILL. Maui t-shirts count for something, I think.
Nine Feels Fine
Mark was born on our second wedding anniversary, after a pre-eclampsia diagnosis, a three week bedrest, minor panic, and a startlingly short labour. I learned that not everything always goes as planned.
He was a seriously cute baby with super spiky hair. I learned how to eat and cook one-handed.
He was a cheery and happy baby. I learned the words to Goodnight Moon, Hand Hand Fingers Thumb, and Mr Brown Can Moo off by heart.
A few short months after this picture was taken, he became a big brother. I learned that having one baby was actually pretty easy.
By age two, he knew the makes and models of all vehicles in our neighbourhood. I learned the difference between a Ford F150 and a Chevy Silverado.
At age three, he loved everything with wheels. I learned everything I needed to know about heavy machinery.
At age four he loved dinosaurs. I learned all about even the most obscure dinosaurs, including the periods they lived in.
At age five, he lost teeth, discovered a love of science experiments, and learned to read. I learned that when your child starts school, it’s not necessary to be on every single committee, even when you are asked to be.
By age six, he decided he wanted to be a businessman when he grew up. I learned how to be a soccer mom and to always keep a sleeping bag in the car.
At seven, he started swimming for real. I learned that being the mom of school aged kids was pretty awesome.
At eight, he loved video games and books, animals and golfing, sand and sun and snow alike. I learned about Geronimo Stilton, Pokemon, and Phineas and Ferb.
Today, at age nine, he is smart and silly, the classroom peacemaker who also loves karate and battles. He’s a great brother, an awesome kid, and I’m proud of him every day. Because of him, I learned how to be a mom.
Lucky Number Seven
It was Jake’s seventh birthday yesterday! For the past week I’ve been reminiscing about my pregnancy and his birth: how I craved and ate a jar of Cheez Whiz a week, disturbingly enough; how I became a completely crazed hormonal being the day before going into labour, alternating between being annoyed at everyone in the world and sobbing with terror that all of the twenty or so people I had as back-up babysitting alternates would simultaneously be unavailable to take Mark and I would have to take him with me, or, worse, have the baby in the bathroom; how I thought a second baby would be easy because I’d already had one, only to discover that nothing prepares a person for looking after a one-year-old and a colicky newborn. Most of all, I remember how I felt that Jake completed our family.
Jake shares a birthday with Prince Harry, and I like to say that he’s OUR Prince Harry – the madcap younger brother who shows that sometimes it’s way more fun to be the spare than the heir, so to speak. Jacob even means “second son”, which I thought was very cool. I can’t ever imagine life without him, he’s a great kid, even if I’m kind of expecting naked Vegas party pictures to surface in a couple of decades.
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| Touchdown, age eight weeks. |
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| In the stroller, age seven months |
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| Hanging out, age one. |
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| The least-terrible two year old. |
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| LEAVE ME ALONE, age three |
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| A four year old superhero. |
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| Hanging at the playground, age five. |
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| At Elbow River, age six. |
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| Going out for a birthday dinner, age seven. |
Party like it’s 1979
It is, suddenly, fall. My Manitoba maple tree has yellowed overnight, it seems, football has taken over Sundays, and the mornings are very crisp and chilly. Although I cheerfully discuss with the children all the wonderful things to look forward to in every season, during the fall I very much mourn the end of summer. This summer in Calgary has been one for the record books, I think, it has been really unusually sunny and warm. It’s been perfect.
Fall, to me, is the chilly, windy precursor to a long, long winter. I like colourful leaves, apples, and back-to-school as much as the next person, but I long for that summer warmth. Perhaps if I lived in a different climate, I would feel differently. But this summer has been great, and this weekend was sunny and warm. I am especially thankful for this beautiful weekend, not just because it is one more weekend to wear my summer clothes and sandals, but also because yesterday was Jake’s birthday party! And I will say this: the party was a huge success. We walked the kids over to the playground – sidestepping a dead squirrel on the sidewalk – where they made up their own game pretending to be various Pokemon characters, which carried over into our backyard. Cupcakes, chips, and water guns filled the rest of the time, and all the little guests seemed very happy. Wet and dirty, but happy. One boy very gratifyingly told me that my cupcakes are the highlight of our birthday parties. “They’re just so amazing!” he enthused. Aw.
All in all, a great time with minimal effort on my part. I have never been good at organizing party games or activities, and so the fact that they largely entertained themselves was pretty fantastic. Jake had a great day and his actual birthday is not for another week! We should have a pretty good case of birthday fatigue on our hands by the time next weekend rolls around.
Jake himself has attained minor celebrity at school for being the kid who got barfed on, which I find simultaneously hilarious and revolting. “What was it like?” a boy asked him, to which Jake worldly answered “You don’t want to know! It was horrible!” He later told me he is getting weary of talking about it. It’s the price of fame, I guess.