Category Archives: Blinding you with science

A Medical Mystery

Posted on by

What’s the opposite of a hypochondriac? Whatever it is, I think I am one.

I had my annual physical this week, and my doctor has started giving me the lab requisition prior to my appointments, so we can discuss the results together. I have never had any issue with my lab work with one exception: I have a weirdly low white blood cell count, which is something that sounds pretty alarming. If you look up “low white blood cell count” the first dozen or so results will be cancer in various forms, followed by autoimmune things like lupus and AIDS. Another possible reason for low white blood cells is low Vitamin B12 levels, but my Vitamin B12 levels are absurdly high, along with my iron levels, which is fairly unusual considering my plant-based diet. In any case, I’ve had low white blood cells for many years, and I’m not dead yet, or incapacitated in any way, so I guess that’s just the way it is for me. My doctor agrees, saying some people just have lower than normal levels; it’s one of those weird unexplained things, and I’m fine with being weird and unexplained.

Anyway, other than that small and strange issue, my lab work is always just fine, so I was very surprised to get a phone call from the doctor’s office a few weeks ago. I was in Superstore, because where else would I be if not grocery shopping, and the nurse informed me that my lab results were back and I have a bladder infection, and so she would call in an antibiotic prescription to the pharmacist near me. Imagine, if you will, feeling perfectly normal and healthy, standing beside the red peppers with a mesh produce bag in one hand, talking through a mask to a nurse who is telling you that you have a bladder infection, while other shoppers dart around you and your giant cart, trying to grab a pepper, with soft mellow music playing in the background. “A bladder infection?” I said, “I don’t think I have one.” She said that I sure did, and listed off the symptoms of such an infection, familiar to all of us, but not applicable to me at that moment.

While still shopping, my husband texted me to say that the pharmacy had called, and I had a prescription ready? The pharmacist was confused since I haven’t had a prescription in a decade or so, and my husband was confused because he “didn’t know I was sick,” and I was confused by the whole thing. By that time I had only made it to the bakery section, and they didn’t have the pitas I like. On my way home I picked up the prescription and then I put it in the cupboard and forgot about it.

I figured that if I developed symptoms, I would certainly take the antibiotics; we were going into the long weekend and what is worse than getting a bladder infection or UTI and having to wait to see the doctor, but if I’m being honest, I thought the lab maybe made a mistake. I mean, wouldn’t I KNOW if I had a bladder infection? If you know, you know, I thought.

Fast-forward to my doctor’s appointment and after all the usual things, he brought up my “recent bladder infection” and asked if the antibiotics cleared it up, at which point I told him that I never took the antibiotics because I didn’t think I had an infection. This led to a careful examination of my results, an assurance that my name and health care number was right there, and a gentle admonition that Some People Can Have Infections With No Symptoms.

Me: But wouldn’t I KNOW?

Doctor: Usually, but not always.

Me: Can it clear up on its own? I feel fine.

Doctor: On some occasions your immune system might fight it off for a while, but untreated infections can go into the bloodstream and cause sepsis.

Me: I am pretty sure I would know if I had sepsis.

Doctor: Well, yes. You’d be delirious and probably hospitalized. That’s why we don’t let it get to that point. That’s why I prescribed the antibiotics.

Huh. Solid point. He went on to say that perhaps my symptoms present differently, and was I feeling a bit more tired lately? That could be it.

Come to think of it, I was feeling a bit more tired than usual, but I chalked it up to nightly hot flashes, my son’s graduation, the frenzy of gardening that comes when Calgary gets decent weather, finishing up my yoga classes until September, and an existential crisis about it being June and my sons growing up. But I guess there could be a medical component in there.

This whole thing is WILD to me. I mean, what are the chances that I just happen to have an infection right when I go for lab work? What if this had happened a few months ago? If my only symptom is tiredness, I would never seek medical attention, never. Theoretically, could I be a little bit tired and then go into sepsis? God, I hope not. This is just like when Covid hit our house, and the first person who tested positive was completely asymptomatic the whole way through, and my only symptom was being tired. Should I be suspicious every time I feel a little tired? I’m going through perimenopause here, what is Normal Tired and what is Halfway To Sepsis Tired? What is It’s Been A Long Week And I Need More Sleep Tired and what is Pack Your Bag For The Hospital Tired?

Well. I went home and started the antibiotics, to my husband’s horror – “You mean you DIDN’T take them already? You got those three weeks ago! Why wouldn’t you take what the doctor told you to take?” – and I feel…fine. Less tired? Who can say? If I listen to my body, it’s going to say I’m fine when in reality, who knows? Hopefully by the time you read this I will not have dropped dead from some mysterious ailment with no symptoms.

Is that bad luck to write? I hope not. I feel a little superstitious, but not enough to delete. I’m fine! I’m sure I’m fine.

Weekly Reading

This Is The Story of a Happy Marriage. About halfway through this book of essays is a 40-page essay entitled The Wall, which is about the author’s experience going to the LA Police Academy as research. I felt sure I had read the essay before – most in the book had been previously published – but on examination I didn’t think I read a 40-page essay in the Washington Post in 2007, when my kids were 2 and 3. The next essay – and please keep in mind, people, that by this time I was well over halfway through the book – seemed very familiar too. I looked at my spreadsheet where I record all my books read and discovered that I had already read this, in 2018. Oops. Some of the essays were very much worth a reread, some were not.

Atlas of the Heart. There was so much food for thought in this intelligent, yet easy to read book about connections and emotions. Some chapters really resonated with me. The section on “Bittersweet” summed up exactly how I’m feeling these days and the existential crisis I am having.

“Sadness about letting go of something, mixed with happiness and/ or gratitude about what’s been experienced and/ or what’s next.”

No Cure For Being Human. We all know that life is short and miraculous, and technically we all know we could be living our last day today, but what if you REALLY knew today could be your last day? What if you were living with an incurable and terminal disease and you’d already outlasted expectations? How would you live your life? This is a truly beautiful book about finitude and living within our limitations as people. I read her first book, but in my opinion this one is much better and more uplifting.

And now, my dear friends, I shall pass the microphone on to you. Where do you land on the hypochondriac scale? Have you ever had a medical issue without knowing you had a medical issue? Are you having an existential crisis of any kind? Have you ever read more than half a book before realizing you had already read it? Tell me everything. xo

Grumbles, Groceries, Good Things; One Hundred and Five Weeks In

Posted on by

WHY DO WE STILL CHANGE THE CLOCKS TWICE A YEAR

I have been tracking my sleep on my Garmin watch since the New Year, and although I have no idea HOW my watch knows how much I sleep and how much of that sleep is deep or light or REM, it seems pretty accurate. I generally average between seven and seven and a half hours each night during the week, with more on Friday and Saturday.

This year, Springing Forward coincided with the celebration of my parents’ golden anniversary. That means, in addition to staying up late visiting and drinking wine, the clocks moved forward AND I ended up having massive wine-fueled hot flashes. Here is my Saturday Night Sleep Report:

So I was pretty fuzzy going into the week, and the time change always makes me feel just slightly off for at least four or five days. I would rage about it for a while but a) it looks like there is a US bill to get rid of the time change, and b) if this happens in the States I am hopeful it will happen in Canada. PLEASE GOD LET THIS HAPPEN IN MY LIFETIME.

I Am Not An Anti-Dentite

I had a dental cleaning scheduled for this week, and the dental office sent me the following reminders: five emails, eight texts, and three phone calls, two to my cell and one to my landline. I felt like this was an excessive number of reminders, particularly since I responded to and confirmed at least one of the very many reminders.

It brought to mind the days when my older son was going through orthodontic treatment, and the office would send a text, an email, and a phone call, and that never stopped even though at every single appointment – for twenty-six months – I would ask them to please just give me ONE reminder. ONE. They would make a note, and then nothing would change. After this barrage of reminders from the dentist, I longed for the orthodontic days.

Well, not really, but I was feeling pretty irritated by the time my appointment came around; that morning, I had a text and an email saying “see you soon!” and honestly, I felt like cancelling the whole thing, or maybe burning down the entire office. I was so grumpy about it that my husband commented on said grumpiness. “Why are you so mad about this? Things like this don’t usually bother you.” True.

I couldn’t stop complaining about going to the DENTIST and how I HATE the dentist and argh, I’m going to the DENTIST. I didn’t really understand my own crabbiness, except that it was maybe a Bridge Too Far, what with time change and all. I mean, I do not have a fear of the dentist, as many people do. I have never had a difficult dental procedure. Tooth scaling, while unpleasant, isn’t even painful for me. So why was I so worked up?

The answer came when I got to the office and the receptionist informed me that my “usual” hygienist was unable to see me, so would it be okay if I saw a different hygienist? I shrugged agreeably and said I didn’t even know who my usual was, and I was sure that whoever they put me with would be just fine.

People, the woman who cleaned my teeth was a literal angel of a hygienist. Never have I had such a pleasant dental experience. It was then that I realized that I never learned or retained the names of my past hygienists, which is highly out of character for me. I am a person who gets very attached to people in my life. I mean, I have favourite cashiers at the grocery store and I know all their names. The fact that I seem to block out the names of my dental hygienists speaks volumes, and then I remembered that at my last appointment, the hygienist talked incessantly about her unvaccinated family members, and any time she asked me a question, she would unpleasantly laugh and tell a follow up story about her kids and their superior athletic abilities. She told me I drank way too much coffee, which, while true, isn’t a nice thing to hear.

On the other hand, my new hygienist talked to me about fuzzy dog breeds, told me a lovely story about her own dog and her dog’s best friend, and that her daughter left her job as a legal assistant to become an ultrasound technician. She was incredibly gentle with my teeth and told me that I was doing an excellent job maintaining my oral health. I felt like hugging her at the end of our appointment.

When I told my husband about it, he realized that she is the hygienist that he sees, and that he has been trying to get me to go to for two years, but I kept saying that it doesn’t matter who the hygienist is. He didn’t actually say I told you so but point taken.

Walking Down The Aisles

I am back to my regular, first-thing-in-the-morning grocery shopping, and my faith in humanity has somewhat been restored, as it is too early in the day for Costco shoppers to leave their carts wherever they may be. I’m sure it’s still happening, but I’m not there to see it, and a tree falls in the forest.

My goodness, there are a lot of empty shelves right now. I am not in a panic; there is plenty of food, plenty. Everything is fine.

But also, there seems to be an oatmeal shortage? Regular rolled oats are very sparse on the shelves, and there seems to be only one variety of instant oatmeal. One of my sons likes to have instant oatmeal once or twice a week, and his favourite flavour has been unavailable for many weeks. There is a ton of sugary cereals like Froot Loops and that strange Timbits cereal, but very little of the hippie, high-fibre brands I like. Although, I did find Kashi Cinnamon Wheat Squares, which have been unavailable for well over a year. Mini-Wheats are also scarce, which, again, is not a big deal but something I noticed.

I walked down the frozen aisle to get some fruit, and I noticed that there were whole sections, usually devoted to pizza, that were completely empty. In the produce department, I have noticed that grapes are either completely unavailable or are really gross and wrinkly looking, although that could certainly be a seasonal thing.

My favourite Boom Chicka Pop Light Kettle Corn has been unavailable for over a month, but a few weeks ago I picked up a bag of Skinny Pop Kettle Corn, because god forbid I go without kettle corn. This is where the story twists: IT IS AMAZING. It BLOWS Boom Chicka Pop right out of the water, RIGHT OUT. As Ma Ingalls always said, There Is No Great Loss Without Some Small Gain, but let me tell you, if it hadn’t been for the Boom Chicka Pop shortage, I would have never tried something with such a ridiculous name as Skinny Pop, and now I cannot go back. I have since bought several bags and I may be hoarding, just a little.

Speaking of ridiculous names, I came across this at Superstore:

I didn’t buy it out of principle. I didn’t want to buy into the culture that food is somehow evil if you are enjoying it but this is less evil than other foods. NO. No sir, I will not do it. This may sound rich coming from a person who just admitted to hoarding something called Skinny Pop, but even I have my limits. I marched righteously past the display, thinking angry thoughts about society and putting value judgements on the food that we eat.

Except, strawberry white chocolate popcorn. STRAWBERRY WHITE CHOCOLATE POPCORN. I can’t stop thinking about it! I wonder if it’s delicious. Regrets, I have them.

One Slipped Past The Goalie

The biggest grumble is that, after two years, we succumbed to the plague. My younger son’s best friend texted to say he’d tested positive for Covid; my son – who had zero symptoms and never did develop any – took a test and it was positive. The rest of us were negative at that time, but the next day it was pretty clear the negatives had become positives. My husband had a headache, sore throat, and fatigue, my other son had a sore throat, and I was so tired I could barely pull myself out of bed, even having slept an extra two hours. I continued to be exhausted all day, even taking an afternoon nap. My energy level, normally approaching that of Jack Russell terrier, was downgraded to Barkley:

By about day three we all felt “approaching normal,” and more bored than anything. That’s the grumble – the good thing is that none of us were very sick at all – no one even had a cough or sneeeze, I had JUST gotten groceries so we had plenty of food in the house, and we were all able to just take it easy. I attribute our extremely “nothing” cases to the efficacy of vaccines; if this had happened a year ago, I think things would have been very different. As it is, meh. One slipped past the goalie and we are all just fine.

Pandemic Reading

Five Tuesdays In Winter. Wow, did I love this collection of short stories! They were wrenching, heartwarming, and beautiful, and also incredibly varied in terms of character and setting. I want to read all her work now, and have put myself in the queue for her other books.

We Are Not Like Them. This book is written from two points of view, by two different authors, which is interesting. It deals with a white woman married to a police officer who is involved in the shooting of an unarmed, innocent, 14 year old Black kid, and a Black newscaster who is covering the story. The complication is that the two women are lifelong friends. This is a very important story with very important information. I’m glad I read it. But, the book itself? Meh. The characters are cliched and one-dimensional, and the writing itself is pretty flat. It is, in every way, a Book Club Book. It’s very readable, don’t get me wrong, but if you’re looking for a beautifully written book with complex, nuanced characters, this isn’t it.

With Love From London. My goodness, what a sweet, cozy, charming little book about a woman who inherits a bookshop in London, from her estranged mother. Everything ends exactly as you’d want it to, it’s a Hallmark movie in book firm, but better. So satisfying and lovely!

Mitzi Bytes. This book deals with a woman who has an anonymous blog, that gets found out – and the people she has been writing about are NOT HAPPY. It was fun to read about the early days of blogging – remember the Mommy Wars, and how there was actual debate about no-nut policies in schools – and there is also quite a bit of “why do we blog” discussion. If you were a part of those early days, and remember the stardom of some bloggers, you’ll really enjoy this trip down memory lane. It’s a fun read! I obviously do not have an anonymous blog, but this book is also a bit of a cautionary tale about what we write about: my personal view is that I assume everyone I know could possibly read this blog, so I never write anything I would be ashamed to say in person. YES, THAT INCLUDES DISCUSSION ABOUT MY BRAS, TAMPONS, AND CHIN HAIR. But mostly, that means that I don’t say anything about other people that I wouldn’t say to their faces.

Everything is back to semi-normal around here; we are out of isolation today, everyone is feeling well. And it’s Spring Break! Which means…absolutely nothing, although we did have a trip to Mexico planned that we cancelled back in January when all our travelling friends were getting stranded here, there, and everywhere. Two weeks ago I was bitterly regretting cancelling, but now I’m rejoicing, because at least we didn’t have to do a last-minute-scramble-to-cancel! Isn’t it nice when things work out for the best? Take care of yourselves. xo

Boyhouse Year In Review 2020

Posted on by

WELL! I don’t think any of us could have possibly predicted the year that we just had, in any capacity. I would like to think that we will never take things for granted again: our health, our ability to travel, our friendships and family, but human nature being what it is, there will come a day when we probably will.

2020 was disastrous in so many ways, but I think that looking back on it, we can see massive change and growth, and, looking forward, glimmers of hope. I know that going through this year has made me re-evaluate many things, and I have realized that many things I felt I could never live without, I have.

So let us look back on the year that was absolutely unlike any year we have experienced, but that will surely be talked about and written about for decades to come.

Boyhouse Year In Review 2020

January

I was stressed out about juggling doctor, dentist, and orthodontist appointments for the boys – remember juggling things? – it was insanely cold and I went for a mall walk like an elderly person, and I got weirdly stressed out about getting a gel pedicure. I also – sob – complained about exam break and my son being home from school IMAGINE YOUR KIDS BEING HOME FROM SCHOOL FOR THREE WEEKS JUST IMAGINE LOLOLOLOLSOB.

January 2020 Nicole was such an innocent, and also I did not go for that gel pedicure.

February

I overheard a man at Walmart asking for extra-small condoms, I went to Math Night at the high school and was comparatively a hippie, I went to Costco on a Sunday afternoon for the first and last time and also baked a heart-shaped cake for dinner with friends, and I wore a different outfit every day in February.

All the outfits were pretty similar though.

March

I talked about how insidious jealousy is, although I freely admitted to being insanely jealous of my friends’ hair, I noticed people buying a LOT of toilet paper at Costco (cue ominous music), I really did try to fulfil my New Year’s Resolution of buying a bra but failed, we cancelled our trip to Mexico and I bought a lot of groceries, my son turned 16 and we had our first Pandemic Birthday, and I accidentally hoarded taco shells.

Everything shut down, including the yoga studio, and so I also started my home yoga practice. This was a huge change because nearly every day for thirteen years I went to the studio to practice in the early morning hours. School was also cancelled “indefinitely.”

April

In what can only be described as the Worst Timing Ever, my coffee maker started leaking, grocery shopping became a harrowing, soul-sucking quest and I started wearing a mask, my sons stopped shaving, I got my very first cloth mask and declared it to be the New Lipstick, I coloured my own hair for the first time in decades, and I cleaned and reorganized the hideous laundry area.

I also had a pandemic birthday and my friends brought me a gift while wearing dinosaur costumes and playing Danger Zone.

May

Some things started to open up, notably the orthodontist, which meant that I did NOT have to use toenail clippers to cut my son’s brace wires, we had a Pandemic Mother’s Day and I stressed out about baking powder, we visited my parents for the first time in months, I aired my grievances, big and small, and I was really on edge about grocery carts.

I also talked about pandemic beauty products.

June

Amid lots of worries, we celebrated Barkley’s birthday, we started to catch up on appointments as medical and dental offices opened, I gave myself a bikini wax and I learned some things are best left to the professionals, the renos were finished on our vacation home and so we went there for a little break and I thoroughly enjoyed the newly-flushing toilet, and I reminisced about Hammerman.

I also shared my hair styling tips, follow me for more great beauty advice.

July

I talked about the role of luck in life, I had lots of adventures, including one in which I learned how outhouses in the backcountry get emptied, I GOT A PELOTON AND IT HAS BEEN LIFE-CHANGING (and also practiced gratitude), and I talked about leaning in and out, yin and yang.

I also talked about sweat! Again, follow me for more fascinating and glamourous topics.

August

I finally watched Hamilton and also bleached my hands accidentally, someone called the cops on my son and his band, I realized after months of wearing shorts that the boys had vastly outgrown all their pants, we were on a vacation of sorts and I prepared for the boys to actually go back to actual physical school.

I also talked about my beloved herb garden.

September

The boys went back to school (!!!!!!), my son turned 15 and had a socially distanced birthday party, I marked six months since I had my hair cut and professionally coloured, I had the Lido Shuffle stuck in my head and I actually did get my hair cut and coloured.

Also, Barkley shared my passion for fall fruits.

October

My son finally (FINALLY OMG FINALLY) shaved off his pandemic moustache and I got excused from jury duty, we enjoyed incredible fall colours and for the first time ever I got to eat something at Thanksgiving dinner (that I made myself, but still), I had an adventure at Costco, and I talked about Mom Jeans and Dressy Sweatpants.

November

My husband declared himself the winner in the Halloween decoration war, it was the return of the Tiny Secret Festive Season and I finished my Christmas shopping, I had a small breakdown in the grocery store, I talked about Friluftsliv, and we got put on a mini-lockdown.

I also had fun – and THANK YOU ALL FOR WEIGHING IN – discussing Divisive Issues! That was probably my favourite post to write, and my favourite comment section of 2020.

December

Everything was fine, I got festively crazy, the mini-lockdown turned into a major lockdown which we are still in today, and we got a whole lot of snow.

I also talked about being a Linus’ blanket to someone else’s Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

As we wrap up 2020, I’m looking back at my goals for the year (I still didn’t buy a new bra) and looking forward to setting goals for a fresh new year. I learned a lot about myself this year, I grew as a person, so many things changed, there was much sadness and despair but also much happiness, beauty, gratitude, and time with my little family. (SO MUCH TIME WITH MY LITTLE FAMILY).

Thank you so much for coming along with me on my adventures during this strange year; I wish you so much joy and love for the New Year. Here’s to 2021! xoxoxo

At least we can calculate the volume of a sphere.

Posted on by

It’s a good thing today is Pi Day – pancakes for lunch to celebrate the fact that we can calculate their area! – because otherwise I would be in a complete state of bitchery, rather than a partial one. Time change fills me with impotent rage every year; every year I think of the futility of moving the clocks around and I am furious that this outmoded imaginary concept is still a thing. Why are we forced to deal with crabby people and car accidents and general confusion two times a year, not to mention the children, oh god, won’t someone please think of the CHILDREN? It just doesn’t make sense.

Worse yet is the idiots who continually say such things as “It’s for the farmers.” Who started that rumour? Was it just to prove that people will believe anything, no matter how ridiculous? If I was a part of the farming community, I would be so pissed off that Daylight Saving Time was attributed to me and my ilk. Do you know who doesn’t care what time the clock says? FARMERS. Farmers get up and work when it’s DAYLIGHT, they don’t punch a time card on a clock. Daylight Saving Time is NOT for the farmers, it was originally established as a wartime measure to save on electricity, and do you know what? THERE IS NO EMPIRICAL EVIDENCE TO SUGGEST THAT THIS WORKS ANY MORE OR IF IT EVER DID. So don’t tell me it’s for the farmers, and don’t tell me this is a good way to be environmentally savvy because IT IS NOT.

God, I get so worked up about this every year. It’s ridiculous. Let’s all pour one out for the parents of small children who will be impossible to get to bed on time tonight and who will be impossible to wake up tomorrow morning and who will be sobbing messes for the next several days until their little bodies adjust to the new “time.”

And while I’m on a rampage, here, let me just tell you that words matter, people. If you are the sort of person who enjoys more light later in the evenings, I understand that. I don’t particularly share that view, being an early morning person, but I understand it. Here’s what I hate: when people say “I like that extra hour of daylight.” NO. That is not how it works. That’s not how any of this works! Oh, you enjoy the extra hour? Why not move our clocks ahead three hours? Why not 12 hours, then we can have 24 hours of daylight! There is the exact same number of daylight hours as there were before Daylight Saving Time, it’s just adjusted differently. So do not tell me that you like the extra hour because there IS NO EXTRA HOUR.

I love early morning light but I would be willing to give it up for you late evening people if it meant NO MORE CHANGING THE CLOCKS. If someone in a powerful position woke up tomorrow and said Let’s just leave the time where it is right now I would be perfectly accepting of the situation. But since no one – NO ONE – has the balls to do this, I am fated to semi-annual rages until the end of time, or until I do something drastic like move to Hawaii, whichever comes first.

Why does no one have the balls to do this? I don’t know. Are all our politicians in cahoots with the time change lobby group? Is there a time change lobby group? Since there is no empirical benefit to time change, there probably isn’t a lobby group, so why is this happening?

Yes. This is the hill I am going to die on.

This Post Is Steeped

Posted on by

Today I received an email from an insurance broker about a mix-up, and she very earnestly apologized for the “incontinence”, which has been making me smile all day. I’m sure her coworkers would be more in need of an apology than me, given the puddles and all.

I’ve been re-reading Alias Grace, and in the language of the 1850s, she describes sweeping under a bed and finding a ton of slut’s wool, which is apparently what they used to call dust bunnies, sluts back then being lazy housekeepers and not the whores we think of today. In my own bid to be a fabulous housewife, I moved the couch for the first time in many weeks to sweep behind it and I myself found enough slut’s wool to create my own dusty sheep, so I feel a kinship with all those nineteenth-century sluts.

When Jake started Grade One full time, I had several people ask me what will I do with all my TIME, intimating that I should consider going “back to work”. Did you know I used to have a career? One where I wore pantyhose and high heels and worked on a trade floor for twelve hours a day on average, and I used to cry in the bathroom sometimes, and once a guy flipped out so much that he banged his phone on his desk until it broke and he had to take an anger management course? Good times. Anyway, I never really considered going back to work in that capacity after I left, and it’s good that I didn’t, because then I wouldn’t be available for my current career of “school volunteer”, not to mention my role of slutty housewife.

Yesterday I was a judge at the school science fair, and let me tell you, it was the most fun I’ve ever had in a volunteer capacity. I highly recommend it. I was easily the most excited judge around, walking with my clipboard and asking VERY SERIOUS scientific questions. I loved all the students with their science-y joy and ideas. Changing the world, one science project at a time. One kid was so into his topic of waves and resonance, and so engaged and excited, that I mentioned he might want to consider taking more science once he was in junior high and high school, which subsequently made him even more engaged and excited, that I thought he might spin off the planet right then and there.

Sadly, there was not one baking soda volcano among the bunch. Not one! However, someone had built a Lego robot, and the boys assured me that it was one of the most popular tables, when their classes visited, along with a research project about venom and its uses. Venom! There’s nothing like a potentially deadly substance to get a bunch of third-and-fourth grade boys interested in scientific applications.

And hey, one week until Valentine’s Day! Apparently I will be making approximately one million heart-shaped cookies for the boys’ classes next week, in lieu of cards which they say are “lame” and “stupid”. Well, cookies are the opposite of lame and stupid! Remember that old Tim Hortons’ commercial in which the teenage son bought his mom a tea and said it was steeped, after which she thought “steeped” was the new word to say for something that was cool and used it in all sorts of situations? That’s totally me. I am that mother. Also, cookies in lieu of cards for Valentine’s Day is steeped. STEEPED I SAY.

Someone was asking the other day what men like to receive for Valentine’s Day and I blinked a couple of times. Blink. Blink. I can really only think of two things, and they are pretty obvious: sex and blowjobs. It’s perfect, you don’t need to wrap anything, you don’t need to buy anything, you don’t even need to leave the comfort of your own home. Alternately, you could make a batch of my aphrodisiac blondies. Blondes have more fun, my sweet young blonde yoga friend is always telling me, and I…don’t know if that’s true or not. But these blondies are very fun. Personally I’m hoping for a teddy bear wearing a bee costume emblazoned with “Bee Mine” but I’m not sure if I’ll get that or not. I might have to be satisfied with smooches and general romantic feelings. And maybe a bottle of wine.

Wide Open Spaces….Room To Make The Big Mistakes

Posted on by

Yesterday I spent the afternoon volunteering in the boys’ class.  They had an in-class field trip where they have a visitor come in armed with materials and stories and enrichment activities – in this case, the activities were related to their “Building” unit.  Each child was to build a three dimensional zoo animal and enclosure – along the lines of a diorama.  Dioramas!  Fun!  They were looking for parent volunteers and so off I went. 

As a side note: I volunteer extensively for the school but I try to avoid field trips.  I tend to get anxious that I’m going to accidentally lose a child, or one of those calamities that are listed on the waivers will come to pass.  But an in-class field trip – that sounded more along the lines of where my abilities lie.  Also my kids wanted me to come, and since they make up over 10% of the class, I thought I had better step up.

Here are the finished products:

This is Mark’s rhinoceros enclosure. 

This is Jake’s lion enclosure.  There is a complicated explanation for all the string,
feathers, and nesting stuff.  It has to do with food and bedding.
After school, I was chatting in the playground with the other moms and we were all relating amusing anecdotes about volunteering with in-class projects.  I mentioned one little girl who kept using the glue stick on the materials to be glued, rather than on the cardboard to which the materials were to be glued.  The results were that a googly eye was shoved deep into the glue stick, by accident; that same glue stick became covered with cotton from a cotton ball, little pieces of nesting materials were stuck on the glue stick and also mysteriously stuck on my sweater.  One mom smiled and said “That’s what I love about letting kids explore things on their own.  That’s how they learn!  From making mistakes!”  I nodded, smiling, but inwardly I was not totally on side.  After all, I did encourage the little girl to use the glue stick properly, rather than smearing the gluey cotton all over the place. 
In theory, I do agree.  I do agree with letting children learn from their mistakes, and I do agree with allowing them to experience natural consequences of their actions.  However, I do not agree with this all the time.  I do not agree with this when three other children have to use the glue stick that is now covered with cotton ball remnants, rendering it unusable.  I do not agree when there are googly eyes jammed far into the glue stick, causing the glue stick itself to explode over its plastic tubing and result in the cap getting glued onto it, resulting in no one being able to remove the cap.  This is school property, people.  My job as volunteer is to make sure that the building materials are not ruined by the building project.  And yes, it is just a glue stick.  But in these days of education cuts, we need all the glue sticks we can get.
Obviously, I opted to put my children in the regular, rather than the Montessori, stream at school.
But I did think about it for a while.  Do I allow my children room to make mistakes?  Am I too rigid?  Should I be allowing them to suffer more consequences?  I like to think I allow them freedom to do so, but do I really? 
I tend to be a person who has rules for my children; rules that they are expected to follow in terms of behaviour, household chores, and manners.  But maybe I don’t allow them to make enough mistakes.  Maybe I’m hindering them in some way.  Maybe one day my kids will be seeing a therapist and complaining about my rigidity. 
But maybe not.  They seem to be okay.  Plus, check out the game they played this morning before school!
Can you tell what this is?

They are animal towers!

It might look obscene, but they were very complex and required balancing and spatial skills.  Creativity!  Maybe the kids are all right, despite my rules and regulations.  They figured out how to balance them all on their own, toppling a few towers in their endeavours.  So I guess they are allowed to make mistakes.  Maybe they won’t need therapy after all.


It just doesn’t add up.

Posted on by

I seem to have caught the boys’ cold, it is no one’s favourite time of the month, and the sky is dark grey and it’s chilly and rainy.  It’s like a trifecta of mildly depressing things.  Also mildly depressing is that I am repeating behaviours that I repeat every single June: I listen to the weather report which states that it will be chilly and rainy and also that the average temperature for this time of year is twenty degrees Celcius.  This throws me into a Hulk-like rage because that cannot be true.  The math does not work.  If the temperature is almost always in the low teens, then in order for the average to be twenty degrees, then there must be several days in which the temperature is much greater than twenty degrees.  This is how averages work.  This is how math works.  I want to see the data that goes into the calculation of this so-called average temperature and then I want to make my own calculations.  SHOW YOUR WORK, weather stations.

I have, on occasion, gone so far as to search for historical weather data, but then I have to take a deep breath and tell myself to dial down the crazy a little.  I mean, what am I trying to accomplish here?  If I did find out that the average temperature was fourteen, and not twenty degrees, would I phone all the local stations and scream “IN YOUR FACE” and then show them my calculations?  Would I burst onto the set where the meteorologist would be saying that we are living in the currently coldest major city in Canada, with the exception of Iqaluit, which isn’t exactly a cheering thought, and push said meteorologist out of the way shrieking that it is all a lie, we will never obtain an average temperature of twenty degrees?  And would the discovery of this information actually change anything, whereas I would suddenly be living in a warm and sunny city?

No, it would not.

Speaking of mathematical discourse, I was endlessly amused by this post by Swistle, in which she a) references the Monty Hall problem, and b) discusses the ridiculous, yet nuclear hot button topics that married people fight about.  We all have those, don’t we?  The fights that ramp up to eleven out of ten immediately, but when we actually analyze those fights, they are actually incredibly stupid.

Now, my husband and I really don’t fight much.  Part of this is compatibility, but part of it is also the realization on both our sides that sometimes we can be difficult to live with.  Sometimes.  Especially, I should say, me.  I mean, my almost pathologically-insane method of rinsing dishes prior to loading them in the dishwasher alone probably puts me pretty high on the crazy scale.  My mother was over the other day and she actually backed away from the dishwasher, silently, as I agitated about the treatment of a knife recently used to spread peanut butter.  She is unlikely to ever try to load the dishwasher as a helpful favour ever again. 

Anyway, the biggest fight we ever had, and it was one that was the cause of much crying and door-slamming, by me, and much calm-but-annoyed-you-are-crazy commentary by my husband, was in 1999 and it was spurred by a – are you ready – Sex and the City episode.  The episode was the one where Mr. Big marries Natasha, Carrie uses the line “Your girl’s lovely, Hubble”, and at the end Carrie says how happy she is to be a wild horse running free, or something like that.  My husband’s reaction to this was, essentially, that Carrie was in some kind of denial and that she was unhappy being alone and just wanted to get married, which turned into a statement that all women wanted to get married.  My reaction was a very – VERY – strong disagreement to this attitude, which spiralled into door slamming and tears.  And we weren’t even married then!  Sex and the City, a fictional television show, was the cause of our biggest fight ever.  As I read Swistle’s post, I reminded my husband of that fight and we got into it all over again!  Carrie Bradshaw put a strain on our marriage.  As a social experiment, I should bring this up in twenty years and see if it elicits all the same reactions.

We have never fought about the Monty Hall problem, however, but I do remember getting into a very involved and impassioned discussion about it with some colleagues many years ago, although perhaps not so many as when the Sex and the City fight occurred.  The end result saw my colleagues and I using a random number generator and creating thousands of simulations to prove the result of the Monty Hall problem.  What can I say, we were a bunch of nerdy quantitative analysts and mathematical simulations were what we did every day.  In the end, we all agreed that sometimes the math doesn’t seem logical, but there it is.

Which is to say, I am NOT going to try to dig up historical weather data and calculate a mean.  I am not.