I have heard “Glory Days” no fewer than five times in the past two days. Is it a sign? Perhaps the universe is saying something about my impending 20 year high school reunion. Should I start reliving those glory days? Perhaps don a baby doll dress to wear with army boots? Spiral perm my hair? Wear bright red lipstick and get all excited about quadratic equations? Perfect my Southern accent so I can portray Amanda Wingfield in the school play?
Glory days indeed. It occurred to me today that I have never seen a single episode of The Littlest Hobo or The Beachcombers. I wonder if that’s enough to get my Canadian citizenship revoked. I can only recall regularly watching three television shows when I was a child: The Muppet Show (and later, Fraggle Rock), The Smurfs, and Lorne Greene’s New Wilderness. I loved Lorne Greene’s New Wilderness. I can still recall being devastated by the episode about Canada geese, and the widowed goose who would now live out the remainder of her life alone and mateless. The poor, poor goose.
Speaking of popular culture on television, Season Five of Mad Men is now on Netflix and I have been voraciously re-watching it in anticipation of the Season Six opener on Saturday. I’m really enjoying this since I seem to have forgotten all the plot lines. Peggy, and her vague disillusionment with her job. Megan, following her dream to become a lady of the theatre. Betty, attending Weight Watchers meetings. I’m almost at the episode where – spoiler alert! – Lane is FOUND IN HIS OFFICE and damn, I forgot how great this show is. Also I am coveting Megan’s entire wardrobe which is a strange thing to covet. “I should get a dress like that for next year’s Christmas party!” I say to my husband on a near-nightly basis, who looks alarmed at the very idea of me wearing a dress with a six inch skirt to his conservative office party.
The children were the thrilled recipients of clock radios last weekend. We are all early birds in this house; waking the kids up for school is not something that actually happens here. We are all up and raring to go hours before school begins, but my husband and I thought the clocks would be a good idea for the weekend. The children are only allowed to play video games on the weekend, so they have taken to waking up extra early on Saturdays so as to maximize their game-playing time. There are worse problems, but I like being able to sleep until the crazy hour of 6:45 or 7:00 on the weekend, and so we have installed clocks in their rooms as a “please don’t wake Mom and Dad up until 6:45” measure. So far it’s worked but the most fun thing about it is how the kids will retire to their rooms during the day just to listen to the radio. It’s like we’ve been transported back to the sixties. THOSE KIDS AND THEIR ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC.
Clock radios! I wonder if they are boasting about them at school. They are so thrilled with them, I would not be surprised. Are clock radios an actual status symbol, or are my children just deprived little pseudo-Kazhakstanis? “I get window from glass, he must get window from glass. I get step, he gets step. I get clock radio. He cannot afford!” Hopefully none of their little friends will break into our house late at night. Say goodbye to your clock radio.
Category Archives: Cute Kid Quotes
Nicole’s Favourite Things, January Blues Edition
Last week I posted about being blue on Blue Monday, but today it was brought to my attention that TODAY IS BLUE MONDAY. But I was sad last week! I’m not sad today! How can it possibly be Blue Monday if I am not sad?
I know. I know. It isn’t all about me. Maybe some of you are feeling blue? Well, you have come to the right place, because it is *cue Oprah-audience-like-screaming* Nicole’s Favourite Things, The January Blues Edition!!!
Squee!
January is SUCH a bear of a month, what with the comedown from the holidays and – if you live in a climate like mine – the thought that there is at least, at LEAST, three more months of winter, and often more. Now that’s depressing. But! At least we don’t have to worry about the trains not getting through and grinding wheat and twisting hay to keep warm, am I right? Plus there are lots of fun things that will help us get through this month. So, let’s get started, shall we?
Nicole’s Favourite Things – January Blues Edition
I spend much more time outside in the winter than I would like. I take the dog on long daily walks, I stand in the playground dropping the kids off at school, I stand in the playground waiting for the kids after school, I stand in the playground watching the kids sled and play in the snow and assure me that no, they’re not warm, in fact they are boiling. In other words, I’m constantly freezing. This year I bought legwarmers, and they have been life-altering.
Life-altering, I tell you. They are not at ALL Flashdance-like. They are long, and woolly, and cozy. If I could, I would make out with them, I love them THAT much.
After I wrote this, a girlfriend told me about her favourite coat from Eddie Bauer. She swore that she was warm walking her dog in minus 25 degree weather; she sent me the link noting that a) the coat was on sale for 25% off, and b) it was available in black. SOLD.
It’s so long and warm, and as a bonus I do not feel like I’m an octogenarian while wearing it. Plus it’s got a cute hood!
It’s faux fur, of course. In the course of my winter coat shopping, my husband coaxed me to try on a Canada Goose coat, which he was highly in favour of. That’s when I found out the grim truth – Canada Goose uses real fur on their coats! Real fur! Who does that anymore? When I told the salesgirl that, sadly, this was a deal breaker for me, she informed me that Canada Goose only uses animals that have died of natural causes. The bees are doing what now? I have strong doubts about that. How is that even possible? Do they harvest their furs from roadkill? Do they put animals on little treadmills until they die of exhaustion? It boggles the mind.
Moving along. Calgary is a dry, dry climate, and it’s much worse in the winter. My hands have been known to snag my clothing, they can get so dry and chapped. I bought this cocoa butter hand cream, and it’s a miracle. I put it on at night because otherwise I’m not sure I could open door knobs. The smell is wonderful; it reminds me so much of the cocoa butter stick I used on my giant pregnant stomach to avoid stretch marks. It always makes me think of how happy I was while pregnant, and I always smile. Cure for the blues, right there!
And I know, I know, I say something about Bath and Body Works lotion every time I write a Nicole’s Favourite Things, but, as I mentioned before, I’m a lotion addict. The Brown Sugar and Fig scent is nice and warm smelling, perfect for a cold January day.
I like using shower cream instead of shaving gel; it leaves my legs softer and smoother. This scent always makes me smile because I have a friend and yoga teacher named Harmony. I like to think “Stop! Harmony time!” in the manner of MC Hammer. Also, it has a really pretty floral scent.
I have not yet seen Les Miserables, although I’m dying to. I saw the play in the theatre years ago and immediately went out and bought the soundtrack, I loved the music so. Now, I see movies in the theatre rarely but I’m hoping to make it out before it ends up on Pay Per View, but in the meantime I have been listening to the soundtrack non-stop. Unfortunately, that means that I have At The End Of The Day perpetually in my head. Remember that old episode of Seinfeld when George gets Master of the House stuck in his head and is worried about his eventual descent into madness? It’s like that.
Of course, one thing leads to another, and then I start listening to The Phantom of the Opera. This is terrible news for my children, as I sing all the parts. Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say GOOOOOOD byeeeeee.
Speaking of the darling children, they have started karate. “I know it’s a martial art,” I said to my husband, “But I’m surprised at how much they talk about potential attacks!” He raised his eyebrows at me. “You’re surprised by this?”
That last picture makes me nervous. I mean, Mark is RIGHT by the stairs. Well, they are all still in one piece, so it’s all fine.
Your turn, dear reader. What makes you happy during this blue month of January? xoxo
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PS Every Monday I will be writing about lunches, over at The Ladies Who (Make) Lunch! I’m so excited about this, I just can’t hide it. Go check out my first post, about coming home for lunch, and some nice memories from the 80s.
Such a cliche
I don’t know if you could detect it, but when I wrote my last post, I was very low in spirits. One might even say that I was blue. I later realized that it was Blue Monday, the saddest day of the year! I was sad on Blue Monday! I’m a walking cliche.
The tide has turned, so to speak, although I have a School Council/ Parent Association meeting tonight that I’m looking forward to in the same way I look forward to a pelvic exam, or perhaps tooth scaling at the dental office. But – and maybe this is just the coffee speaking – I am feeling equal to the task.
Speaking of the school, yesterday was Dress As What You Want To Be When You Grow Up day, which is the WORST school spirit day ever. It is the only spirit day in which I discourage participation. It’s a terrible concept. Unless a child wants to be something that requires a uniform, or that has a “typical” look, planning an outfit is simply an exercise in frustration. For example, both of my children have the career goal of “wealthy businessman” and, let me tell you, there is no good way to accurately portray this with what they currently have in their closets. Mark ended up opting out altogether, while Jake, after some thought, decided to dress up like a “wealthy businessman who is doing business on the golf course”, wearing khakis, a golf shirt, and his orange Ricky Fowler hat. When I picked him up at lunch he changed back into his jeans, confessing that he felt the explanation would have taken too long, and so he did not tell anyone he was dressed up.
My children’s obvious materialism aside, does this not seem like a ridiculous dress-up day? When I was a child my career goal was to be a concert pianist. How does one dress up like a concert pianist? A long sparkly gown? I was talking about this to a friend yesterday who suggested an appropriate outfit would be wearing something with musical notes all over it, to which I say NO. No concert pianist would ever wear a sweater with musical notes all over it. That would be perhaps an appropriate outfit for a retired music teacher, maybe. Apparently my kids have inherited my tendency to want reality only when dealing with Dress As What You Want To Be When You Grow Up day. Fortunately their lack of participation will only result in two less points for the Red Team, and therefore the world will keep on turning.
Who are we kidding. The world is going to keep on turning, even if the stakes were higher. I came across this piece by Anymommy which gently and beautifully reminds us that we all make choices:
I just don’t want to choose judgment over understanding. Because the minute we mark our choices as right by marking other choices as wrong, we lose the power of choice.
I loved this piece so much, and it said so eloquently what I’ve been feeling lately. I have been bombarded with the Facebook equivalent of op-eds about the following topics: breastfeeding, cloth diapering, home births, the Waldorf system of education, hockey, native land treaties, veganism, co-sleeping, rescue dogs versus dogs purchased from breeders, vaccinations, gun control, the government fucking up the country, the government saving the country, and – my personal favourite – the failure to buy into a particular home business is equivalent to failure to care about one’s health or financial well-being. And while I recognize that social media is a reasonable outlet for one’s personal opinions, i.e., this blog, I also vehemently object to its utilization as a stick of judgement with which to beat people. I am going to choose understanding over judgement, and continue to resolve to remember that merely because something does not take great importance in my life, that does not mean that it is not greatly important to someone.
In other words, I think I’m ready for the meeting tonight.
Did you know November is Gratitude Month?
Well, it is! I don’t know who comes up with these specialty months; probably the same people who come up with “Grandparents’ Day”. For the record, every day is Grandparents’ Day, just like every month should be Gratitude Month. Right? It’s like I tell my kids when they are coveting something new immediately after a birthday, we should be grateful and enjoy the things we have, right now. And then I go and spoil it all by purchasing a new black sweater or a yoga top.
But truly, I have so much to be grateful for, every day, and not just the obvious things like health, family, drawers full of black sweaters, etc.
Things I am grateful for:
1) Jake can sing Gangnam Style, and his mastery of Korean lyrics is comparable to his mastery of English ones. Heeeeyyyyy, sexy lay-day. His rendition is equal, if not greater than, his rendition of I’m Sexy And I Know It. There’s nothing quite so inappropriately cute as a seven year old boy singing “I’ve got action in my pants and I ain’t afraid to show it”. He is pretty fly.
2) The boys both like to dance Gangnam Style, although it is really just their regular dance moves, which leads me to believe that Psy stole their moves. Imitation, sincerest form of flattery, etc.
3) I went to an assembly at the kids’ school yesterday where there was a visit from several Calgary Stampeders and cheerleaders. I wasn’t going to go but I ran into a friend who was going and she totally peer pressured me. It turned out to be hugely fun, complete with student MC who, in a completely robot-like monotone, said how exciting it was to have the football players visit our school, and Go Stamps. Then the Ralph the Dog mascot pretended to lick the principal, and hilarity ensued.
4) Prior to attending the assembly, I was at the school photocopying things for next week’s book fair – what else do you do with a Master’s in Economics these days? – and a kid ran down the hall and barfed all over the hallway, because, as he said between retches to a teacher who was passing by, he couldn’t make it to the bathroom. I am very grateful that child is not in class with either of mine and we have – so far, knock wood and knock back more vitamins – not had the barfing plague hit our house.
5) I am ever-so-grateful for PVR technology. It is the technological advancement of our time. Better than sliced bread, voice mail, and the printing press, although not superior to automatic washers and dryers, email, or the wheel. I recorded Top Gun on TV and I’m thinking of watching it and live-blogging. While drinking wine. Don’t you think that would be fun? Son, your ego is writing cheques your body can’t cash. In any event, my husband noticed that I was recording it and asked why. NO REASON. I like the dialogue? Now, where is that aviator suit?
6) People is going to come out with it’s Sexiest Man Alive, which means BLOGGING MANIA. Remember my list from last year, and the accompanying addendum? Well, my friend Nan just took it to a whole new level. Her post made my whole entire day. And my day started off with a friend buying me a soy latte with sugar-free vanilla so it was already pretty damn good. Go read it, and just think – NICK NOLTE won? Whaaaa? Where were all the other men in the world that year?
To be fair, his win was prior to this sexy photo, but still. Still.
7) I heard Rock Me Amadeus on the radio today. AMADEUS AMADEUS AMADEUS AMADEUS AMADEUS.
8) I bought a new cocoa-butter handcream for my hands which are so dry and cracked that clothing snags on them. The cream works a treat, and it also smells exactly like a cocoa-butter stick I used on my giant pregnant belly back in the day. The scent takes me back, in a very good way. I know it’s unpopular to say so, but I loved being pregnant. I wasn’t ever sick, and I loved getting Princess Treatment. I loved how people would express concern over me lifting a finger doing anything, I loved how the guys I worked with constantly brought me snacks and worried about me working too hard, I loved how people opened doors for me and helped me cross the street like a whale-like octogenarian. The cocoa-butter smell makes me feel all the warm fuzziness about being pregnant, without the inconvenience of actually being pregnant.
9) I am so grateful my kids are old enough to have normal, and frequently actually interesting conversations, they are old enough to do most things independently, and yet they still like to receive hugs, albeit not in public. I am grateful I can look back at pictures like this with nostalgia:
Remember the days that sitting up was too much effort due to massive sleep deprivation? I’m grateful to sleep. While I’m in the business of cute old pictures:
Jake has a wee little Tom Brady jersey on! Death by cuteness!
Look at the cute little bookworm! We seem to have the same facial expression, and it’s saying “Fuck off, we’re trying to read here.” And we can’t forget Barkley-when-he-was-a-puppy:
He is watching the Dog Whisperer!!!!
10) I am ever-so-grateful for you lovely readers, as always. xoxo
So tell me, darlings, what are you grateful for?
NOT DOCTOR SLOAN!
Well, dammit. I guess I’m never watching Grey’s Anatomy again.
You know, I ALMOST stopped watching after Meredith’s near-death experience, and I ALMOST stopped watching when Denny had a recurring post-death role, and I ALMOST stopped watching when there was a hospital shooting – the swat team was right there, how did they not take down the shooter – and I ALMOST stopped watching when Christina went all nuts and she and Owen had a big fight about the pregnancy. But through it all I kept watching because of Dr. Sloan and his pure unadulterated hubba-hubba-ness, and also with the hopes that he and Lexie would get it on again. And now I have no reason to watch it, although, knowing Grey’s, he and Lexie might be getting it on beyond the grave which is frankly, just terrifying and creepy.
In other words, I have no reason to watch this show anymore and I am going to be freed up to do something productive on Thursday nights.
Kidding. I totally won’t do anything productive on Thursday nights. I probably will just take that opportunity to watch the Marky Mark video a few extra times, or maybe just go to bed at 8:30. Or maybe watch that Marky Mark video and then go to bed, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.
Speaking of Grey’s Anatomy (grrrr) the other night Can’t Buy Me Love was on TV! I made my husband watch a few minutes of it, and he couldn’t believe that was Patrick Dempsey! I remember seeing Grey’s for the first time and thinking “Wow, that geeky guy from Can’t Buy Me Love turned out to be pretty hot.” Because I have actually seen Can’t Buy Me Love multiple times. Anyone else watch that movie and then learn to French braid their hair and become inspired to wear bomber jackets and tight jeans? Or was that just me?
I got a phone call the other day from my hair salon telling me that my hair therapist got called into court, blah blah blah, my hair appointment got pushed back two weeks. TWO WEEKS. This is what is known as an epic princess tragedy in the Boyhouse. Epic. We are planning to do our family photos next weekend and I don’t want a year of looking at myself with an inch of grey roots, complemented by faded, orange hair. I know, it sounds sexy, but believe me, it’s less flattering in person. In any event, I headed out to Superstore to purchase home hair colour, among other things, and I had one of those moments wherein I marvel at the contents of my giant cart and what it says about my life. I mean, it’s a strange still-life: hair colour and Rimmel Volume Accelerator beside whole milk and Nesquick Strawberry AND Chocolate syrups. Coconut water and Daiya cheese next to pepperoni sticks. Huge clamshell of organic spinach next to gigantic jar of peanut butter. In other news, has anyone noticed the price of peanut butter lately? Apparently there is a peanut shortage. Peanut butter…is expensive…what alternate universe are we living in?
Because it’s Friday, and nothing is funnier than unintentionally crude humour, here is what Jake borrowed from the school library yesterday:
“Welcome to the World of Beavers.” And so the beaver saga continues. Jake was reading in bed last night, and I asked him about his book so I could ascertain his reading comprehension. “Did you know that beavers come in different colours?” he asked. “They are usually brown, but sometimes black, and sometimes yellow! Yellow, Mom! Don’t you think it would be neat to see a yellow beaver?” They’re called blondes, my dear. And maybe in a few years.
SANTA’S COMING (in less than three months)
Yesterday I kept hearing people say “It’s only three months until Christmas!” which got me to feeling like this:
SANTA’S COMING! Of course, in three months from today I will be either a) taking down the tree and packing up the decorations because that is ENOUGH Christmas, or b) wishing I was taking down the tree and packing up the decorations and bitterly resenting those in my house who get in my way.
I’m not sure why there seemed to be such a panic panic PANIC amongst my acquaintances when faced with the three months until Christmas thing. After all, our answer to all Christmas problems came in August – the Sears Wish Book!
I have no idea why Sears sends its Wish Book out in August, but it sure did make for some enjoyable reading material. When I was a kid, before there was so much child-directed marketing, the Sears catalogue was where our Christmas lists came from. My favourite section – and it’s still my favourite section – was the “Gifts under $x”. Some of those gifts, especially in the “under $10” category, are priceless.
So I was flipping through the sections and, although my friends and I do not generally exchange gifts, I was immediately struck by an idea for my girlfriend who – and I say this with love – has a handbag obsession. I found it! The perfect handbag! I think she’ll love it:
The only thing is I’m not sure what style. Bunny bling? Leo heart bunny? No, I think etched leopard is the way to go. Now, I shouldn’t be shopping for myself but…
mink collection plush cushion and throw? YES PLEASE. Again with the colour decision: pink seems more fun, but black seems more classy, no? The satin sheets embossed with the Playboy symbol are also available, but satin sheets seem slippery. It seems like you would be taking your life in your hands every time it was Business Time, you know? Speaking of classy, here’s what I’m getting my husband for Christmas:
I can’t decide if he’d like the 1L glass or the 6-pack of shotglasses, so I’m getting him both! Lucky guy. Mostly for Christmas I think he’d like to get the real referees back in the NFL, but bikini babe glassware will have to suffice. We can only control so much. Speaking of control, have you ever been in a big snowball fight and just wished that your snowballs would be more uniform in size and shape? Well, wish no more! Perfect snowballs can be your reality for the low low price of $9.99!
It also features a long handle. The Canada Survival Belt is what I’m going to get my father-in-law, unironically. I think he would really like it. It’s a fanny pack for beer!
There are so many other items in the catalogue I would like to talk about – notably an interactive R2D2 – but they will have to wait for another day. Well, okay, ONE picture of R2:
The kids really wanted this at first glance, but then I pointed out the excessive price tag. “Well,” Mark said, “It IS a lot of money.” “Yeah, we can probably get our own can of pop,” said Jake, before remembering, “But we aren’t really supposed to have pop anyway. So it would be kind of a waste. Hey, bobbleheads!”
Back in business, baby.
“I’m back in business” Mark said the night before school started. You know how sometimes, just sometimes, you get a feeling about what your child will be when he grows up? I feel quite sure that Mark is going to be an engineer. If you know any engineers, or if you are an engineer yourself, then you know that there is a certain “engineer personality type” and Mark fits that type exactly.
It’s funny, isn’t it, how people like to speculate what children’s lives will be like when they are adults. It’s amusing. A kid plays with blocks, and we think “architect”, or they play with cars and they think “mechanic”. Personally, I thought I was going to grow up to be a concert pianist, which is funny, considering I became an economist. When Jake was a baby, my husband turned to me and said “I think Jake’s going to grow up to be an investment banker. Because he’s kind of a dick.” That makes me smile every time. Jake is kind of a dick, but in a good way.
I know I’m supposed to say that I just want my kids to be happy, and of course I do, but I kind of feel like nurturing the attitude that it’s easier to be happy when pursuing a career with good financial returns.
The kids were very excited to go back to school. The first day was kind of chaotic, what with confusion about last minute out-of-area enrollments, ensuing large class sizes, and the specter of another class being formed to take the pressure off of said large classes. Things will settle down later this week, but for right now things are all up in the air. I’m feeling fairly calm about it, with the attitude that things are going to work out fine.
I was less calm yesterday after school when I went to pick the boys up. I shielded my eyes against the sun, looking for them. Yes, there was Jake’s bright orange hat, and yes, that’s Jake, but what is he wearing? He had a different shirt on. When asked, he told me cheerfully that a classmate had barfed all over the back of his shirt, and that shirt was wrapped up in a plastic bag, in his backpack. OH.
You know when you hear the word “barf” and you get that feeling like “maybe I should strip the child down and burn all his clothes right there in the playground”? I had that feeling. I kind of froze, then started asking leading questions about where he was sitting and how much contact had he had with the barfer, and how often he had washed his hands. I asked the questions carefully, trying not to seem crazy, and then I vigorously rubbed hand sanitizer into his and Mark’s hands, and my own. I thought about the shirt, and I thought that I had probably got my money’s worth from it, as I dropped it in the garbage. Of course, this led to sadness later – “I loved that shirt!” – but yet, I could not fathom washing someone else’s kid’s barf.
There was also an unpleasant story from the boys about the children finding a dead cat in the field at recess time, which became more dramatic when it was discovered that the dead cat belonged to a friend. There were other dramatic events, which I won’t relate here, but suffice it to say it was a very exciting first day of school. I’m looking forward to less excitement, and hopefully less barf, for the second day.
