Category Archives: Fashion

Odds and Ends and a Royal Zoo Trip

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It has been a busy few days in the Boy House.  Last Thursday I found myself at the hair therapist’s without a book, and so I picked up People magazine to learn all about Bachelor Brad’s breakup with Emily.  Here’s the reason they broke up: Emily became jealous after watching the actual broadcast of The Bachelor – week after week she realized that Brad was romancing all the other women who were “vying for his love” and she didn’t feel special anymore – and the strain from watching her fiance get it on with other women wasn’t something Brad could “physically comfort her” about since they were not allowed to see each other in the months following the show’s taping.  Here’s a plan, people: if you want to actually have a healthy relationship, don’t go on a reality dating show.  I don’t know.  It’s just an idea.  I mean, if you want to be on the cover of People magazine talking about your failed relationship, well then, be my guest. 
The girl who shampooed my hair said, with regards to this Bachelor information, “I guess the show brought them together AND tore them apart!”  Very astute.
Speaking of breakups, I had a very awkward moment when I greeted a woman I hadn’t seen for a while by asking about her puppy.  Last I saw her she had a beautiful Lab puppy.  Wouldn’t you know, she and her boyfriend had broken up and now he has custody of the puppy.  I think next time I’m going to just stick with “Hi.”

Friday a friend and I decided to take our kids to the zoo.  The timing was not accidental – we had heard that Will and Kate were going to be visiting the zoo that day.  A chance to see the Duke and Duchess while also seeing wolves and Foggy the hippo?  Irresistible.  I have had an annual zoo pass since Mark was a baby, but I didn’t immediately renew it this year because the zoo has increased their prices considerably.  In the past four years, the price of childrens’ passes have more than doubled, and adult passes have almost doubled.  Plus, the zoo had eliminated free parking without purchase of an expensive pass.  One of the things I really hate about this city – besides the atrocious weather – is the cost of parking.  But I did eventually suck it up and purchase passes and – what do you know – we had a great day and it was well worth cost of admission.  Jake got to see Foggy and received his telepathic communication (“He said Hi Jake, I love you!” Jake informed me after staring at the hippo for some time).  Mark got to see his favourite Canadian wild animals although not, alas, a beaver.  We saw some active grizzly bears:

and some mascot grizzly bears, oddly enough.

Then we saw the royal motorcade!  Oh happy day!

And despite what it looks like, we were not creeping out in the bushes.  We were standing at the gorilla viewing area!
My husband asked why I find the royal couple so appealing, and I will tell you: they seem so HAPPY.  I really like seeing happy people, as opposed to those people who have little black clouds over their heads at all times.  Plus, I am coveting every single one of Kate’s outfits including her fabulous shoes.  Where would I wear them is another question.  The playground?  School drop-off?  THE ZOO?  Perhaps not.
This weekend I was at a yoga workshop which was both inspiring and exhausting, and so last night I found myself curled up on the couch, drinking wine and watching Sex and the City reruns.  Speaking of which, I have a recipe for cosmopolitans up at the cooking website.  Yes, the recipe of the week is a drink, but what can I say, it’s Stampede time in Calgary which is code for “a whole lot of drinking and debauchery”.  Festive AND appropriate! 

A Tale of Two Closets

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Well, it’s one closet really.  The other day I was making my bed and I looked up and saw this:
From this view it would appear that my husband has bogarted all the closet space.  All those shirts, neatly hung on the upper tier, meanwhile I have a couple of hoodies squished on the bottom tier alongside several neatly hung pairs of men’s dress pants.  It made me feel a little sorry for myself until I opened the other side of the closet to reveal:

There are three other shelves that look like that.  I think I probably have enough yoga clothes, what do you think?

I probably have enough sweaters, and more notably, enough black tops.  I have an intervention-worthy addiction to black tops.  If one is on sale, I must purchase it.  But it’s 50% off!  I know I have three other v-necked black sweaters, but this one has a pocket! 
I realized I had a problem recently while packing for our trip.  My husband and I were sharing a suitcase, and he had set out the clothes he was planning to take.

It’s slightly different from the pile of clothes I was planning to take.

After I took this photo, I completely panicked and added a third bikini and cover-up, and two more black tops.  My husband, on the other hand, looked at his pile of shirts and took one out, questioning whether he really needed two similar shirts.  I did actually wear all the clothes I took, even though some people have expressed doubt at my need for this volume of clothing, specifically all the similar black clothing.
It was a mere eight days ago that I was wearing one of those bikinis and sleeveless tops.  It feels like longer given that it has been -25, windy, and snowy all week.  We are now at that point where I have completely lost perspective and have forgotten that a season not involving giant boots and coats actually exists.  I have a nagging feeling that we are actually entering the Ice Age, and I keep expecting to look out the window to see a small woolly mammoth taking up residence in my backyard.
The problem with weather like this is that we all become completely boring; every time anyone opens their mouths a comment about the extreme cold comes out, and the worst thing about this is that talking about the weather becomes fascinating in a dull sort of way.  According to my blog, last year at this time I was working in my perennial garden; as I write this the snowflakes are falling from the dull, grey sky and the yard is completely frozen and snow-covered, which makes me feel like curling up in a ball with a blanket, staring at the walls and eating potato chips, which I am NOT GOING TO DO.  Instead, I’m going to focus on the happy.
Last night after several glasses of wine, I thought that if I ever cultivate my blog “brand” and really start marketing my blog “brand” instead of spending all my time writing inane posts about germ phobia, the crappy weather, and my old-lady varicose veins, I have the perfect tagline: “Putting the OM in OMG”.  I thought this was hilarious and also perfectly encapsulated all aspects of my personality and I shared it with my husband, who listened patiently as he usually does when I have a wine-fueled idea.  His response was lukewarm, “I’m not a chick, and I also don’t do yoga, so I’m not sure if it’s funny or not.”  In the cold and sober light of morning, I wonder if he’s right?  What do you think, dear readers?  Funny?  Perfectly “Nicole”?  Or just weird and confusing?   

"Wow, you’re way cooler than my mom!"

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One of the characteristics of a stay at home mom is the propensity to wear jeans on every occasion.  Ultimately, though, those jeans wear out and one may find oneself splitting a knee wide open on one’s cozy faded pair while kneeling on the hardwood, attempting to extract many Lego pieces from under the couch, with the dubious help of a five year old.  And so it was that I found myself in the store at which I have purchased most of my jeans, the store which some of you may remember of the “bad butt” fame.
Some of you may wonder why I would continue to patronize such a store, but I will remind you all that it is difficult to find a good fitting pair of jeans.  For me, either jeans have too much stretch and end up baggy and sagging by noon, or they have too little stretch and I can’t move.  Either they are so low cut I am constantly showing the world more than they probably want to see, or they are so high cut they pinch my, shall we say, loose skin from my childbearing years.  So the fact that I found jeans that not only fit well but are extremely comfortable completely negates the fact that I was commiserated with about my “bad butt”.  I am not that fragile; the salesgirls could probably have called me an ugly stupid whore and I still would have gone back to buy more jeans. 
As I entered the store a cute and perky salesgirl came to help me, and I answered her necessary questions as to size, colour preferences, and fit.  To the latter, I answered only that – recalling the Self Esteem Crisis of 2010 – I would try anything but skinny jeans.  She smiled and turned to choose a pair from the display, saying, “I think you’ll really like these.  My mom has a pair and she totally loves them!”
That was discouraging. 
I told myself that maybe her mom was really hip and cool, but ultimately I know the truth.  I remember, years ago, having coffee with a girlfriend from prenatal class.  Our firstborns were still infants then, and we had noticed the appearance of skinny jeans in our favourite stores.  My girlfriend expressed concern that in a few years perhaps skinny jeans would be the only choice at such places, and said, “If that happens, what are we going to do?  I don’t want to start shopping at Tan Jay.”  We laughed, images of us pushing strollers wearing matching burgundy velour tracksuits or high waisted beige slacks going through our heads.  It seems less funny now.
Well, at least I’m not wearing these:
Image from NBC.
Addendum: I did find a great pair of jeans, but they weren’t the recommended Mom pair.  So, win?  Also, I was informed by my cute perky salesgirl that with the purchase of my jeans I could get a top at half price.  I looked at the various selection and thought maybe the “Justin’s Girl” and “I Heart Vampires” tops were not quite appropriate, so I passed.

These boots were made for walking in the winter.

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I am perpetually cold.  I wear a minimum of two layers at any given time for ninety percent of the year.  The other ten percent belongs to the days that are spent vacationing in warmer climes and the two to three weeks a year in Calgary that temperatures actually warrant the removal of a sweater. 

It’s worse in the winter, of course, and my daily schedule of drop-offs and pick-ups does not help matters.  Jake’s kindergarten class lets out at 11:35, but the rest of the school does not break for lunch until 12:00, which means I spend 25 minutes standing in the freezing, windy playground waiting to pick up Mark, only to rush back to the school 55 minutes later.  The chill settles into my body for the remainder of the day.

It’s not like I don’t dress for the weather.  When it comes to winter outerwear, I essentially bypass anything that doesn’t appear to hold up in arctic conditions.  Here’s an example: my coat.  Look at the size of my coat! 


It’s so huge it requires its own area code.  And what’s that on my feet?
Meet my new Sorel boots.  When I think of Sorel boots I think of those gargantuan white moon boots, but someone told me about these and I think they are pretty cute.  The name is especially precious, “Joan of Arctic Boots”.  I was so excited when these arrived – I had ordered online, as is my wont – and when I put them on it was hard to know who enjoyed them more, me or my dog.  That’s Barkley standing fuzzily behind me.  He appeared to think my giant boots were alive, and got busy sniffing and licking them frantically.  
I appear to be using Jedi mind tricks to get him to settle and stop harrassing the boots.
I love these boots and my feet are warmer than they have ever been, but I have one minor complaint: they are heavy.  Last week it was so cold, minus thirty and windy, that I did not walk the dog for four days in a row.  Fortunately he is extraordinarily lazy, so he didn’t seem to mind much, but eventually I had to brave the weather, don my boots, and walk.
Remember back in the day when people would walk briskly and/or jog with those ridiculous ankle and wrist weights, pumping their arms so as to maximize their calorie burn?  It felt like I was wearing ankle weights.  Actually, it felt like I was wearing cement shoes.  Should I ever receive the kiss of death (“You broke my heart, Fredo”) I should avoid wearing these boots.  Now, it has been many, many years since I set foot in a gym, but after a half hour walk with the dog I felt like I had spent that time doing leg presses, or maybe squats.
So if you’re looking to get some shakily tired leg muscles, and you live in the frozen north, perhaps this is the solution?  Plus they are very cute.  Even if my dog thinks they are his new best friends. 

Where the hell is my invincible summer?

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“Mom!  It’s going to be hot outside!” Jake shrieked from the living room this morning, where the seven-day weather forecast was being shown on the “news”.  “Look!  It says it’s going to be sunny!”  I had to explain the difference between sunny and actual heat, but the conversation didn’t really take and I have to admit that my children are dyed-in-the-wool Calgarians and will one day be possibly jogging in shorts in sub-zero temperatures.  But it’s sunny!  So what if my legs are purple and my knees are shot?  The SUN IS SHINING!
I will admit the blue sky does look pretty.
This week is a typical one for January in Calgary, frigidly cold and windy.  I seem to be spiraling into the true definition of insanity as I keep checking the online weather forecast, only to find that it is exactly the same as when I last checked it thirty minutes ago.  Evidently I think that if I just refresh that forecast enough times, eventually it will be different.  Meanwhile I’m constantly wearing a coat that looks like a comforter with a belt and a hood, and I actually ordered – get this – SOREL BOOTS.  They’re cute Sorel boots, but still.  I can’t wait for their arrival as my current winter boots are just not getting the job done.  It’s fricking freezing , Mr. Bigglesworth. 
In other news, Mark asked me last night what the word “sperm” meant.  I’m glad I took a moment to reflect and ask him why he was asking, since the word was being used in conjunction with “whale”.  That was close.  Can you imagine the trauma?  One minute he’s talking about his new favourite animal, and the next minute his mother is talking about reproductive systems?  “And then when a mommy and daddy love each other very much…” “Gross!  What does that have to do with whales?”   
I’m not sure what’s going on, but since school started last week Mark has been permanently stuck on “chatter”.  The child will not stop talking.  Every single sentence starts with “Hey Mom!” and unfortunately that is repeated until I respond.  “Hey Mom hey Mom hey Mom hey Mom”.  Finally I will respond, remembering to be very kind in my voice and not at all show irritation because he is trying to communicate with me and I want to be a very good mother, even though he will not stop talking, and he will spew out a fact about whales, eagles, his toy tiger named Tigie and his imaginary trip around the globe, or Bakugan.  Alternately he will completely forget what he was going to say, only to start over again in sixty seconds or less.  It’s a bit tiring. 
But it’s nice too.  It’s nice that there is so much he wants to share with me, and I’m trying to remember to be present in the moment, even if the moment is filled with “Fun Facts” and pulling on layer after layer of winter clothing, eagerly awaiting the arrival of my Sorel boots.
Fun Fact: Did you know that killer whales are part of the dolphin family?  I did.

All the cool kids are doing it!

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And so will I – a Year in Review.  Yes, I know it is the sixth of January and most year in reviews have already been posted, but I was far too busy writing about people who eat toilet paper and watching When Harry Met Sally.

So what happened in 2010 over at the Boy House?

January

I made a resolution to learn how to bake bread, and did so immediately, learning two important things: a) baking bread is not as hard as I thought it would be, and b) the key to New Year Resolution Success is to aim low.

I also ranted about the weird things people say to pregnant women and posted a picture of me with an extra seventy pounds to love.

Yowza.  I still had seven weeks to go at that point.  SEVEN WEEKS.
February
We got really, really excited about the Olympics.  We also went on our first ever winter vacation and became a parody of Canadians as the kids got off the plane wearing t-shirts emblazoned with Team Canada logos, and instantly started running around shrieking in amazement, “Mom, look!  There are FLOWERS!  And they’re REAL!  And the grass is GREEN!  And there’s no SNOW!”
March
Mark turned six!  I had my usual crises with regards to birthday party planning and Daylight Savings Time.  I cleaned out the office and found a whole box of mix tapes, some labeled “Party Mix” and one that was made for my husband from one of his old girlfriends that included songs from Richard Marx.  Hee.

April

I turned 35!  I celebrated by chaperoning on a field trip to the firehall, and cemented my cougar-like status by volunteering to try on the firefighter outfit, discovering just how heavy said outfit is, and actually saying to the young and attractive firefighter “Wow, you guys must be in great shape.”  Coo-coo-coo-choo, Mrs. Robinson.  It also snowed a lot and I wrote about attractive movie characters who would be terrible to be married to, i.e., Ralph Fiennes in the English Patient.


My friend lent me a tiara for my birthday, fulfilling my lifelong dream of birthday crown-wearing.

May
Jake’s pre-Kindergarten class had a Mother’s Day tea in which they sang a song that went “May there always be sunshine, may there always be blue skies, may there always be mama, may there always be me”, and I still tear up thinking about it.  I also cried a lot thinking about this Tim Horton’s commercial and I got way too excited about the woman with the MBA with a concentration in economics winning Miss USA.  Clearly May is an emotional roller-coaster of a month for me.
It was still snowing in May.
June
It was really cold.  On Father’s Day weekend – and Super Soccer Saturday weekend – I attended a yoga weekend workshop.  Happy Father’s Day!  Now take care of the kids all weekend.  The kids finished school and my husband came up with a plan in case my kids ever decide to be protesters at a G-20 Summit. 
My two favourite pictures of Mark ever taken.  He’s getting his groove on at the end-of-school-Stampede-breakfast.  Note that it is June and Jake is wearing his fleece jacket.
July
It was raining and cold and I decided to make yarn octopuses, which turned out as well as any craft I make does.  Terribly.  We went to the Okanagan for some sunshine.  The cold and rain made me become Miss Carpe Diem, and so any day with slightly above average temperatures had me running the kids to the pool.
The yarn octopuses, Moppy and Bum, doing a duet of Heart and Soul.
August
It was still cold and rainy.  I wrote a lot about fashion, especially the jeans with zippered ankles that came out that made me feel like I was wearing turquoise slacks and a coordinating blouse, hobbling around with my walker and my Scotch mints, with a tissue in my sleeve.  Also – and my friend just reminded me of this yesterday – I saw a guy wearing a t-shirt that said “Vagitarian”.  I still laugh evilly thinking about it.  Vagitarian.  Says the guy who lives in his mom’s basement.
September
Mark started Grade One and Jake started Kindergarten.  We got hardwood installed by two attractive young whipper-snappers which led to many “hardwood” jokes.  Also I came home to find that they had taken out my drawers to move my dresser with ease, and my panty drawer was proudly on display for all to see.  So I had to show my panties to get hardwood.  Hee.  Also, Jake turned five!
Too cool for school!  Note the boxes of hardwood at right.
October
In typical October fashion we seemed to have a lot of viruses, dead squirrels, and excitement about Halloween.  Also I went on a two-night vacation with my husband and no kids!  And we all survived!  Actually the boys had the time of their lives and still talk about how awesome it was that Grandma picked them up at school.
Boo, I’m a scary witch!  For real.
November
It snowed a lot, I got ready for Christmas, I ran the Scholastic Book Fair, Mark barfed.  That pretty much sums up November.
A foam finger!  It says “We’re #1 – bp”.
December
I blogged almost exclusively about Christmas, Christmas songs, Christmas baking, and my new awesome sexy bitch boots.

Whew!  If you’re still reading this, thank you!!!  So 2010 was a great year, and here’s to a wondeful 2011 for all of us.

I hate you, Harry. I really hate you.

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Happy New Year!  How did you spend New Year’s Eve?  After taking the kids out for a very early dinner and putting them to bed at the regular time my husband, in what can only be described as an overwhelming display of love and affection, watched When Harry Met Sally with me, while I, in an overwhelming display of self-restraint, did not repeat the dialogue word for word.  Then I went to bed at the wild hour of 10:30.
Today has been a very pleasant day, started with a nice Bailey’s and coffee, and filled with doing small but satisfying jobs of organization.  Yesterday I left my chaotic and slightly cabin-fevered household to go to the mall and I was faced with the amazing phenomenon that is Boxing Week.  Christmas cards 75% off!  Lingerie and sleepwear 70% off!  Jacob – 50% off the entire store!  I’ve mentioned before that I’m neither a Handbag nor a Shoe Person, but I am a Sweater Person and so I spent some time clearing my dresser of various ill-fitting and worn out items to make room for my new purchases, despite my husband’s assertion that I probably did not need any more black sweaters.  There is no such thing as Too Many Black Sweaters, I say. 
I also performed a job that I was not relishing but needed to be done: clearing the artwork off the refrigerator.  I kid you not; I took 112 pieces of artwork off the fridge.  One hundred and twelve.  Then I became instantly emotional at the sight of my actual fridge and put 32 back on.  I feel for those people who are hoarders.  Mark may have drawn 25 pictures of Muk Muk and his (fictional) little brother Muk Mike, but every single one of them is adorable to me.  And Jake’s drawing of a Thanksgiving turkey alongside his depictions of alien invasions?  Priceless.  I know that eventually some of them will need to live out their lives in our recycling bin, but I’m not ready for that job.
I know I already stated my New Year’s resolution – to enjoy my friendships, socialize, and drink more wine (with friends), but then I heard of a friend of my husband’s, whose resolution was to make one person happy every day and then by the time ten years passed, she will have made the population of a small town happy!  Beautiful, right?  I immediately resolved to do that as well but then started overanalyzing: would it count if you made the same people happy over and over?  Do you have to make a different person happy every day?  What if you don’t make it out of the house one day and you see no one?  Do you need to make two people happy the next day?  My mind started spinning out of control, making this lovely notion into a complex obligation.  However, I still think it’s a beautiful idea, and I’m going to try to spread much happiness in 2011. Also perhaps I will attempt to not buy any more black sweaters.  Scratch that last one – never going to happen.