A Tale of Two Closets

Posted on March 5, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

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!"

Posted on February 9, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

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.

Posted on January 19, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

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?

Posted on January 11, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

“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!

Posted on January 6, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

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.

Posted on January 1, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

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.

Nicole the Elf! What’s your favourite song?

Posted on December 17, 2010 by Nicole Boyhouse

Today is the last day of school before the break, and I’m relieved. There was a time when I did not understand this phenomenon, but I do now. It’s not like our mornings are crazily rushed – by the time the school bell rings the kids have been up for a minimum of two hours, and I’ve been up for at least four. This is a good thing because to save my sanity I inform Jake that he must start getting dressed at 8:00, so by the time we leave the house at 8:45 he is generally dressed. Except for socks, which for some reason must only be put on right before boots and with much encouragement from me.

But oh, I am ready for a break! My holiday spirit took a little bit of a beating this week and it was all because of the pediatric dentist. I now have reminders to never again make a dental appointment in December. The dentist’s office shares a parking lot with Wal-Mart. Have you attempted to find parking in a Wal-Mart parking lot at 1:00 in the afternoon ten days before Christmas? I do not recommend it. There are angry people everywhere. Very, very angry people. So I was feeling a bit flustered even before the appointment, which in itself is a trying experience: I have one child who sits quietly, mouth wide open, for the entire process, and one who seems to have some sort of sensory integration issues the minute the chair goes back as he starts to go stiff, hold his breath, and gag. It’s sad because he is truly trying his best, he really is, he sits perfectly still for x-rays and teeth counting but the second the hygienist snaps that little toothpaste container on her finger, he goes a little nuts. So that was fun.

Then, the dentist came in. Remember the dentist? The very attractive dentist? Well, evidently the past six months have not been good to him because I would not now describe him as the hot, crush-inspiring pediatric dentist he once was. Of course, that is very shallow and superficial of me but come on. I’m a stay-at-home mom. I wore my nice jeans and my good lipstick. Throw me a bone, here, people.

By the end of the appointment, I had a choice: I could just keep Mark home for the remainder of the afternoon, or I could rush him back to school in time for him to have recess and sing carols, only to rush back to the school to pick him up. Lazy mom that I am, I just went home. I was in need of some holiday spirit. So I decided to make gingerbread people with the kids and listen to Christmas carols.

What’s your favourite Christmas song? Mine is – despite assertions from certain people that this song causes brain aneurisms – the Wham! Christmas song. I listened to it a number of times and felt much better. Also on my list, Santa Baby, which I know is commercial and everything I try not to be but hey, it is so much fun to sing. I like to sing it in a slutty, I’m-a-lounge-singer-who-is-lying-on-a-grand-piano-wearing-a-spangly-dress-slit-up-the-side kind of way. With a long cigarette holder. You get the picture. Although I have to wonder, what is the market for sables like these days? Is the fur industry even around anymore? I don’t know. Tied for third are Feliz Navidad and Mele Kalikimaka: “Hey!” Mark said, “I think that means Merry Christmas in another language!”

So tell me, what do you like to listen to around the holidays? The one song I cannot stand is I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. It is just way too creepy. It just conjures up images of, how shall I put this politely, a child stumbling into an intimate situation involving lap sitting and queries of “Have you been a good girl this year?” If you know what I’m saying.

On that note, here are some g-rated pictures of me attempting to get the children to a) look at me and b) smile while making gingerbread. You can see how well I succeeded.