Category Archives: Festivities

State of Wonder, Gifts, My New Unpaid Career

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Here’s a little piece of advice: if you are a stay-at-home mom whose children are in school, and you are worried about how to spend your time, try signing up for numerous volunteer commitments, each of which isn’t too time consuming on its own, but when added together fill all your days with unpaid busyness.  I’m finding my days are just flying by.  Who knew?  It’s also been incredibly warm – hot even – and beautiful here, and so I’m completely stunned that October is in TWO DAYS, and also, did I move someplace with a good climate without knowing it?

I’m not complaining though – my life is pretty fun and flexible and despite the fact that I’m writing an advice column for our community newsletter – I kid you not, I have advice to give – I still managed to have coffee with two good friends this week and I finished reading “State of Wonder”, which I recommend highly.  Mostly I want to talk about it to someone.  It’s a fascinating book that brings up the question “How old is too old to have children”?  In the book, a doctor is studying a tribe in the Amazon, the women of which continue to give birth until they die, the average life span being around 70.  The thought of having a baby’s head coming out of a 70 year old vagina is kind of squeamy, to me, although I guess the pregnancy hormones would make for some luscious old-lady hair.  But seriously, how old is too old?  I don’t have any answers; although a girlfriend and I have discussed this, relative to our older husbands.  Since men don’t really have a biological clock, not really, is there a point where they are “too old” to have children?  Way back in my long-ago youth, I was a candy striper at an old age facility, and I can’t really imagine any of those people in an expectant parent state, but at what point do we get there?  Discuss.

I had an interesting conversation with regards to gifts and spouses.  I’m finding it’s not uncommon for spouses to not give gifts to each other at birthdays, Christmas, etc.  My husband and I do give each other gifts, although the gifts are generally not surprises.  Mostly I like to state my preferences for certain items, and am sure to let him know what size I wear.  His birthday is coming up, and although almost every single year I give him golf balls and a golf shirt, this year is going to be different!  It won’t be surprising to him though.  I suppose we could skip the whole gift wrap and opening steps, since we both tend to be specific on the things that we like, but what would be the fun in that? 

So here are our discussion topics for the day: a) how old were you when you had children, and how old is “too old” to have children, and b) do you and your spouse give each other gifts, and if so, are they ever a surprise? 

Charity Birthday Parties, or the post where I have strong opinions about birthdays

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I frequently look at my house and feel like I’m drowning in stuff.  I’m not even talking about Mark’s extensive “rock collection” (“Maybe we should get him a rock polisher for Christmas!” my husband suggested cheerfully, to my horror – how many MORE rocks would we then have in the house?).  I’m not talking about the fact that my fridge is threatening to implode from the sheer volume of artwork that is either festooning it via magnets or piled in a scary high stack on top of it.  Those are things I can handle (although not the idea of a rock polisher, heaven forfend). 

We’re in an awkward stage, toy wise.  The problem I’m facing right now is that my children still build complicated tracks with their wooden Thomas toys, they use both the junior Duplo Lego AND the teeny tiny big kid Lego, they play with dinosaurs AND stuffed animals, they stage car races with dozens and dozens of little Hot Wheels, they play with board games and superhero action figures.  In other words, there is nothing in the house that I can in good conscience donate or otherwise get rid of.  We are literally drowning in the volume of toys that we have and I have not been able to donate anything that was unused since I boxed up all the Little People sets and Mega Blocks. 

So when we were planning Jake’s birthday party, there was no question: no gifts.  We did this last year as well; on the invitations I specified that in lieu of gifts, each guest was asked to bring a food bank donation.  One of the things I most dislike about other children’s parties are buying gifts for them – I never know what to get, I never know if they have something or not, and I generally feel overwhelmed and confused while trolling the aisles of the toy store.  Food donations – easy.  And let me tell you, people stepped up!

Having a charity birthday party is a very good way to introduce children to the concept of giving and what I consider to be the responsibility of people who are more fortunate than others.  My children are, I think, extremely fortunate and lucky children; they receive many gifts from aunts and uncles, grandparents, and us.  There were fifteen children at Jake’s party; he would not need, and should not have, fifteen little gifts. 

In order to have a successful charity party, there are a couple of things to keep in mind.  First, make sure your child is in agreement – have a discussion about charities and giving and be sure to reiterate that they ARE going to get gifts from family members, just not from their little friends.  We can only expect so much.  Second, make sure the party is going to be a lot of fun – the focus of a birthday party, or any party, should really be the good time we are all having, rather than gifts.  We held the party at the Calgary Gymnastics Centre, and it was fabulous.  The kids all had a blast, there was no downtime, and there was only thirty minutes of “party room” time which is where I find parties to really drag. 

Third, make sure you have good food.  Since our party was from 3-5 pm, I did not want to have a huge snack for the kids right before the dinner hour, so I just served cupcakes.  We had a guest with Celiac disease, and so I branched out and made both regular and gluten free cupcakes, and they were equally – but differently – delicious.
Can you tell which are gluten free?  (Hint: the short ones).

The last thing to remember about having a successful charity party is do not forget the loot bags.  I know.  I know.  Loot bags are a scourge on society, but really, you CAN have loot bags and not lose your essence of yourself if you choose carefully.  I gave each child a little egg of Silly Putty – my kids once received those from a dinner guest of mine and they played with it for months after, so hooray for longevity and non-breakable-ness – an eraser shaped like a crayon, and a ton of candy.  Fortunately Halloween candy has been in the stores for over a month now, so I bought several large bags of rockets, bubble gum, and candy necklaces.  I gauged the party’s success from the sheer joy that volume of candy brought to the guests.  Our little gluten-free guest was particularly overjoyed as she opened her bag.  “ROCKETS?  Nicole, I’m ALLOWED to have Rockets!” she shrieked.

Success!  At the end of the day, we had a giant box of food donations AND a group of happy, exhausted, and sugar-high children.  What could be better?

Bond. James Bond.

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Mark, seeing a commercial on a US television station, asked me what “Independence Day” means.  I was tired and did not feel up for a historical discussion, so I simply said that it was like Canada Day, but for the United States.  Later I felt that this lazy and somewhat inaccurate explanation would probably be met by a shudder by any American.
But happy Fourth of July to all my American friends!  There is always much discussion about the differences between the two countries, and truthfully I feel a small culture shock any time I visit the States.  No French writing on packaging, the food is different, fruits and vegetables are better, and people don’t say “sorry” when they bump into you in a crowd.  I used to travel to Houston quite often, back in my working girl days, as opposed to my days of being a lady of leisure, and every single time I would show my identification at the airport or the car rental place, someone would say “Oh, you’re from Canada?  I LOVE Celine Dion!”  My conclusion is twofold: that people in Houston really like Celine Dion, and that Americans are a very friendly people.
Friday was Canada Day and I celebrated by taking the kids to the local amusement park with a friend and her daughters.  We had fun, as we always do, and near the end of our visit we went to the games section.  The kids bring their allowance to play these games, and I’m always a bit mixed about it: on the one hand, that is what their allowance is FOR, to spend on special activities, but on the other hand, how many crappy, cheap stuffed animals do we want in the house?  They always play the games where you win a prize every time, and that prize is always a crappy, cheap stuffed animal. 
Last year Jake won a little blue dog, immediately named Woof Woof.  He loved it instantly, hugging it and saying “I finally have a pet of my very own!”  I was strongly in favour of this attachment, since prior to that he was obsessed with EGGPLANTS, of all things.  Every time we would go to the grocery store he would beg me to buy an eggplant, not to eat, no, but to be his pet.  His pet doomed to soften and rot and be thrown out.  So his happiness with Woof Woof meant happiness for me, in that I could take him to the grocery store with relatively little harassment.
Woof Woof was a fairly creative name, as far as my kids go.  Other stuffed animals in our house are named things such as Hippopotamussy, Moosie, Bear Bear, and Tigey.  So on Friday, when Jake lucked out and won a LARGE prize, a stuffed octopus, he immediately christened it Octopussy.
I have been stifling the urge to giggle and call him 007, but at least it goes well with Mark’s beaver, Beavery.
Jake and Octopussy

Octopussy and Woof Woof

Twelve times twelve is one hundred and forty four.

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Happy birthday Canada!  To celebrate, I’m taking the kids to an amusement park with some friends, and I baked an angel food cake, to be eaten with whipped cream and strawberries.  If there is anything more delicious in the world I would like to know what it is.


It’s day three of summer vacation and so far our schedule has been action packed.  This is probably contributing to the easier-than-normal transition from school into summer.  Monday night was filled with children’s tears at the thought of saying goodbye to their teachers and classrooms on Tuesday, and so I was preparing myself for the onslaught of neediness and generally annoying behavior that accompanies the end-of-year festivities and the sudden lack of scheduled activities, but that didn’t really happen.

My husband was away on business and so on the first day of vacation I drove the kids up to my parents’ cottage at Sylvan Lake.  Here I am going to state the obvious: travel with children is just so much easier as they get older.  “Mom, are you SURE you know how to get there?” Mark asked nervously, clearly recalling the many times I have pulled over to the side of the road, crying.  I am not good with directions, people.  Just a small glitch in my plans or a detour in the road can set me over the edge.  “Turn east,” my dad used to say when giving me directions, and I would scream with frustration: “Is that left or right?”  My husband bought me a Garmin with the hopes that I would no longer be lost immediately whenever I would go someplace not totally familiar, but I have anxiety about even using the Garmin, since it often sends me on the most circuitous route possible.  You can imagine, perhaps, the level of frustration around here.  My husband cannot understand how someone who has lived in a city their entire life still doesn’t know how to access a major roadway.  I think I may have a mental block or something.

“I know how to get there.  But I have to concentrate.  So please don’t ask me again.” I said to the boys.  Then they spent the two hours of driving alternating between watching Cars (preparing for the inevitable viewing of Cars 2) and naming off the small towns that we were passing and what kind of “Attractions and Services” they had.  “That town has a Wendy’s AND a Tim Hortons!” they would say excitedly.  “Canadian Tire and Wal-Mart!  If we need something we could go to Wal-Mart!”  “Oh, that town only has UFA.  What’s UFA?” 

We arrived with no issues and I did not even have to pull over to sob once.  I’m growing!  The boys were practically spinning off the planet with excitement once we arrived, and I am just going to say this: two toy fishing rods with reels plus a lake equals endless amusement.  I am always a little taken aback at how much time children can spend doing an activity like pretend fishing.  It’s a good lesson for me as well; to just watch them and relax into the moment, and not have to go over my to-do list.  It is summer after all – my to-do list isn’t exactly pressing.

I wished I had my camera with me when the boys and I took the dog for a walk after dinner.  I watched them run up ahead of me on the path, Shasta daisies and deep purple Columbines to their right, a thick field of canola to their left.  The dog bounded through the canola, his curly tail bouncing, the boys were laughing, and the sky with the early evening clouds was so big all around us.  It was a perfect moment. 

The longest day of the year

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Happy Summer Solstice!  Here, that means that the sun rises at 5:20 am and sets at almost 10:00 pm, and, amazingly, the sun has come out today!  It’s going to be 22 degrees Celcius, which may not sound like much for you people in milder climes, but to us hardened Calgarians, it might as well be a heat wave.  A very welcome heat wave.  I took the opportunity to photograph various parts of my garden:

Leopard’s bane – in bloom!  Sweet peas – stunted at one inch of growth.

The hostas have enjoyed the rain; at least SOMETHING has.

Lilacs – FINALLY blooming.  I know, I know, everyone else’s lilacs were finished weeks ago. 

My front yard.  It’s north facing and, quite honestly, a bitch to grow things in.  Lots of shady plants.

You can’t tell in this picture, but not only am I wearing sandals, but I am also wearing capri-length jeans!  Summer!

“Can we go for a walk now?  Can we?  Huh?”

That is what my garden looks like on the first day of summer.  Speaking of summer, I am going to be participating in Lynn’s “Summer of Awesome”!  I’ll be writing about all sorts of fun local things to do with kids during the summer.  The summer of awesome. 



There are many fabulous things to do with the kids around Calgary.  If you’re local, feel free to give me your feedback on the places I will be writing about.  If you’re not local, maybe this will tempt you into taking a trip to Calgary.  Although, I may have already ruined it for you with my many, many posts about snow and getting hypothermia at the soccer field.  Lesson: one does not live in Calgary for the fantastic climate.  We live here for the cowboy hats!

The other day a song came on the radio that made Mark get his groove on like nobody’s business.  It reminded me so much of saying “Doing the white man’s overbite.” 

He shoots, he scores!

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How was your weekend?  The boys had each made an adorable card for their dad – Mark’s with a picture of a tiger saying “I Roar You” and Jake’s in the shape of a shirt with a tie – and in addition to a couple of purchased gifts, my husband also received a jar of barbeque sauce that Jake had made in the kindergarten class, which lent a certain je ne sais quois to our hamburger/ bean burger dinner.  I also skipped my morning yoga class so that my husband could book an earlier tee time – normally he schedules his golf around my yoga, which is very convenient, I think – and I found myself wondering is this what Sunday mornings are like?  My, the children are loud and needy.

Perhaps the loudness and the neediness came from the kind of exhaustion that results from Super! Soccer! Saturday!  The boys each played two games, none of which overlapped, so we were at the soccer field from 8:20 until 1:00.  That sounds pretty benign until I tell you that the field was swept by the kind of winds that topple unattended lawn chairs and that the temperature hovered around 10 degrees without the wind.  At least it’s not raining we frozen spectators kept saying to each other.  Jake’s coaches were wearing toques and gloves; I myself had three sweaters on underneath my fall coat, along with lined rain boots.

They are going to blow away!

Only seven players from Mark’s team were in attendance, meaning that each player was on the field almost constantly, running and sweating and, ultimately, going to the food table to get freezies and slushies while I fantasized about hot tubs and Bailey’s and coffee. 

I keep waiting for summer to arrive, pinning my hopes on the appearance of summer-like temperatures, and I think I need to just come to accept the fact that it will never be summer.  If I lower my expectations enough, perhaps I will be happy and satisfied because at least it isn’t snowing.

I just looked out the front window to see my seven year old helping my husband mow the lawn.

Years ago the boys had little popper lawn mowers that they would noisily run around with while my husband mowed the lawn.  Now they are both allowed to push the mower for short distances, and it won’t be long before mowing the lawn will be their job entirely.  I was speaking with a friend today and we both talked about how our lives were revolutionalized the day that our kids were able to get dressed, use the bathroom, brush their teeth and wash their faces with no assistance.  The days of last-second diaper changes and flailing temper tantrums while dressing and forcing toothbrushes between clenched jaws were behind us, forever.  My kids are learning how to mow the lawn, for goodness’ sake, what’s next?

Happy Father’s Day, honey.  Thanks for slipping a couple past the goalie!  Wait – too soon after the Canucks’ loss? 

Just This

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On Friday Jake’s kindergarten class had a Mother’s Day Spa Day, in which all the moms brought in deck chairs and lounged in the darkened classroom to the sound of soothing spa music while their five year olds rubbed lotion into their feet, rubbed their shoulders, and brushed their hair.  After untangling the brushes from our hair, we were treated to manicures.
Lovely!  The photos don’t quite do it justice. 
In addition to the spa day, Jake also gave me a “hug book” filled with pictures and sweetly phonetically spelled sentences about me (“My mom is so pritte and wundrfl.”) as well as a very scented lilac made out of purple tissue paper.  Mark, not to be outdone, made a construction paper card with a picture of an elephant on it – my favourite wild animal! – and we all went out for brunch at my husband’s golf course.  My ego got a boost when my husband told me that I got “checked out”, and my ego only deflated a small amount when I discovered that the man “checking me out” was close to seventy.  A lovely day, and a lovely end to the weekend, which was slightly marred by all the nocturnal coughing being done by Mark. 
Each year I remind myself that Mother’s Day is not a day that is met with fanfare and celebration by all, despite the many commercials implying that failure to purchase flowers, jewelry, or spa gift certificates will result in a direct trip to hell in a handbasket, or at the very least, will show your mother/wife that you don’t actually love or appreciate her.  Mother’s Day, while a joyful and lovely day for me, can be terrible for some.  For those who are estranged from or have strained relations with their mothers, for those suffering infertility, for those who have lost a mother, wife, or child, Mother’s Day can be complicated and painful, and I try to remember that with sensitivity each year.  I once stumbled on a website that discussed all the ways family members had disappointed their mothers on Mother’s Day, from forgetting altogether to not getting the lavish gifts that these women had anticipated.  Reading the stories, I felt the same way that I felt when I found out about “push presents”; a feeling along the lines of you are missing the point. 
When the boys were babies, and my days were filled with chaos and crying, diapers and drudgery, all marked with vast underlying exhaustion, the gift I wanted most for Mother’s Day was just a few hours to myself.  I wanted a few hours of silence, of time to do anything I wanted to do without someone crying or asking me for something or fetching a snack or feeding someone or having a small person stuck on my body like a barnacle to a ship.  And now every day I have long stretches of time to myself, whole mornings of complete silence and solitude, hours to run errands alone.  Those days that seemed endless have ended.  This is such a golden time, this time of crafts and drawings and uninhibited hugs, and I know it too will end one day.  I look at my boys and this life that I never thought I wanted but now I see that it is perfect for me, and I can’t believe my good fortune.

Just this.