The first week of January is gone, and I’m completely scattered, so here are some random things going on in the Boyhouse:
1) The boys go back to school tomorrow, and I am having my usual last-day-of-vacation mixed feelings: happiness about the return to routine, and melancholy about the fleeting nature of time, and what city will the kids go to university in, and will it be close, and god, I sure hope my future daughters-in-law like me. Physically this manifests itself as me cheerfully filling in my calendar for the week with errands and appointments that are unpleasant or impossible to do with the children, and also me randomly grabbing and hugging the nearest child, or screaming “I LOVE YOU!” down the stairs where the children very patiently say “Thanks, Mom.” THANKS MOM. It’s like my life is a weird sitcom episode.
2) My appetite, which has been absent all week, has returned with a vengeance, so in between my week planning and my melancholy, I am also thinking near-constantly about FOOD. Let’s see, I should go to Costco on Thursday, and maybe make quesadillas tonight, I have to remember to make up the School Council agenda, should I maybe make some of that eggplant dip right now, hmmm…do I have any crackers? Because the kids were disappointed that I baked brownies to take to a baby shower yesterday rather than for their own consumption, I baked another pan of them this morning, combining my food obsession with my over-indulgence due to the aforementioned fleeting nature of time.
3) Yesterday I actually got teary eyed watching Ray Lewis come onto the Ravens’ field for the last time. I would blame hormones but I can’t really, which reminds me of the evening not long ago when I was lying on the couch, tearful with hip pain, with a heating pad on my back, washing down Tylenol for Body Pain with red wine and Christmas chocolate, crying to my husband about being sad, so very sad, since my incredible back and hip pain indicated that I would now have to spend the rest of my life in a chiropractor’s office. I became annoyed with my husband for not being more sympathetic to my plight as a cripple. Then I started googling chiropractors, acupuncturists, and scoliosis. Maybe 2013 will be the year where I finally recognize ladies’ holiday symptoms rather than concluding that life as I know it is over and the rest of my life will be all about pain management and sadness.
4) Speaking of Dr. Google, I fell down the rabbit hole last night by looking up “rashes and stomach virus” since Jake had developed a rash on his stomach and chest. Instead of concluding reasonably that Jake, being prone to rashes, simply had a bumpy red manifestation of the virus that we had – probably Norwalk – I started clicking links that were, frankly, terrifying. Consulting Dr. Google is never a good idea. I blame my undernourished brain.
5) If there is a bright side to contracting a virulent stomach virus such as Norwalk, it is that a post-Christmas cleanse becomes completely unnecessary. Not that I was really contemplating a cleanse; I did the Wild Rose cleanse back in 1999 and although that is now nearly fourteen years ago, I still get the shivers thinking about it. That cleanse was the reason why, whenver anyone tells me that they are doing a similar detox, all I can think is exploding intestines, and I hope you have a nice bathroom. But in any case, being sick has made post-Christmas weight-loss plans unnecessary, which is a minor upside to a deplorable week.
How was the first week of January for you?
Category Archives: Fleeting Time
Tony Romo and his huge boner
My husband was watching Sunday NFL Countdown, when I overheard the commentator say “Tony Romo had the biggest boner in NFL history.”
Who uses the word “boner” interchangeably with “screw up” anymore? Or ever, for that matter?
In any case this, for me, surpassed the golf commentator’s use of “stroking”, the football colour commentator’s use of “penetration”, and the hockey announcer’s use of “slipped one past the goalie” as the greatest sports observation ever. I wonder if Tony Romo heard that, and I wonder if he felt a deep, misplaced sense of pride. “My boner is HUGE. Biggest in the NFL. You hear that, Ray Lewis?”
Speaking of “boners”, remember how in my last post I commented that since giving up dairy my premenstrual symptoms – sobbing uncontrollably, desire to REDRUM if certain people left their socks on the floor and/or coffee table, dead grass and leaves tracked in by the dog induced rage – had largely abated? Yes, well. Yesterday I suffered through a solid eighteen hours of screaming abdominal and lower back pain, all due to my ladies’ holiday. At one point I lay down on the couch as the children played with Jake’s brand new Jabba’s Palace made out of Lego – purchased proudly with his saved up birthday money and allowance – and, inexplicably, I fell asleep. I say inexplicably because the noise level was such that no normal person could possibly relax enough to drift off. However, drift off I did and I woke up an hour later to complete silence. That would have been unnerving years ago, but happily the children – the dear, dear children, who can leave their socks on the coffee table anytime – realized I had fallen asleep and quietly went downstairs to play on the Wii. Lego Star Wars Wii, no less.
Mothers of small children: there is hope. One day, you too will be able to have a nap in the middle of the day and wake up to silence and not immediately assume that everyone is a) dead, b) kidnapped, or c) that the house is burning down around you and all the children are gone. IT’S TRUE. Someday soon you will be able to use the bathroom and the children will not clamour hysterically to get in, someday soon you will be able to serve a different dish for dinner and while they may not eat it, they won’t collapse to the floor, gagging and crying. Someday soon – and I say this because it’s September, and it can be a tricky time of year for little ones – you will be able to leave your children at school and they won’t be sobbing with separation anxiety.
The other day I was at the school, which is nothing new. I’ve been at the school so much for the past couple of weeks with various Parent Association responsibilities – I’M THE CHAIR, ALL HAIL THE CHAIR – that a new teacher actually mistook me for someone who worked at the school. Anyway, I was at the school and I ran into Jake’s old pre-kindergarten teacher. “Nicole,” she said, “I’ve been telling my new parents about the goodbye routine you and Jake had. It’s really been helping!” I was a little surprised, being that it has been four years since Jake was in pre-kindergarten, and I didn’t think that our goodbye routine was anything out of the ordinary.
Now, you know me, people. I do not generally give parenting advice, especially unsolicited parenting advice. Part of that is because I think that smugly imparting advice is douchey, and part of it is because I believe strongly in karma and am superstitious. I knew a woman who was extremely smug and boasty about her lamb of a firstborn, who was completely potty trained at eighteen months due to her superior parenting techniques. Her second born? A completely wild child, who was still in diapers at four. COINCIDENCE? It’s karma.
But I know a few of you are suffering with your child’s separation anxiety right now, and so I will share with you the goodbye routine I had with Jake, that dried up any tears from school dropoffs, and that I kind of stole from The Kissing Hand. As you may know, I rarely leave the house without lipstick. When it was time to say goodbye, I would draw a circle in Jake’s hand with my finger, then I would kiss the middle of the circle, leaving a giant lipstick mark. I would then rub the lipstick into his hand, so the kiss would “stick with him” all day. He would then do the same to me, minus the lipstick, of course. It really worked, and we did that all through pre-kindergarten and kindergarten. Now, of course, he doesn’t even allow me to kiss him in his lineup; instead we fist bump. FIST BUMP, MOTHER OF GOD. In any case, my heart goes out to you mamas dealing with school dropoff sadness; maybe my story will help, maybe not, but know that it gets better and one day you too may be fist bumping your child, and sometimes accidentally jabbing him with your rings. Then you will only have your own sentimental tears to deal with, and to that end, I have no advice.
Ketchup Chips are a Canadian Thing?
Right this minute, there is a news story on TV, in honour of Canada Day, all about the words “eh”, “knapsacks”, and “washroom”, and how ketchup chips are a Canadian thing. American friends, I must know this for true: are there no ketchup chips in the States? Really? If that is true, I am very sad for my friends south of the border. I am also sad that this is the news channel I watch of my own volition. Who needs real news anyway, when I can marvel over Americans calling them “candy bars” instead of “chocolate bars”?
Related to the state of my mind right now: Jake and I just sang “Call Me Maybe” together and it was a proud, proud moment for me.
Also a proud, proud moment: on Thursday I took the boys to the local amusement park where we met up with friends, and the kids rode the log ride all by themselves. For me, this is quite possibly the greatest developmental milestone ever, the fact that I never again have to sit in a big plastic log zipping down a big slide with slimy, possibly decades-old water splashing all over me. And why was I feeling verklempt about the passage of time? For no good reason, that’s why.
Speaking of the rapid passage of time, today I heard on the radio – not my usual oldies station, but an actual modern, for-the-young-people station – something disturbing. For the long weekend, the station was playing various number one hits from years past. One of the flashback years was 1995.
Now, I don’t know about you, but to me, 1995 does not seem so long ago. It doesn’t seem worthy of a flashback hit. But then again, when they played the song, I could clearly recall dancing to it in the bar, probably while drinking a vodka slime out of a jug, and wearing a crop top and high waisted jeans, with my Rachel haircut. I was twenty years old: a significant number of years have passed since those days. All I’m saying is that I can really understand how old people say that something happened a couple of years ago, when the reality is that the relevant event really took place decades ago.
More on the passage of time: this weekend my parents took the kids up to the lake without me. This is the first time such a thing has happened; my parents have looked after my kids overnight before, but this was the first time that they have been taken to a second location. After typing that I realize that I just made it sound like my parents abducted the kids, but no. A fabulous time was had by all. They celebrated Canada Day by going to the nearby small-town parade, where they waved flags, ate ice cream, and went on bouncy castles and through obstacle courses. They had a great time. I, on the other hand, celebrated Canada Day by eating scrambled eggs and drinking coffee while watching episode after episode of Mad Men, nursing a little hangover since I was at a party the night before and I didn’t get home until almost 11:30. See what happens when the kids are away? NICOLE’S GONE WILD.
My husband and I went up to the lake to spend the night and bring them home today. When I asked them if they missed me, the answer was “Um, not too much.” and “It was kind of MORE fun with just Grandpa and Grandma!” Well, I guess that’s to be expected. I’m not exactly known as Super Fun Mom – I did, after all, just buy them math flash cards, some workbooks, and journals for the summer.
69 Days of Summer Vacation; Mark and Jake Are Going To Do It All!
I was going to do a “Wordless Wednesday” and just post this picture of my kids on their last day of Grade One and Two:
But there is a reason I don’t do Wordless Wednesdays, and that is because I am much, much too wordy. I want to tell you all about the last day of school and how I held my friend’s four week old baby boy today, and he was all curled up like a little bean on my shoulder and he fell asleep, and now my boys are all huge (see above picture for relative hugeness) and pretending to be hip-hop artists, apparently, and how sad I am that their favourite teacher is leaving the school and so Jake won’t be in her class next year, and how she whispered “I love you, Jake” when we were leaving, and how she described Jake as blossoming from a shy little boy in September to one of the leaders and role models of the class, and how happy she was to have Mark in her class for two years, and how she described Mark as having a huge love of learning, and how I came home and while thinking about fleeting time I missed a step going up the stairs and slammed my bare foot on the edge of the step and now it’s all swollen and bruised and how I’ve been home for two hours and still haven’t accomplished any of the tasks I set out to do, and how I’m wondering if a beer would solve these problems.
It might.
So I’m not going to think about my empty nest eleven years hence, but instead I am going to relate snippets of life around me over the past couple of weeks.
Overheard at the mall:
Girl #1: I think I’m going to stop dyeing my hair. The roots are coming in too light.
Girl #2: What’s your natural colour, anyway?
Girl #1: Like, ash blonde?
Girl #2: WHAT DID YOU SAY?
Girl #1: Ash blonde?
Girl #2: Oh my god. Ash blonde? Your natural colour is ASH BLONDE? Why in the world would you EVER colour ASH BLONDE?
Girl #1: I didn’t think it was that exciting.
Seen while driving: a billboard proclaiming “Look your Stampede best! With BOTOX.”
Conversation between the kids, after watching Empire Strikes Back:
Mark: Mom, I thought you said that Princess Leia and Han Solo were in love.
Me: Yes.
Mark: They totally do not seem like they are in love. They just bug each other all the time.
Jake: Mark! That means they are going to get married. Sometimes your wife is just a pain in the butt all the time!
Me: Jake! Why would you say that.
Jake: No, Mom, it’s true! That’s what being married IS.
Me: I’m not a pain in the butt to your dad.
Jake: I didn’t mean you, Mom. Sometimes it’s Dad who is the pain in the butt.
Conversation at my dinner table:
Husband: You look really nice today.
Me: Thanks.
Husband: No, I mean it. You look great. That shirt is great. You should wear it more often.
Me: Thanks!
Husband: It’s so nice to see you in something colourful.
Me: This shirt is navy.
Husband: Yes, but it’s not black.
LIVE IN THE NOW, Oil of Oregano, Lots of Links
I have a little something something up at the Yummy Mummy Club – and I would be so happy if you popped over there to read it. If you were so inclined to leave a comment, I would be VERY happy. xo
I wrote all about living in the moment and enjoying the present, which I think is a very important thing to do. I also think of – get ready for a dated reference here, people – Wayne’s World. Remember the scene when Wayne visits a guitar store and looks longingly and lustily at a very expensive guitar (“Excalibur”) and Garth freaks out: “Stop torturing yourself, man. You’ll never afford it. LIVE IN THE NOW!”
I also have a lovely recipe for gingersnaps up at my cooking blog. These are my husband’s favourites, and I baked a batch last week, despite the fact that I normally only bake these around Christmastime. Yesterday, he went out to run errands and came home with an iPhone! For me! I highly recommend you bake these cookies. You never know what could happen. They are magic!
How was your weekend? I had an amazingly productive one: hair was cut and coloured, Christmas shopping was nearly completed, much writing was done, photos were chosen for the annual calendar given to the grandparents, dinner with my girlfriends was consumed, Christmas lights were hung, a jack and impact gun were purchased and the snow tires put on the minivan. Full disclosure: the Christmas lights and tire change were NOT done by me, obviously, but they are DONE. Then, Sunday morning I woke up with a sore throat, headache, and general fatigue and lethargy that did not bode well for the busy week I have coming up – a week of running the school book fair.
I jumped into action. I took oil of oregano several times, which was extremely unpleasant and probably ranks in the top five worst tastes ever. I drank Vitamin C drinks, I ate two giant slices of chocolate zucchini bread (file under “Feed a Cold”), I swallowed a few spoonfuls of honey, I took Tylenol Cold Nighttime Relief and went to bed at 8:45. I woke up eleven hours later feeling, if not 100%, much, much better. I feel like patenting this combination for my very own “nip it in the bud” prescription. I have a feeling that the eleven hours of sleep probably counted for more than the other home remedy/ over the counter/ homeopathic antidotes, but I hope that the oil of oregano did something. I would hate to think I took that horrible stuff to no purpose.
And now I am off to set up the book fair. I wonder if there will be much Justin Bieber paraphernalia, or will his possible thirty-seconds-of-action-leading-to-a-lifetime-of-paternity-allegedly indicate the demise of those “Future Mrs. Bieber” stickers?
Cultivating the Relationship
How was your weekend? I spent Friday night here:
which is to say I had a pretty fabulous weekend. My parents stayed at our house and took care of the children, and I will say this: I always fret a little about leaving them, even for one night, and they always wish that I stayed away longer. Hum. It’s nice to have time with just my husband and not be completely distracted by the kids, as I often am. A friend’s mother was talking to me about when her girls left home and she found herself sitting across the table from her husband, just the two of them; how strange it was and how important it is to cultivate that relationship. Not that I’m panicking about the empty nest just yet, but still. Another friend, who is a pharmacist working with cancer patients, told me that incidences of the human papillomavirus spike in teenagers AND in women in their fifties – empty nesters who leave their husbands and engage in promiscuous activity. Where am I going with this? IT’S IMPORTANT TO CULTIVATE THE RELATIONSHIP, PEOPLE. And so I had a great time in Banff. We walked to downtown Banff for dinner and met up with an elk on the way:
Cute! It’s not so common to see elk in the townsite anymore, and so I got my picture taken with it.
Look, he’s showing his bum.
After dinner we went back to the hotel and hung out in the lounge, getting drunk, listening to a fabulous blues guitarist, and meeting people at the bar. That’s always fun. We met a couple from Boston who were also Patriots fans, so there was much “Gooooo Pats!” talk and more drinking. I stayed up until – wait for it – MIDNIGHT. I had the teensiest bit of a headache the next day.
I had made a full recovery by Sunday and was persuaded by the children to put up all the Halloween decorations and carve pumpkins. Carving pumpkins is one of those family fun activities that actually end up being NOT SO MUCH family fun. I mean, the end result is fun. The ideas about what the pumpkins should look like, that’s fun too. But the actual carving? My husband gets the glory of using a very sharp tool that’s designed to cut drywall. I get stuck cleaning the goop out of the pumpkins and trying to save the seeds for roasting, which only I eat anyway. The kids refuse to assist in the cleaning process, and only wish they could assist in the cutting process, and so pumpkin carving is really not much of a family fun project. They turned out well though:
Doesn’t that one look like Gru from Despicable Me?
State of Wonder, Gifts, My New Unpaid Career
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?