Cultivating the Relationship

Posted on October 24, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

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?

So THIS is why people love the fall.

Posted on October 11, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

Happy Thanksgiving, my Canadian friends! I hope you had a lovely long weekend. I spent the long weekend at my in-laws’.

Pause.

I’m all about positivity, and so I will leave it at that and simply post this picture of me eating grapes.

I seem to have my mouth full in that picture, either that or I’m not willing to show my purple stained teeth that possibly have Concord skins stuck in them.

An airport is the single greatest place to people watch, I think. We flew, rather than drove, this weekend and I amused myself by watching the world go by. I also like to examine local fashions when I’m in a different place; I like to feel like I’m some kind of fashion anthropologist. While I was admiring other people’s tall boots and sweaters, I noticed a woman wearing the shortest dress I had ever seen. When she turned around I saw that it was evidently homemade from a light cotton imprinted with kittens. Then I saw a woman who looked extremely stylish from behind, with a lovely fall jacket and long scarf. When she turned around, her lovely jacket was unbuttoned to show a gigantic, overstuffed fanny pack. I speak on behalf of purses everywhere when I beseech us all to ban the fanny pack.

I woke up so exhausted this morning that I actually went back to bed rather than heading for the yoga studio; that’s something that almost never happens and so I’ve been feeling off kilter all day. I can’t figure out my exhaustion; I’ve certainly had a lot of sleep in the past couple of days. Either I’m fighting some sort of virus or I’m just completely burnt out from attempting to keep a pleasant demeanor in the face of passive aggressive criticisms. I tried to regain my normal energy by taking on a number of tasks today – sorting and labelling photos, baking banana bread, cleaning the house, making salsa and kale chips. While I had the kale happily dehydrating in the oven, I decided to rally the boys and rake the leaves. With raking comes jumping in the leaves:

Why yes, Mark is wearing his swimming goggles in order to “swim” through the leaves, why do you ask?

We also did some ladybug rescuing:

It’s on his hand, can you see it?

How about now?

While I’m at it, here’s some pictures of our scarecrows with our STILL BLOOMING flowers. This has been the mildest fall I can remember. This must be what people mean when they say they love fall. Normally I think of fall as one week of howling winds tearing all the leaves off the trees before winter sets in, but this year has been so beautiful.

My scarecrow is the girl. Her name is Rosie. My husband’s scarecrow is named Dummy Jimmy Too Tall. I think Mark named him.

The boys’ scarecrows are named Idiot and TV.

Usually the leaves on the Mayday tree turn brown from frost and then fall off rapidly, but this year has been so mild that they are actually changing colour.

And that, I think, is enough to be thankful for.

Dental Scaling or Pelvic Exam? Survey says…

Posted on October 5, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

Last week I was at the dentist for a checkup and for scaling. The word “scaling” gives me the chills. I conducted a brief and informal survey among girlfriends, regarding which they would rather have: dental scaling or a pelvic exam. The results were approximately 75/25 in favour of pelvic exams. Of course, this isn’t a scientifically accurate survey. The sample size was small and not representative of the total population, but I strongly agreed with the majority here. I would much, much rather endure the awkwardness of the bright lights and scootching my bottom down a little, and even the weird retractor thing, than have my teeth scaled.

People have a tendency to quote statistics, with absolute certainty, in order to prove a point. I could say, forcefully, that 75% of women prefer pelvic exams to dental scaling, but I would be incorrect. A survey of less than twenty of my girlfriends does not constitute an unbiased, random sampling, and the sample size is much less than what is considered statistically significant. This is one of my all-time pet peeves: the quoting of inaccurate statistics. Wow, I’m really a nerd. It’s like I’m one step away from pulling out my mechanical pencil and pocket calculator in order to do my own calculations. Show me the data behind your statistics.

Where was I? Oh yes, the dentist. I dread it every time. My mouth resembles a crime scene afterwards, and while I realize that flossing more regularly would help matters, I still believe strongly that putting a sharp metal object forcefully against soft tissue is going to result in bleeding no matter what. My real issue is that I’m a people pleaser when it comes to my hygienist, and I end up being less than truthful when it comes to my flossing habits. There is a scene that I relate to in my friend Michal’s short film Arithmetic, where Annie is reclined in the dentist chair, blood spattered all over her paper bib, and the caption is something along the lines of “There are two people Annie lies to: the dentist and her mother.” I’m like that. Not that I lie to my mother. (Hi Mom, if you’re reading this!). Hey, did I mention I was an extra in that film? I did? Oh.

By the way, I KNOW I have to floss more, but knowing is not the same thing as doing, as anyone can tell you who has found themselves with a mysteriously empty bag of potato chips, a bloated stomach, and crumbs all over their shirt.

I also had to take the dog to the vet for a checkup and vaccinations. Canine vaccinations are the only type of vaccinations I will ever mention on this blog. Have you ever noticed that there is very little debate over getting your dog vaccinated? Or maybe there is debate and I just haven’t noticed. (Note: I don’t want to know.) Anyway, I took the dog to the vet and – some of you may remember his weight struggles (he’s fat) – he lost weight! He lost five pounds which is almost ten percent of his body weight! I was so happy, and I expected great praise and accolades, which did not materialize. Yes, the vet said, it’s good that he’s lost weight but he should really loose a couple more pounds. I was completely crestfallen. Where are my accolades? The vet, furthermore, informed me that Barkley needs to have MORE dental chews (apparently he and I have plaque in common) but that I should deduct the number of calories from his dental chews from his total daily caloric intake.

I agreed with the vet, but internally I thought no fucking way. There is no way I am going to start doing a calorie count for my fucking dog. “It’s easy!” the vet said, giving Barkley a small treat, “These are ten calories each. Just deduct that from his food.” I spend enough time calculating my own calories, I do not need to worry about my dog’s intake. The thought of dividing my dog’s food into little ten calorie portions in order to deduct that amount from his food total makes my head spin and, quite frankly, makes me fear for society. Is this where we are going, people? Are we going to expand our obsession with weight loss to include our furry friends? Because I do not want to go there.

Wherein I lose my zen talking about Nutella.

Posted on February 4, 2011 by Nicole Boyhouse

I spend many, many hours a week thinking about food. I spend hours grocery shopping and putting away groceries, hours preparing meals and cleaning up after meal preparation, hours baking bread and muffins and cookies, hours slicing up fruit and vegetables for school snacks. I spend a lot of time planning what the kids are going to eat and I feel I am very knowledgeable about nutrition and health. That is why when I read articles like this one about a woman suing Nutella for wrongful advertising of their product – specifically the claim that Nutella is part of a nutritious breakfast – I feel like the apocalypse is coming.

Clearly some people simply have a high need for attention that only a high-profile lawsuit can bring. The lawsuit claims that Nutella contains sugar and saturated fat – which is true – and that it is shown advertised alongside fruit, juice, and whole wheat bread as part of a healthy breakfast – also true – and that together, those are contributing to the North American childhood obesity epidemic. The lawsuit demands a corrective advertising campaign, and that all earnings from such advertising should be returned to the consumer. The consumer who, evidently, purchased Nutella in the belief that their lives would like those of the Nutella commercials, with happy, healthy, sporty children being fed by their happy, healthy, sporty mothers.

I really want to believe the best of people. I truly want to believe that people are basically good and making the best independent decisions for their children that they are capable of making. What I do not want to believe is that there is someone out there who was shocked when she, apparently, learned from friends that Nutella was high in sugar and fat. I guess you would need to learn this from friends if you were completely unable to read the label.

I have Nutella in my cupboard. Clearly we don’t eat it very often because I noticed it expired in December 2009, and I will be throwing it out after writing this, but I have purchased Nutella. As a treat. At no point did I think that eating Nutella straight out of the jar would be a great breakfast, just as I don’t think that eating Cocoa Puffs or similar to be a great breakfast. But then, I’m not a moron, and I am able to read nutritional information.

As an aside, nutritionally Nutella is not that much different from peanut butter, which is a staple in our house, my children being PB&J aficionados. Per one tablespoon serving, Nutella and peanut butter have the same amount of calories, same amount of fibre, same amount of iron. Peanut butter has one gram more protein and three grams more fat. Nutella has 0.5 grams more saturated fat. Neither have trans fats. Nutella has 11 grams of sugar per serving, peanut butter has 1, keeping in mind that a glass of milk has 12 grams of sugar. Essentially, having a breakfast of Nutella on toast would not be that much different from having peanut butter on toast, and if that was served with juice, milk, and fruit? Not too bad.

It is very important to do the best for our children in terms of nutrition. I cook healthy meals every day but allow for treats as well. Lawsuits like this infuriate me because they waste resources, they are obviously desperate bids for money and the spotlight, and my god, people, if you’re too stupid to read nutritional information then you are too stupid to be taking up valuable space in the news when there are so many more important issues to worry about.

What is really enraging is the inherent belief that purchasing an item will give you the life that you see on a commercial. Do consumers really believe that their mornings will be smiling, hearty, and unrushed with the purchase of Nutella? Do they think that the Pillsbury dough boy will pop out of their vacuum packed containers of biscuits and help with dinner, and the Hamburger Helper guy will kick a ball with their kids while they prepare their ground beef meal? Perhaps these same consumers purchase Cialis in the hopes that they too will be late arriving to the symphony due to newly reawakened unbridled sexual passion. I guess anything is possible.

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.