Category Archives: I love my friends

NEVER AGAIN

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My husband has taken three consecutive weeks off of work this summer. Such a thing has never happened before. The result was we spent five days at the lake with my parents – during which we left the kids for a night and road-tripped to Jasper, just the two of us – then after less than 20 hours at home, we left again for ten days with his parents. It was a lot of fun, but I am definitely glad to be home again, not the least because I put on jeans this morning and had to jump around just to get them on. I have Post-Vacation Too-Tight Pants Syndrome. Thank goodness for long shirts, is all I can say at the moment. Who knew that averaging four drinks a day over a two week period would cause weight gain and bloating?

We got home yesterday, and I was a bit distressed at the state of my garden; the city had been hot and dry while we were gone, and my plants were a bit crunchy. We put the sprinkler on for a few hours, rotating it carefully around the yard, when a gigantic thunderstorm hit and we received several hours of steady rain. The garden is no longer crispy.

This vacation marks the first time ever that I have under-packed, and I shall never do it again. I packed three skorts, a few tank tops, two beach dresses, and some bikinis, along with a pair of knee-length yoga pants and some very light t-shirts. I figured the weather was going to be too hot to need pants or sweaters, and things are pretty casual on the vineyard. Wouldn’t you know, the first two days were cooler than normal, rendering my light pants-less wardrobe insufficient, AND we got invited to a fairly dressy function, to which I wore a striped beach dress and sandals dating from 2009. Never again will I travel without my usual five pairs of shoes and little black dress just in case. Packing light is not for me. NEVER AGAIN.

I was largely unplugged for the vacation, save for a few things I had to do for work. I did, however, witness outrage about the killing of Cecil the lion, followed by outrage about the outrage, followed by photo memes that dealt with the following: a) why should we be outraged by a lion’s killing when there are so many human rights violations in the world, b) photos of farm animals captioned “If I was a lion, would you care about me?”, and c) photos of fetuses captioned “If we were selling lion body parts, would you care?”

HONESTLY PEOPLE. Mass outrage and then mass outrage about mass outrage and then MEMES about mass outrage about mass outrage showcases everything that is wrong in the world today. I love the internet and I certainly do not want to go back to the days of the rotary phone and looking things up in the Encyclopedia Britannica, but this – what my friend Swistle calls The Giant Internet Hand of Spanking – is one of my least favourite things. And to top it off, there is an election coming up. Two elections, if you happen to have friends in both the US and Canada. God help us all.

I don’t know how you feel, but the prelude to an election makes me long for the days when you didn’t really know where acquaintances’ political sympathies lay, unless you noticed a campaign sign on their front lawns or a pointed letter to the editor in your local newspaper. To me, politics is just too intimate to discuss; I find conversations about elections to be awkward and uncomfortable, not unlike someone telling me about their partner’s proclivity for porn or their own fantasies of being the girl in 50 Shades of Grey. These are things that I don’t want to know, it’s information that I just don’t want to have. Just like I don’t want to hear someone’s husband’s name and the words “loves anal” in the same sentence, I don’t want to know anyone’s voting preferences, unless we are very good friends, and then it is okay but I still prefer not to talk about it. I prefer my Facebook feed to be filled with photos of pets, kids, vacations, and what you ate on the 30 Day Shred. More puppies, less politics – maybe I should make it a hashtag.

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Scaredy Nicole Wears Blue. This Was Not Part Of The Plan!

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This weekend I got on my bike for the first time since 2003. I know! It felt like quite the undertaking. I stopped going for bike rides when I was pregnant with Mark, and then I never started again. My husband rides with the kids, but the truth is I’m not a strong rider, I cannot ride in traffic without panicking, and I just can’t deal with worrying about the kids riding WHILE I’m riding. But the kids are now at an age where they are perfectly competent, and they’ve expressed interest in “family bike rides” and so I thought riding up at the lake, where there is little traffic and few things to worry about, might be just the ticket. I also remembered how shocked the kids were to learn that I actually know how to swim, and so I thought in some way I should show them that their mother is actually capable of riding a bike.

So my husband dragged my bike out of storage, and tuned it up a bit. I went out and bought a bike skirt because if I’m going to spend any amount of time doing an athletic activity, I want to do it looking nice.

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My friend Alice (HI ALICE) expressed concern about the colour. She thought the blue was too bright for me, and that I resemble a flower, and will get swarmed by marauding butterflies. If this happens, I will probably die. Or scream.

Anyway, I nervously rode with the boys and it was pretty fun, so I guess we are going on family bike rides now. It’s one of my goals to be more sporty and active with the kids, and as long as I have a cute outfit, I’m good to go. Right?

A friend (HI JOANNE) posted a long quote about embracing yourself as you are and I just have to share the last part:

 I don’t want to waste one more precious, livable moment being anything other than totally thrilled that I’m here! I’m alive! I get to live every day in this body that my soul chose and my only job is to honor it with a full life!”
~ Christina Vanvuren

So I guess I’ll be bike riding more often. I’m not sure if ANYONE is capable of being in a state of thrill every second of every day, but it’s good to remember that it is good to be alive.

Social media is a funny thing, isn’t it? For the most part, I love it, and not just because I have a job based on it. I really like to peek into other people’s lives and celebrate their little victories and happiness. I love photos of pets, kids, and vacations. I love selfies, recipes, pictures of what someone had for dinner, and links to funny or interesting stories. Most of all, I love personal stories. The other day, a woman I know from yoga (HI LAURA) posted an anecdote in which she and her one year old son were in Starbucks and were approached by an elderly lady with dementia. This elderly lady thought that Laura’s baby was her own grandson, and instead of correcting her, Laura sat down and had visited with her. Not one out of one hundred people would do that, I think. What a kindness. This has stayed in my thoughts and has given me a goal to be more open and kind. Think about it – what a gift she gave that lady, the gift of dignity and kindness. I want to be more like Laura.

Then there’s the flip side of social media, the passive aggressive updates, the angry link posting and the threads that follow, the invitations to express differing views followed by the total rage that results from people expressing differing views. I’ve actually seen friendships – actual, real-life friendships – disintegrate over vaccination discussions and political decisions. Just this weekend, someone posted a piece about the price of starter homes. The thread that followed was basically many people agreeing that no one but the very rich can afford to buy a house, and buying a house is stupid anyway. Then one of my friends very reasonably and calmly commented that, by making informed decisions and figuring out where one’s priorities lie, most people can in fact purchase a home. He also – very reasonably – pointed out that the definition of “starter home” is possibly flawed; a 2500 square foot house with all new appliances might not fit this description.

I strongly agree with this last point. My husband and I bought this house in 2000, and it was in terrible shape at the time. The living room was bright pink with shiny forest green trim, and featured a giant fireplace with gold-toned rock work. The basement was panel board and linoleum, the kitchen had five different – but coordinated! – patterns of wallpaper, and the bathroom had BROWN FIXTURES. The kitchen cupboards and drawers were homemade in 1962 and required a great deal of strength to open and close them. The linen cupboards smelled like ginger and garlic had gone in there to die and the gardens were completely overrun by weeds and grass. That, my friends, is a starter home.

But I digress. After my friend made these very reasonable points, and also drew on his own experiences and setbacks, he was immediately attacked by the other commenters. People said some really mean, cutting things, and THAT is what I hate about social media. I hate the pretence that everyone is open minded and can express opinions freely, but if someone does that, then they get attacked. I hate that people say things that they very likely would not say face to face, and most of all, I hate when people follow up a mean comment with a smiley emoticon and/ or an “lol!”. THE LOL DOES NOT CANCEL OUT WHAT YOU SAID, PEOPLE.

Well, we can’t control what others do, we can only control our own reactions and behaviour, and that’s why there’s the “I don’t want to see this” option. And in the meantime, I will be thinking to myself “What Would Laura Do?” Laura probably wouldn’t write a blog post about what she hates about social media. Hmm. Too late now, and so if I do get swarmed by marauding butterflies, it will be karma, I guess. xo

Lordy, lordy

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I turned forty yesterday, and if the past few days are an indication of the decade to come, then I think my forties are going to be amazing.

We had a party on the weekend, and the only downside is that I’m probably getting wrinklier by the minute, given that my face was like this for most of it:

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You will note that I am wearing a sash. I had a matching tiara as well; the same friend who brought those two items also brought a bottle of Baby Duck and at around 1:45 am, I partied like I was 16 years old:

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Wow, that stuff is bad. And yes, you read that right – 1:45 am. I STAYED UP PAST TWO IN THE MORNING OMG.

So, it was a memorable birthday, made even more memorable by my husband’s friends serenading me in the manner of Maverick and Goose in Top Gun, which has long been a dream of mine. FINALLY THE DREAM CAME TRUE. From the moment I heard you never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips to the final ba dum, ba dum, ba dum dum DUM, I was on cloud nine. Much, much more to be said about this on the throwback blog next week.

By the way, if you’re not reading Throwing It Back, you should. So far I’ve recapped Deenie by Judy Blume, Allison has talked Mr. Dressup and Girl Guide Camp, and, most recently, Hannah recalls with fondness “Wok With Yan,” which may have somehow inspired my love of apron culture. I have it on good authority that we’ll see something about Gilbert Blythe tomorrow.

Gilbert! He seemed to be the first crush of every Canadian girl growing up in the Eighties, and I was no exception. In fact, he made it on my Sexiest Men Of Years Past list, a.k.a., the guys I used to crush on. RIP Jonathan Crombie. We will always be Carrots to you.

In other news, it is really and truly spring in Calgary. I know! I haven’t wanted to say anything because I haven’t wanted to jinx it, but we have had a mild, dry winter and it’s been a warm, dry spring. There are downsides – grass fires ahoy! – but the past few days I have been working in the garden and my perennials are all growing – with the exception of the hostas, which never make an appearance before May. Although, perhaps I shouldn’t say that because my clematis is already up – and that never happens until May – and it is also, strangely, showing new growth on the old vines. THE APOCALYPSE IS NIGH. Well, I’ll take it, especially after last year’s Planet Hoth-like winter.

 Speaking of the beauty of Mother Nature and also Planet Hoth, it’s Earth Day today and besides feeling slightly smug because my kids ALWAYS have litterless lunches and snacks, I participated in the Google Doodle quiz about what kind of animal I am. I cannot resist such quizzes; whether it be what Downton Abbey character I am or what genre of music represents me best, what is my age based on the men I find attractive (28, what is up with that) or what US city should I live in based on my astrological sign, I will always take the quiz. And so I participated in Google’s quiz and found out the following:

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If anyone needs any heavy lifting, my giant tusks and I are here for you. xo

How To Enjoy The Holidays Without Losing Your Mind

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Is it me or is everyone insane right now? I’m not talking about all the sad things that are going on in the world – I will not talk about them, actually – but I’m talking about regular, everyday people who are so loaded down with forced jollity that they are ready to snap. If you have even one child in even one activity, you know that of which I speak. Why does the week before Christmas have to be packed full with six months’ worth of holiday festivals/ dinners/ parties/ concerts? I’ll tell you why; if even one activity decided NOT to have a festive December celebration, there would be complaints a-plenty.

Again, I know of what I speak. Our school does not have a Christmas concert – for the very good reason that we have a solid 25% Muslim population and another solid percentage of children who do not celebrate Christmas. Hey, that’s cool by me. Personally I would rather NOT have to book off an evening to see my children unenthusiastically playing the recorder, especially if it is at the cost of other children feeling badly about their cultural heritage. And yet, for all the years (FOUR) that I’ve been School Council/ Parent Association chair, I have heard complaints about this lack of a concert. People. There is enough to do. Don’t complain.

So this is why every dance school, sports club, extracurricular activity has a festive party, and this is why December becomes a gong show of show me your holly jolly. Even my kids’ karate dojo hosts a Candy Cane Shiah, which is fine, but if the kids had more than just the one activity I’d probably feel put-upon.

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I seem to under, rather than over-schedule.

I get it. I totally do. But the thing is, I’m not feeling the stress. Here’s why: I have one thing planned this week, and it’s getting my hair coloured. I have secrets, people, secrets for alleviating holiday stress, that only kind of rely on wine consumption.

Nicole’s Secrets For Alleviating Holiday Stress

Say “Fuck It All”

Well, maybe not ALL. But fuck a lot of the stuff that you supposedly HAVE to do in December. Make a list of all the concerts, dinners, lunches, parties, and other festivities that you have committed to. Then cross off every single thing that isn’t an absolute necessity. You aren’t going to be able to cross off your child’s dance recital. You aren’t going to be able to cross off the Holiday Recorder Performance. Pretty much unless you are watching your child onstage, you don’t need to go. Potlucks, parties, etc., all those things are not necessary. Sure, if you want to, and you have the energy and a plateful of cookies you want to share, then go for it. But really, your friends will understand if you can’t make three parties in one evening. If you feel really bad about it, throw your own cocktail party in January or February, when nothing else is going on.

Let It Go, Let It GOOOOOOO

We all have things that are important to us around the holidays. For example, I have a friend who makes magazine-photo-worthy gingerbread houses (HI SUE) and another friend whose beautiful cookies could be featured in Oprah’s Favourite Things or maybe Martha Stewart Living (HI LIV) and that is fabulous. But if I tried to do that, I would end up in the bathroom with a bottle of wine, singing Santa Baby and crying. So I let the kids go to town on the gingerbread, with the following result:

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It’s cool. I don’t mind gingerbread men with the word “BUTT” on them, or gingerbread men that have been decapitated and are missing limbs, all in the name of artistic expression. I don’t mind that the kids decided that it would be fun to have gingerbread men glued to the roof of the gingerbread house, with the illusion that said gingerbread men are sliding to their death. It’s okay by me.

The rule is, if it’s not super-important to you, don’t stress. Don’t even do it. If you feel exhausted even thinking about holiday baking, go to your nearest bakery and buy some cookies. PROBLEM SOLVED. But…

If It IS Important, OWN IT

It’s okay to want those perfect cookies; if it’s within your reach, do it! Enjoy every minute! For me, the Thing That Is Very Very Important is our annual Christmas card. It takes me a long time to choose the perfect photos, and to arrange them just so, and to get the wording right. Then I make my list and write out the cards, with little handwritten notes, and it is, to me, a Very Big Deal.

Now, here comes the rule for this one: What is Very Important to you may not be At All Important to someone else. This is also okay. This is freeing, in fact. You see, before I recognized this rule, I would have Hurt Feelings when I spent time sending off my carefully-thought-out cards and the sendee did not reciprocate. But realizing that getting a traditionally-mailed Christmas card is No Big Deal to some people is important. It means that I no longer send my card to those people. It might not be the Christmas spirit, but if I send a card, I want one back. If a person isn’t interested in the Christmas card exchange as an actual exchange, then I won’t send one.

There are some exceptions, of course. Certain family members will always get a card, so will friends that are ill or are otherwise unable to reciprocate. But other than that, I want to send my cards only to people who also value sending and receiving cards, rather than e-cards or a frantic email sent on Christmas Eve detailing why they haven’t sent cards again this year. It’s okay, non-card-sending people. We can say Merry Christmas another way. We can still be the best of friends, even if we don’t exchange cards! In fact, we will probably be BETTER friends, because I won’t have Hurt Feelings about it.

Delegate The Things You Hate

For me, the thing I hate is wrapping gifts. I am terrible at it. I have friends (HI REBECCA AND LYNDSEY) who love wrapping; they love their sparkly paper and ribbons, they love making plain boxes beautiful. Me? I’m always cutting the paper too short or too long, so I either have a paperless gap on a box, or a giant bunched up wad at the ends. The ribbon never curls and I need too much tape. Then my hair starts to fall out and I somehow get long red hairs randomly stuck on the Scotch tape. If I had my choice I would just stuff everything in gift bags but SOMEONE (read: my husband) insists on having rip-open-kind-of-gifts.

So guess who gets to wrap gifts in our house! My husband is very handy with the wrapping paper, but of course, I can only delegate so much. He can’t wrap his own gifts, after all, which brings me to…

Chip Away At It

My old boss, when we had a large trading position he wanted to get rid of, would say “Let’s just chip away at it.” When I have something I do not look forward to doing – gift wrapping, for example – I chip away at it. Ten or fifteen minutes a day of concentrated effort over a few days usually does the trick. That way I don’t sit, overwhelmed, staring blankly at a pile of gifts and rolls of paper.

Speaking of chipping away at things, here’s a great trick to make holiday baking super easy: make gingerbread or sugar cookie dough in October or November, and freeze it. Then take it out sometime in December, roll it out and cut into shapes, and voila! Easy peasy. Get your kids to decorate them with butt-related décor and everyone will be happy.

Shop Early, Shop Often

It’s too late to implement this now, but bookmark this for next year: start your shopping early. Swistle (HI SWISTLE) gave me the idea of buying gift cards one at a time, starting in September. It’s a great way to spread out the cost of Christmas, too. I also save my credit card “points” that swap for gift cards and use those for teacher’s gifts. This year I also bought a huge box of Lindor chocolates at Costco in October, and divided them amongst the non-main teachers for the kids – music teachers, etc. – and then I put them in brown paper bags that the boys’ wrote on, folded over the top, punched a hole in the top, and tied shut with a ribbon. Easy and somehow whimsical.

Look at it this way, the earlier you can finish your shopping – including online shopping – the more time you have to NOT be stressed out about gifts. Unless, of course, you are one of those people who actually like the mall in December. If you are, I salute you. You are stronger than I.

Hannah (HI HANNAH) mentioned this great idea: when grocery shopping in the months prior to Christmas, stick a few extra canned goods in your cart each time you go, so you are prepared for those holiday food bank drives. I know my kids tend to remember the night before they need to bring in canned goods, leaving me to dig through my cupboards and wonder if coconut milk is an acceptable donation, and where are all my chickpeas? It’s easier if you have extra beans or tomatoes that you can draw on.

Remember This Isn’t A Test

Unless you are actually having a magazine photo shoot at your house, there is no need to have the picture-perfect tree, lights, wrapped gifts, and food. Unless you have someone coming to your house and eating off your floors, your floors do not have to be clean enough to eat off of. There is no exam, this is not a pass or fail venture. So if you don’t make it to the mall to meet Santa, if you forget to move your shelf elf, if you have to leave Oreos instead of home baked cookies out for Santa, IT IS OKAY. Give yourself some love, pour yourself some Bailey’s, and remember – your family will appreciate a happy, relaxed mother more than a harried one that spent three hours that she didn’t have making sparkly reindeer food. You’re doing fine.

Something strange in the neighbourhood

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You guys, you guys, YOU GUYS. Someone has been playing with the creepy mannequin behind my house.

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As unnerving as it was seeing the dead-body-ish leg poking out from behind the pile of branches, it was nothing compared to driving home on a Sunday morning to see the mannequin rising, Lazarus-like, from the dead. The dog keeps growling at it from across the alley. I keep forgetting it’s there; I’ll back the car out of the garage and see it in the rearview mirror, and I gasp every time, EVERY TIME. I’m like Dr. Kimble: there was a one-armed man, you must find him. The fact that he is creepily standing at attention, staring into my backyard, is kind of getting to me. A few people have suggested I make friends with it; maybe take it a toque or a scarf, or at least cover up its junk – it’s cold out, we wouldn’t want the fellow to be suffering embarrassment due to shrinkage.

A couple of people have suggested I throw it in my garbage can, but really, this is a life-sized mannequin. Plus, just in case it was involved in some sort of kinky bedroom play, I don’t really want to touch it. Ew!

In other strange news, yesterday I took Barkley to the dog park and there were at least twenty-five little tiny dogs there, all wearing sweaters and all barking madly. It was strangely unnerving. I wondered if they were barking in fury because they were wearing sweaters, or maybe were they taunting the other, non-sweater wearing dogs. Maybe they were showing off: I’m wearing a sweater look at meeeeeee. Who can say? I can only comment that Barkley seemed unimpressed; he did not greet or sniff any of the yappy, sweater-clad dogs. Maybe he feels left out, like he showed up to the party wearing jeans when everyone else was in fancy dresses. Or, more appropriately, he went to the Ugly Sweater party in a regular outfit.

It was a bit of an odd weekend, and not just because of the raised-from-the-dead mannequin or the doggie sweater party that Barkley wasn’t invited to. The much-anticipated new washing machine that was delivered on Friday was found to have a hole in the drain hose. And this is where I give all you unmarried people a piece of advice: if you, like me, are untalented in the “handy” area, and you have a tendency to burst into tears when faced with a problem requiring handiness, MARRY A HANDY PERSON. Because my god, I was weepily grateful for my husband who was able to jury-rig a solution for me using duct tape and some clamp thingies. The hose – for those who are interested – is “housed internally” and so a repairman is being sent out, since the hose was not easily replaceable on a Friday night, with a crying wife standing amid a mountain of laundry. In any case, the repairman for my brand new washer which should be a thing of beauty and not a cause for my nervous breakdown is coming tomorrow, but at least the temporary – if ugly – solution is working and my mountain of laundry is no longer.

My husband and I headed out to Canadian Tire on Saturday morning, to get the clamp thingies, which surely have a name that I do not know, and we somehow ended up with icicle lights, a light-up deer in a grazing position, and a gigantic LED outdoor Christmas tree. Christmas decorations AND a working washing machine? These are things to be grateful for indeed!

Snow-pocalypse

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It has been such a strange week. It started out like this:

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Which morphed into this:

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We put on a happy face, after all, the kids were all building snow forts and having a blast. The snow was going to melt, so no big deal, right?

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Yesterday morning I drove to yoga at my usual early time. The snow was falling heavily and the streets were slushy. I felt a bit anxious about it, so I had an abbreviated practice and headed home a bit early, thinking I could get my husband to have a head start and beat the traffic. Soon, I realized that his car’s summer tires would never do for the conditions, so when I got home at 6:45 I told him that he should probably consider taking the train to work. He gave me the following information: giant branches were breaking off our Manitoba maple in the front yard, and there was a stabbing at the train station, so it was closed for investigation.

I turned on the news just in time to see that the stabbing investigation was over and the station was now open for the morning commute, and just as I was relaying that happy piece of news, the power went off. And stayed off. We had no power, no phone, and the route to school was full of giant trees, all of which were losing branches. My cell phone was only partially charged, and so I trudged off early with the boys, still dressed in my sweaty yoga clothes, with no makeup and dirty hair, hoping the power was on at the school so I could charge my phone, and avoiding any and all large trees on the way. We made it without being hit by falling branches, and the teachers immediately took pity on me, plugging in my phone, making me coffee, and offering to toast me a bagel. I was reminded how lucky I am to live in a neighbourhood where the kids can walk to school, and to be part of a school community that is truly kind.

I tried to be helpful in the school office for a while, and then decided I would walk back home and…read a book? I wasn’t sure what to do, exactly, when my phone rang. My two dear friends asked me to meet them at the neighbourhood Starbucks. Why not? My to-do list wasn’t exactly to-do-able. As I left the school I saw a tree fall down in the middle of the busy road, blocking traffic, and several large branches fall on the stopped cars up and down the boulevard. Once I got to Starbucks, my friends had bought me a giant vanilla soy latte, and informed me that I was NOT going home to my cold, dark house, but instead I was going to my friend’s, that had power and an extra computer in case I needed to do some work. She also insisted that the boys come to her place for a hot lunch. I was reminded how lucky I am to have friends who get me, who knew I would never ask.

After lunch my other dear friend drove me back to my house so I could let the dog out for a while. We pulled up to see devastation – giant branches littering the front yard, the sidewalk, and the walkway. My tree! My friend went to the back yard, picked up a hoe, and started knocking as much snow as she could off of the other trees and shrubs. We did this for a while and it really helped; the other front tree, the Mayday, suffered minimal damage. I was reminded how lucky I am to have friends who just pitch in and help.

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All in all it was pretty depressing, although by the time the kids and I came home after school, the power was back on. The power was back on! Never have I been so thrilled to be able to switch on a light. I was reminded how lucky I am to be in a cozy, warm house, with hot water and a fridge full of food.

After dinner, my neighbours came by with a chainsaw and bandsaw, and they helped move the branches onto the lawn and off the walkways. I was reminded how lucky I am to be in a neighbourhood with heart.

This morning the sun came out. Everything looks better in the morning, don’t you think?

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The thing is, there are so many great people in my life. I’m just surrounded by them. I have very little patience for people who are selfish, people who are unkind, people who thrive on making other people feel bad. We need to spend our time celebrating the good people, and to spend zero time thinking about the toxic ones. I’m so lucky to have all of you in my life, and you know who you are. xoxoxo

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Happy fall with the Manitoba maple, 2008.

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Sex Ed, Who-Gives-A-Fuck-About-Volunteering, and The Simpsons

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Today I realized that as of tomorrow, there are only three more weeks left of school! June is a bit of an odd month, isn’t it? On the one hand, I’m desperately ready for the summer to begin – lazy days, no more running back and forth to the school six times a day, no more volunteering (more on that later). I’m ready for sunshine, fun, and unscheduled days. But on the other hand, I’m really trying not to wish my life away since time flies quickly enough without me wishing for these beautiful, sunny, gardening-full days to be over. Also, I’m a little puzzled as to how I’m going to get all my work-at-home work done when the kids are home. I’ll figure it out, I’m sure, but at the moment I’m wondering how I’ll strike the right balance between “meeting deadlines in a reasonable manner” and “being a fun mom and creating summer memories that the children will cherish throughout their lives”. We shall see.

Speaking of fleeting time, Mark brought home the permission slip for me to sign for the study of Human Sexuality. Eeeee, sex ed! I instantly texted my husband the news, who was confused and thought that I had to sign the permission form for him to take it next year, in Grade Five. NOT SO. I know that in fourth grade they really mostly talk about body changes, puberty, and hygiene – which, to be honest, a lot of the kids could use, I say from my experience as Book Fair Lady. Deodorant and toothpaste, two very vital items in the Division Two world. But still, sex ed. It seems so grown up. “It might feel awkward and embarrassing, but you can always ask questions!” I said cheerfully, from the minivan driver’s seat. “Um, I think maybe we should ask DAD those questions,” Mark replied. YES. GOOD IDEA. ASK YOUR DAD.

Volunteering, though. I have what is known as “volunteer fatigue” which means that I have lost all enthusiasm I ever had for doing things for the school. I remember when Mark started kindergarten, and I was so thrilled to be involved in everything, with fresh ideas and plans. Now I’m just like fuck it all, who cares about school supplies anyway. I was asked to speak at the kindergarten orientation tomorrow night, which I’ve done in years past. Sure! No problem. I can come in and give a five minute speech about how volunteers are the backbone of the school community and education is a partnership between home and school, and please volunteer for the upcoming casino fundraiser, it’s awesome and we can buy SmartBoards. I can keep the cynicism at bay and put on my super fun enthusiastic face and all the cool kids are volunteering! But then I got an email asking me to come in at six, set up a table with handouts, and then be available for informal questions until 7:30. THE BEES ARE DOING WHAT NOW. I stewed about this for a bit, and wondered how on earth I could pull off such a thing, given that tomorrow the boys have karate and karate nights are a mad rush of everything. I grumped around feeling taken advantage of, until I realized that hey, this is a volunteer gig. I can change this. BE THE CHANGE YOU WANT TO SEE, PEOPLE. I emailed the AP and explained that I could do as she suggested, but maybe it would be more effective to give a brief speech about the importance of volunteering and the casino fundraiser, and then I could leave a signup form, and that would be my strong preference. She agreed to it all, and I was reminded that, yet again, the squeaky, but honey-sweet wheel gets all the grease and bees. Or something.

Sugar

In America, first you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the women.

On Monday I was at a pie party, to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Rolling Spoon. If you’re not reading it, you should: it’s a fun mix of food and music. Also, they interviewed BLUE RODEO. Just like that time I met Jim Cuddy! Remember that? No?

Copy (1) of Jim Cuddy

Gratuitous photo of me with Jim Cuddy.

But a pie party! Even though I don’t actually like pie, it was a blast. It turns out that I am in the vast minority, here, and that pie is very popular. Look at all these pies!

pie

Can you tell which is my offering? It’s the vegan one. Made with 100% real vegans.

I have to say, I’m pretty disappointed no one put a slice on the floor and yelled “FLOOR PIE!”.

floorpie

Maybe next time.