Category Archives: My failing sanity

I’ve got 99 problems, but after tonight chairing the School Council/ Parent Association will not be one of them.

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The long weekend is so early this year! It’s really thrown me off my game. I just realized that this is the earliest it can possibly be, so it’s not just me and my “What? Already?” feelings.

Adding to the panic-at-the-disco feeling is that – in addition to my husband being away earlier this week, and dealing with work deadlines – I’m scrambling to prepare for the last School Council/ Parent Association meeting of the school year, which is tonight. This is significant because it’s also the last meeting that I will chair, putting an end to my four years of tyranny and bossiness.

I have to say, I’m relieved. I felt like I was spread much too thin this year, and also that four years is a long time to chair anything, but especially a council that can be fraught at times. I did love doing it, though, don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing like getting all the insider information, developing relationships with all the school staff, and being the liaison between parents and the administration. It’s good stuff! But four years – as a friend just reminded me, that’s the length of a US presidency. Bush, Carter, Ford, and me – four-year presidents.

Unrelatedly, I have a hair appointment this afternoon. On the weekend, I caught my husband looking at me strangely. I initially assumed he was looking at me with adoration and lust, but that idea faded when he asked if I had a hair appointment scheduled for this week. WHAT ARE YOU SAYING. Maybe he had adoration and lust too, I don’t know.

Speaking of my life of glamour, this morning I was walking through the kitchen carrying a full laundry basket, and I slipped on a tiny puddle of water, left there from when Barkley drinks from his water dish and his fuzzy face drips on the floor. I wrenched my ankle a bit, but managed not to actually fall. My ankle’s a bit sore, but imagine if I had really hurt myself? That would have been embarrassing. How did you break your ankle again?

In any case, this afternoon I’ll be resting my ankle at the hair salon, while catching up on all of the gossip about unknown-to-me celebrities.

Do you feel lucky, punk?

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Yesterday I got an email saying that I was the possible recipient of $6.5 million dollars, due to the passing of someone who MAY be related to me. All the money was in a Tongan bank just waiting to be transferred. Then, this morning I got TWO emails from “China Shenhua” saying that “company picked your email as a lucky person for $1,000,000 and a new car.” All I could think of was Bob Barker’s voice: A NEW CAR.

By the way, have you seen Jesse Paul on a 2008 episode of The Price Is Right? I love The Price Is Right (PLINKO!) and I absolutely adore the super-excited audience members. Jesse Paul, however, takes the cake. Watch the clip and tell me if you don’t think he’s the single greatest contestant to be on the show. I still get to spin the wheel, right, Bob?

Anyway, I’m feeling pretty lucky, with my super-exciting inbox of winning today. Plus, you guys, it’s almost my birthday! I love birthdays. I love that I’m turning forty. It feels like this exciting new era, and also that I’ve joined a super-special club of the over-forties.

So I’m having a few people over on the weekend, and last week I went to Costco to stock up on snacky things and other necessities. Since we had the painters at the house, I went to Costco after lunch and OH MY GOD YOU GUYS what was I thinking? I guess I was thinking nothing at all, since I never go to Costco in the afternoon. In fact, the only time I’ve been there not first thing in the morning was the one time I zoomed over there when the kids were in karate and I had 45 minutes to get there and back. On that occasion, I didn’t even take a cart, I just loaded up four items in my arms and popped in and out. I did not realize what afternoon Costco was like.

I expected it to be busier, but it wasn’t significantly so. The issue wasn’t with the number of people, it was with the samples.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not hating on people getting samples. It’s cool. I’m sure they have lots of tasty treats, and for free, and fill your boots, but for the love of god, people, please move your carts. Those giant Costco carts are bad enough, but when there are six or seven of them lined up to get a free spoonful of Greek yogurt, it is impossible for the non-sampling population to get by and get on with their lives. I was literally trapped in the aisles, trying to edge past the lines of people sampling the wares. It was like a weird nightmare; I’d get to the end of the aisle and would not be able to get out. I’d turn my cart around, but by the time I did that more people were lined up on the other side for more samples. I even got a side-eye and under-the-breath muttering from some man who was under the impression that I was trying to budge in front of him, rather than get around him to get to the frozen berry section. Buddy, I’m not interested in your portion of ham on a cracker. You can have my share.

I’ve been on a kick lately where I am trying not to stock up on things; I’m trying to just use up what I have in the house, and only buy things I need. My canned goods cupboard was getting out of control. So, I’ve put myself on a buying moratorium; I make a list and I stick strictly to the list. Too many times I’ve thought maybe we need soap, bought a 12-pack of Dove, and come home to three unopened Costco-sized packages. In any case, while I was wheeling around the sampling population of Costco, I saw the giant Dove shampoo and conditioner bottles that I buy for the boys and my husband. I briefly wondered if I should buy some, but then I said to myself Nicole, it is not on the list, do not buy it, you do not need it. I stood in a giant lineup to check out and then I drove home, making several trips up and down the stairs to put things away. THIS is why Costco shopping is so exhausting – it’s the stair climbing that finishes me off.

Later that night, after his shower, Jake said to me, “By the way, Mom, the shampoo is empty.” I went downstairs to fetch another bottle and LO. There was no shampoo. There was no conditioner.

At this point, I fairly exploded. “I WAS JUST AT COSTCO!” I said. “YOU NEED TO TELL ME WHEN YOUR SHAMPOO IS ALMOST EMPTY!” I said this angrily to everyone in the house, including my husband, who said that the shampoo had a pump – he never picks it up – he didn’t know it was empty. People, I had to leave the room. I was disproportionately upset about this shampoo debacle. We did have other shampoo in the house. We just didn’t have that kind, and that was a tipping point for me. I was at Costco and I had to veer around herds of carts and people acted like I was going to take the popcorn sample right out of their mouths, and goddammit, we were out of shampoo. Kind of. I had to actually do some deep breathing, this was how upset I was. I kept trying to rationalize to myself that it wasn’t a big deal, but dammit, it was a big deal.

The very next day I got my period, which kind of cleared things up for me. It was, as Oprah says, an AHA moment. AHA! Do not shop at Costco right before ladies’ holidays, especially not in the afternoon.

Robbing my children of joy and wonder since 2004.

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It’s only 12:45 and I feel like I’ve already accomplished SO MUCH today; one of those accomplishments was “going to Costco.” I have discovered the key to non-frustrating Costco trips – other than Shopping Cart Karma – and that is to go more frequently for fewer things. Of course, this would not be feasible if I lived in a rural area, but I’m 15 minutes away from my nearest Costco and so that half-hour round trip made more frequently is well worth it to not almost die from the physical exertion of pushing several hundred pounds of things through the parking lot, and then unloading all those things from the car and putting them away, necessitating several dozen trips up and down the stairs. Smaller frequent trips = Costco happiness.

Longtime readers will remember how I used to loathe Costco with all my might; I’d spend all the time shopping steeped in resentment, and also I would be deep breathing for fear all those gigantic boxes would suddenly let loose and fall on me, killing me instantly. This was a silly fear for in all these times, I’ve only been almost killed once by a falling pile of tampon boxes. Well, “almost killed” is probably an over-statement. In any case, I actually ENJOY my Costco trips now; possibly because the children are growing so rapidly that they eat every single thing in sight. They MIGHT even have eaten these, if I had deigned to buy them:

kalechia

Ha! Just kidding. They’d never eat those. Hell, I don’t think I would eat those, and I am exactly the target market for such things. Kale and chia tortilla chips. Please. That’s too sad even for me.

It was insanely busy in there, but I amused myself the way I usually do when I’m in a giant lineup: by surreptitiously peeking at other people’s cart contents. It’s so interesting. I often wonder what people are going to make/ cook/ do with the variety of items. It’s a fun little game. For example, the man in front of me had nothing whatever except a giant pork tenderloin and a 1000-count box of Splenda packets. I wonder if people are looking at my cart, wondering about me, although my cart was a little boring today: mostly fruit – fresh, frozen AND dried – nuts, and chocolate, with a flat of Perrier thrown in for balance.

I also bought a few candy-type things for loot bags because…we’re planning a birthday party for Mark! This is big news; we haven’t had a kid birthday party for a few years – neither boy has wanted one, but this year, Mark does. Mostly, it’s going to be eight kids “hanging out” in my basement. I’m not going to lie: I’m slightly nervous at the thought of having EIGHT KIDS IN MY BASEMENT FOR FOUR UNSTRUCTURED HOURS but maybe it will be fine. Mark isn’t interested in party games or the like, so the vague plan is for the kids to play Just Dance and watch a movie on DVD, but we shall see. Hopefully it will be fine; as long as I remember to put away my husband’s free weights and reiterate that no one is allowed on the elliptical machine, there should be few injuries, at least. I’m sure the kids will have fun – there’s going to be pizza and a DQ Treatzza Pizza so ALL WILL BE FINE, RIGHT?

One thing that we are doing, and have done in the past, is eliminate the gifts and instead ask guests to bring food bank donations. This works well for us; Mark is a pretty charitably-oriented guy, and really doesn’t need a whole bunch of gifts – he has two sets of doting grandparents, aunts, and uncles, plus gifts from us. But the other day I saw an article in Today’s Parent about “No Gifts, Please” and the Facebook comments were as full of anger and vitriol as a piece on measles outbreaks. I know, I know, don’t read the comments. But really, you would have thought that, instead of focusing more on “good times with friends” and less on “unwrapping a ton of things to add to the million things in the kids’ room” meant “depriving child of all joy and wonder in life.” Well, if that’s true, so be it. My children will look back on their childhoods and say well, it was pretty good, except for the total absence of joy and wonder.

Speaking of joy and wonder, yesterday I had my hair coloured and cut – a week late, due to my pressing commitments as Book Fair Lady – and today I am having the best hair day ever. Soft, bouncy, shiny…and the only witnesses were the people shopping at Costco and the girls at the dog park. Due to the miracles of the modern age we live in, you are now witness to Nicole’s Best Hair Day of March 2015. Yes, I’m calling it now, I don’t care if it is only the fourth.

Hairday

SO much better than the before photo, am I right?

Nicknolte

The show is about NOTHING.

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Another book fair in the books! For those of you playing along at home, that was number fourteen, and it was by far the most successful book fair ever! We raised over $4700 for the library, home reading program, and English as a Learned Language program, which means that the total for THIS SCHOOL YEAR is $8200, far and beyond what our fundraising has been in the past. Yay for book fair! Now that I’m slowly coming to the final chapters of my years as Book Fair Lady, I’m starting to already feel nostalgic for it. The posters are five dollars, I said starting at 9:10 on the first day and then repeated that mantra many times over; this isn’t unusual, but it was unusual how unbothered I was by the question. Is this one hundred dollars? a child asked, holding up a highlighter shaped like a bottle of nail polish? No, I assured him, It’s one dollar.

100dollars

But it has two zeros at the end of it and that means one hundred! the child argued. Not wanting to get into a whole decimal point explanation with him, I sold him a pencil sharpener shaped like a fish.

I ran into a friend on the way into the book fair, and we laughed about the nail polish highlighters. But you can polish your nails with the highlighter! she joked, unwittingly foreshadowing the very first conversation I would have about those highlighters. How did she know?

Anyway, I’ve been feeling pretty good about the success about the fair, or I was until someone mentioned to me that it might be worthwhile to run another one, so we could have three a year. I stared blankly for a minute. Blink. Blink. I don’t think so…

In addition to the great excitement surrounding the book fair was Pink Shirt Day. I always, always vow to finally find or make a pink shirt for my kids, and I always, always forget until the day before, when it’s too late. Do your kids have Pink Shirt Day at school? It’s an anti-bullying movement sparked by a boy wearing a pink shirt. I feel that it’s a great thing to raise awareness about bullying – of course – but I have to tell you, it’s the bane of my existence. As I said, I never remember to buy/ make a pink shirt. I feel slightly weird about the whole thing, kids wearing their pink shirts with pride while I meanwhile know about certain girls pulling that emotional bullying stuff that only tween girls do so well. Also, one year one of my sons burst into tears at his lack of pink shirt; he assumed that everyone would consider him a bully for not having one. That year I had to pin a piece of pink paper on his shirt, frantically, because explanations were just not working. I also feel weird about the families who maybe cannot afford to buy a pink shirt that will go unworn for the remainder of the year. And yet, I don’t want to be the person who is NOT for Pink Shirt Day.

Our amazing principal saved the day, however, declaring that red and purple shirts were just as good as pink. Now that is some good leadership. I was relieved…until I discovered that for Jake, blue and green are the new black. What my drawer is for black sweaters, his is for blue and green waffle weave. We had to improvise with a karate t-shirt that had a red flag on it.

pinkshirt

Yesterday after school, Jake came out saying he couldn’t find one of his mittens. We do have spares at home, but these are not cheap mittens, and so I hustled him and Mark back to the school. We grabbed a door as someone was coming out just before it closed – the doors are locked for safety reasons – and as we waited for the kids to come out so we could go in, Mark leaned on the closed double door. The door snapped open with a child eager to get the funk out of school, smacking Mark directly in the face. Eeep! He had a huge lump on his forehead and has had a headache since then, but otherwise seems okay. I’m just happy it didn’t hit him in the nose, because it would have probably been broken. Small mercies, but with the help of Tylenol, an ice pack, and an episode of Seinfeld – which he currently professes to love – the swelling seemed to go down a bit.

Now, about this Seinfeld thing. I’ve seen every episode ever made, and I love that the kids are interested enough to watch with me. They think Kramer, Newman, and George are the funniest characters on TV – which they just might be. However, there are some adult themes (“It has come to my attention that you and the cleaning lady had sexual intercourse on your desk.”) that are slightly awkward, but the kids aren’t interested. Ew. If this is about sex, can you fast-forward? Yes. Yes I can.

bookfair

Happy weekend, everyone. I for one will be enjoying my wine, and also the new season of House of Cards! xo

Take The Wheel

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This afternoon marks the fourteenth book fair that I will set up. A few weeks ago I was dragging, thinking about it, when a few friends told me I should go back and read my post-book fair blog posts. It worked! I was motivated once again by the thought of happy kids, a happy school librarian, and my fleeting moment in the sun as the Book Fair Lady. This will be my fifth-to-last book fair that I will run in my life, so I guess I better make them count. One day, there will be no more questions about the cost of posters (FIVE DOLLARS) or if a cake pop-shaped pen is edible, or if I can order the latest Diary of a Wimpy Kid. And, just like the day I realized that the kids no longer crawl into my bed and wake me up on Saturday mornings, it will be bittersweet.

The task associated with the book fair that I dread most is photocopying, cutting, sorting, and distributing the little forms for the school-wide draw. It is a task that takes literally less than thirty minutes to complete but it hangs over me like a heavy black cloud. It’s not unlike how making a phone call for a dentist appointment is almost worse than the appointment itself. Oh my god, I have to pick up the PHONE and decide on a TIME and what if they have no good times AVAILABLE…

But happily the photocopying was done last week, I have my dream team of volunteers helping with everything this week (HI VOLUNTEERS IF YOU ARE READING THIS) and, as a bonus, it’s almost March! March is, as Pa Ingalls says with great cheer and terrible foreboding in The Long Winter, spring!

NOTE: March is not spring. But it is a happy kind of month, right? More sunshine, my wedding anniversary, Mark’s birthday, spring break…

Did you watch the Oscars last night? I did, although I haven’t seen any of the movies and, in fact, am so out of the loop that I don’t even know who 90% of the people are. I mean, I can still pick out Oprah and Stedman, and I was delighted to discover (two minutes before the show started) that Neil Patrick Harris was hosting. I know who Emma Stone is because I’ve seen her in a few movies and she was the actress who would play me in the movie version of my life, according to a Buzzfeed quiz I did a long time ago. Not only have I not seen the movies, I didn’t even know what movies were nominated or even vaguely what said movies are about. The one exception was Boyhood, and the only thing I really know about it is that it took twelve years to make. I read a review on Swistle’s blog and decided that it wasn’t for me. I don’t want to watch anything that might be upsetting.

jesus

I don’t know who this Jesus-lookalike is behind Patricia Arquette, but may I suggest “Jesus, Take The Wheel” as an alternate caption?

Apparently I’m okay with reading upsetting things, however, since I just finished The Goldfinch. I’d heard a lot of rave reviews about it, and I will say this: it is an extremely well written book with some very good plot twists. It did not end the way I expected, which I like in a book. However – and this will make me sound like a square, but hey, I am one – there is way too much drug usage in this book, in a gross, graphic way. NO ONE needs to read about that much vomit.

I needed a literary palate-cleanser after finishing The Goldfinch, so I dug out my old, ratty copy of Elvis and Me. Man, that is a bizarre story. Can you imagine being the parents of a fourteen-year-old girl who starts dating twenty-four-year-old Elvis Presley? And can you imagine being Elvis’ living doll who wears what he says to and develops a personality based on what he wants? It’s a strangely compelling story, one I read many times in my youth. I highly recommend it as light reading if you’ve just finished a depressing epic of a novel. It’s worth it just to look at photos like this:

priscilla priscilla2

The styles of the Sixties! How long do you think it would take her to wash and comb out that hair? That really puts my Eighties bangs to shame, I must say.

Ma’am, that is not a bunion.

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Today has been one of those crazy-hectic days that make me feel that if I stop moving, all will be ashes. Do you know what I mean? I am quite proud of myself, though, because this morning I managed to exercise, shower, have breakfast (and several cups of much-needed coffee), and get the kids to the dentist, all before 8 am. Please, no one try to talk to me after 8 pm tonight, though, because I will likely be in a semi-coma.

So, it’s been that kind of day, and I have exactly 10 minutes to write this post before picking up Mark for a podiatrist appointment. I cannot say the word podiatrist without giggling, thanks to my friend Janet (HI JANET). The other day I was complaining about a gynecologist; my scheduled gynecologist was sick, and I had to settle for her partner, who could be best described as “ham handed”. The man couldn’t find my cervix with a map and compass. He actually kept complaining about it; my mysteriously hidden cervix, which really made me feel like I was some kind of cavernous wasteland of womanhood. I mean, I’m pretty sure my cervix is at the end of my vaginal canal. I HAVE a cervix, it has to be in there somewhere. Isn’t that, to quote Miss Cornelia, just like a man? I don’t know about you, but if there is a missing item in my house, my house full of boys, then it is up to ME to find it. Maybe it’s a testosterone thing. Men in general seem to be lacking the ability to find missing household items; either that, or it’s a wretched learned behaviour. In any case, having a male gynecologist jabbing his speculum aggressively in my nether regions is unpleasant at best.

In any case, I was telling Janet (HI JANET) about this un-fun experience, and she suggested that perhaps the gynecologist was really a podiatrist, and was just too embarrassed to say anything. This is awkward, but ma’am, could you please put your underwear back on? That is NOT a bunion.

This morning I was listening to the radio, and there was a commercial about New Year’s Resolutions, Weight Loss, and Quitting Smoking via hypnotism. They were advertising for Raveen. Remember Raveen? I clearly recall Raveen commercials of my childhood, probably while watching The Price is Right. It seemed weird to me that Raveen would still be performing hypnotism, so I looked it up when I got home. People, Raveen died in 2013. What is up with the radio commercial? Is there a Raveen Junior? Is Raveen helping people from beyond the grave? I don’t know.

In any case, my ten minutes is up and I need to go to the podiatrist – or maybe the gynecologist, who knows? – so I hope you all are having a lovely day! xo

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For local people, I will be on Shaw Trending tomorrow morning from 10:00-11:00 am, on Channel 10. I’ll be talking parenting: free-range, helicopter, and toboggan hills. If you’re around, I’d love it if you’d tune in!

Late to the party!

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It seems like most of the world was busy ferrying their children back to school yesterday, but mine spent most of the day in their pajamas; it was, strangely enough, a PD day. I was glad it was a PD day though, because I was a little busy yesterday morning – I was on the local news!

That was a pretty fun and interesting start to the week; after that I came home to my life of glamour and made breakfast for the kids, washed the floors, and did the laundry. Today they are back at school and so we are mostly back to routine; I say mostly because the poor dog is desperate for a good walk but the snow and cold seems prohibitive to me. Tomorrow, Barkley, is only a day away.

It’s funny, because I was not at all nervous to go on live television in front of I don’t know how many viewers. A lot? We are a city of 1.1 million, and I’m assuming a decent percentage of them watch the morning news. Anyway, I wasn’t nervous at all about that but I was extremely nervous about driving to the studio.

A week or so ago, I received details about my segment and the address of the studio, which is located in an area of the city of which I am totally unfamiliar. My husband, being familiar with my driving anxiety, looked up the address and casually mapped out a few different routes, telling me which route he preferred and why. And this – this is one of the reasons I adore him, for his innate ability to zone in on the best possible route to anywhere. He factors in the approximate number of lights. He factors in the time of day of driving and possible traffic issues. He factors in my propensity to freeze up and panic in unfamiliar driving situations.

So, armed with detailed written directions, including how to get back home, which no, is not an obvious thing for me, I set out for a practice drive last Friday afternoon. My husband suggested that, if all else failed, I could pull over and type the address into the GPS, which is an insane suggestion. I will never, ever be fooled again into thinking that the GPS will actually get me to where I want to be, not after last year’s fiasco where I tried to drive to my brother’s house and ended up on a gravel road outside the city.

Here’s the thing I really hate about the GPS: if I somewhat know what route I want to take, and it’s not the route that the GPS thinks I should take, then I have to listen to the robotic voice suggesting that I make a U-turn somewhere in order to get onto the route the GPS is suggesting. Then, when U-turning on the highway is deemed impossible, it spends a significant amount of time saying “Recalculating. Recalculating. Recalculating.” until I feel like I’m going to have a nervous breakdown. The GPS is an evil, evil device.

When I woke up yesterday morning, it had snowed, and it was blowing snow, and the road reports were all talking about the delays that commuters would face and how poor the conditions were. Slightly panicked, I hauled my giant box of food to the car and left early. The conditions were bad; I had to resort to listening to talk radio, which I find soothing in bad driving conditions for some reason. The lanes on the road were not visible, so there was that thing where people make up their own lanes to drive in and it feels very willy-nilly, like at any moment someone is going to sideswipe your car. I remained calm, listening to the “Report on Business”, and ended up at the studio a full forty minutes early. Better early than late!

Speaking of television, about a month ago my husband started watching Game of Thrones. After viewing about thirty seconds of it, during which there was a beheading and two impalements, I decided this was not the show for me. Generally he would watch it after the boys and I went to bed, but during the holidays he watched a few episodes during the day, when the boys were busy with other things and I was reading or cooking. I ended up seeing a few minutes here and there and became a bit interested, to my husband’s chagrin since he had to pause the show every time I asked a question, which was often. Who’s that guy? Where did she get dragons from? Oooh that guy is creepy. He’s the king? Ugh, he’s creepy. Ew, she had sex with her brother? Wait, the king is a product of incest? Why isn’t his father the king? Ew. Why isn’t his grandfather the king, then? This doesn’t make sense. Who’s that guy? Wait, who’s she? Oh hey, it’s the guy from Downton Abbey.

Eventually I got semi-caught up on the major plot points, although I couldn’t remember any names and had to keep referring to characters by a ridiculously long description such as “the red haired woman who is married to the Peter Dinklage character” or “the guy who was Sir Richard on Downton Abbey but he’s way better looking in this show”. I found it so intriguing, actually, that I’m considering reading the books. Has anyone read them and would you recommend them? Given that I just finished the delightful “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?”, I feel like I could tackle something a bit heavier.