Category Archives: My failing sanity

I still kind of hate The Diary of a Wimpy Kid though.

Posted on by

Anyone else exhausted this week? I would blame it on the time change but I was gently chided by a few people – including my husband, for whom time change is meaningless and unimportant, apparently, despite the fact that it turns his wife into a rage-against-the-machine crusader – for complaining too much about said time change. All right then, I will blame it on the fact that I wake up at 4:30 am, which is really 3:30 am by last week’s standards. I will also blame it on the fact that the children are now giggly and full of mirth and hilarity at 9:00 pm and are having trouble falling asleep and then are strangely and uncharacteristically snappy with one another all day, and have been since the time change. I am sure these are unrelated phenomena. I admit, my rage against this outworn and useless concept is completely impotent and futile, and yet rage and complain I continue to do. Some people complain about government policies, some people complain about attitudes towards breast feeding and home births, still others complain about Lululemon, the education system, parking fees, animal rights, rescue dogs, and icy walkways. I COMPLAIN ABOUT TIME CHANGE.

I’m so tired. The battery died in the clock downstairs, where my office is, and I keep forgetting to change it. The clock is stuck at 10:37, and as a creature of habit I continue to look at it every five minutes throughout the day. Each time I am startled anew that it says 10:37, and then remind myself that it is incorrect. But then yesterday morning it actually WAS 10:37 when I looked at the clock, and I was completely disoriented for a while.

Every year for Mother’s Day my mom and I go together to get pedicures at our favourite spa, and every year I forget that I need to book early or the whole month of May is completely reserved and we end up getting our Mother’s Day pedicures in June. Not this year! I remembered to book early – although Mother’s Day weekend is completely full, I did reserve us a time in May. While I had the receptionist on the phone, I thought to confirm my wax appointment for next week. It was all settled. “Thank you!” I said cheerfully, “See you next Tuesday!” I hung up the phone, realized what I had said, and wondered what the receptionist’s reaction was, if any.

I just looked at the clock again. I really need to change the battery.

Time change did coincide with some lovely weather: suddenly the frigid air has disappeared and the snow is all melting into giant, lakelike puddles and rivers. I take Barkley for a walk and when we return the top half of him is huge and fluffy, and the bottom half is bedraggled and soggy. The water runs like a miniature river down the pathway at the offleash, and in the mornings it’s frozen and treacherous. I’m leaving the house wearing my lightweight winter coat and lined rain boots, and it feels like a miracle.

It feels like the days when the kids were little and the weather would finally break and I could take them outside. We would walk around the block, the boys wearing rubber boots and warm layers, and they would puddle jump. After a winter of being inside, it felt like a miracle to be out and walking around; those long endless days that ended.

both Jake Mark

 

That was what we would do for fun, on an early spring afternoon. And now I have these big little kids who greet me after school and then rush away into the slushy school field to play some obscure game featuring battlefields and snakes, who get just as soaked as when they were small but the difference is now I don’t have to carry them home, their wet boots leaving mud on my jeans. Now I have these guys who argue about the correct word for a seven-sided shape, who talk incessantly about Minecraft at the dinner table, who ask me serious questions about being popular and what is my favourite gemstone, who want to be black belts and grow up and make lots of money to buy a flashier car than the one their dad drives, but who still want me to read to them from The Diary of a Wimpy kid at bedtime. They still want me to give them brief, man-like hugs before they head to their line-ups in the morning, and they fist-bump me to say goodbye. It breaks my heart just the tiniest bit, but it also makes my heart grow when I see what they’re growing up to be. And when I’m tired, so tired like this, they tell me to take it easy, maybe go to bed early, and not worry about them, they’re fine. They really are.

boys

Welcome to Crazytown, Population: Me.

Posted on by

I know I seem all easy going and flexible, but the reality is I am a very rigid person. Each week I write in my day-timer – the old-fashioned PAPER kind, can you imagine? – the tasks that I need to do that week. Some of the tasks are everyday housekeeping ones: what I’m making for dinner each day and what I’m baking that week and on which day, along with chores like cleaning the bathroom, dusting, changing the sheets. I write down which days I’m doing what and I stick with it. If, for some strange reason, I wash the floor on Monday when I had written down Tuesday, I cross off “floors” on Tuesday and re-write it into Monday, even after the fact. Other things I write down are recipes that I’m writing and photographing, blog post ideas, and, of course, regularly scheduled things like the boys’ karate classes or hair appointments.

When I have a week like this one, where my to-do list is very long and filled with things that must – MUST – be done by a certain time, well, I rigidly schedule my days so I can accommodate those things. I have a basic timeline in my mind and I stick to that timeline like it’s the answer to all the world’s problems. When I was in university, I would schedule my study times in a very exact way: microeconomics from 10:15-11:45, research my labour paper from 11:50-12:55, break for 20 minutes, then prepare for my econometrics exam from 1:15-3:00. Once I had written these things down in my day-timer, I would not deviate from them, and sometimes I think it’s a miracle I got married.

I’m sure my husband finds this part of my personality adorable, like when Sally says “I’m too structured, I’m completely closed off.” and Harry responds “But in a good way!” I am sure it’s JUST like in the movies.

The biggest problem with being this anal-retentive person that I am is that when something unexpected pops up in my schedule, I completely fall apart. For example, yesterday my husband and I realized that the boys need social insurance numbers, and what with one thing and another, they need them as soon as possible. My husband asked if I could take care of it this morning and although I had a number of things on my plate, I crossed things off and rewrote them in my day-timer, with as much flexibility and happy-go-luckiness as I could manage. After all, how long could something like that take? The government office is fairly close to our house; surely I could get there and back quickly.

HAHAHAHAHA THE GOVERNMENT OFFICE QUICKLY HAHAHAHAHAHA

I got into the office at 9:10 and there was a gigantic lineup. I was disheartened at first but then it moved quite quickly when someone thought to mention that the information meeting for EI recipients was in a different room. It took only a few minutes for me to get to the front of the line after that, and the man at the desk told me that there would be a 15-20 minute wait. I hadn’t thought to bring a book with me, because I am apparently stupid and naive, and so I dismissed his advice to “take a seat and wait to be called” and instead stood near a wall, with my coat and scarf on, because what’s 15-20 minutes? Nothing, really.

Time dragged on and soon it was 10:00 and I started to get suspicious when I overheard that same man at the front desk tell someone that it would be a ninety minute wait. I put on my half-smile so as not to frighten said man with my bitchy resting face, and asked in the sweetest voice possible, with my eyes wide and fluttery, if he knew how much longer it would be, since he had said it was going to be only 15-20 minutes. You get more with honey, as we all know, and so I kept the frustration out of my voice. “Oh yes,” he said, “Well, it looks like we’re short staffed. So, it will be a while. I’m not sure how long.” OH.

I took a seat and tried not to think of my to-do list with impending doom. Om shanti. I tried to be rational and think that it would be better to just wait; I’d spent so much time already it would be silly not to wait. After all, in the big picture, what does it matter that I spent my morning in the government office, surrounded by the scent of body odour, dirty hair, and cigarette smoke? I didn’t have a book, true, but I did have a phone with me. There are many worse tragedies than being stuck in a waiting room with my fancy phone; I was not in the office because of employment issues or anything like that, three days from now would it really matter that the lion’s share of my morning would be spent immobile and reading blogs on my iPhone? I mean, really. And the princess couldn’t sleep on the mattress because of a pea. CRY ME A RIVER.

I was finally successful in obtaining the numbers, and left the office at 10:50. That’s when I thought if I was fast, and efficient, I could pull off a quick Costco trip before picking up the boys from lunch. There were a couple of things that I needed that I cannot get elsewhere and if I stuck to my list, I could do it.

I strode through Costco with a sense of purpose and a giant cart and…they were out of what I needed. That was discouraging, but it wasn’t a total bust: I managed to get the other, less essential things on my list, along with a whole pile of delicious plump berries. I managed to get home, unload the groceries, and get to the school on time to pick up the boys. I was feeling pretty faded but buoyed myself up by making myself a berry salad in this happy little fellow:

happy

Cuteness! A friend gave that to me, filled with flowers, when I was having a hard time and I can’t look at it without smiling. There’s nothing more cheering than berries in a giant smiley mug, not to mention the thought that went behind it! That smiley mug reminds me to pay it forward, even when I’m having a weirdly anxious morning, sniffing the perfume in my own scarf to drown out the smell of smoke and BO. Really, life is beautiful.

Don’t mess with the bull, young man. You’ll get the horns.

Posted on by

I heard on the radio this morning that there has been some kind of significant study showing that yelling at your kids is just as bad – if not WORSE – than spanking them. Well, then. This is one of those hot button, easily misinterpreted studies, in my mind. Of course no one wants to belittle their children or destroy their self-esteem. Of course no one should yell demeaning or insulting things at their children, but I think there’s a difference between, say, Shut the fuck up you stupid kid! and Don’t touch the stove! but according to the woman being interviewed, there IS NO DIFFERENCE. Instead of losing your shit because your child almost grabbed a pot of boiling water off the stove, you should tell them calmly not to do that and remove them from the kitchen. WELL THEN.

I guess I just may as well have taken my blacksnake whip – remember Farmer Boy? Badass Mr. Wilder and his blacksnake whip. – to all the children at the playground today because I yelled at a whole group of them. Perhaps yelling is too strong a word. I spoke VERY SHARPLY to them, including my own children and their friends, because there was an icy snowball-throwing incident and Jake took one to the face. I VERY SHARPLY informed the children that they were not to throw snowballs, especially not in this weather with the “snowballs” being chunks of gritty ice-like snow. “If this behaviour continues,” I said in a loud, sharp voice, “I will go and tell the principal. I DO NOT THINK YOU WANT ME TO TELL THE PRINCIPAL, DO YOU?” Then I pointed my gigantic mitten clad hand at the group of them, who looked at me wide eyed and silent, and turned and walked away.

As I was walking away, I heard one of them say “That was the book fair lady.” Don’t cross the book fair lady, children.

Ah, but if this study is correct I may as well have beaten them all with sticks, or a blacksnake whip. No matter! The snowball throwing ceased immediately, and so I CARE NOT. The end more than justified the means, in my opinion.

The weather finally has broken, so my constant humming of Hold on for one more day has really paid off. Today I did not feel like I was going to die while walking the dog; I put on my pretty winter boots instead of my Joan-of-Arctic Sorels. I am full of light and optimism. This is a good thing because yesterday I feared for my sanity. I dropped the boys off at their karate practice and went to Superstore. At 5:00 on a Thursday. Since when did my personal judgement get so flawed? This was a terrible idea. All I needed, really, was a couple of eggplants and a tube of bubblegum-flavoured toothpaste. The self-checkout was filled with imbeciles with giant carts full of, apparently, only produce and bakery items. My blood pressure is rising just thinking about it. Please wait for an attendant. Please wait for an attendant. I almost shoved people out of the way to do it myself. “NO! NO! DON’T PUT IT ON THE SCALE UNTIL IT ASKS YOU TO!”

It’s probably a good thing I didn’t. Yelling at someone for their incompetence with the self-checkout would surely be damaging to their self-esteem. In any case, it’s Friday, and I’m ready to crack open a bottle of wine and watch a few episodes of Downton Abbey. Happy weekend, everyone! xo

 

You’re also never fully dressed without eight pounds of clothing.

Posted on by

On Monday it warmed up all the way to minus 17, so I carpe diemed the hell out of that and took the dog for a walk. Poor fluffster, it’s been a while since he’s had a proper walk, and it probably will be a while before he gets a proper walk, because two minutes into it I started considering what kind of fashion statement wearing a balaclava would make. On the plus side, I wouldn’t feel like I would die by face-freezing; on the minus side, it would totally ruin my makeup. I eventually abandoned the idea; vanity, as usual, winning out over practicality.

The winter has been so long and so cold that I have entirely lost perspective about the weather. A few people have mentioned that it’s “March” and so it should be “springlike already” which filled me with bemusement. Isn’t March still winter? Isn’t it always this cold? I truly cannot remember what “other seasons” are like. It has come to the point that I apparently think, with all honesty, that it is always this cold and it will never get warm, forever and ever, amen. I met up with an elderly German man at the off-leash park, who told me that he has been in this city for fifty-eight years and he can only remember three other winters that were like this. Well, I guess that proves me wrong. I shall not cross the friendly elderly German man. I expect he knows what he’s about.

Someone just reminded me that Daylight Savings Time starts this weekend. I need offer no further comment.

Ah, but resistance is futile, isn’t it? We cannot change the weather and – unfortunately for all involved – we cannot change the mandate for Daylight Savings Time. No – really, we can’t. Lord knows I’ve tried, if complaining and rabble rousing on this blog counts as “trying”. ENOUGH OF THE BELLYACHING, as my long-suffering mother would say, possibly in response to some kind of teenage angst or similar, as I moped around the house in my Depeche Mode concert t-shirt.

There are some people who claim that winter is their very favourite season, and while I applaud anyone hardy enough to fully enjoy the season’s frigid splendors, I really have a hard time understanding. I want to understand, but I cannot. I understand fall lovers: the leaves and crisp air, the promise of Christmas around the corner. I understand spring lovers: the sprigs of green, the buds on the trees, the mild air and freshness. Of course I understand summer lovers, being one myself: the ease of getting dressed in the morning, the warmth and unscheduled days. However, I shall try to understand the winter people by remembering all the lovely things I enjoy about our 6-8-month-long winters. I toyed with the idea of making a Nicole’s Favourite Things post, but then I remembered that these things are not exactly my favourite. The Nicole’s Favourite Things posts cannot contain lies!

Nicole’s Not-Favourite-But-They’re-Okay Things, Frigid Winter Edition

1) Since it’s too cold for the kids to play outside, I haven’t been standing in the playground, shivering, for an hour after school.

2) Since it’s too cold to do much of anything, I am super productive in the housewifely arts. I am kicking ass and taking names, if by “kicking ass and taking names” you mean “accomplishing a lot of domestic tasks in record time”. Yesterday I had baked a banana bread and washed the floors before 8:00 am.

3) Inspired by Allison I tackled the boys’ sock/underwear/pajama drawers today. They haven’t closed properly in months. Mark’s drawer was more in need of reorganization than actual purging, but Jake’s was full of treasures: four newborn infant hats, a bib, socks that had a Transformers motif, circa 2010, two pairs of size five pajamas, and three pairs of Hot Wheels underwear, possibly from his kindergarten year. Tomorrow we tackle the t-shirt drawers!

4) Baking in this weather makes the house feel warm and cozy; it also smells terrific and as an added bonus, I can leave the oven door slightly ajar after the baked goods are done and warm my frozen purple hands over it, making me feel like Laura Ingalls coming in from twisting hay, but without the starvation and chamber pots. My hands are chapped just like hers, and I bought a pretty new fig-and-shea-butter cream for them. You all know how I love a new beauty product.

5) Aubergine is THE hot new colour this year, and although I don’t see myself wearing it, my hands are naturally on-trend!

6) I love the look of long sweaters, tall boots, and skinny jeans. Not only is it a saucy look, but long sweaters also nicely conceal the muffin top resultant from indulging in so much baking.

7) There’s no need to worry about sunscreen!

8) I do like a good bowl of soup, which I don’t bother with in the summer. Unless of course it’s a typical Calgary summer with chill temperatures. Soup: the all-season gustatory pleasure of my hometown.

9) Walking while wearing my heavy winter boots is akin to walking with 1980s-style ankle weights. It’s like I’m having a retro workout every day!

10) When the sun is out it’s actually really pretty. Not as pretty as, say, green grass and flowers, but pretty.

Barkley3

Barkley doesn’t mind the cold. He’s furry!

In the spirit of keeping one’s expectations low so one will not be disappointed, I’ve been avoiding the weather forecast. However, I keep hearing that warmer weather is coming “soon” and I’m holding on to that “soon” like it’s the key to the universe’s secrets. SOON. Soon it will get warmer. I don’t know what “soon” means but maybe if I channel my inner Wilson Phillips and my inner invincible summer, I can hold on for one more day. Don’t you know, don’t you know things can change, things can go my way if I HOOOOLLLLD on for ONE MORE DAY.

I got 99 problems, but the book fair is not one.

Posted on by

I wrapped up my twelfth – TWELFTH – book fair yesterday and it was the most successful one I’ve ever had; we raised almost $4000 for the school library and home reading program. I feel like I should preen a little bit about that, but credit must be given where credit is due: Minecraft Handbooks and Annuals. Easily the most popular books in the fair, I found myself with reorder sheets and lineups of kids. My own house now has a copy of the Annual and the children have been spending much time doing whatever it is they do when they are on Minecraft. Also popular? National Geographic’s World’s Cutest Animals, and Paulette the Pinkest Puppy in the World. So, there’s a bit of a range there. The thing about volunteering for twelve consecutive book fairs is that one really develops an intimate knowledge of children’s reading habits. There are some girls that I remember choosing Pinkalicious and Barbie the Mermaid, and now they are reaching for the Whatever After series. My own children have graduated from the Hot Wheels Easy Readers to the 39 Clues and Spirit Animals. I could do a growth chart, just with Scholastic books.

bookfair3

Photo is PRE-rampaging by 530 elementary-aged children.

So it’s been a busy, but gratifying, week. There’s nothing like pure adulation from a whole lot of children to boost one’s self-esteem, not that I particularly needed boosting, but here we are. While at the school I attended an Olympic wrap-up assembly, which I sat through with a lump in my throat and blurry eyes. My boys’ classes were the assembly’s “hosts” and the assembly started off with Olympic music and the teacher calling out different countries, the children all coming in behind flags from countries representing their nationalities. The one boy from Greece started everyone off, followed by at least twenty other countries. Many children wore traditional clothing from their countries of origin, and all in all it was a wonderful display of multiculturalism.

I know what you’re thinking: what about the recorders? Well, both classes played the recorder, accompanied by the bass xylophones. Thank god for the bass xylophones. The recorders were pretty terrible, as to be expected, but happily the songs were short. Mark’s class then did an Olympic Alphabet, with his contribution being the letter M and a blurb about Mark McMorris, which was kind of nice. And then, making all my dreams come true, Jake’s class did a dance melange of traditional Russian dancing mixed with disco moves, all set to an instrumental version of Rasputin. It was just as amazing as it sounds.

I was an emotional wreck through the whole thing, as I realized one of the very first assemblies I’d ever attended was the 2010 Olympic kick-off assembly, when Mark was in kindergarten performing – oddly enough – I’m a Little Teapot. Kindergarten! And when the next Winter Olympics comes around, both of my children will be in junior high. Time makes you bolder, even children get older. I’m getting older too. I’d sing it mournfully, but unfortunately for my mental health, I have had Nights on Broadway stuck in my head for three days. I feel like Ralph Fiennes from The English Patient, but in a disco way. I have been singing this. For THREE DAYS.

I don’t even know all the words. I just keep singing the same lines over and over. Blaming it all on the nights on Broadway. Singing them sweet sounds. To that crazy crazy town. Remember that Seinfeld episode where George was convinced he was losing his mind since he went to see Les Mis and couldn’t get Master of the House out of his head? It’s like that. I’m pretty sure I’m headed to a mental institution. Not only that, but I’m disco dancing to the song in my head. Literally. I find myself in the kitchen, behaving as if I’m the lead-off dancer on Soul Train. I am not marching to my own drummer, I’m doing the hustle to the Bee Gees in my mind.

All Baking and No Eating Makes Nicole Go Something Something

Posted on by

Happy Monday, I say from my perch on the office chair with a big coffee next to me. It’s Day…I don’t know how many days it’s been painfully cold but suffice it to say it was an indoorsy kind of weekend. Jake came down with a cold – probably because I’d JUST finished saying how lucky we’ve been and how we haven’t even had a cold in the house since late September – and so the boys did not even go to karate class on Saturday. Quiet weekend indeed. I baked some cookies in honour of Valentine’s Day.

Vday

SOME cookies. Eighty four, to be exact. Sadly, they are almost exclusively made of butter so I cannot eat them.

I also shot a couple of videos for Yummy Mummy Club:

Quinoa

The video on how to make quinoa as a breakfast cereal is right here. I’m wearing the apron my mom bought me for Christmas, from a lingerie store. The last video I shot I wore my old cupcake apron and my mom’s feelings were VERY HURT that I wasn’t featuring my lingerie apron. See Mom? I’m wearing it! I just like to switch things up a little.

Speaking of lingerie, I had a post all planned about thongs, but it will have to wait a day or two because my dear friend Kimberly from Make Mommy Go Something Something tagged me in a meme! And it’s Meme Monday so really, what could be better? NOTHING, that’s what!

1) If Jane had 3 apples and John had 78 nails, how many layers of clothing are you wearing (how is the weather in your neck of the woods?)?

Well, Kimberly, I am currently wearing jeans, a turtleneck, a huge sweater, and I’m sitting in front of a space heater because it’s OMG MY FACE HURTS cold outside. It’s the kind of cold that I always think “That’ll wake you up in the morning!” when I drop the kids off at school. Seriously. Every time. Oh, and I’m wearing my favourite thigh high thick grey socks OVER my jeans and fuzzy slippers.

socks2

I’m bringing sexy back…to the store for a refund.

2. What is keeping you sane during these long winter months?

Honestly, I’m at the point where I can’t remember what grass looks like. I’ve probably already lost my sanity. Oh! But I’ve been on a Margaret Atwood binge lately. Last night I picked up Cat’s Eye and remembered how hard it is to put down. *yawn* Which means I stayed up until 9:30 last night reading. 9:30! Clearly I HAVE lost my sanity!

3. If you were on a boat with a box of chocolate and your Mother In Law, who would you throw overboard?

What kind of chocolate? I kid, I kid. My mother-in-law has been knitting up a storm for me this winter and honestly, it’s made a huge difference in my quality of life. So far I’ve amassed six scarves and four pairs of legwarmers – plus she is currently working on an infinity scarf for me. To add to the sweetness, she sends them to me all wrapped up in ribbons with a note that says “Custom Made For Nicole”. Cute! So I’ll toss the chocolate and keep my mother in law and her knitting needles.

102

 

4. What’s in your underwear drawer besides underwear?

I have so many of those bra inserts that come in yoga tops. I don’t like wearing the inserts, but yet I feel like I MIGHT want to some day. I like to keep my options open. So I have about forty of those inserts taking up valuable panty space…I should go throw them out RIGHT NOW. I won’t, but I should. WHAT IF I NEED THEM?

5. Do you trust yourself with sharp objects near your face? (as in, do you pluck your own eyebrows? Do you have any eyebrow horror stories?)

I do pluck my own eyebrows because if I had to wait 4-6 weeks to get waxed, it would be a nightmare. I’d look like Martin Scorcese crossed with Frida Kahlo. It would not be a good look for me. And here’s a secret…I also pluck my upper lip. I KNOW. The feminine mystique takes quite a beating as we age, doesn’t it? Now, my husband has seen me give birth – twice – and yet I will not allow him in the room if I’m plucking my upper lip because I want to keep the romance alive, people. Feeling like your wife might look like a 70s rocker or possibly Magnum PI without the help of a tweezer is probably not conducive to romantic thoughts.

6. I am terrified of dead bodies, spiders, and the dentist. What are you scared of?

Moths. Good lord I just typed “moths” and I think I had heart palpitations. Either that or I’ve had too much coffee. THIS is what happens when I stay up until 9:30 on a Sunday night!

7. Does your husband cut up the back of your legs with his long toenails when you sleep?

Um, no. No he doesn’t.

All right, it’s my turn to think of seven questions and tag seven people but you know, I like Kimberly’s questions, except for the toenail one. I’ll keep those and add the last question: are you wearing nail polish? And if so, what colour? (I have red on my toenails and pale pink on my fingernails, FYI). I tag the following wonderful bloggers:

Hannah from Hodgepodge and Strawberries

Allison from Bibliomama

Sarah from No Whey, Mama

Swistle from Swistle

Lynn from Turtlehead

Alex from I Don’t Blog

Peady from Tempered With Kindness

You don’t have to be a blogger to answer these questions – feel free to comment on any of the above. Have fun! Happy Meme Monday! xo

PUPPY!

Posted on by

So I guess we’re cheering for the Seahawks now?

Patriots

This photo is for the Cake Chick who was appalled to see me in Ravens wear last Superbowl.

 

Even my local old-people Co-Op was on the Patriots (short lived) bandwagon:

TomBrady

What a dreamboat, or, as I usually think of him because I’m apparently 100 years old, “What a good looking young man.”

 

It’s very strange, the whole continent seems to be in some kind of polar vortex/ snowpocalypse, and here in Calgary, things are mild. We’re usually the trendsetters in the polar vortex world, and yet here we are with warmer-than-seasonal temperatures, which is not without its own special difficulties. My elderly neighbour has gotten her vehicle stuck in the soft, melty snow in the alley twice in the last week; once I came home to see her trying to dig herself out, alarmingly, and yesterday I came home to see her son trying – in a futile sort of way – to dig her out. This morning there were three vehicles stuck in the alley, in the ridges left by the garbage trucks. The snow everywhere is melting in the sunshine and then freezing solid, leaving skating rinks for sidewalks and glaciers for lawns.

Sunday afternoon I decided enough was enough – the melting cycle had exposed our back yard for what it is, a dog’s yard – and I went out with a trowel in one hand and bags in the other, determined to tackle the unsightly mess. I’m happy enough with the warmer temperatures but the picturesque quality of the snowy backyard is gone, and in its place is glacier like snow speckled with dirt, pine needles, and frozen canine fecal matter. I tried my best but sadly most of Barkley’s offerings to the atmosphere were frozen solid and would have needed an ice pick to be chipped away. I sighed, wondering what was the point.

What was the point? That’s a terrible attitude to have. In these cases, I always think of my friend Swistle and her “drops IN the bucket“. They may be drops in the bucket, but they are still IN the bucket, and IN > NOT IN. I think this is a good attitude to have, because no, it does not need to be all or nothing. Just because I couldn’t clean up the entire yard doesn’t mean I should shrug and let the frozen fecal matter take over. A handful of minty M&M’s doesn’t mean that the whole day of healthy eating is ruined and I might as well eat all the snack bags of Doritos that are sitting in the kids’ Halloween bags (STILL, yes, it is January). This is a basic mathematical principle, people. Handful of minty M&M’s >>>> eating everything in the house. Small steps DO add up and so while it may feel pointless to sweep up all the pine needles on the floor knowing that the dog is just going to track in MORE pine needles momentarily, it still makes a difference. After all if I never swept up the pine needles, eventually we would be ankle deep in them. Have I mentioned Barkley is very furry this time of year and everything sticks to his gigantically fluffy body?

Last night I had a dream that we got another puppy. I blame my friend Sue for sending me this link of the cutest puppies on the internet. Go take a look, I’ll wait.

I showed the photos to the boys, who were appropriately “awwwwwwwed” by the photos, even while Jake was indignant that Barkley was not among them. They’re cute, he said somewhat grudgingly, But Barkley is cuter than all of them put together.

Without any further ado, then, I give you Barkley: The Puppy Days.

011 IMG_1618 IMG_1626 IMG_1630

Jake’s right, I think.