Category Archives: Playtime

Post-Halloween Syndrome

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Is it okay to start playing Christmas music now?

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I’m only sort of kidding.

Is anyone suffering from post-Halloween-exhaustion? Last night the kids had a blast and I’m happy to report that I managed to dispense of ALL of the 250 mini chocolate bars, and only a few of those went into my own children’s bags. We had 18 Trick-or-Treaters, which was a near record for us. I was VERY heavy-handed with the treats, and I was delighted to see four of the boys’ friends at my door. They were our last Trick-or-Treaters, and they each got about twenty candies. Three teens came to my door with no costumes whatsoever, but I am a proponent of teens Trick-or-Treating, as opposed to teens doing fentanyl or whatever it is that kids do these days, and so they all got a generous handful.

My kids’ costumes turned out…well…I’m not sure how to describe them.

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Our neighbours were very generous and kind, as usual. One elderly man who lives down the street dropped off two little goody bags for the boys, explaining to me that he wouldn’t be home tonight and didn’t want them to miss out. The goodies were in those little paper bags that the pharmacy uses for prescriptions, and the sight of those bags, with the word “Enjoy!” written on them, made me smile all day long. What a sweet man he is. I love our neighbourhood.

The boys came home with bags filled to the brim with candy, chips, and one religious tract each, warning them that Halloween is Satan’s holiday, and that the Lord hates Halloween, and we should probably all repent lest we go in the wrong direction when we die. Festive!

Didn’t it feel a bit strange, having such festivities on a Monday night? I decided to take down the decorations today; normally that is strictly a Blue Job in my house, but the thought of having the Grim Reapers in my front yard, along with the rest of the spooky touches, until the weekend seemed a bit much. Especially after reading the religious tracts. So I got out the ladder and laboriously took down all the decorations, and immediately started to think of Christmas lights. It’s probably too soon for that, though. I’m guessing my husband would have something to say about that, and since putting up Christmas lights is without exception a Blue Job around here, I’ll have to wait a week or two.

I’m NOT going to wait to do my Christmas shopping, though. I know the mall is going to be playing Christmas music so…

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Game of Thrones Syndrome

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So here we are, the first day back at school. It’s a BIG day; one of my kids is in junior high now, and the other is finishing his last year at our much-loved elementary school.

Or maybe

The kids are more like this:

But for the most part, all is roses and happiness and only slight disappointment over the assignation of option classes that were not overly desired.

For the most part, it does feel good to be back into the swing of things. I am not generally a huge fan of fall, mostly because I love summer, and because fall in this part of the world is a brief interlude before the long, long winter sets in.

Speaking of which, my husband and I watched the Netflix series The Get Down, which deals with kids in the Bronx in the 1970s. If you are a fan of hip-hop, rap, or disco music, I highly recommend this series. I am a fan of all three genres, and so I really enjoyed it.

Well, I mostly enjoyed it. A lot of the time I kept saying to my husband that I thought something awful was going to happen. Was their apartment building going to burn down? Was someone going to get shot on the subway? Was everyone going to meet the end in the most tragic way possible? I kept worrying and worrying as I watched the show, in an awkward, unsettled way. My husband was feeling the same way, and when the series ended on a happy note, I couldn’t figure out why I was stressed out watching a cheerful television series in which the young people are not the problem, they are the solution.

It is what my husband and I have dubbed “Game of Thrones Syndrome.”

Watching Game of Thrones has conditioned me to expect the absolute worst outcome in everything. Sure, that girl is singing beautifully, but someone is probably going to cut all their throats like in the Red Wedding. That kid who has the bootlegged tape of another MC? He’s probably going to have his penis cut off and mailed to his loved ones. Those two are romantically involved? Someone is probably going to poison one of them and then put the other secretly on a boat, floating down the Hudson River.

Anyway, I’m determined to enjoy fall – even if it is so very brief and is only a harbinger of WINTER IS COMING – and so this morning I dug out my tall boots, my scarves, and my long black flowy sweaters. I am eagerly anticipating the return of the Macintosh apples, and crunchy leaves and blue skies, but you can keep your pumpkin spiced anything. Blergh. That stuff is nasty.

Does anyone still read print magazines or is it just me?

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Thank you to everyone for your kind words about Barkley! I’m happy to report he’s pretty much all better, except for having to take pills and eat really, really gross looking canned dog food for a few more days. One huge benefit of having a Labradoodle is that he will happily eat the pills with no coaxing at all, just pushed into a little bit of the aforementioned gross looking canned dog food. It’s a good thing that he is better and today – according to the powers that be – is National Dog Day!

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He just got groomed and his ear was excitedly flipped back – don’t worry, he still has ears. I tried to take a selfie with him but he tried to lick me AND the phone, so I just took one of myself.

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I also got groomed this week, in that I got my hair cut and coloured. I flipped through a Hello! magazine and a People magazine, and honestly, I’ve reached Old Lady Status where I really don’t know who any of the famous people are or why they are famous, other than the British Royal Family.

Well, that’s not totally true. I know who this guy is.

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And this guy too:

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And also these three:

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So I guess I’ve just reached Pervy Old Lady Status.

That magazine, by the way, is one my husband subscribed to during the school’s magazine campaign, and I will renew it for him until the end of time. IT IS FULL OF VERY INFORMATIVE ARTICLES AND COMMENDABLE RESEARCH.

Speaking of old ladies, I was reminded of my dear grandma when I saw this in the grocery store:

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My grandma was very interested in the JonBenet Ramsey case, and followed it closely back in the day. I cannot believe this case is still unsolved. I remember my grandma reading everything about it and discussing it with her, and then my dad raised her ire by suggesting that JonBenet’s mother was the guilty party. Hoo boy, I learned a lesson: do not suggest such a thing to my grandma.

Anyway, one thing that I learned – circling back to recent Hello! and People magazines that I flipped through at the salon – is that history, as usual, is doomed to repeat itself. By this I mean fashion history. I have also noted this at places where Young People Gather. Current fashion is favouring the outfits that I myself wore in my teen years, regrettably short denim cutoffs with very high waists, crop tops, body suits, acid wash, and – alarmingly – overalls.

How do you stand on fashions that you remember The First Time Around? I lean toward the camp that says if you wore it once, you shouldn’t again, but possibly it depends on what age you wore it the first time. Or if the fashion is a modification of the earlier one, perhaps that would be fine. I mean, there’s no way I’d wear this again:

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There is NO part of that outfit I would wear again, really. That move I am doing is vogue-ing, for those of you who remember vogue-ing.

And on that note I shall sign off for the weekend. Happy Friday, everyone! xo

Kondo-ing My Life

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I consider myself to be a very self-aware person. I know that I can be very easy to live with, in some ways, but very difficult in others. I can recognize my faults along with my positive character traits. So I recognize that at the end of the summer, I become a bit of an emotional mess. Landslide, and all that.

My end-of-summer melancholy is always tempered by my excited-to-start-fresh-in-September attitude, so I’m not trying to say that I become a mopey, weeping person by mid-August. I’m just saying that in the past I’ve had to choke back tears all through Inside Out, which turned into full-blown sobbing about Bing Bong. The year Jake started kindergarten I cried so hard while on hold with the printer Help Desk that the gentlemen on the other side told me that maybe I should go get myself a drink of water, and he would take care of everything. Then he sent me a new printer. 

Anyway, I know myself. And Mark is starting Junior High and Jake is in his last year at our beloved elementary school, where we have spent the last eight years and where I have made a wonderful circle of friends and volunteered at extensively. I’ve been afraid of changing…because I built my life around youuuuuu…

But, as they say, Time Makes You Bolder and so I have taken charge and have redirected all my energies into a complete household reorganization.

I’ve had The Life-Changing Magic Of Tidying Up on my library hold list for a while, and last week it came in. I devoured it. I know, I know, it’s 2016, and KonMari/ Kondo-ing things is so last year. I may be a day late and a dollar short, but let me tell you, I love that book. IT IS LIFE CHANGING MAGIC, PEOPLE.

For those of you who haven’t read it – I can’t be the only one who hadn’t read it, right? – the premise of the book is simple: surround yourself with things that bring you joy and get rid of everything else. Ask yourself why you are holding on to certain things; if it is something that doesn’t bring you joy, then send it on its way, expressing gratitude for the role it has played in your life. For example, don’t feel badly throwing out that lipstick that doesn’t suit you. It taught you a lesson, and that was worth the price you paid for it. That sweater that you don’t like, someone else might love. Send it on its journey.

This, my friends, is exactly the kind of hippy-dippy, non-attachment, Let The Sunshine In kind of thing that I love. Bring in the good energy, block out the bad.

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Now, let me be clear: my house is pretty clean. I am a very organized person by nature. I also live in a bungalow that – including basement and storage area – is 2200 square feet. I don’t really have the room to be a hoarder, and I don’t have a lot of clutter. If you were to stop by unexpectedly, I would not be worried about the state of my house, because the state of my house is always clean. Well, truly, if you were to stop by unexpectedly I’d never answer the door because I don’t want to be murdered by a random stranger, or, in the best case scenario, I don’t want to be solicited for money/ talked to by politicians/ offered lawn services by someone who is scary looking but is probably harmless.

But you take my meaning.

However, there are areas in the house that could definitely be improved on. I have kept so much of the kids’ schoolwork and art work that the bins I purchased for such items are overflowing. I have whole shelving units that were filled with stuff I didn’t know what to do with. The downstairs closets are a disaster, and my hall cupboard was so jammed with stuff that the doors didn’t always close. I have baskets and bins that have loose papers and magazines that I have yet to deal with.

And so I started to Kondo the house, and while it isn’t the very most satisfying thing I’ve done in my life, it is right up there. Every day I’ve been rampaging through the house, like a Kondo machine, bagging things and boxing things and reorganizing things all over the place. In fact, I’m planning to write about this whole experience, so lucky you, you will get to see photos of organized drawers and re-purposed shoe boxes.

It hasn’t all been rabid purging around here though; this week has been all about doctors and dentists and check ups and orthodontists…there was so much non-fun going on that I took a break from my frantic pace to take the kids to the local amusement park. It turned out to be the best day ever; the kids were chosen to be “park openers” which was a thrill in and of itself, and then they were second in line for the log ride. Tons of fun were had by all, but I think my favourite moment was when the park official was telling them what they needed to do, and asked “Are you brothers or friends?” “Both!” they answered, and I swear, I got a little teary.

I guess Kondo-ing everything doesn’t totally keep me from being a bit of an emotional mess. But my house sure is clean.

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My Face Says I’m Disappointed, But My Heart Says I’m Happy

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Well, hello there! So much has happened in the last two weeks; my husband took time off work and we Vacationed Like Nobody’s Business. First of all, the boys finished off their week of karate camp with a mini-tournament, and all I can say is that I really get Aly Raisman’s parents. I really do. I cannot imagine the nervous breakdown I would have in the highly unlikely event that my children were Olympic medal contenders, because I find myself sweating, with heart palpitations, just watching the karate kids sparring in a fun-tournament-that-has-no-real-consequences. Johnny, you’re a cream puff. It’s not just for my kids, either; I find myself all tied up in knots watching ANY of the students.

Happily, the mini-tournament went well, and the boys did not have to compete against each other too much, which was a huge relief. They are in the same belt and age group and so this has happened in the past; it is just as much fun as you might imagine.

Just as a quick side note: the only summer Olympic event I actually am interested in watching, albeit briefly, and never very closely, is women’s gymnastics, and unfortunately this is the only summer Olympic event my husband is NOT interested in watching. This means there is a lot of Ooh, look at that! kind of commentary, followed by total disinterested silence from the other spouse. Occasionally there will be a polite Ah! in response, but those Ah!’s are few and far between.

After karate camp, my husband took the boys Camping For Real, which meant that I stayed home and made avocado fries and kale chips and watched back-to-back episodes of NYPD Blue before falling asleep at 8:45. I also tried to soothe Barkley, who had apparently fallen into a deep depression after hearing the truck being packed up and being left behind. Poor puppy. Who can blame him? NYPD Blue isn’t everyone’s taste. He sat outside in the backyard, staring at the garage for hours, until I tempted him in with treats, only to go back outside again. It was like a less-sad version of that movie where the dog waits for his deceased owner at the train station until death finally releases him from this heart-breaking hopefulness.

God, now I’m depressed.

Vacation! Back to vacation. We spent a few days at my parents’ place, and the weather cooperated enough for us to not only go boating, but for the boys to go tubing and swimming as well. My dad snapped this photo of me, and it cracks me up.

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I look like I am Deeply Disapproving of all this Fun In The Water, but really, this is just what my face looks like in repose. I was fully approving of the aquatic good times, I swear.

We then spent eight days at my in-laws’ place, where we had not one but two lovely dinners with friends, I enjoyed a Girly Afternoon With The Girls complete with mani-pedis and lunch, the boys went swimming several times, my husband and I took not-sad-anymore Barkley for long walks along the creek, and we went bowling twice.

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Notice anything about this photo, other than my saucy bowling shoes? My shirt – which I chose while shopping with my mother, who thinks I wear Too Much Black – is not only colourful, it is long sleeved. It seems the below-average temperatures like to follow me wherever I go this summer. The chilliness didn’t really kill my summer buzz, but I would like more opportunities to wear my cute summer clothes before fall sets in.

To be honest, it kind of feels like fall has already set in; soon we’ll be doing things like wearing socks and sweaters and non-flimsy scarves. August is a bit of a funny month for me; for example, I spent this morning at the orthodontist, and next week the boys have appointments with both doctor and dentist. I need to make optometrist appointments, and I have to buy a LOT of clothes. I had the boys try on every clothing item they have, only to discover that Mark has zero pants that fit. Jake now has three pair of Mark’s old pants – the only ones that weren’t worn completely out – and nothing else. There’s only three weeks left of summer vacation!

Well, I need to cram some fun times into these final three weeks, as well as all the important health-and-clothing related business. Maybe I’ll take the kids to the amusement park, so I can look Deeply Disapproving there.

All I do is win, win, win, no matter what.

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The sun has come out! The sun has come out! It was a wee bit too late to save our Sunday afternoon barbeque for fourteen people, but better late than never. On Sunday my husband and I looked at the sky with nervous hope; about twenty minutes before our guests arrived, the sky turned black, the wind turned icy, and the rain started pouring and didn’t stop. That was a bit disappointing but I shall repeat: the sun has come out!

The boys are at karate camp this week, so I’m extra glad for the sunny weather. I can’t imagine how miserable the camp would be if the weather had been what it was like last week. Mind you, last year there was one day that was twelve degrees and raining and they still went swimming at the heated outdoor pool so I guess the show must go on. Swimming isn’t happening this year, though, as was evident when we pulled into the parking lot and saw a giant digger and dump truck, and where the pool had been previously was merely a pile of rubble. There’s always next year! In any case, if yesterday is any indication, they will be having an EPIC week full of karate and water fights and obstacle courses.

I am austerely taking this opportunity to get a lot of work done. It’s amazing how much one can get done without having near-constant conversations about The Simpsons, Overwatch, and – alarmingly – Grand Theft Auto. Mom, there’s a guy on GTA who does yoga! Ah, yes, thanks for letting me know about the criminals and how they spend their time when they are not stealing cars or shooting people.

Grand Theft Auto is just one in a string of examples of things I never thought I would allow, but here we are. Although “allow” is probably the wrong word for it; it’s more like I was railroaded into this “decision.”

The other day I bought a pair of athletic socks, and this is actually a much bigger deal than it appears. I hate, hate, hate spending money on socks, for some reason, but I especially hate spending money on athletic socks. I don’t know why. I don’t know what my issue is but it probably would take a team of therapists to get things straight. In any case, I realized that the two pairs of athletic socks that I own are on their last legs (feet?). One pair I purchased for spin class, last attended in 2001, and the other pair I purchased for golf. My last golf game was somewhere in the first half of 2003.

I probably needed a new pair of socks, is what I’m trying to get at.

We all know my love of all things lululemon, and so I purchased a pair of socks from there. They are pink, to match my trainers, and they have all kinds of claims like “micro-cushioning” and “sweat-wicking” and plus did I mention they are pink? Anyway, they were a bit pricey but I figured that by the time I bought a new pair, somewhere in the vicinity of 2030, I would have gotten my money’s worth from them. Per-unit usage and cost-benefit analysis and all that. “Micro-cushioning” isn’t cheap, you know.

Anyway, I took the socks from the packaging and I was faced with one of lululemon’s signature inspirational sayings. Except that it was less inspirational, and more depressing. It said that women, on average, walk five kilometers more than men. FIVE KILOMETERS. I thought of all the women in the world, walking for hours to find clean water and whatnot, and I thought that was probably the least inspirational thing I could have read on my sock packaging. Because honestly? I’m not sure that Fitbit-wearing women in North America are walking five kilometers more than their male counterparts. I mean, I haven’t seen the data or anything, but that doesn’t seem credible, which makes the “on average” thing that much more depressing.

This is why I don’t have a Fitbit. Well, not exactly, it’s not because I would become depressed thinking about the plight of women in disadvantaged situations, although every time I think about it I do. The real reason I don’t have a Fitbit is because I would turn into David Sedaris. I have somewhat of a highly competitive nature and would probably spend my days trying to kill it on the Fitbit. All work, childcare, and sanity would go out the window as I would spend my days walking briskly to get more steps. This is the reason that my husband will no longer play Monopoly with me, and also the reason I secretly fumed at my sister-in-law’s brother for winning Shopkins Bingo at my niece’s birthday party. It’s bad enough that I have a step counter on my phone; if I had a Fitbit I’d probably railroad my husband into getting one too, and then see if I could walk five kilometers more than him on a daily basis. Actually, I’d probably make it six for good measure and to get back at him for the Grand Theft Auto thing.

Well, it’s better for my marriage, sanity, and everything else to not have a Fitbit, and meanwhile, I am enjoying my new socks very much. If I was walking an extra five (or six) kilometers a day, I’d probably have to spring for another pair, and that is just a bridge too far.

Bundle up, it’s summer!

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It seems our unbelievably mild winter and early, hot spring has melted into a typical Calgary summer: cool, rainy, grey, and windy, topped off with inexplicable daily thunderstorms. How can we get so many thunderstorms without daytime heat? I don’t know. In any case, looking on the bright side, I don’t have to worry about watering my garden. Yesterday we went for a family bike ride and the wind was so cold that I actually wished I had earmuffs on my bike helmet.

I’m taking this as a sign to take things easy today, to just spend some quiet indoor time with the kids. Well, “quiet.” I keep seeing recipes that are “beat the heat” this and “no-bake” that, and meanwhile I’m considering a marathon baking session today, wearing an apron over my wool sweater. Last week I faced my pastry fears and baked my very first pie.

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I don’t eat pie, but by all accounts it was excellent, despite being very, very ugly. Facing my fears via pie crust is the topic for a whole post in itself, however, so I shall not bore you with the details at the moment. I’ll bore you with them later!

One benefit of kind-of-crappy weather is that outdoor attractions are not at all busy, so the boys and I bundled up to go to the zoo last week. We even got to see the new baby gorilla, nursing and riding on her mother’s back. It’s very heartening to see babies in captivity doing well, and I laughed to see one of the males beating his chest to no one in particular and getting in the mother’s space, only to have her scamper away with the baby on her back. Every time the male came near her, she left, and if she could speak English I’m sure she would be saying Get away from me, you loser, and rolling her eyes. Finally he gave up and went to munch on some lettuce.

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Pants, sweater, a jacket…the perfect summer outfit!

In other exciting news, my husband and I are going to a concert on Thursday night. I haven’t been to a concert in over two decades, so it should be very fun. The kids are going to Camp Grandma for a couple of days, so the going will be very tough for them, I’m sure. It’s going to be non-stop goodies and marathon sessions of Simpsons’ Clue.

Remember when concert tickets were less than $20 apiece? I sure do, and I’m not one to lament times gone by but those were the days, were they not? My girlfriends and I saw tons of great shows all for the price of a few hours’ babysitting. Actually, now that I think of it, I made about $2/hour babysitting, so I guess those concert tickets were pretty hard-earned after all. But I am looking very much forward to this concert, and it is during Stampede so I’m contemplating what to wear. Will it be hot with all the people and (presumably) dancing? Or should I dress for the chilly weather outside? Should I put on layers, or will that be too risky in terms of losing clothing articles? I mean, there probably isn’t going to be a mosh pit or crowd surfing or anything at Zak Brown Band, but the fewer things to keep track of, the better.

Many years ago, I was at a concert at the university, when my friend’s boyfriend did some drunken crowd surfing, and ended up with one shoe, in the middle of winter. We looked and looked, to no avail. We even went back to the Economics Undergraduates Society office, where I was the president, and made drawings of shoes on pieces of foolscap, captioned “Have You Seen Me?” but we never did find that shoe. The guy had to walk/ hop through the snow to the designated driver’s car, with his soggy foot. I wonder if that was the last time I was at a concert.

What was the last concert you went to? What was the first? I don’t remember my last one but my first was INXS in 1988. Good times.