Category Archives: Playtime

Not Typical

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With regards to my last post, my insane amount of early morning domestic accomplishments is definitely not typical.  Clearly I was experiencing some sort of crazy nervous energy burst and my only outlet was baking a cake at 7:30 in the morning; not something that occurs regularly. 
Also not typical was the beautiful trip to Tofino, BC that I just got back from.  Tofino is pretty much the polar opposite of where I live, so it was truly an escape.  Other than the occasional overnight trip, I’ve never travelled without the boys, and so I was unprepared for the excess of time in the day.  It was surreal.  No one asked me for anything, no one needed anything from me.  Usually when we travel I do laundry, wash dishes, make snacks and meals, read stories and supervise bathtime.  So it felt very strange – pleasantly strange – to have to do…nothing. 
I slept a lot, walked on the beach,
hung out on the chilly, chilly beach (humidity and my hair are not friends),

warmed up and read a lot (yes, that is O Magazine, DON’T JUDGE ME),

and got all dressed up and went for fancy dinners.

Those fancy, delicious dinners are making tonight’s menu seem pretty sad.
Waking up this morning to the boys climbing into our bed, talking about how much fun they had with their grandparents made the whole trip that much sweeter.

Crazy, I’m crazy for feeling this way…

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My in-laws were here for a visit this weekend, and they brought with them fresh-picked apples and Concord grapes, and for someone like me who lives in a place in which fresh, local fruit is limited to crabapples and Saskatoon berries, this gift was most gratefully received.  I’m mowing through the produce at an unbelievable rate.  They also, kindly, brought me a female scarecrow for the front yard, to complement the three male ones, and my husband set it up in front of the window, where it looks very cute.  Unfortunately, it keeps startling me every time I walk past the window and see a large figure in my peripheral vision.  It’s like having my very own non-threatening peeping Tom. 
I go through my closet a couple times a year and make up bags for donation.  One place I – obviously, it would seem – never go through is my bottom dresser drawer.  That drawer seems to be devoted to non-every-day-use lingerie type items, sleepwear, and the like.  Yesterday I went to look for a pair of tights, and found nine pairs of gigantic maternity pantyhose.  Nine pairs!  Since I was a jeans-clad stay-at-home mom throughout my pregnancy with Jake, that means that those are from my first pregnancy, seven years ago.  I have had gigantic maternity pantyhose taking up a large amount of drawer space for the past seven years. 
The reason I was even looking for a pair of tights is that I am getting together my real dress up clothes – not just my good jeans – because I am going on a little vacation!  My husband’s birthday is coming up and it’s a milestone one, so we are heading on a three-day-two-night vacation.  Here’s my confession: I have never left the boys for more than 24 hours, so I’m feeling a little bit anxious.  I know.  I know. 
My parents are moving into our house for the duration and I hasten to add that my mother is VERY competent.  She knows the kids’ routines and their schedules and their school doors and their food preferences and even the names of their friends.  She could certainly handle them for more than this short vacation, but despite this I seem to be a mass of nerves.  I’m flitting around the house, frantically cleaning things and preparing food because my mom has only been cooking for DECADES.  She might not be able to handle spaghetti.  Clearly, I’m crazy.
The only foreseeable issue is that my dog will become even more spoiled.  I swear, my mother spoils my dog almost as much as she spoils the boys.  When I told her about the vet appointment that found Barkley on the road to obesity, she indignantly came up with excuses ranging from “The vet’s scale must be WRONG” to “Maybe Barkley’s just big-boned.”  Yes, and maybe he’s getting his period and is retaining water.  So the only issue in going away is that the dog’s diet may be derailed for a couple of days, which is not much of an issue.

I think I know a little something about people throwing words around.

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Yesterday was one of those very good days when everything was going well, the weather was gorgeous, and I was in one of those moods in which I get unreasonably excited about such things as the grocery store having asparagus and strawberries on sale, not to mention those Roasted Tomato and Basil Triscuits, which are the be-all and end-all of crackers, in my opinion.  All other crackers can just GO HOME. 
The rest of the week has been pretty glum, however, and today it’s snowing.  To cheer myself up, I watched this SNL skit, which is one of the funniest ever, about two people continually accidentally offending each other (thanks Allison for posting this).  
I really try to be open-minded about people.  If a guy is rude in Superstore, I try to think that maybe his boss yelled at him or his wife is mad at him.  If someone cuts me off in traffic and then gives me the finger, I think, well, maybe his girlfriend just left him for someone better endowed who could actually satisfy her sexually.  You know, Zen thoughts like that.  For example, someone who was erroneously included on an email distribution list for our school’s Staff Appreciation committee sent a fairly mean email to the people on the list, rather than just simply asking to be taken off the distribution.  I thought, well, maybe that person was just having a really bad day, and receiving seven emails about Thanksgiving and Halloween treats just pushed her over the edge.  (I also snickered a bit about that person’s misspelling of the word “ditto”, which was not so nice on my part.)
But sometimes people are just assholes.  That SNL skit brought to mind a woman I met who – no matter what anyone said in casual conversation – would be completely affronted by everything.  If you mentioned children throwing rocks in the playground, she would huffily say that there was nothing wrong with it.  If you mentioned picking up laundry detergent at Wal-Mart, she would have something to say about your choice of shopping centre. 
A year or so ago, some guy snuck into the Calgary Zoo after hours and scaled a fence surrounding the Siberian tiger enclosure.  He was attacked, of course, and mauled.  I can’t remember if alcohol was a factor, but I certainly hope it was since I would hate to think someone would attempt such a thing sober.  Anyway, there was a discussion about this event by the moms on the playground, and this woman got terribly offended.  Apparently the guy was a friend of hers, and, as she said, he lost his ARM and now he can’t work anymore.  Which is terribly tragic but come on.  The guy scaled a fence in the Siberian tiger enclosure at 1:00 in the morning.  There are now signs all around the zoo warning people NOT to try to enter any of the animal enclosures, just in case anyone else is thinking that may be a fun and reasonable way to spend a weekday evening. 
So, if you’re feeling a bit glum, like me, go ahead and watch this SNL skit, have a laugh, and remember, it’s Friday!

What are they going to arrest me for, being awesome?

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Because I’m always striving to be a fun – yet educational – mother, I decided to step up the science experiments and make a rocket out of vinegar, baking soda, and a film canister. I will admit I wasn’t totally prepared for the kind of rocketing explosion that followed and ended with the film canister on my neighbour’s roof. Fortunately no one lost an eye, since my safety precautions consisted of me saying “Everyone stand back!” Maybe I should give them one of those chemistry kits from the 70s, they could blow the house up or something. That would be very educational. Explaining to my slightly deaf neighbour that she had a film canister on her roof was a bit awkward, filled with suspicious looks and a lot of “What?” questions. Then she finished with the question everyone I have told this story to has asked, “Where did you get a film canister from?”

Next time I’m going to try this in a soccer field or something. If I ever get another film canister.

Also on the awesome front, I have stubbed my baby toe violently approximately a dozen times in the past two weeks, and I am just about ready to END IT ALL. MY WORD PEOPLE, my baby toe is suffering. I now fear walking through the kitchen, as if the chair is suddenly going to attack me again. Maybe I have post-traumatic stress disorder. I’m starting to fantasize about taking an axe to the offending chair and then burning the whole thing. Then I – and my poor, poor baby toe – will dance around the fire, singing maniacally.

Speaking of singing, I cannot get the song Empire State of Mind out of my head. I keep singing the chorus with as much heart as Alicia Keys, but with much, much less talent. I sound like someone auditioning for American Idol, the type of contestant hopeful that leaves the audition room huffily saying things along the lines of I’m going to be a star, and you missed out, so take a good look at my face, I’m going to be famous, bitches, while the judges smirk and stifle hysterical laughter.

Just to add to this randomness, I can tell you with perfect authority that the two worst places to have mosquito bites are on a) the arch of the foot, and b) the butt. I have both right now and while I can figure out how I got a) – I have been wearing sandals – I cannot figure out b). Did someone slip me an Ambien and then did I sit nudely in the grass after dark? I don’t THINK so. However, between my mosquito bites and my sad, sad baby toe, and my sleep deprivation – did I mention that Mark’s been a bit anxious about full-day school and so has been somewhat of an insomniac? – I’m pretty much ready to call it a day.

So I’m going to blame sleep deprivation for this completely random and possibly TMI post. Zzzzzz.

There goes the garden

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Q: What’s better than a good friend?
A: A good friend who has kids that get along with your kids.

Today a friend and I took our kids to an amusement park, which my poor deprived children had never visited before. In fact, not only had they never visited that amusement park, which is located less than thirty minutes from my house, they had never in their lives visited any amusement park. One huge benefit of depriving your children of childhood delights is that they are incredibly excited to finally partake in them. They were so! thrilled! with all the various rides and games and cotton candy, which they had never before tasted. Since coming home, they have incessantly discussed the roller coaster, the log ride, and have eaten their way through a giant bag of cotton candy. They also enjoyed the little airplane ride.

So we had a fabulous time, until the sky turned black and the thunder started. We left the park for home, and returned just before this happened:

What’s that on the ground? Hail.


That was my pretty new rosebush.