Category Archives: Testosterone-y

Where the hell is my invincible summer?

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“Mom!  It’s going to be hot outside!” Jake shrieked from the living room this morning, where the seven-day weather forecast was being shown on the “news”.  “Look!  It says it’s going to be sunny!”  I had to explain the difference between sunny and actual heat, but the conversation didn’t really take and I have to admit that my children are dyed-in-the-wool Calgarians and will one day be possibly jogging in shorts in sub-zero temperatures.  But it’s sunny!  So what if my legs are purple and my knees are shot?  The SUN IS SHINING!
I will admit the blue sky does look pretty.
This week is a typical one for January in Calgary, frigidly cold and windy.  I seem to be spiraling into the true definition of insanity as I keep checking the online weather forecast, only to find that it is exactly the same as when I last checked it thirty minutes ago.  Evidently I think that if I just refresh that forecast enough times, eventually it will be different.  Meanwhile I’m constantly wearing a coat that looks like a comforter with a belt and a hood, and I actually ordered – get this – SOREL BOOTS.  They’re cute Sorel boots, but still.  I can’t wait for their arrival as my current winter boots are just not getting the job done.  It’s fricking freezing , Mr. Bigglesworth. 
In other news, Mark asked me last night what the word “sperm” meant.  I’m glad I took a moment to reflect and ask him why he was asking, since the word was being used in conjunction with “whale”.  That was close.  Can you imagine the trauma?  One minute he’s talking about his new favourite animal, and the next minute his mother is talking about reproductive systems?  “And then when a mommy and daddy love each other very much…” “Gross!  What does that have to do with whales?”   
I’m not sure what’s going on, but since school started last week Mark has been permanently stuck on “chatter”.  The child will not stop talking.  Every single sentence starts with “Hey Mom!” and unfortunately that is repeated until I respond.  “Hey Mom hey Mom hey Mom hey Mom”.  Finally I will respond, remembering to be very kind in my voice and not at all show irritation because he is trying to communicate with me and I want to be a very good mother, even though he will not stop talking, and he will spew out a fact about whales, eagles, his toy tiger named Tigie and his imaginary trip around the globe, or Bakugan.  Alternately he will completely forget what he was going to say, only to start over again in sixty seconds or less.  It’s a bit tiring. 
But it’s nice too.  It’s nice that there is so much he wants to share with me, and I’m trying to remember to be present in the moment, even if the moment is filled with “Fun Facts” and pulling on layer after layer of winter clothing, eagerly awaiting the arrival of my Sorel boots.
Fun Fact: Did you know that killer whales are part of the dolphin family?  I did.

All the cool kids are doing it!

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And so will I – a Year in Review.  Yes, I know it is the sixth of January and most year in reviews have already been posted, but I was far too busy writing about people who eat toilet paper and watching When Harry Met Sally.

So what happened in 2010 over at the Boy House?

January

I made a resolution to learn how to bake bread, and did so immediately, learning two important things: a) baking bread is not as hard as I thought it would be, and b) the key to New Year Resolution Success is to aim low.

I also ranted about the weird things people say to pregnant women and posted a picture of me with an extra seventy pounds to love.

Yowza.  I still had seven weeks to go at that point.  SEVEN WEEKS.
February
We got really, really excited about the Olympics.  We also went on our first ever winter vacation and became a parody of Canadians as the kids got off the plane wearing t-shirts emblazoned with Team Canada logos, and instantly started running around shrieking in amazement, “Mom, look!  There are FLOWERS!  And they’re REAL!  And the grass is GREEN!  And there’s no SNOW!”
March
Mark turned six!  I had my usual crises with regards to birthday party planning and Daylight Savings Time.  I cleaned out the office and found a whole box of mix tapes, some labeled “Party Mix” and one that was made for my husband from one of his old girlfriends that included songs from Richard Marx.  Hee.

April

I turned 35!  I celebrated by chaperoning on a field trip to the firehall, and cemented my cougar-like status by volunteering to try on the firefighter outfit, discovering just how heavy said outfit is, and actually saying to the young and attractive firefighter “Wow, you guys must be in great shape.”  Coo-coo-coo-choo, Mrs. Robinson.  It also snowed a lot and I wrote about attractive movie characters who would be terrible to be married to, i.e., Ralph Fiennes in the English Patient.


My friend lent me a tiara for my birthday, fulfilling my lifelong dream of birthday crown-wearing.

May
Jake’s pre-Kindergarten class had a Mother’s Day tea in which they sang a song that went “May there always be sunshine, may there always be blue skies, may there always be mama, may there always be me”, and I still tear up thinking about it.  I also cried a lot thinking about this Tim Horton’s commercial and I got way too excited about the woman with the MBA with a concentration in economics winning Miss USA.  Clearly May is an emotional roller-coaster of a month for me.
It was still snowing in May.
June
It was really cold.  On Father’s Day weekend – and Super Soccer Saturday weekend – I attended a yoga weekend workshop.  Happy Father’s Day!  Now take care of the kids all weekend.  The kids finished school and my husband came up with a plan in case my kids ever decide to be protesters at a G-20 Summit. 
My two favourite pictures of Mark ever taken.  He’s getting his groove on at the end-of-school-Stampede-breakfast.  Note that it is June and Jake is wearing his fleece jacket.
July
It was raining and cold and I decided to make yarn octopuses, which turned out as well as any craft I make does.  Terribly.  We went to the Okanagan for some sunshine.  The cold and rain made me become Miss Carpe Diem, and so any day with slightly above average temperatures had me running the kids to the pool.
The yarn octopuses, Moppy and Bum, doing a duet of Heart and Soul.
August
It was still cold and rainy.  I wrote a lot about fashion, especially the jeans with zippered ankles that came out that made me feel like I was wearing turquoise slacks and a coordinating blouse, hobbling around with my walker and my Scotch mints, with a tissue in my sleeve.  Also – and my friend just reminded me of this yesterday – I saw a guy wearing a t-shirt that said “Vagitarian”.  I still laugh evilly thinking about it.  Vagitarian.  Says the guy who lives in his mom’s basement.
September
Mark started Grade One and Jake started Kindergarten.  We got hardwood installed by two attractive young whipper-snappers which led to many “hardwood” jokes.  Also I came home to find that they had taken out my drawers to move my dresser with ease, and my panty drawer was proudly on display for all to see.  So I had to show my panties to get hardwood.  Hee.  Also, Jake turned five!
Too cool for school!  Note the boxes of hardwood at right.
October
In typical October fashion we seemed to have a lot of viruses, dead squirrels, and excitement about Halloween.  Also I went on a two-night vacation with my husband and no kids!  And we all survived!  Actually the boys had the time of their lives and still talk about how awesome it was that Grandma picked them up at school.
Boo, I’m a scary witch!  For real.
November
It snowed a lot, I got ready for Christmas, I ran the Scholastic Book Fair, Mark barfed.  That pretty much sums up November.
A foam finger!  It says “We’re #1 – bp”.
December
I blogged almost exclusively about Christmas, Christmas songs, Christmas baking, and my new awesome sexy bitch boots.

Whew!  If you’re still reading this, thank you!!!  So 2010 was a great year, and here’s to a wondeful 2011 for all of us.

I hate you, Harry. I really hate you.

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Happy New Year!  How did you spend New Year’s Eve?  After taking the kids out for a very early dinner and putting them to bed at the regular time my husband, in what can only be described as an overwhelming display of love and affection, watched When Harry Met Sally with me, while I, in an overwhelming display of self-restraint, did not repeat the dialogue word for word.  Then I went to bed at the wild hour of 10:30.
Today has been a very pleasant day, started with a nice Bailey’s and coffee, and filled with doing small but satisfying jobs of organization.  Yesterday I left my chaotic and slightly cabin-fevered household to go to the mall and I was faced with the amazing phenomenon that is Boxing Week.  Christmas cards 75% off!  Lingerie and sleepwear 70% off!  Jacob – 50% off the entire store!  I’ve mentioned before that I’m neither a Handbag nor a Shoe Person, but I am a Sweater Person and so I spent some time clearing my dresser of various ill-fitting and worn out items to make room for my new purchases, despite my husband’s assertion that I probably did not need any more black sweaters.  There is no such thing as Too Many Black Sweaters, I say. 
I also performed a job that I was not relishing but needed to be done: clearing the artwork off the refrigerator.  I kid you not; I took 112 pieces of artwork off the fridge.  One hundred and twelve.  Then I became instantly emotional at the sight of my actual fridge and put 32 back on.  I feel for those people who are hoarders.  Mark may have drawn 25 pictures of Muk Muk and his (fictional) little brother Muk Mike, but every single one of them is adorable to me.  And Jake’s drawing of a Thanksgiving turkey alongside his depictions of alien invasions?  Priceless.  I know that eventually some of them will need to live out their lives in our recycling bin, but I’m not ready for that job.
I know I already stated my New Year’s resolution – to enjoy my friendships, socialize, and drink more wine (with friends), but then I heard of a friend of my husband’s, whose resolution was to make one person happy every day and then by the time ten years passed, she will have made the population of a small town happy!  Beautiful, right?  I immediately resolved to do that as well but then started overanalyzing: would it count if you made the same people happy over and over?  Do you have to make a different person happy every day?  What if you don’t make it out of the house one day and you see no one?  Do you need to make two people happy the next day?  My mind started spinning out of control, making this lovely notion into a complex obligation.  However, I still think it’s a beautiful idea, and I’m going to try to spread much happiness in 2011. Also perhaps I will attempt to not buy any more black sweaters.  Scratch that last one – never going to happen.

Tomorrow is Christmas! It’s practically here!

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Remember when you were a kid, how difficult it was to wait for Christmas and how you would get all crazy and frantic waiting for the minute you could get up on Christmas morning, and quite possibly you drove all the adults in the vicinity a little bit insane with your incessant chatter and odd behaviour?  That is exactly the situation in my house right now!  I emphasize with the kids.  I do.  But I’m not sure why their pre-Christmas excitement manifests itself in running through the house naked, whipping each other with their underwear and remarking on the various qualities of their penises.  “Just get dressed, you guys,” I sigh and they respond with entirely irrelevant remarks.  “When Jake and I are grown-ups we are going to live in the same house and have dink fights every time we go to the bathroom!” Mark informed me.  I’m not even sure what that means and I prefer not to delve any further into it. 
“Here’s your early Christmas present!” Jake said, giving me a kiss.  I smiled at this sweet gesture which was promptly followed by “Oops.  I tooted.  It’s stinky.  I guess you got another present you maybe don’t like!  A stinky toot!”  I started to think that Bailey’s in my coffee might be a good idea.
I was planning to write a Festivus post yesterday airing all my grievances when I realized that I don’t really have any grievances.  Except possibly the fact that my children perpetually look like hobos.  Here’s a million dollar idea for all you entrepreneurial types: jeans that have quadruple-enforced knees.  Why has no one come up with this yet?  Is it a conspiracy by the clothing companies to get moms to constantly need to purchase replacements?  Yesterday I went through their drawers only to find endless pairs of jeans with gigantic rips in at least one knee each.  The only reason I care is because it is Christmas, dammit, and my mother will inevitably comment on their slovenliness.  My parents are coming over for dinner tonight at which I am making a roast beef, strangely enough, with butternut squash soup for the vegetarians in the crowd (i.e., me).  Last night we were at a party, and someone asked me how I get enough protein, which gave me the giggles, but since the people at the party were some of my husband’s colleagues, I did not feel the response I wanted to give was appropriate.  Funny, but inappropriate.
Merry Christmas to all of you, and thank you for reading.  Your readership is a gift to me every day and I appreciate it so much.  I hope your holidays are filled with much joy and happiness, and very few grievances.  xo

The Elderly and the Fireplace Channel

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So no one died or was dismembered from the swim lessons yesterday, happily enough.  They froze, because our lovely city seems to be practicing the utmost frugality when it comes to heating municipal swimming pools, and also it is December, but they are still in one piece.  So that’s a win.

To warm ourselves up, apparently, we have been watching the holiday fireplace channel.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the channel that plays festive music; it is JUST a fireplace, making crackling fire noises.  It’s actually quite relaxing, or would be if the boys didn’t go insane whenever the guy’s arm appears to poke the fire or add another log.  “HE’S POKING THE FIRE!  THERE’S THE NEW LOG!  AAAAHHHHHHH!”  They also like to wonder aloud what would happen if he poked the fire with his bare hands?  Or wouldn’t it be neat if his sleeve caught on fire?  Ah, the warmth and love of the holidays. 

Speaking of festive music, I cannot help myself – I always sing along.  Even, evidently, while shopping at Superstore, like I did today, realizing only when a woman smiled at me that I was singing audibly.  The question arises: what am I going to be like when I am old and crazy?  I read an article in this month’s O magazine that was truly disturbing.  I always thought of my eventual foray into the home for the elderly with fondness: I would be surrounded by other women wearing support hose and feathery lipstick, I would eat lots of soft foods, I would sexually harass the male orderlies.  Maybe I would even learn how to knit or play shuffleboard.  Who knows?  The world will be my aged oyster.  However, according to this article, the foray into the home is riddled with high-school-like hierarchies, depending on one’s level of mobility and ability to match one’s socks with one’s cardigan.  I read that article and felt strangely out of sorts.  Could it be that senior’s residences are not all they are cracked up to be?  Will I really be unable to choose what table to eat my 4:30 dinner at if I have a walker?  Disturbing on many levels.

And what, you may ask, was I doing at Superstore on this fine day?  Shopping for the holiday necessities, of course: booze and cheese.  So I’m all ready for the holidays; if only I hadn’t mentioned to some girlfriends yesterday that we hadn’t been sick for a while…because today it seems I have a sore throat and the tendency to snap at minor issues like my children saying “Mom!  Mom!  Mom!  Mom!” followed with “Um, I forget”.  But I’m sure it’s nothing a little booze and cheese can’t solve!  And maybe an early bedtime.  Good night!

I just want to eat my COOKIE!

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How was your weekend?  It has been painfully cold around here – so cold that I gave the boys the warm fleece pajamas that I was saving for Christmas – and so I spent a large part of the weekend pleasantly bustling around the house, baking things and making batch after batch of cookie dough in preparation for holiday baking.
Speaking of cookies, have you seen this video of the CEO of Alberta Health Services, refusing to answer media questions on the grounds that he was too busy eating a cookie?  You can’t make this stuff up.  I think the funniest part is how shrill his voice is when he says “I am interested in eating my COOKIE.”  Good times.  I think I’m going to start responding like that whenever anyone asks me anything.  “I am STILL eating my COOKIE.”  Maybe I’ll shove the cookie in the questioner’s face, just for fun.  Actually, since most people who ask me for things are my children, they probably would appreciate that.  To a kid, eating cookies is serious business.
While I was baking things and running errands and discovering that Lindor now makes PEPPERMINT CHOCOLATES – Mother of God, it is the most amazing discovery since frozen After-Eights – my husband continued his painting rampage that has been going on for the past few months.  This weekend he started painting Mark’s room a deep blue, a nice change from the dull brown colour it has been since before we had kids and that room was an office.  Anyway, he took everything out of Mark’s closet, which is apparently a catch-all for all kinds of things that we forgot we had.  Like a 1980’s version of Trivial Pursuit.
And this is where I say I don’t know why I bought the children any toys for Christmas, because if you give them an extremely outdated version of Trivial Pursuit, they will be occupied for hours.  And no, I am not boasting about my precocious children and their intimate knowledge of Arts and Literature and Geography and how they somehow knew who Phyllis Diller was in the Entertainment category.  No.  I just mean that Jake opened up his very own bakery and made pies all day long.



He made pies like a samurai!  While using the Chutes and Ladders board.

 While Jake was busy force-feeding the rest of the family pie, Mark set up the actual game board and started a complex game using wooly mammoths, sabre-tooth tigers, and pirates.

If that wasn’t enough excitement for one day, they also found a giant foam finger from my days as a working girl, as opposed to my days as a household drudge/ bon-bon eating housewife.

This picture is absolutely hilarious to me.  Worth a thousand words, I tell you.

And for those of you in more moderate climes, here is a view out my back door:

It looks pretty, anyway.  Check out one of my gardens!

There are leaves still on the shrubs!  Poor things.

So tell me, how was your weekend?  And do cookies trump serious conversation?  Discuss.

Feed a Cold

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One of the first things that happens to me when I am not feeling well is I lose my appetite.  The less I eat the worse I feel, and then the less I feel like eating, so it’s a weird downward spiral.  This morning I woke up feeling worse than ever, and after a walk with Mark and the dog that seemed to be the death of me, I realized I was kind of hungry.  I wanted Kraft Dinner.  I haven’t eaten Kraft Dinner in many years, and obviously we didn’t have any in the house, but seriously, I would have performed any number of indecent acts for a bowl of KD.  Finally I gave up the ghost and realized that an acceptable substitute would be a grilled cheese sandwich, given that I had bread and cheese in the fridge, and after that I pretty much mowed my way through the kitchen.  I found things I didn’t even really know we had – Hey!  Tortilla chips!  Wow!  Cookies and cream ice cream! – and after that nutritional burst I felt immediately well and strong.  I marvelled at this, thinking that maybe I had just invented the world’s greatest cold remedy – eating – but then I remembered the old adage “Feed a cold” and felt startlingly unoriginal.
I kept saying to my husband, “I can’t believe how great I feel, from eating!” over and over.  “Really.” he said, then left to go golfing, but not before snapping this picture
I thought maybe I would have a nap, something I never do, and in the end it never happened.  Jake, who was also not feeling well, decided he was tired and wanted to lay on the couch with me, and then he proceeded to effusively hug me every couple of minutes.  You can’t buy that kind of attention.  Unfortunately he also kept accidentally elbowing me in the face and pulling my hair, so it was less than relaxing.  Mark just kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation, before going to draw me a couple dozen pictures to cheer me up – which they did, of course – but he kept bringing them and shoving them right in my face to show me.  I enjoyed about five minutes of silence before Mark annouced that he had brought up all the painting supplies but not to worry, he could prepare the palette all by himself.  Nothing gets a person off the couch faster than the thought of a six year old painting unsupervised.
The very unfortunate part of today was that it was unseasonably warm, possibly one of the best days of the year, and other than my strenuous two block walk, I spent it inside.  However, now that I have abandoned my diet of cinnamon tea, cereal, and Sudafed for a heartier one, I really am on the mend. 
Since I am stuck on the couch I will live vicariously through you all.  What are you doing on this lovely weekend?