Category Archives: Uncategorized

Back in my day…

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Today was cool, windy, and drizzly and so I decided we would have a lazy indoor day, as opposed to the playground afternoon I had planned. Jake wanted to show me something on the Wii and so I acquiesced, sitting down in the armchair to watch him. Apparently I promptly fell asleep and woke up a while later, drooly and disoriented. “Wow, Mom!” Jake said pleasantly. “You were sleeping for a long time!” He didn’t seem at all put out that I’d missed whatever it was that he wanted to show me.

Falling asleep during the day is so unusual for me that, when I related this to my husband, he immediately wondered if I was well and also which chair it was I fell asleep in, a detail that seemed irrelevant at the time but, upon further reflection, is actually quite important. Falling asleep in a comfortable armchair with the soothing tunes of Star Wars: The Clone Wars playing in the background is significantly different than, say, passing out at the table or computer desk.

It’s been a fairly uneventful week. I had planned to take the kids swimming but it was a bit chilly this week; instead we went to the library. I picked up a copy of The Tipping Point and I highly recommend it to anyone who is interested in socioeconomic phenomena and epidemiology, which I am. Lest you think this sounds terribly pretentious, I just finished reading the Anne of Green Gables box set, which was lovely, excessive ejaculating notwithstanding.

The boys wanted a book for me to read aloud, and so we chose a Beverly Cleary book; Henry Huggins and the Paper Route. I had to field some difficult questions: what is a paper route? I was a little startled, but realized that, other than at their grandparents, the children never see actual print newspapers. I had to explain that that was how kids primarily made money, back in my day, that and babysitting. It was also a little startling to realize that no kids ever would have a paper route now, because who gets the paper?

BACK IN MY DAY has been something I’ve been thinking a lot lately; there’s so much press lately about free-range parenting and people getting arrested for leaving their kids in the car or leaving them at the playground all day. So many sad stories and so many people pretending to be Good Samaritans when in reality, they are Bad Judgmental Unhelpful People. I mean, back in the 80s it was pretty common for elementary school-aged kids to run to the corner store to buy cigarettes for their parents, and now I feel like I cannot leave my almost-nine-and-ten year olds in the car while I run into the grocery to get a loaf of bread, lest someone be filming me as a negligent parent. When I was a kid all the adults in the neighbourhood knew what the kids were doing, but in a “keep you safe and be sure you’re not being an asshole” kind of way, not a “let’s arrest your mother” kind of way. It’s a different world; mostly that people seem to be less inclined to help out their neighbours.

Speaking of neighbours, one of the elderly men down the street was straining the decorative rocks beneath his fir tree, to rid them of the fir needles. It seemed like a massively arduous task, and made me imagine my husband twenty years hence. Would he be shovelling decorative rocks onto a gigantic homemade sieve? Maybe.

Yesterday we went to the zoo, and it was lovely as usual. What caught my eye was this adorable little topiary:

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I am now trying to figure out how to get this into my own garden. I’m also trying to figure out what to do this lovely Friday night – I’m so rested, thanks to my impromptu nap. I’ve actually watched TWO movies in the past week – one was “I Give It A Year” which was a witty British comedy, and the other was “Despicable Me 2”. This exactly sums up my entire cinematic desires: either witty British humour or complete slapstick. All I know is that I’m not going to fall asleep before nine o’clock tonight, so I’m starting off the weekend with a bang.

 

What to expect when you’re expecting tween boys.

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You know when you’re a new mama, and you have all sorts of ideals in your mind as to how you’re going to raise your children. You imagine the summer days full of dappled sunlight where you are cannonballing into a turquoise pool with your children, or maybe eating homemade freeze pops on long, warm evening walks? Those days are great, to be sure, but what I never imagined was being schooled by my children in Cars 2 racing games on the Wii, or having intense conversations on which model of car will be best for which race track.

Also things I’d never thought I’d deal with: saying things like “Don’t put your foot on other people’s faces”, “Don’t elbow your brother in the crotch”, and “No farting or talking about poop at the table”, listening to a litany of complaints about the unfairness of a video game that blew up someone’s car just moments before the finish line, and finding papers in the recycling bin that are divided down the middle with “Marmots” on one side and “Haters” on the other, “Marmots vs. Haters” scrawled across the top. What is going on here? I don’t know.

After the busyness of last week, this week seems to be all about staying in our pajamas/ sweaty yoga clothes as long as possible and taking things slow. Monday I went to Costco with the kids so that felt like a gigantic accomplishment. There were the customary arguments about who gets to put that item into the cart so I had to ridiculously instigate a rule in which the children had to take turns being helpful. I also had to rule against the children trying to pick up flats of sparkling water that was half their body weight. As per every mother everywhere, I got talked into buying a few things that weren’t strictly necessary. Unlike every mother everywhere, those items were blankets. The boys fell in love with “Sherpa Throw Blankets” and it’s been a struggle to explain to them that this does not mean that Sherpas are being thrown around in these blankets. They’ve been walking around the cool basement wrapped in these soft blankets, the blankets trailing behind like they are medieval royalty. Another thing I didn’t expect would happen.

Lately in order to fill that hollow space in my heart left from Mad Men and Breaking Bad, I’ve been watching House of Cards. I oscillate between fascination and curiosity as to whether or not politics is really like that. I’m inclined to believe that it is, sadly enough. The kids, on the other hand, are obsessed with watching Wheel of Fortune. It’s considered to be a huge treat to watch Wheel of Fortune before bed, and I don’t know if you’ve watched it recently, but it’s pretty much the same as it was 30 years ago, except that occasionally Vanna White wears pantsuits. Pat Sajak is exactly the same as he always was. I also discovered that Alex Trebek is 74 years old! Isn’t that incredible? I would have never guessed.

I just said “If you guys are going to wrestle, don’t mush each other’s face in the carpet” and “Don’t kick the exercise ball into the air!” so it is time to close for the day and reflect on the strangeness and unexpectedness of daily life.

Empty Nest Overcompensation

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The kids are in karate camp this week, which means that I am kid-free for SEVEN HOURS A DAY. This is not something that happens ever, even during the school year, since they come home for lunch. I seem to be compensating for this empty nest by DOING ALL THE THINGS. I have been unbelievably productive, to the point where I’m starting to question my sanity. I mean, do I really need to be frantically busy every second that the children are not here just because they’re not here? Do I need to seize every single moment to do something useful or work-related? It’s not like they are toddlers; I can actually accomplish things when they are at home.

In the face of all this me-time, I did what any girl would do: book an appointment for a dental cleaning and check-up. Perhaps not the most hedonistic thing to do but my dental experience has improved exponentially by the introduction of an electrosonic dental-scaler. Maybe it’s hydrosonic. I don’t know, in any case it’s so much better than the old-school scalers of yore which would leave me with bleeding gums and in a foul mood for the remainder of the day. (note to self: floss EVERY day). I used to think that a Pap smear was highly preferable to dental scaling but the advent of this electro/hydro thingy, and my recent experience with a substitute OB/GYN who could only be described as “ham handed” has me singing a different tune. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a trip to the spa, but then again I’m not desperate for me-time pampering, given that I just had a weekend at my parents in which I was completely spoiled. For one thing, my mom and I had pedicures and lunch out; for another thing, I spent hours like this:

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And watching this:

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And also consuming lots of wine and chips and other tasty things. So, I’m feeling pretty relaxed going into this nearly kid-free week, with the only stressors being a) packing lunches and b) making sure the kids are covered in sunscreen before 8:30 am. This is more challenging than it sounds; apparently I’m off my school-year game.

Another thing I’ve saved to do this week is bra shopping. My very favourite black bra finally gave up the ghost, as I uncomfortably discovered when the underwire broke loose. I had to walk around wearing my ridiculous “for special occasions” push up bra. I just wanted a regular bra, not one that would “add two cup sizes”, not one that is described as “sexy” or “flirty”, just an everyday bra to wear under everyday tank tops. A trip to Victoria’s Secret was in order! You all know how I love Victoria’s Secret: the pretty, generous, and nicely lit change rooms, the fancy displays, the sweet and business-like salesgirls who don’t yell at you for wearing the wrong bra size like the ladies who work in The Bay. Now, I know it’s not for everyone, but for us run-of-the-mill B cups, Victoria’s Secret is excellent. Plus they have this Body by Victoria collection, and it is amazing. Super soft, non-ridiculous bras.

Speaking of ridiculous, look what I saw at the mall:

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A one-piece, strapless, DENIM short set. Why. WHY.

These are the people in my neighbourhood.

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Proving my theory that every single day is special, yesterday was International Kissing Day, followed by today’s festivities – International Chocolate Day. I think I can get behind this romantic turn of events. Just this morning as I was opening up my drapes, I noticed my across-the-street neighbour walking his girlfriend to her car, kissing her goodbye. Awwww! Sweet! My across-the-street neighbour is not exactly the grand prize to womanhood, so I’m very happy to see him with a lady friend. In related news, I am now in the running for the nosy neighbour on the street. I’m in competition with all of the octogenarians in the surrounding houses.

Years ago, one of my across-the-street neighbours was a man in his eighties, and he had a girlfriend who was probably about 65. They were both widowed, and every Saturday night they would go to 5:00 mass together, then to the Legion for dinner and dancing. It was one of the cutest things ever. One Sunday morning I was opening the drapes to witness Henry walking Frieda to her car and kiss her goodbye; moments later Henry’s adult children pulled up for a visit. It made the romance a little more illicit in my eyes. The moral of this story is that romance is ageless. This is good to know for those days in the future when I’m an orange-haired old lady with bleeding lipstick in my slacks-and-pumps with plastic white purse containing a roll of mints and a change purse.

Ah, romance. It’s everywhere, from the sanitation worker across the street to the teenaged ride operators at the amusement park, from the elderly man down the street who told me his secret to over half a century of happy marriage was saying “Yes, Dear” right to my own home. Yes, the romance is alive at the Boyhouse, even if no one appreciates my kale chips or my version of The Greatest Love of All.

I’ve been re-reading the Anne of Green Gables series, which I haven’t read since I was a kid. I love them as much now as I did then; maybe more. I love the old-timey romance and the descriptions of the college girls entertaining their gentleman callers decorously in the parlor, I love the descriptive details of the landscape and the furniture, but most of all I like how it follows a woman throughout what is really quite an ordinary life. All of us ordinary people are stars of our own stories; everybody’s life is book fodder.

The only thing that’s not great about the Anne books is all the ejaculating. “Anne, what do you think you’re doing?” Marilla ejaculated. Awkward!

It’s been warm and sunny here, happily enough. I’m driving around with the windows open in the car and wearing sleeveless shirts, and it feels wonderful. A man riding a motorbike was stopped in front of me at a red light, and he was wearing a shirt that said boldly, across the back, “Go Big Or Fuck Off”. It made me think of my across-the-alley neighbour who frequently wears a t-shirt that has a picture of a clock on it and the words “Fuck The Time”. I was driving the kids to school one day when he was wearing that shirt, having a conversation with the elderly lady from three doors down. He cheerfully waved; the boys were fascinated. Did you see his shirt, Mom? Do you think that Mrs. D noticed what it said? Yes, I did, and maybe? Then again, maybe she has cataracts.

The other day I was working in my back garden, and I could hear my next-door neighbour talking with her next-door neighbour – that’s Beeps’ “daddy”, for those of you who have been reading about the Boyhouse for a while. My ears perked up when I heard my name mentioned. Did Nicole change her hair? Beeps’ “daddy” asked loudly. Because it sure looks different. Was it always that colour? It seems awfully…red. I thought of Anne Shirley, and how she would flip whenever her hair was referred to as “red”, rather than “auburn”. I’m just glad mine wasn’t being referred to as “orange”. I wondered if I should make my presence known, but then I decided to stay quiet just in case they started gossiping about me. Sadly, the conversation moved on to tree pruning and the weather, so I never did find out about my hair’s approval rating in the neighbourhood.

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For the record, I did not change my hair. But my roots ARE out of control.

A 1970s Summer, But With Helmets and Seatbelts and Sunscreen

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It’s hard to believe that one week ago today was the last day of school. It feels like much, much longer, but not in a bad way. We just got back from three nights at my parents’ lake house and it was wonderful. But of course! How could it help being anything but when everyone – including me and the dog – gets insanely spoiled by Grandma and Grandpa? If anyone needs me I’ll be detoxing from my wine and chip consumption.

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There’s a lot of buzz around a certain theme this summer – a give your kids a 1970s style summer theme. I read the original article, smiled nostalgically, and was only a little surprised to find out a few days later that this idea, the idea of a free-range, lots-of-TV, drink-from-the-garden hose kind of summer had been taken very seriously. I didn’t realize that it was meant to be taken any way but as a heart warming nostalgia piece, but evidently, I misjudged the internet.

I don’t remember too much about the seventies – I was still pretty young – but I do remember watching The Dukes of Hazzard as a child. Age-appropriate shows weren’t exactly a thing back then, but fortunately, the law-breaking, moonshine-running plots went over my little bowlcut-sporting head. I was twenty-three before I realized that the underlying theme for Three’s Company was that Jack was pretending to be gay so he could live with two girls. I literally had no idea. I just remember feeling mild resentment that I, as a brunette, was forced to be on Team Janet. Add that to the Little House on the Prairie books – Beautiful Golden-Haired Mary versus Very Bad Brunette Laura – as well as the fact my best friend had thick, wavy, white-blonde hair, and it’s no wonder I have hair issues.

But back to the Dukes of Hazzard: while at my parents’ place, we went into town for the Canada Day festivities. A few blocks off the main street is this amazing place:

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I did not go in, despite the exciting claims of “Daily Food” and “Patio Pool Table”. But oh, how I wanted to.

Sunday had pretty much the worst possible weather imaginable for late June – high winds, pouring rain, and a high temperature of thirteen degrees Celsius. And here’s where the 1970s summer comes in: in the absence of video games and other technological distractions, Mark and I played approximately one million games of Go Fish, only one of which I won. Jake and I played a 40 minute game of War, and the only reason it ended at 40 minutes is because I eventually put a time limit on it. It was like playing a low-rent version of Risk. Mark made up his own games by drawing Pokemon and making little cards, and Jake played a game racing various Hot Wheels against each other.

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Eventually the rain stopped and we sent the boys OUTSIDE.

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Clothing wise, it does seem like we are having a 1970s summer. Last week I took the boys to the local amusement park, and I felt like some kind of fashion anthropologist, pinning the year onto the styles all the kids were wearing. We arrived at the park and there were busloads of teens from surrounding rural areas, clearly on an end of school celebratory trip. The temperature was about eighteen degrees, but the girls were almost exclusively dressed in Daisy Duke short-shorts and tank tops. A few had sweaters around their waists that their mothers probably forced on them. The only thing that was confusing to this fashion anthropologist was that I counted four pairs of overall shorts and one pair of acid-washed short shorts, which seemed more eighties than seventies.

Since there were so many people arriving at the park, the boys and I made a beeline for one of their favourite rides, the Dream Weaver, which is basically a bunch of swings that go around in circles high in the air. The boys jumped into the very short line, and I snapped a picture of their angelically happy faces. Look at those angels!

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They must be so excited and happy to get on the ride, one might think from looking at this photo. In reality, they are looking in an amused way at the swings that were stuck high up in the air. “EVERYBODY STAY CALM!” screamed the operator. “STAY IN YOUR SEATS WITH THE SEATBELT SECURELY FASTENED!” I’m not sure if anyone was about to quickly unbuckle and jump thirty feet down just to be free of the Dream Weaver, but in any case, we steered clear of the ride for the remainder of the day, even after the maintenance people deemed it ride-worthy.

With the Dream Weaver off our radar for the day, the boys chose to participate in a water gun activity in which they were paired against a couple of teen boys, and let me tell you, nothing gets my kids’ spirits up like the idea of a battle challenge. They didn’t win.

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They were happy with their efforts, and didn’t complain at all about spending the day in soaking wet clothes. Later we had peanut butter sandwiches and bought cotton candy, which seemed ridiculously expensive. What is the markup on a $5.50 bag of cotton candy? I’m guessing $5?

Cotton candy, card games, and broken carnival rides – maybe it’s going to be more of a 1970s summer than I thought! In any case, a great first week. xo

Christmas came early!

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You probably know this already, but I pride myself on my organizational skills. Meal planning? Yes. To-do lists, long and short term? Yes. School and activity schedules? Yes. At the beginning of the year I take the Important Dates To Note handout from the school and I write each and every Important Date in my calendar, in a different colour, so that I can See At A Glance all the Important Dates for the year. Last September I wrote Last Day – Early Dismissal! on Thursday, June 26. At the time I thought it seemed late; generally the last day of classes is on a Wednesday, not a Thursday.

This morning I was chatting with a friend at the playground after drop-off and I casually mentioned the slog that is the last week of school. “Oh well,” I said cheerily, “Only three and a half days left to go!”. She looked at me strangely. “You mean two and a half,” she said, “Last day is Wednesday.” LO AND BEHOLD. The date had been changed on the website and it’s true, it’s TRUE. Wednesday is the last day and now I suddenly feel like Christmas came early this year.

Which is not to say I wasn’t a little unsettled by the reception of this new information. I scrambled to rearrange an appointment I had made for Wednesday afternoon and I rushed home to make the chocolates for teacher’s gifts. It was on my to-do list today anyway, but I felt like I was doing something totally last minute instead of being smugly early. I do better when I’m smugly early, I guess.

What are you doing/ did you do for teacher’s gifts this year, if anything? I normally give gift cards for the mall, along with some nice chocolates, and the kids make cards. Normally I buy the chocolates but this year the boys thought I should send some of my dark chocolate truffles, so that was my morning: rolling, dusting, and packing up three dozen little chocolates. I tied an ingredients list to the mason jar in an attempt to be Pinterest-y, but unfortunately I am unable to tie a decent bow to save my life. Hopefully the chocolates make up for my lack of artistic ability.

Our home phone is on the fritz, which isn’t generally a big issue – who uses land lines anymore anyway? – but this morning the telephone repairman was scheduled to come and fix it. It’s one of those rare Calgary days where it’s actually warm, and so today I am wearing a skirt and tank top. Making truffles is a bit of a messy business, and so I grabbed an apron and set to work. After I finished I made a pasta salad for dinner, then wandered off to do some work. I forgot to take off the apron and so I was a little startled when I looked at myself in the mirror:

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I’m just going to say that I’m actually pretty glad the telephone repairman never showed up, even though no one can call me still and I’m worried I’m missing some important reminder that only comes via land line. Because seriously, nothing says “Adult Filmstar Awaiting Arrival of Telephone Repairman” like wandering around your house wearing an apron that covers your entire outfit. Plus that’s the apron my mother gave me for Christmas, that she bought in a lingerie store. Oh, nothing, just wearing my lingerie apron while anxiously awaiting you, Telephone Repairman.

It was a pretty lovely weekend all-round; my husband and I separately decided that the constantly-aphid-infested golden ninebark in the back yard had to go. I looked at it and looked at it and phoned my husband to say that we needed to get rid of it – the golden-green leaves always looked sickly instead of interesting, and it was always full of aphids – and he was simultaneously preparing to tell ME that we should dig it out. It was a very O Henry moment. Or maybe the opposite of O Henry, since we were both happy at the end, I don’t know. In any case, it’s gone and in its place are some beautiful purple and pink annuals. An unexpected trip to the garden centre for more flowers is always a happy thing, I think. Other than gardening, we also had some friends over for dinner AND went to a friend’s 40th birthday party, which is more plans than we usually have in a month of weekends.

This also happened:

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Orange belts! I’m so proud of them!

What do Count Almasy and Elaine Benes have in common?

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You know how some pop-culture moments stay with you for many years after their relevance has dissipated? Nothing dates a person faster than saying something like “Where’s the beef?” or “How YOU doin’?” and yet, I find myself unable to stop. If I’m making lasagne, I constantly say “VEGETABLE LASAGNE” like Elaine Benes, if I’m making hummus I say “This hummus is amazing. God bless the chickpea.” Probably right now you’re thinking how awesome it must be to live with me. I’m a barrel of fun! Just ask my husband and kids.

*note: my husband and kids would not say I am a barrel of fun.*

On this vein, when something occurs more than a few days in a row, I am reminded of Count Almasy in the English Patient, when he leaves Katharine in the desert to go get help. “I have been walking…I have been WALKING…for THREE DAYS…I do not want to spell my name.” Today I looked out the window at the pouring rain and said to myself in a fake Hungarian accent, It has been raining…FOR THREE DAYS…I do not want to walk the dog.

It’s been pouring rain here; the house is completely dark and no matter how well I wipe Barkley’s feet there are paw prints all over the floor. There’s only one week left of school and as always during the last week of school, it feels like a lot of effort, just putting one foot in front of the other. Just keep going! One more week! On the upside, the hostas are looking great and the grass is really green! I had optimistically written “weeding!” on my list of things to do today, but it looks like that is going to be a tomorrow job. Hopefully.

The sun is supposed to come out tomorrow, and so today I’m going to focus on Things That Make Me Smile.

Search Terms For This Blog

Nothing cheers me up faster than seeing how people come to read this blog *waves at all of you*. Here are popular search terms for this blog from the past 30 days:

jaminals – well, I can see that. I did write a post featuring jaminals.

why is a man’s forearm sexy – I’m not sure where this came from.

naked woman gardening in house – ditto. I don’t garden naked in the house. I don’t even have plants in the house.

huge boners – um

play in soccer in the freezing point of rain with pneumonia – sadly, this was an actual topic of a post back in 2011 when Mark had pneumonia and still wanted to go to soccer practice.

fat whore – huh

I drink green smoothie my tongue swell – CALL THE DOCTOR IMMEDIATELY!

and my personal favourite:

I watch my neighbor’s boyfriend wear panties outside.

Godspeed, internet searcher. Godspeed.

This Video With Little Hamsters Eating Little Burritos

I dare you to watch this and not be instantly happy.

This Amazing Internet Commentary

My friend Annabel posted this about a rainbow cake recipe that inspired an apocalypse of commentary, and it is pretty much my favourite thing I’ve ever read. I laughed until I cried and had stomach pains. As an economist, I appreciate how Keynesian economic theory gets mentioned, along with some uncivil discourse on the etymology of the word “liberal”. As one commenter so aptly says, “Shit’s getting real up on the recipe comments.”

Ah, I can only dream of the day when one of my recipes inspires a fascist versus communist, helicopter versus free-range parent comment war. You just never know what will set people off. I’m a member of several vegan discussion boards and often one member will casually mention “honey” or “owning cats” and ninety comments later you wonder what just happened. Whoa nelly. I remember several years back when a friend casually mentioned Esperanto on her personal blog, saying it was a silly, made-up language. She was instantly inundated with comments from the Esperanto Society. There are people who will argue anything, and that includes, apparently, a rainbow cake with numbers in it. As one of the commenters said, “Lmaooooooooooo”.