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2015 Boyhouse Year in Review

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It’s almost time to say goodbye to 2015! It was a good year at the Boyhouse, and although I lead a pretty ordinary life, it seems like there’s always something popping, as the kids say. Here are the highlights of 2015:

January

We never quite see ourselves as others see us, and I am no exception, I discovered that my vagina was not a cavernous wasteland of womanhood (sorry, menfolk), and I raged a bit about Spirit Days and people who leave their shopping carts willy-nilly in parking lots.

barkleybaba

February

Someone stabbed their roommate for constantly listening to the Eagles and instead of being empathetic about it, I couldn’t stop laughing, I skipped right over middle age to become that crazy old lady with tons of plants, and I ran my fourteenth book fair.

parking

March

I got confrontational about parking issues, I got all exhausted by Daylight Savings Time as per usual, and I realized that I have never once calculated gas mileage. Also, Mark turned 11!

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April

In an unexpected turn of events, I took the car in for an oil change and my husband became famous in my circle for flipping out on the dealership, I turned 40 and my dream of being serenaded by a guy in a Top Gun outfit finally came true, and I decided to Never Surrender.

Happy

May

I realized that I was pretty much on point with certain trends since I basically wear the same thing every day, I met a guy whose job is a Beducator, and I frightened my family by having a semi-breakdown over an empty shampoo bottle.

osteopermum

June

I rode a bike for the first time since 2003, I wrote a whole post on how to dress for the Calgary Stampede when you don’t have a big belt buckle or cowboy boots, there were alarming happenings in my neighbourhood, and I went to Las Vegas!

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July

Jake is the Hippo Whisperer, my kids think I’m most like C-3PO, and I discovered perms are making a comeback.

Leia copy

August

I actually under-packed for the first time in my life and I regretted it deeply, Judy Blume tweeted me and made my life complete, and I prepared for back-to-school.

JudyBlume

September

When a door closes a window opens, and since I’m not chairing the SC/PA anymore, I started signing up to volunteer for field trips, I planted a whole lot of bulbs, and we went to Vancouver Island. Also, Jake turned 10!

Jake10

October

My favourite thermal spray was discontinued and I spiralled into hoarding paranoia about it, I travelled and worked and planned a party and became exhausted, and I completely lost my shit on a telemarketer.

CNTower

November

I dressed up for Halloween and people just did not know what to say, I turned into Cynical, Hard-Bitten Old Mom, as opposed to Enthusiastic, Energetic Young Mom, and my kids hilariously participated in Crazy Hair Day at school.

wormsanddirt

December

The boys got their green belts in karate, we went to Orlando, and I found an answer to Elf on the Shelf.

Chewie

Thank you, dear readers. Here’s to 2016! May it be wonderful in your house. xoxo

My Orlando break from reality

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Here’s a fun way to lose weight and tone up those legs: walk 72 kilometers in 5 days. That’s what I did this past week, on my trip to Disney World and Universal Studios.

Selma

This was me a few times on the trip, but with less awesome hair.

I’m going to just come out and say it: we have taken the kids on lots of trips, and this was by far the best one for everyone. We had so much fun, and to be honest, I didn’t really expect to. I mean, I thought I would just sort of enjoy the trip by osmosis, since my husband and kids were so over-the-moon excited, but I honestly loved the whole experience so much.

I have a lot to say about it, and plane travel in general, and tips like “Never take the Magic Express Bus at 12:30 pm because that is when all the small children are going back to their hotel for a nap. If you do, prepare for much crying.” But for now, I will leave you with the highlights.

Christmas Everywhere

Since we were there after the US Thanksgiving, everything was decorated for Christmas. This included the Blues Brothers’ vehicle. At Universal, my husband and I watched them perform Christmas-themed versions of their songs – “I’m a SNOWMAN” – while the kids rode on the Transformers ride for the twelfth time.

BluesBrothers

Elwood

Bluesbrotherssing

I wish we’d gotten a photo of them decorating a small Christmas tree with packages of Marlboroughs and Pabst Blue Ribbon cans.

AnimalTree

There are Christmas trees everywhere!

 

Grinch

“And they’re hanging their stockings!” he snarled with a sneer.

Macy

Universal has a “Macy’s Parade” every night at 5 pm, and it’s very fun to watch. Those are random people in the photo.

The famous Sleeping Beauty castle was all lit up with Christmas lights, and it was pretty special. The one downside? I actually got a bit tired of Christmas music. I know! But when you hear “It’s the MOST wonderful TIME of the YEARRRRRRRRRR” over and over, you weary of it. A bit.

Nostalgia for Cars

For many years, my house was vehicle-crazy. The boys had pretty much every Cars movie character in miniature form, we had books about Cars characters, and a large percentage of every day was devoted to “playing Cars.” We stayed in the Art of Animation resort, which was separated into four different themes: Little Mermaid, Finding Nemo, Lion King, and Cars. This is where we stayed:

Wheel Well

There were life-sized climbable Cars characters all along the pathway (Route 66) to the different buildings.

Doc Hudson

Guido

If we had gone when the kids were small, we would have never made it out of the resort. They would have just wanted to play around Doc Hudson and the rest of the gang all day long.

The Art of Animation was a great hotel, with lots of vegetarian choices at the cafeteria, so I was happy. We had a suite, which meant TWO bathrooms. This really made the trip go from great to amazing. They also have some fun looking pools – the kids only swam one night, since we were so busy at the parks – and there is even a pool bar, which made me even more happy.

Roller Coasters

I don’t love all rides – anything that spins makes me feel ill – but I love roller coasters. Disney has some really fun ones, like Everest and the Rock and Roller Coaster, but Universal had the ultimate crazy ride: the Rip Ride Rockit. I didn’t get a photo but the description is here. It was the craziest thing I’ve ever been on, truly. My heart was pounding when I boarded it, and I asked the guy beside me if he’d ever been on it. He replied that he didn’t speak English, but he screamed “HOLY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT” through the whole ride. Holy shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit indeed.

Universal

My hair in a neat bun pre-Rip Ride Rockit.

Krustyland

Universal has a whole section devoted to The Simpsons, and it has piqued my children’s interest in watching the show. I haven’t watched it for probably fifteen years, but I’m hoping to find some reruns of the classics, like Duff Gardens – if only to explain this to the kids:

Surly

Me and Surly.

Duff

The Duff Man. Note my hair, straining to be released from its bun. That was after Rip Ride Rockit.

Harry Potter

I have not seen the movies, nor read the books, but we have Harry Potter fans in the house. The train alone that goes between parks is worthwhile, even if you don’t know Harry Potter from a hole in the ground.

HP

Snow in Orlando!

Bank

The dragon actually roars.

The Muppets

My love for the Muppets is well known. At Disney’s Hollywood Studios, there is a Muppet 3D attraction, and it’s fabulous.

Muppet Theatre

A little excited, I guess.

MuppetVision

Squee!

Star Wars

I have saved the best for last. Unless you are disconnected from any kind of media – in which case, you are probably not reading this – the new Star Wars movie is coming out in EIGHT DAYS. The countdown has been on at my house for a while, and we were all pretty excited to hear that Disney was opening its new Star Wars Launch Bay on December 1. We were there December 4! It was pretty much impossible not to get caught up in it. We all enjoyed Star Tours SEVERAL times, went to see a “Path of the Jedi” short film, and we looked at the many artifacts at the Launch Bay. We even stood in line to meet a celebrity. Now, my kids couldn’t care less about meeting Mickey, or a princess, or any other character at Disney. But we did want to meet this guy:

Chewie

He loves me!

Now it’s back to reality – tomorrow I’m chaperoning a field trip! Although it was a short vacation, it felt like longer, like a real break from reality. Which, I guess, it really is.

One of these days these feet are going to walk all over you.

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I found out that Billy Idol just turned sixty this week, and when I mentioned my surprise to my husband, he was nonplussed. “Why wouldn’t you think he’d be sixty?” he asked. “His big hits all came out in the early 80s.”

That wasn’t what I meant, though. It wasn’t that I couldn’t believe his age, per se, it’s just I cannot believe he’s actually lived this long. I believe he was the epitome of “live fast die young” given his penchant for overdosing and also having sex with multiple prostitutes and/or groupies at a time. You’d think something would have done him in by now, but no. I call that amazing.

Also of note: the boys graded at karate this weekend and are now green belts. It’s not as incredible as Billy Idol living three decades longer than anyone might have guessed, but I still think it’s pretty great.

Greenbelts

They look a little like black belts in that photo, but really, they are green.

greenbelts2

I should have maybe photoshopped out the dirty foot. Those dojo floors are never as clean as you might hope. Once Jake came home with glitter on the soles of his feet, and wondered what exactly happened in the dojo when they weren’t there.

Speaking of feet, I was at the hair salon the other day, and there was a woman speaking about her recent experience at a newly-opened day spa. The experience was not, shall we say, ideal. I shamelessly eavesdropped as she discussed the plumbing issues, the jackhammering noise, and the massage therapists that walked around all wearing gladiator-style sandals. What’s the big deal with gladiator-style sandals, you might wonder, other than being not as flattering as some footwear. Well.

The woman was lying on the massage table, and all seemed normal at first. Then, she said, something changed. The massage felt very different somehow. It didn’t feel like hands, and it didn’t feel like elbows. The woman turned her head – no mean feat on a massage table – and the massage therapist was USING HER FEET TO MASSAGE HER BACK.

This is where the gladiator sandals detail becomes pertinent. If someone is putting their feet on my body, I would like those feet to be as clean as possible. Also, I would not like anyone’s feet on my body. Unless, I suppose, my husband is playing a game of footsie, but THAT IS IT. No other feet, please.

The woman’s hair stylist stopped with the foils and looked at her. “What do you…mean, exactly? Was she…walking on you?”

This was also my question, but I didn’t feel like I could ask, since I was, after all, eavesdropping.

No, it turns out, the massage therapist was kneeling on the bed with one foot rubbing the woman’s back. Her upper back, near her hair. Her hair. Feet. Near her hair. I don’t think I’m a germaphobe – well, maybe just a little – but this seems to me to be especially gross.

I don’t get massages anyway, since I am not someone who enjoys other people rubbing my back with more than feather-strength. Yet, I felt it was valuable information to have. Usually the only information I gain from the salon is from reading People magazine. For example, the reason David Beckham was named is because he vacuums, and that Carly Simon is still in love with James Taylor, who hasn’t spoken to her for many years. Now, I love James Taylor’s music but his shoddy treatment of the adoring Carly Simon is enough to make me not sing along to Fire and Rain. Oh, who am I kidding. I’m still going to sing along but it’s not the same.

Hashtag: Boner Killer

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In lo, these many years since my children have been in the public school system – and even before that, when they were in a privately-run preschool – I have seen my share of Spirit Days. From Twin Day to Olympic Day to my much-loathed Dress As Your Favourite Story Book Character Day and it’s equally-loathed Dress As What You Want To Be When You Grow Up Day, I’ve seen them all. I am a veteran of Spirit Days.

Having said that, my children have never once participated in Crazy Hair Day.

Do not get me wrong; Crazy Hair Day is greatly preferred to Crazy Hat Day. Crazy Hat Day was almost always followed by Lice Notice Day, which is no one’s favourite day. We have been very lucky; the boys have less than an inch of hair at any given time, and have – so far, knock on wood and throw salt around – never been afflicted by lice. I’d like to keep it that way.

Yes, the boys have haircuts you could set a watch to, by their own choosing. Once, Jake thought he’d grow his hair out a bit; by the time he had 3/4 of an inch of hair on his forehead he was begging to get it cut. They go into the barbershop like they’re ordering Chinese takeout: I’d like the number 2 on the sides and number 4 on top, please.

But today they decided they would participate in Crazy Hair Day, so they went into the bathroom with a bottle of gel and after a solid twelve minutes of effort, came out looking like this:

crazyhairday

 SETTLE DOWN THERE, BOYS. No need to get so wild.

Speaking of wild, a set of Golden Girls panties came out on the market, and I was notified by no fewer than six people. God, I love my friends: people see “Golden Girls panties” and they immediately think “Nicole would like those.”

 goldengirls

NOTE: The Blanche ones are crotchless.

I ALMOST want to shell out the $160 for the set and then get some boudoir photos taken to give to my husband at Christmas. Sssshhh…don’t tell him. I’m sure he would be thrilled.

georgecostanza

Rod Stewart performs Sound of Music favourites, and other reasons to live.

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This weekend I got so much done; in addition to all my usual things, I also made sugar cookie dough, gingerbread dough, gingersnaps, banana muffins, and squares. I cleaned the house and we put up the Christmas tree and decorations – no, it’s not too early! – and I was about to finish up addressing my cards when I suddenly started feeling very unwell. I was feeling so unwell that my husband commented on it. Are you okay? Because you don’t look okay. You look terrible.

I’d be insulted if I wasn’t so grateful that he noticed my plight. It turns out that I had suddenly come down with the virus that had the rest of the family down a week earlier: sore throat, tight chest, and fatigue.

Fatigue! Yesterday I felt like I was in a fog; I wandered around the house for five minutes trying to figure out what I needed to do. It turns out, I needed to put a load of laundry in, but the thought process to get there was so taxing I wasn’t sure I could make it. I actually napped, which I never do. Ninety minutes of napping, and then it took me several minutes to figure out how to use my vegetable peeler while I prepped dinner. I was, alarmingly, reminded of Still Alice. It’s just a cold, I’m not coming down with early onset Alzheimer’s…or am I? I thought this over and over until I forgot about it and stared blankly at the sink for a while.

Happily, I feel much better today. I shovelled the snow from the sidewalk and only felt a little bit like dying.

This whole weekend, while I was in festive production mode, I was listening to the Sirius Holly channel, that I mentioned previously. For the most part, it is delightful. I can easily hear multiple renditions of the same song in a three-hour time period, and I will sing along with all of them. I even enjoyed ROD STEWART singing My Favourite Things, which is one of the more bizarre sentences I have written. Me, rolling gingersnap dough in sugar: Brown paper packages tied up with string, these are…hey, this sounds like Rod Stewart. It IS Rod Stewart! That’s weird.

Until this weekend, I would have said that I enjoy all Christmas music immensely, with only one exception: Paul McCartney’s Simply Having A Wonderful Christmastime. That song, to me, is the festive equivalent of Might As Well Go For A Soda. I start to twitch like someone is scratching their nails down a chalkboard. Does anyone actually have chalkboards anymore? You know what I mean.

Anyway, I had always thought that was the worst ever Christmas song. I have a very high tolerance – nay, adoration – of cheesy Christmas songs such as Barry Manilow’s White Christmas or Neil Diamond’s Little Drummer Boy. But once that “Simply having…OH GOD MAKE IT STOP” gets in my head, I feel like I need some kind of medication/ alcohol to remedy the situation. However, from listening to Sirius Holly, I have discovered something even worse.

It’s called Christmas Wrapping.

It is the most tuneless song ever with the most insipid lyrics – and this is coming from someone who goes NUTS to hear Last Christmas by Wham! so I know a little something about insipid holiday lyrics – and it is six and a half minutes long. It also is played on Sirius Holly FREQUENTLY.

My weekend with Christmas Wrapping:

Me, the first time I hear it: Is this song still playing? Wow, it’s really long.

Me, the second time I hear it: Oh god, it’s that song again. What the hell is this song?

Me, the third time I hear it: What the hell? Why are they playing this again?

Me, the fourth time I hear it: THAT IS IT. I AM WRITING AN ANGRY LETTER TO SIRIUS. RIGHT AFTER I FINISH THIS GINGERBREAD.

Me, the fifth time I hear it: I’m losing the will to live.

Me, the sixth time I hear it: *changes channel*

So I’m a little slow. Clearly, I should have gone with step six in the first place. But then I might have missed Bruce Springsteen’s Baby Please Come Home, and that would have been tragic.

Friday Fun

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It’s a PD day. It’s 9:09. I have had approximately nine cups of coffee. In related news, this post will be in point form.

COPA Cabana

As many (most?) of you know, I work at Yummy Mummy Club, or YMC, both as a writer and a twitter-er. Imagine my excitement when, at the Canadian Online Publishing Awards, YMC won GOLD for Best Use of Social Media! Look:

COPA

So that was pretty happy news. YMC also won gold and silver for two online campaigns: Dove Beautiful You, and Elmer’s Freestyle, along with gold for Independent Publisher of the Year. I think I will crack a bottle of amarone tonight, to celebrate!

Holiday Music

Sirius radio has a fabulous holiday channel, called Holly, and I haven’t stopped listening to it since I discovered it. It has everything from Harry Connick, Jr. to Barry Manilow; in other words, it is my dream holiday channel. In the past twenty-four hours, I have heard no fewer than five different renditions of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” which is my favourite Christmas song EVER. Except, maybe, the terribly politically-incorrect Baby It’s Cold Outside.

Spectre

Until very recently, I had never seen a James Bond movie in my life. When one is completely outnumbered, one watches the movies that everyone else wants to watch, and so we’ve been watching the most recent James Bond movies for our Friday Family Movie Nights. I normally fall asleep at some point in the movie, because explosions and whatnot bore me. What doesn’t bore me, however, is a shirtless Daniel Craig.

After we’d watched three Daniel Craig movies, we were ready for the newest: Spectre. My husband was very excited and he booked seats for the opening weekend. We all went and were kind of underwhelmed. For one thing, it was at least thirty minutes too long. For another, he was completely clothed for the whole movie. THE WHOLE MOVIE. Why am I here? I kept thinking to myself. This isn’t interesting at all.

It reminded me of when the boys made me go see Avengers: Age of Ultron. Not only was it a terrible, terrible movie, but it was tragically low on the shirtless men factor. All that talent, and the only guy who takes his shirt off is Bruce Banner? WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS?

Action movie makers, take note: if you want the “mom vote,” maybe throw us a little bone, here? Does Chris Evans need to chop wood with a t-shirt on? No, he does not. He is Captain Freaking America, and he can chop wood with no shirt on, thank you very much.

Greek Mythology

Mark has been obsessed with Greek mythology for the past while, and I used to be PRETTY knowledgeable in that area myself. However, the student has far surpassed the teacher, and now every single day he asks me questions that are unanswerable. For example, who is my favourite demigod? Do I know which animal/ plant symbolizes which Greek god? If I could have any power bestowed upon me by any god, which would it be and why? It makes for interesting dinner table conversation, sort of. Jake mentioned that he would like to never die, to which Mark responded, “Immortality is not always a great thing, Jake.” Then he went into this depressing spiel about it, and how sometimes it’s just better to die, which reminded me of this terrible biography my husband watched about Kurt Cobain. Good lord, what a mess. I felt like this conversation warranted a drink if it were to continue, but thankfully the subject veered into the following debate: Was Persephone happy to be in the Underworld? Discuss.

I am the Walrus

Jake has been walking around saying “I am the Eggman” and laughing. “Eggman! Who would want to be an eggman?” Mark asked if it was true that The Beatles had a song called I am the Walrus, and that, my friends, I could answer. This spurred a long discussion about a) why anyone would want to be a walrus, b) what exactly is an eggman, c) why were The Beatles so popular when they are obviously so lame?

I told the boys that their music was the first of its kind, and very innovative. I explained how, way back in the 1950s, Elvis Presley was considered scandalous because he danced too sexily. The boys looked at me in silent disbelief and dropped the subject.

“What?” I asked. “Elvis was considered VERY sexy, back then.”

“Mom, please stop saying Elvis and sexy in the same sentence.”

Everything’s Coming Up Milhouse

The term “growing boys” has taken on new meaning, as they have both grown almost an INCH since September. I looked at Mark in his nearly brand-new karate gi yesterday and thought he looked like he was ready for The Flood.

milhouse2

Happy Friday, everyone! Have a great weekend. xo

And three more…let’s go, ladies!

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Remember that Seinfeld episode where Kramer had one line in a Woody Allan movie – “These pretzels are making me thirsty!” – and George co-opted that line to be a metaphor for his life which, at the time, consisted of a lonely man with no job, no girlfriend, and who was incompetently and temporarily moving cars around the block for money? THESE PRETZELS…ARE MAKING ME THIRSTY!

I thought of that episode a lot last Thursday when I was at the book fair. “The posters are five dollars.” I said this so many times that it truly felt like a metaphor for my life, or maybe my tagline in the made-for-TV movie in which I play the Book Fair Lady Who Encourages A Young Child To Purchase A Lego-Themed Book Rather Than A Highlighter Set That Looks Like Ketchup And Mustard. If this sounds like a less-than-stellar movie, well, I would counter with there have probably been worse films. Waterworld, for example, or Howard the Duck. THE POSTERS…ARE FIVE DOLLARS!

It took me all weekend to get my hands to recover from the incredible amount of hand washing I did on Thursday. My hands are not as yet fully recovered, as they still have a sandpaper feel and the cracks keep catching on my sweater. But oh, the germs in an elementary school in November. The coughing and sneezing into the hands which held the treasured book fair funds was enough to send me into surgeon-scrubbing mode, but there were a few incidents that horrified even seasoned old me.

First, a perfectly pleasant young boy wearing a knitted toque purchased a couple of books and pencils, and after I added his total, he removed his toque to reveal a mop of sweaty hair and a small baggie full of money. I gingerly accepted it, running through my emails in my mind, wondering if there had recently been a lice notice or not. I supposed the money was in the baggie and so it couldn’t have been penetrated by lice anyway, and I wasn’t rubbing my own head with it, but still.

Next, a boy purchased a book and a poster ($5) and when I told him the total, he reached down, took off his shoe, and handed me a moist $10 bill and a damp $2 coin. I stood there with the sweaty goods, horrified, while he smiled and bid me adieu.

Are these children out to get me? Maybe, but in any case, we raised a lot of funds for the library ($3700! Yay!) and I have three more to go! I feel a bit like I’m on the 20 minute workout, but with book fairs instead of leg lifts, and eighteen months instead of twenty minutes. And three more…