My Girl Crush

I started watching the new TV series Rookie Blue and I'm crushing on Missy Peregrym who plays Andy McNally. Her chemistry with Sam Swarek is sizzling with electricity.

“What do you mean girl crushing?” My husband asked looking a little alarmed. “Well, it's something that happens frequently with women,” I tried explaining, but I got the blank stare.

You meet someone new. They are fantastic. Interesting, animated, full of positive energy. Instantly, you have tons in common. You realize there is a bond. You can't wait to see them again. You feel slightly jealous when they are talking to someone else. Not only are they beautiful and have great teeth, but they are full of life. You are excited to see to them....

No, you are not suddenly switching teams, you have a girl crush.

I showed my hubby the definition according to http://www.urbandictionary.com/. A girl crush occurs when you (a girl) have feelings of admiration and adoration for another girl, without wanting to shag said girl. It is a nonsexual attraction, usually based on veneration at some level. Feelings of general euphoria, prolonged sense of inspiration, desire for intellectual-intercourse occur.

So hun, don't worry, it's just a girl crush.

Who are you girl crushing on?

The Quagmire of Pre-Mid Life

I ponder whether my mid life crisis has arrived a little early. As I watch the local teenagers walk to the neighbourhood high school for their summer program, I feel a sudden pang, aching, a longing to be back at that point in my life. I watch them with awe. They seem to have it all. With their tight little jeans, lean bodies, lustrous hair in their eyes. No responsibilities, except to get good grades and do the dishes every so often.

Driving the kids to summer camp, I sit at the stoplight waiting for it to turn green and watch them with envy. I haven't brushed my hair or my teeth. My clothes are a repeat from yesterday. I've had coffee for breakfast and my knees are aching from a 20 minute bike ride I took last night. As I watch them, I wonder, what teen angst could they possibly have? Maybe which zit cream to buy and whether their g-string is peaking out their low rise skinny jeans. Their lives seem so uncomplicated.

They are not worrying about atypical skin rashes, clogged toilets, instilling healthy eating habits, decluttering the house, getting enough exercise to ward of heart disease, and the other mundane issues that overwhelm us mid-lifers. “Good grief,” as Charlie Brown would say.

Somehow, my son telling me he loves my jelly belly, does nothing for the ego. The other day, a friend called me a skinny little B.x@#$%th. After a moment of shock, I actually felt like crying. Tears of happiness. No one had called me skinny in such a long time. I wanted to jump for joy.

I guess my frosh 15 plus my mommy 10, have now combined to be my new normal. Instead of skinny jeans, I have my camouflage outfits, billowing tops to hide the jelly belly, undergarments that suck in the back fat with good old Lycra strength. It was like getting asked for ID at the Liquor store when it is clear you are way over 19.

Getting older feels synonymous with trying to get your life under control. Because once you have it under control, then you have found an equilibrium. Right? All your problems are suddenly solved, Poof. I'll let you know if this is true when I get there. I'm still trying to clean out the basement.

Stressing out over peanut butter on the banister, the unused elliptical trainer in the basement corner, the unfulfilled life long dreams that haven't yet been accomplished, or the fact that you haven't saved the world from global warming yet all fester inside you. Making your mark on the world and leaving a legacy while at the same time raising kids, nurturing your relationships, and making time for your own needs feels a little daunting.

I guess I still need to come to terms with the fact that I am no longer a spring chicken. In fact, I'm fighting, kicking and screaming. A little uncouth. It is like leaving behind your true identity.

My friends who have passed into their 40's, say it is the best time of their lives. They say this with conviction and this gives me hope that I too will soon accomplish this same sense of contentedness.

Decluttering My Life

There are piles everywhere.



Piles of unopened mail.... Piles of opened mail.... Piles of dirty laundry.... Piles of folded clothing.... Piles of To Do Lists.... Piles of toys.... Lovely Piles.

I ask myself daily, how do I gain control over all these piles? It feels like decluttering the house is a full time job as I go from room to room and return things to their “normal usual” spot. “A place for everything and everything in its place.” But what happens when you run out of places?

In our household, it seems that clutter can only be tackled by someone with the XX chromosome because of their superpower clutter-vision goggles. Somehow the clutter sneaks into my home and before you know it, every surface that I have just cleared is somehow full again.

My kids come home from camp with an armload of new paintings and crafts. (Sigh...) Although these art works are multi-purpose, they camouflage my 1970's kitchen cabinets while at the same time prominently display their potential artistic talents, they are beginning to get out of control. After 5 years, the cabinet space has diminished and I'm not sure where to hang them.

Next, Grandma arrives with new toys from Dollarama. Need I say more?

Adding to the heap of clutter, my kids like to collect garbage. If we are walking down the street and they stumble upon a lid to a pop bottle, a cracked piece of plastic, or a broken toy that has been run over by numerous cars, this then becomes their favourite item. God forbid you get caught throwing it out or they notice it missing.

Their second favourite pastime is making paper planes and other origami which involves cutting endless amounts of construction paper. I will be investing a good portion of my retirement in paper mill stocks when I return to work. Their bedroom is filling up with these paper planes and animals.

As the clutter becomes more pronounced, taking over the dining room table and kitchen counters, I start to have fantasies about buying more shelving, furniture with hidden storage compartments, just somewhere, anywhere to store more stuff.

I have this dream that clearing the clutter from my home will make my transition into the working world successful, and of course, stress free. It will transform my house into a state of nirvana, a peaceful place to rest my mind.

So, my goal over the next month is to organize the house and rid it of any extraneous items.

Hello Goodwill...hello garbage...hello Kijiji.

Do you think the kids will notice when I start selling their toys?

Motherhood

Today, on multiple occasions, I cleaned poopy underwear. Not something I can say I really enjoy doing. My one year leave of absence, to take on the job of "stay at home mom", is slowly coming to an end. It has been a year of change, reflection, transition, tears, smiles, scraped knees, kites, and many many toilet adventures.

I've relished this time with my kids and can't even fathom a different routine on the horizon. It has been the toughest job I've ever done.

No pay. No breaks. Broken sleep. Free, unlimited whine.

Spending a full day with kids makes all other jobs seem... simple. After this stay at home mom position, I can do any job, blindfolded, with both hands tied behind my back. Bring it on!!!

Thinking back to those long winter days, training for the Olympic event of Snowsuit dressing, brings on a sudden hot flash. It's post traumatic stress disorder. How I felt like cursing every time I had to get them into their boots, snowsuits, hats, gloves,and scarves before the school bell went or someone had to go to the bathroom.

I admit, it was a hard year. I didn't always enjoy it. (Am I allowed to say that out loud?) The monotony of the household chores is pure drudgery. I had to remind myself everyday to take it one hour at a time. Enjoy the moment. Breathe. They will not be throwing sand at each other, or pooping in their underwear, or spilling their milk all over the table, wall and clothing when they are 17. Hopefully.

They are growing and this time will soon be behind us. September brings grade 1 and Kindergarten. The mommy groups, play dates, the glasses of red wine while reading a good mommy book helped get me through the rough patches.

Here are the top four. Each of these books describe how chaotic motherhood can be. My favourites are Everyone is Beautiful and Mitten Strings for God, Reflections for Mothers In A Hurry.

Everyone is Beautiful by Katherine Centre

Mitten Strings for God, Reflections for Mothers in a Hurry by Katrina Kenison

The Yummy Mummy by Polly Williams

The Secret Life of A Slummy Mummy by Fiona Neill

High School Reunion

Can friendship survive a 20 year hiatus? Returning this weekend from my high school reunion, I sit pondering the phenomena of friendship. As I walked through the door and saw all the faces, so familiar, yet changed, it brought back a flood of memories and emotions. Bonds forged over foolish pranks, shared cigarettes on the sidewalk, the white cabriolet and the daily banter at the lunch table.

Math class held some of my favorite memories. The whole class seemed to participate wholeheartedly in the mischief. A silent pledge made between us. A connection that made us giddy. One day, our ring leader emptied a can of sardines behind a cabinet. The stench was unbearable. In our infinite wisdom, we thought the only solution our teacher would come to, would be to cancel class. We sat waiting. Mr. Macintosh (God bless him for he was really tolerant) ignored us as we all looked at each other. Misery loves company.

"Operation O" needs to be mentioned as well. It illustrates just how wonderfully creative the teen mind can be. A group of boys decided to put an Octopus corpse, courtesy of the local Knob Hill Farms Meat Department into the piano in the school Cafetorium. After rotting for a few months, the smell in the lunch area was simply, rank, fetid, foul. Although we could no longer eat in the Cafetorium for a period of time, the students didn't mind. Our little secret created a bond. Us against them. It was a time when we were free from any real responsibility, yet bound to the school. We all survived the raging hormones, final exams, and cafeteria food. And as our valedictorian pointed out, "Amazingly, we all turned out OK."

I've Lost The Car

Motherhood has many ill-fated side effects. Varicose veins, sleeplessness, sagging, the tendency to wear stained t-shirts and track pants from the 80's in public to name a few. I don't want to scare too many future mothers away from the mommy club, so I won't list them all.

The most profound effect however, is on one's memory. Whether it is a result of post pregnancy hormones bathing your brain or being woken up countless times during the night, one cannot be sure. After one year of maternity, we mothers have realized that our normal adult vocabulary has been completely forgotten and replaced with new words, such as potty, dah dah, poopie, and wee wee.

Although most parent guide books promote routine and schedules for the benefit of the child, the sad truth is...it is actually for the parents. It ensures that the kids are not forgotten at school. That groceries are purchased, homes cleaned, the fish gets fed and that the car is not lost. Stray from the routine, and suffer the consequences....

Last Tuesday is a perfect example. After driving my son to school, his teacher asked if I could stay and help out since one of their volunteers was away. I'm a “stay at home mom” with an afternoon of leisure on the menu. Cue the crazy laugh.

After school, we played outside, walked home...our normal routine. Later that evening, peering out the window, admiring my beautiful garden, I suddenly realized that the car was, well, missing.

Panic, screaming, deep breathing, hyperventilating.
Someone has stolen the car!

Think Think Think....when did I use it last?...can't remember.....what day is it?....can't think straight. Husband is going to kill me...

After the initial hysteria passed, I finally calmed down enough to review my schedule. Again, thank God for schedules and routine. This led to the memory of parking it at the school.

There it stood. Relief, and gratitude to St. Anthony.
Not only was my car in the same spot that I had parked it, but my open purse still sat on the passenger seat....

Cue the angels singing “Hallelujah.”

Life's Little Moments

I'm sitting on the sidelines- I guess this is what mothers do.

My kids soccer season is just beginning and I ponder how fast they are growing. Over the last two years, my six year old's soccer skills have gone from picking flowers, stopping to gape in wonder at the butterflies, to recently, kicking the ball.

One of my proudest moments as a soccer mom happened in his first year when a little girl brought a ring with a pink plastic stone to practice. Totally taken with the ring, he convinced the girl to let him wear it. He spent the entire practice running with his hand straight out in front of him, offering up his pink stone to the heavens. He was in his own imaginary world. I love this world. I'd like to climb into it with him, and share his fantasies. Now, I watch him as he giggles and kicks the soccer ball.

Max, my three your old is tiny. His soccer uniform t-shirt hangs well below his knees like a dress. His shin pads extend past his knees making it difficult for him to bend his legs. He is insistent. He can't play with out his shin pads. His face is red from exertion. His strawberry blond hair wet with sweat. His enthusiasm for joining soccer with his big brother is brimming over. He is so happy, he literally can't stand still.

I sit in awe watching the raw joy that emanates from my kids. Maybe by midlife, we have started to lose our sense of wonder, our lust for living. Bogged down by our daily chores and responsibilities, our kids give us a precious reprieve, a window opens to a world we used to live in. I feel the warm breeze blowing through the window, caressing my face...I've decided, I'm climbing through...

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
You get your fill to eat
But always keep that hunger
May you never take one single breath for granted
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed

I hope you still feel small
When you stand by the ocean
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens
Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances
But they're worth taking
Lovin' might be a mistake
But it's worth making

Don't let some hell bent heart
Leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out
Reconsider
Give the heavens above
More than just a passing glance

And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance
I hope you dance
I hope you dance

Lee Ann Womack “I hope you dance”