I'm Dreaming of a Not-Quite-So-White Christmas

Dear Old Man Winter,

It has come to my attention that you seem to have misread the date on your invitation to this year's festivities. My calendar quite clearly indicates that your arrival is scheduled for tomorrow.

However, it has not escaped my notice that you have descended upon this part of the world somewhat earlier than requested. In point of fact, sir, your eagerness to join us has gone beyond an innocent knock at the door five minutes before the appointed time (causing quiet consternation on the part of the hostess who rushes to put away the vacuum, smooth her hair, and pretend she is not huffing and puffing when she throws open the door and welcomes you heartily) but has, instead, turned what was to be an enjoyable visit into a prolonged seige.

You are perhaps unaware of the difficulties posed by your unlooked-for coming, and so I feel an obligation to point out to you the following statistics:

- 2.5: additional hours it took to drive to Manitoba three weeks ago
- 2: number of church services cancelled this month due to too much snow
- 5: amount (in pounds) of extra bean casserole the PM family was forced to consume after missing the church potluck due to one formerly mentioned church cancellation
- 45x2x3: number (in minutes) added to my commute due to snow-filled parking lanes that forced cars to park (where else) in the driving lanes
- 1: collapsed Metrodome roof
- 2: useless Vikings/Giants tickets

I do apologize if some of the preparations I made for your coming (namely, washing parkas in August, buying mittens in September, loading up with root vegetables in October, and buying two sets of winter tires, kids skis, outdoor running gear, and a new parka in November) may have suggested that I was anxious for you to arrive. In truth, this was more "ant vs. grasshopper" than it was "let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."

In closing, please consider that your actions of late have not only pushed our cities' snow removal equipment beyond capacity but that you have also brought about a premature return of my annual bout of seasonal affective disorder.

We are out of hot chocolate, the Christmas tree lights are burning out, and the bus stops are merely snow drifts with signs stuck in them.

In short, I request that you cease and desist.

Sincerely yours,

PM

Read more...

The Origin of Sweetness

"Where I'm From"

I am from delicious taco Fridays, from the loud coffee maker, and homemade hummus.

I am from sweet Vancouver and Winnipeg.

I am from strolling on the wandered trails of the bush and fresh-picked raspberries.

I am from ice cream cake on my birthday and blue eyes, from H to Emster, Peters and Kroeker.

I am from the rainy day read-a-thons and sleeping in till eleven o'clock.

From "wait a second, I'm almost done" to "if I could have any little girl in the world, I would choose you."

I am from Mennonites.

I'm from Peter's mistake, the kryptonite, and my dad's gray hair.

I am from pranksters and tricksters.

I'm from a kiss on the cheek and the sound of my nighttime radio.

~ by The Girl

(Edited - I didn't know we had a multi-media version, so you can hear the poetess yourself!)

Read more...

Guess We Won't Be Needing Those

Sigh.

Poor The Boy. He and The Husband were supposed to go to the game yesterday as a (very) belated birthday present. They'd been planning it for months. We made arrangements for The Girl to stay at a friend's place weeks ago. The Boy was counting down the days until Sunday. The Husband juggled his travel arrangements to make sure he only flew out after the game.

Sigh.

Quite the dumping of snow we got over the weekend. I missed the majority of the fun, having beat it out of town early Friday afternoon up to a fabulous weekend away with some BFFs in extra-fabulous Fargo. By the time I got back, the interstates were mostly clear, and even the side streets I needed were okay.

Fairly serious snow mountains at every corner. We even drove past the dome yesterday - so strange to have no roof.

Not so strange is that I'm playing both Mr. and Mrs. Mom roles again this week. Not that I minded today, as it gave me an excuse to work from home, avoid venturing out into the deep freeze, and listening to Christmas music.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful, indeed.

Read more...

You Can't Possibly Anticipate This Kind of Thing

Me: What's this on the floor? It looks like...red dye....

The Boy: Oh. That's from that paper I brought home from school. The bright red one, you know? And how it got wet when I dropped it in the snow?

Me: (furiously scrubbing) This is really bright dye - I don't know if I'm going to be able to get this out.

The Boy: Oh. Then you probably don't want to see my wall.

Me: (dumbfounded) ....

[Two minutes later]

Me: (furiously scrubbing yet again, dizzy from inhaling fumes from undiluted Mr. Clean). Okay, seriously. What on earth possessed you to wipe it on the wall? I get that it was wet and you wanted to wipe it off, but that's what TOWELS are for. Why THE WALL?!

[This "Parenting: Sometimes You Don't Even Stand a Chance" moment was brought to you by the fine folks at my kids' school who thought it was a good idea to encase the school directory in the brightest, bleedingest cardstock available and then send it home with the youngest child in the family on a snowy day.]

Read more...

Like Mother, Like Daughter

(This morning...whispers at the church piano...)

Me: Remember, if you make a mistake, it's just fine...

The Girl: ...because everybody here loves me.

So, so, so much pride. This morning, The Girl played piano for a non-parent/non-grandparent audience for the first time! She was darling - she's been working on The First Noel for a couple of weeks, and her book includes an accompaniment, so this morning during the offertory I motioned her over and she marched proudly up to the piano and she played it just perfectly.

And it was the perfect venue, too. A first performance should be all about excitement and no fear. I can't think of a better place than with a church filled with smiling faces, all ready to come up to her during refreshment time and tell her what a great job she did.

Funnily enough, I know exactly how she feels. Because I had my "first" performance today, too. Well, first time being the solo pianist for the entire morning. Ever since that fateful day that we got a piano and I started fumbling my way through praise band songs, I've been working up to this. No back-up band, no safe and easy chords, no loosey-goosey praise songs. Just me and the piano and way too many sharps.

Worse was the "Children's Christmas Choice" on the morning's agenda - I worried about that one all week. I knew one of those gremlins would pick It Came Upon a Midnight Clear with its semitone craziness. But, lovely girl that she is, The Girl shouted out Hark the Herald Angels Sing - ha! It's in G! And I rocked it!

(The Husband thinks I planted her. Totally not guilty.)

Was I amazing? No, not really. Did I play every note. Heck no - I tried to play three at a time (sorry tenors) and aimed for a 75 percent accuracy rate.

And was it just fine and did people thank me for playing anyway?

Yup. Because everyone there loves me.

Read more...

I Still Miss the Healthcare, Though...

Okay, before I say this next bit, I feel the need to remind you of a few things:

- I drink from a CBC mug while listening to CBC all day at work
- My spellchecker at work is set to English US for the sole purpose of catching superfluous "U's" in my writing. Whenever possible, I ignore it.
- I snicker obnoxiously whenever someone here complains about the cold and say things like, "do you know how cold it is in Winnipeg right now?"
- Top of my "best trip souvenirs" The Husband has ever brought me was four crullers from the Toronto airport Tim Hortons.

So, is my status as une Canadienne yet firm? Does anyone doubt the ardency with which I continue to totally heart my home and native land?

I hope not, because I'm still going to say it:




American Thanksgiving is better than Canadian Thanksgiving.




(Also: Black Friday kicks more a$$ than Boxing Day.)




[wait for hue and cry to die down]

We attended our first American-style Thanksgiving yesterday. So this year, the whole build-up to the holiday has actually meant something to me. Instead of quizzically raising an eyebrow at coworkers making travel plans and fretting about menus/family turmoil/icy roads, I found myself caught up in the excitement.

And, lo and behold, I think I'm understanding the tizzy. Look at what you get:

- A day where everyone thinks it is so important to be with family, it overshadows Christmas.
- A three-day work week (which essentially equals a Monday + a day where you actually get a bit of work done + a Friday) instead of a tacked-on, after-thought kind of a Monday, after which you get to trudge right back to work while still digesting all them potatoes
- A holiday so big and exciting that you need another day off work to recover. And then you've still got the weekend!

Plus, it seems like this gorgeous, expansive, generous, gracious gateway to the holiday season. In Canada, once it's over, you've got a long 10 windy, wintery weeks with nothing but a little bump at Hallowe'en to keep your spirits up until Christmas finally creeps into view. Here? We're whipped into a frenzy like so many candied yams, and we won't stop until the last Auld Lang Syne dies down.

Helps that we got a super awesome Thanksgiving dinner. We lucked out and got invited by people who have vegetarian kids, so while some attendees ate turkey, The Husband and I gorged ourselves on a puff pastry/seitan/stuffing extravaganza. Plus my first pumpkin pie of the year!

After that we came home and The Husband did the football thing and I did the reading thing while the kids hung out. Today was just free and easy - The Husband did a bit of Black Friday shopping and I administered playdates (The Boy is attending his first sleepover as I type!). And, even though I've got some cleaning to do yet today, I've still got two whole days to myself.

Seriously - it's pretty awesome.

Read more...

Winter Is Definitely Here

Church skip today! And not because we felt like playing Bedside Baptist. Got a call this morning that church was cancelled - apparently we had some pretty nasty freezing rain last night, to the tune of 400 accidents reported already.

So we're playing it safe, and the upside is a few hours to put on a pot of coffee, eat cookies for breakfast (mmm - I made molasses crinkles again yesterday), and catch up on some computer time.

(Heh - The Husband's response to hearing "church is cancelled"? "Aww, and I just put my winter tires on yesterday." He put my winter tires on my car last week for an extra birthday treat, so I suppose in theory with two Canadian drivers behind the wheels of two winter-tired Jettas, we could probably ferry everyone to church....)

At least we know all of the church people have food to eat. Today was supposed to be our harvest potluck. I'm in good shape - we'll definitely enjoy our Sweet and Sour Bean Hot Pot for lunch. Others aren't so lucky; I called the next person on the calling tree to tell her not to head out and she said they now have to figure out what to do with five pounds of potato salad.

(Which to me is pretty much a no-brainer - grab a book and a spoon and you're good to go. But I guess not everyone would consider that a nice individual-sized snack.)

This church skip is just another step on the road to re-acclimating to winter. Last Saturday we got dumped on with about 12 inches in 24 hours. The kids were in their glory:

It was perfect snow - big, wet, heavy flakes, just right to make several forts in the front yard and a snow family in the back. The Husband was on "throw snowballs at us, Dad!" duty, so he trudged out every hour or so to pelt them for a few minutes.

Of course, winter to me equals one thing: it's reading season! Which is different from fall, spring, and summer only in the types of books I choose, I guess. This year, I've drafted some other codex consumers:


I have to say that I love the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. I haven't actually read them myself, but they've been the perfect transition from picture books to chapter books for The Boy. Plus, they're hilarious - fart jokes and booger jokes and more stinkiness than you can roll your eyes at. He sits there giggling away. They were both so excited when I brought the latest volume home that they read it to each other in two hours flat.

They polished that one off so quickly that we're scrambling for something to fill its place. Fortunately The Boy is quite enamoured with Magic Treehouse right now (and, since "at least he's reading," I'll close my eyes to the sentence fragments and keep my "how do they expect to teach kids to read using improper grammar like that" mutterings to myself), so methinks we'll put those winter tires through their paces and hit the library this afternoon.

Hope the workers were able to get there.

Read more...

The Best Birthday Ever?

Peitricia this day is thirty-four,
(We shan't dispute a year or more:)
However, Peitricia, be not troubled,
Although thy size and years are doubled,
Since first I saw thee at sixteen,
The brightest virgin on the green;
So little is thy form declin'd;
Made up so largely in my mind.

Oh, would it please the gods to split
Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit;
No age could furnish out a pair
Of nymphs so graceful, wise, and fair;
With half the lustre of your eyes,
With half your wit, your years, and size.
And then, before it grew too late,
How should I beg of gentle Fate,
(That either nymph might have her swain,)
To split my worship too in swain.

(Apologies to Stella, for whom this was originally written, and to Jonathan Swift, who worships me less, perhaps, than I him.)

Ahhh, what a good birthday. Birthdays should always be on Saturdays. I slept in (until 7:45, whoop!) and then went for a gorgeous 10-mile run. (Seriously - I can't ever remember a warmer birthday.)

My family took me out for greek food for lunch and we had the best hummus and spinach pie I've had in ages. Then - because they love me sooooo much - they all came on my errands with me, and complained only a teensy-weensy bit about having to be in the grocery store.

Also, there were presents!

My coupons from my sweet boy. After our errands, though, I was informed that I am not actually allowed to cash in the "go grocery shopping" coupon.

Homemade Yu-gi-oh cards - family version. My special ability is "She can't be destroyed in battle. I can summon al 4 family members. For every monster on the field, she gains 1,000 ATK and DEF." Ohhhhh yeah - I've got 9999 attack points and 9999 defense points. Beat that.

Two of my favourite things - coffee and my beloved CBC. Ahhh - I shall be sipping Starbucks as I listen to Bob and Tom and Rich.

Aaaaand...it's more CBC - old school. Doesn't it make you miss Casey and Finnegan?

If that weren't enough, we've got a banquet and a dance: it's Daylight Saving today!!! My favouritest day of the year and it's on my birthday. What are the chances? Pretty much a million to one, I'm sure.

And with that, off to spend an extra hour celebrating. Yay me!

Read more...

It's the Land of the Free, But Sometimes You Have to be Brave to Live Here

When I think about my relationship with America, I feel like a battered wife: Yeah, he knocks me around a lot, but boy, he sure can dance. ~ Sarah Vowell

Gah. I should have stayed in bed today.

First, the Republicans took the House. This is, apparently, a signal to the White House that it has been too slow to act, that government is too big, that too much money is spent to do too little.

I can totally see how things are going to get done now. On the cheap, of course.

[Aside: Yesterday I gave the kids a little "exercise your right to vote" lecture, illustrating it with a hypothetical vote regarding family vacations where everyone had a say but only The Husband and I registered our destination of choice, with the result that we ended up in the middle of nowhere. "But I don't want to have a vacation in the middle of nowhere!" protested The Girl. "Ah," I said, "but if you didn't vote, you don't have the right to complain."

Which means I suppose I don't really have a right to complain here. BUT...my not voting is not my choice. In fact, I'm pretty much my own Tea Party in terms of taxation without representation. So complain I will.]

Second, Minnesota's looking at a recount. Again. Know how long the last one took? 8 months. Know how long it felt? Like a gazillion years. This does not make me happy.

Third, it's annual health insurance enrollment time again. I hate this time of year. It makes me very grouchy. It makes me even grouchier when the benefits presenter looks up at the screen and says, "of course, these items are due to the health care bill that just passed, and who knows what is going to happen to that now, so this might all go away."

[Deep breath]

I have such an ambivalent relationship with America. Most days I love it - Netflix, Target, Chipotle, higher temperatures, interstates, a better Thanksgiving (even if less logistically appropriate - yeah, I said it) - but there are days when she sorely tries my patience.

Like today.

Read more...

In November the Snow Starts to Fly...Piling Up...Ankle High...

So long, October! We sent you out with such a bang, I'm not sure we're quite ready for November yet...

First up was The Boy's final football game. Apparently he's pretty good once he gets out on the field, except that this is his default pose:

(The Husband has to yell, "Pockets!" every three minutes or so.)

Then on Sunday was the Monster Dash. A beautiful morning! A ten mile race! COSTUMES! What's not to love?

I pulled out the ol' eyeliner and construction paper and dolled myself up as une petite chat.

This little cat ran a fan-TAS-tic race (if I am allowed to gloat a bit): 1 hour, 49 minutes. To put it into perspective, I ran 12.5 minute miles in the half marathon a few months ago, and this time I ran 11 minute miles. Yay me!

(A huge thanks to our sponsors - The Husband's parents: Official Childcare of PM Races. They came down to watch the last football game and very kindly ferried us around to various race points and The Boy to his game so that we could both run.

[Aside: We ran the same race, but not together per se. The Husband is blazing fast - so fast, we made sure we had two separate modes of transportation to get home because we knew he'd get to the finish line waaaaaay ahead of me.])

The next day, more costumes (although less racing). We convinced the kids to scrounge our existing costume stockpile this year - also yay!

The Boy went as Anakin Skywalker again. He's pretty handy with a light sabre.

I am not:

Despite only going out for an hour or so, there was a fairly major haul:

Of course, a peanut allergy and some fairly expensive orthodontic equipment (which I am not jeopardizing just so that someone can enjoy his Laffy Taffy) definitely reduced the winnings for one of our brood.

Alas, into every awesome weekend a little rain must fall, and ours came in the form of a dead television. Sharon C, our oh-so-helpful customer service agent suggested we plug it into a different outlet in the wall, after which advice she threw up her hands and said a service call was required.

So, The Husband had to find an alternate football-viewing experience:

Good times, good times....

Read more...

They Say the Mind is the First Thing to Go....

So I was just checking whether the spacing of my text worked out okay on today's post since it sometimes gets wonky after pictures.

(Note: It did. Also? World's most nitpicky blogger, at your service.)

And I realized that I pretty much posted the same post twice in a month. It even has the same title.

Sorry 'bout that. I'll try to be more original in the future.

Read more...

Is That a Rutabaga?

(Scene: Our kitchen table. Yesterday)

Husband (wearily): All you think about is food, isn't it.

Me (with guilty belligerence): Yes. So?


Okay, I admit it. I am obsessed with food.

I am constantly thinking about what next week's meals are going to be (since this week's are already covered on my weekly menu plan, with all required ingredients happily stocked in my fridge). I watch the clock at work every day in anticipation of when I'll get to tuck into my daily apple with peanut butter. I think one of the nicest Saturday afternoon activities out there is to sit down on the couch with a cup of tea and a pile of cookbooks.

On vacation, I can only sit back and enjoy the scenery if I know exactly where and when the next meal will be (and a PDF of the menu on The Husband's phone is a definite plus). Grocery shopping is an hour-long affair, with full minutes spent agonizing over which brand of pasta sauce to buy and strolling slooooooowly through the aisles so I don't miss some tasty delight hidden on the top shelf.

(Like Bright Morning Chocolate Spread. Straight from Israel to the ethnic food aisle and then into my cupboard. It's like Nutella with no hazelnuts - dreamy chocolatey goodness for crepes nut-allergy style.)

This whole eating seasonally thing has pretty much put me over the edge. Today I started to panic a bit when I saw how so much of the farmer's market has turned to root veggies and storage crops. I frantically grabbed broccoli and peppers, which have since been cut, blanched, and now lie in their own early winter in my freezer.

Of course, the insanity leads to significant joy. Know anyone else who bursts out "SPINACH?!" on the street, scaring the poor farmer minding her own business behind her produce stand?

(Although, seriously - wouldn't you go a bit crazy if you hadn't had fresh spinach for three months and then these beauties showed up like manna from heaven?)

The Husband tolerates the culinary craziness since it gets him off the hook for meal planning/prep. (Heh heh - doesn't save him from dish duty, though - our rule is "whoever cooks doesn't have to clean the dishes. One of these days he'll figure it out....)

The kids aren't huge fans, since it invariably means new recipes and experiments that more often than not elicit "grosssssss" and "how much of this do I have to eat?" and "Mom, we are having *too* much _____" (any vegetable will do - squash, spinach, brussel sprouts).

But I wave away their complaints and merrily move along to the next recipe, usually from my Simply in Season, which is, quite simply, the best cookbook I've got in my arsenal at the moment. (Ooooo - look at this one - it's got three whole cups of zucchini!)

And it's going to get a workout in the next while. Just look what the CSA fairy dropped off for me today:

Yup, that's 60 pounds of winter storage vegetables. (Well, 58, probably - there's 2 pounds of kale that I need to use in the next few days.)

Wish me luck! Well, probably better to wish The Family luck. I'm pretty pumped about beets and turnips, but I sense that the rest of the PM clan is less than thrilled right now. (As per The Husband: I hate beets. They taste like a$$.)

I'll try to let you know what I come up with. I'm mostly scared of the rutabagas. Also, $5 to anyone who can identify the large turnip-looking veggie behind the butternut squash on the right.... I'm thinking if all else fails I'll make soup - you can make soup out of anything, right?

Oh, and the best news - this is only my first delivery. Round two comes in four weeks!

Read more...

Making Space

So you're probably all worried...checking every day and seeing that I haven't posted since the beginning of October...thinking, "Oh man, PM must be simply drowning in to-do lists these days."

Actually, not so much.

I'm really not that busy.

In fact, I'm so not that busy that I've been busy not being busy.

These days I'm busy harvesting the fruits of a labourious few months of saying "no":

"No, I will not be volunteering again at the MCC sale this year."

"No, I will not direct the Christmas pageant again this year."

"No, I will not teach ESL this year."

"No, we do not need to enroll the kids in swimming this semester if they are already involved in an extra-curricular activity each."

It's not easy, saying "no." You hear about it all the time - the guilt that we women feel (is it only women? I feel that it might be...) when we say it, as though by saying it we're admitting we can't do it all.

Know what?

I can.

In fact, I have. (See: single parenting two toddlers while working two jobs. See also: moving to a new country and finding a job/church/friends. Feel free to throw in 8 houses in as many years if you like.)

But I don't want to anymore. And I've decided that that is enough of a reason to hand out a few "no's" this year.

Oh, I'm still doing some great stuff. I'm still doing church small group and praise band. I'm still running (Monster Dash 10 mile race is in 11 days with costumes, whoop!).

But what I'm not doing is overscheduling myself or my family. Until I stopped doing it, I didn't realize how anxious and frustrated I got when the inevitable scheduling conflicts occurred or how depleting it was to go out for a third (or fourth) evening in a row. (Holy nerd alert, Batman!)

Turns out, I'm a total homebody. I kinda knew that already, since my favourite date night = Netflix and some cold Canadian beer. And it's not like I want to do this full-time. But I'm loving coming home, snuggling with my babies, helping with homework, puttering in the kitchen for an hour...even having the option to do a bit of reading before bed.

Best part is that I get to do this four nights a week!

Oh, better get going...it's 8:45 and I have just enough time to go tuck some littlekins in and shower before heading off to bed with tea and a book.

(Yup, I am officially O-L-D. Next stop - drinking plain hot water and sweaters with kleenexes tucked in the sleeves. [Oh wait...I already do that, too.])

Read more...

Webster's vs. OED

Mom...

Yes?

How do you spell "favourite"?

F...A...V...O...

[hesitant pause]

And then?

[defeated sigh]

R...I...T...E....

(Can I claim the When in Rome defense? Or mollify you with protestations that he is already having to learn how to spell in both English and French and to throw in a dialect form of English is possibly a bit much for the second grade?

Yeah...it doesn't fly with me either.)

Read more...

Surprise!

Heh heh heh.
This past weekend we snuck up to Manitoba to surprise my Dad for his 60th birthday. (It's actually next week, so I think we managed to really get the ol' heart pumping since his suspicions were targeted a few days out.)

Super fun to see everyone but, of course, super short. We made it to church, which gets stranger and stranger each time we go. It's the same...but not.

Always seems weird to be in Steinbach and *not* see certain people - to know that you're kilometres or even blocks away from people you love, yet they are oblivious to your presence and you're staying under the radar.

Oddly enough though, as we drove home (second time I've done the there-and-back-again-in-less-than-two-days trek in three weeks, gah), I was okay with it. Usually I'm super sad to leave. This time it wasn't so bad, maybe because I'm starting to realize that people haven't forgotten us like I feared, and that even though our visits are short and infrequent, they're still possible.

When we moved, Minneapolis was the second on a list of two - the first place was Winnipeg. Even though my heart is in Canada, this is the largest centre within a day's drive. And that "day's drive" was important. It meant no looking for flights, seat sales, car rentals, or having to plan at least a four-day trip each time. This particular "7.5 hour drive" might mean a new country and work visas and the Tea Party, but it also means I can go home when I need to.

And for surprise birthday parties, I totally need to!

Read more...

Making Space

And suddenly life got very full, very fast.

Everyone I talk to seems to agree, whether or not they have school-age children. Labour Day was some kind of crazy "on your mark, get set, GO!" moment after which we all found ourselves running the 100-yard dash.

(And we didn't even know we signed up for it.)

School is definitely the source of some of the busyness. We're back in the homework groove, although much more quickly than last year. The Girl has really matured (or just been beaten down into submission), and keeps track of her assignments and records her reading minutes with pretty minor supervision. The Boy's lone math sheet of the year prompted a lot of tears, but I imagine increased frequency will help there.

Extracurricular activites are another time suck. Football and soccer for The Boy, on Saturday and Sunday respectively, which has effectively destroyed any weekend plans until November. Piano for The Girl on Wednesdays, but I really shouldn't complain since we are super spoiley and the teacher comes to our house.

Plus, we haven't even started our church small group and we've only had one band practice. Add our new roster of orthodontic appointments, and my calendar's looking mighty crowded.

What makes this most ironic is that this schedule is the result of a concerted effort on my part to be less busy than last year. I've said NO to everything that permitted a graceful exit - teaching ESL, teaching Sunday School, directing the Christmas program. We postponed kids' swimming lessons until after the football season.

Heck, I'm even blogging less than my usual "three posts per month" of late.

And despite what looks like a crazy schedule, it's kinda working. I manage to be home four weeknights out of five, and I'm turning into a model of domesticity (partly a reflection of the season - y'all know how autumn makes me want to hibernate). There's homemade pasta, muffins, cookies, and soup - always soup this time of year. I'm making time to just sit down at the piano for an hour. I'm reading Encyclopedia Brown to my son at bedtime and helping my daughter figure out whether a square is a rhombus.

(Aside: Is it just me, or are the various polygram designations a la trapezoid/rhombus/hexagon and their ilk worth anything? The last time I had to know them was grade four.)

So if it's quiet around here, it's actually a good thing. No news is good news (albeit somewhat boring news, I suppose).

Read more...

And They're Off!

Here we go again:What's the craziest thing about this picture?

a) How grown up they both look?
b) How small a height difference there is between them?
c) How humongous his feet are?
d) How it's the third year in a row we have a back-to-school picture at this address?

Answer: All of the above, of course.

Read more...

'Tis the Last Rose of Summer...

Well, no roses here. But lots of "lasts" today - last morning sleeping in, last evening with no homework reminders, and last lunch-packing-free morning.

Sigh.

Usually I love Labour Day. Fall is my favourite season, and I'm typically totally happy and so so ready to return to the rhythm of regular life after the loosey-goosey-ness of summer.

I'm having a tough time this year and really can't figure out why. It's not that I didn't have time to myself or a good vacation or get outside to enjoy the sunshine. Maybe it's because there was so much of it I loved that I'm just not ready for it to end.

And yet, the suddenly cooler days and darkened mornings are nonetheless having their predictable effect on me, despite my wish to ignore the calendar page turning. I'm craving squash and potatoes and apples and whole wheat bread - all those autumn favourites that have taken a backseat to basil and tomatoes and peaches. I baked monster cookies today in preparation for after-school snacks, and am almost looking forward to getting the backpacks ready for tomorrow's first day back to school.

I find myself wanting to clean out cupboards and stock my pantry, readying myself for the hibernatory season ahead. I made myself a cup of tea this afternoon, which I rarely want to do during the hot summer.

Even my literary tastes are changing, with a natural turning from beach reading towards more meaty stuff. I find myself wondering how soon I can start Middlemarch again. [Answer: when the snow flies. It's a blizzard and hot chocolate type of book.]

Funny how in tune we can be to the seasons, I guess. This summer I've been trying to be more aware of what I eat, selecting local and in-season produce whenever possible. It's helped me to catch just the teensiest glimpse of the rhythm of the earth as I watched the spinach disappear from the farmer's market only to be replaced by the summer squash.

And, in the same way that I crave spinach now but know that its time is past (for this year, anyway), I think I am craving those lazy-daisy summer vacation days. And deep down I know that if I tried to force those days out of season, they would be tasteless and seem off-kilter even as the spinach would be if I bought it from the grocery store today.

So, I'll aim for contentment today and patient waiting for tomorrow. I'll try to embrace the coming season of plenty with its return to routine and its ever-shortening days, knowing that both spring and spinach are really just around the corner.

Read more...

Back to Reality

I've got dreams on the brain. Dreams and - given this past week - waking up from them.

We went to see Inception last night. Loved it. Layered plot, stunning (yet somehow unobtrusive) special effects, and enough cheekbones/three-piece suit prettiness from some of my favourite actors to elicit significant swoonage.

(Aside: Movies in the theatre really aren't my best. I go for the ones that require big screen viewing, but I spend most of the movie tense that someone around me will start talking or crunching their popcorn loudly during crucial scenes [oh, The Husband. I am so looking at you] or will laugh too loudly at a not-so-funny joke.

Yesterday there was this hissssssssing noise in my left ear that I initially blamed on a crackly speaker until I realized that the guy one seat over had some sort of medical device in a backpack that was running. So I grumpily acceded his constant need for some sort of life-saving potion, and settled back into my seat with my hand cupped over my left ear to block the sound waves from that direction.

[Still, though. He COULD have sat on the aisle. If I had a hissing medical device that needed to accompany me to a movie, I'd like to think I'd be careful about putting it next to someone who paid a bazillion dollars to be there and is looking at me and my friends suspiciously trying to ascertain whether our boisterous joking will end after the previews as she tries to consume her weight in popcorn.])

Anyway, the reason I'm even able to go to the theatre as opposed to my personal viewing palace (i.e., my basement) is because my Littlekins are rocking it up with their grandparents this week and next. We've called them a couple of times and they are all giggly and breathless and wild and falling over each other trying to be the first to report on the day's events. The Boy keeps calling me "Grandma" and then starts laughing at himself and has to start his sentence over.

Having no kids this week was definitely a good thing, as it helped make that dreams-to-reality transition from vacation to work a smidgen easier. Not easy, of course. This was one of my worst "back-to-work" weeks ever, I'll admit. Chicago with the kids was so much fun, and then Vegas with my hubby and some BFFs was so very, very good.

It also doesn't help that I got back to a pile of "back-to-school" letters and notifications or that the mornings are dark and crisp. You can feel fall in the air. Usually this gets me excited, but I'm just not ready for summer to be over yet. The past three months have flown by so much faster than any other summer, and it feels like we just got started.

But I've got one more week, I guess. I suppose this is that last few minutes of a dream, where you know it's a dream, and you know the alarm will go off, and there's something niggling at you about a deadline at work that you'd been successfully ignoring until now, but until then you are going to squeeze your eyes tight and try to stay out of reality for just one more minute.

Read more...

One Down, One To Go

And one night at Hotel PM in between.

Got back from our family vacation yesterday. We had a FAB-yoo-luss time - hit a water park and then a theme park on our way and then spent three days touring downtown Chicago, maxing out The Boy's museum-attending abilities along the way.

Strolling Michigan Ave. and chowing down on loot from the Hershey Store.

Astonishing - the thickness of the deep dish pizza. More astonishing - the kids each ate TWO pieces (and pronounced the Super Vegi to be "totally awesome" - broccoli and all).

Playing in the colour room at the Museum of Science and Industry.

Standing on a glass floor 103 stories above the city. (Heh - The Husband can't get on it. His brain goes into self-defense mode and he literally can't move his feet over the edge.)

Eating at Ed's.

Splashing in Millenium Park.

Lost in legs.

Family portrait a la Bean

Getting ready to ride

Post-ride soakage

Fortunately, it was a very hot day. It only took us 2 hours to dry off.

Water is so much more fun when you are actually wearing your bathing suit.

In short, a good time was had by all. The Husband gets a Big Star embossed with real 24-karat gold foil for his hard work in planning our itinerary/booking hotels/finding astonishingly good local breakfast places/saving us $130 and a massive traffic headache by figuring out a way for us to leave our car at a park and ride and take the train into the city.

The kids get similar stars for being extremely well-behaved on very little sleep and with very tired legs from walking miles each day. .

And I get a big gold star, too. Just because.

Last night we stayed in our own beds enroute from Chicago to Manitoba, where we will drop off our kids for two fun-filled weeks at "Grandma's Farm" later today. Then it's back home for the two grown-ups via a super fantabulous weekend in Las Vegas with some BFFs.

Onward and upward - off to pack the two loads of laundry I did last night back into the suitcases and head off for round two.

Read more...

Only 95 Hours and 8 Minutes To Go

Confession time: I have gone into my Outlook calendar at work at least twice each day for the past two weeks for the sole purpose of setting it to week-at-a-glance view and looking at next week.

Why next week?

Because August 16-23 just so happens to be all in purple.

Why in purple?

Because purple = out of office.

I can't remember ever wanting lusting after needing a vacation this bad. Not quite sure why, although my guess is that there is both carrot and stick involved here.

The stick is the crazy of the past month. The Husband's been gone almost as much as he's been here, and it's been a whirlwind. Actually, if I stop and think about it, I'd say that we've been in a whirlwind since last September. In some ways, I blame the school system (hello, Homework!), but I also blame myself (hello, trying to do too much with too little!). I'm working towards changing that, but that is another post for another day.

The carrot is the anticipation of a really fantastic time with my family. I have amazing memories of last year's trip. It's not just the golden glow of selective recollections of only the good times. I distinctly remember thinking, "wow, I have never been this relaxed on a family vacation before."

As the kids get older, certain things become so very much easier. (Certain things become so very much harder, but that, too, is another post for another day.) My kids are a heckuva lot of fun to be around, and that just gets better every day. They're always making me laugh.

Even better, they're old enough to be trusted to know where the limits are and stay within them (well, most of the time). I can actually look up at the scenery when we're out and about, rather than always keeping my head bent downwards to ensure I keep little ones about to take off always within reach. They're excited by what we show them and actively contribute to our enjoyment level.

Altogether, it's a mighty cocktail that leads to much clockwatching and impatient foot-tapping even as I pale a bit when I see the list of things to do before we go. But at least I'm not The Husband. He's on part 32 of 473 of the "let's change the brakes on one car and the shocks on the other one and maybe I'll do your headlight, too, just for the fun of it."

Read more...

Whoops! There Went July...

You know how in the old-school movies when they want to show time passing, they focus in on one of these page-a-day calendars and one page peels off and then another and then another and then another, going faster and faster and faster until it's just a blur and soon you can't even see the individual days flying off and one month appears only to be immediately replaced by the next one?

Yeah.

July was supposed to be a quieter month for us. The only things on the calendar were a couple of soccer games and a few piano lessons. With the kids in their summer program and me not needing to race home to meet the school bus, my days were going to much looser, with time to bike and take leisurely lunch breaks strolling through the farmer's market. No homework and longer daylight would mean lingering over supper and lots of time to play outside.

Again...yeah.

The big wrench in the gears (or "spanner in the works" as they say across the pond - one of my new favourite sayings) was The Husband's unexpected and rather intense travel schedule. I'd say that the Holiday Inn and I are about even-steven right now for who gets him at night. He left last Sunday on his most recent jaunt, thinking maybe Wednesday he'd be back.

Yeah.

(I've learned not to hold my breath, even when an actual return ticket is booked. Right now we're targeting tomorrow night, but don't think I don't have a kids movie and popcorn up my sleeve just in case.)

We've also been trying to fit in various appointments. Which? I think I won't do anymore. I think I'll just bury my head in the sand and not go to anything health or dental related, since this is the thanks I get:

- Routine doctor's appointment = "Hmm, his heart murmur that I said was nothing last time? Well, I can really hear it now. Here's the number for a pediatric cardiologist. Oh, and his lungs are functioning at 70% capacity. If you don't step up the Flovent, he will have this forever."

- Routine orthodontic consultation = "We're looking at an 18-month treatment course for phase 1 that will include the expander, the head gear, and the braces. Of course, there will be another round of braces for phase 2 when he's 14, but we'll talk about that later."

Seriously - head gear?! I didn't know they even did that anymore. Also, from today's follow-up appointment: "I'm going to request that we extract those two baby teeth. But only in the fall, so don't worry about it for now."

(And yes, I've also heard the words "already surpassed his lifetime orthodontic maximum." But, hey, at least we have dental insurance - otherwise he'd be shoeless on the first day of school.)

Of course, since I'm single-mom-ing it and working full-time/feeding children/dropping off/picking up/driving to the orthodontist/enforcing piano practicing/doing laundry/cleaning juuuuust enough to keep Family Services at bay tends to be a tad time-consuming, my running has fallen totally by the wayside. Sigh - I was really hoping to keep it up. But I'll get back into it...sometime.

BUT! We aren't just busy because of stupid things. We're busy because of awesome things, too!

We had some great Canadian visitors this past weekend, and they gave us an excuse to go to the zoo and to the children's museum. The museum has a special Wizard of Oz exhibit this summer, so I'll give you one guess as to who was skipping and vibrating with excitement when she got her admission sticker.

(Hint: Not anyone under 30.)

Riding away with Toto - she looks just like Miss Gulch, doesn't she?

Hanging out in the rooftop garden.

Apparently I ordered Stir-Fry with Croissants.

Somewhere Over Under the Rainbow

Read more...

Par-TAY at PM's This Weekend!

Oh yes, good, good times ahead. The kids are grooving to the beat of the All-Mom-All-The-Time channel and I've got a hot date with my latest page-turner and a couple of Fort Garrys.

Because nothing says total coolness like reading and drinking alone.

Alas, alone I am/we are. The Husband's "quick overnight trip" got a headstart with "Would you be okay if I left on Tuesday already?" and has extended nebulously into next week sometime with "Things aren't going well...I think I might be home on Monday night."

But it's not like I had to coordinate piano lessons, final soccer game, and wind-up party all in one night by myself.

(Oh wait...)

Fortunately, I didn't have to take the kids to my ESL class last night, bursting in late due to never-before-seen levels of traffic and then attempting to teach semi-professionally with a child on my lap.

(Uh, well...)

Well, at least The Boy wasn't home sick today, necessitating a pitiful request for my second work-from-home day in three days plus frequent administrations of Sprite and saltines.

(Yeah, about that...)

Luckily, I don't have to sneak into the airport parking garage sometime tomorrow since we got invited to a Sunday boat party 45 minutes away, and the car that doesn't have a balding tire and an untrustworthy hold on its transmission fluid happens to be somewhere on level 5, waiting patiently for its owner who thought he was coming home tonight.

(Totally not suspicious at all...driving in with one car, leaving it behind, and then driving out with another one. Think I'll get away with "you've seen one Jetta, you've seen'em all?"

[Actually, now that I think about it, I think that this is not my best plan ever.])

Read more...

You May Have Overbought at the Farmer's Market When...

"This is a DISGRACE! This zucchini does not deserve to be in these brownies!

Mom, do not ever put vegetables in brownies again. I will take the pan and throw it on the ground."

~ The Girl

Read more...

I Don't Have to Outrun the Bear. I Just Have to Outrun You.

I did it. IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!IDIDIT!

I was totally nervous this morning. Couldn't eat a thing, but managed to choke down some coffee and juice.

(Because - running without caffeine? Please.)

At 6:28 am, The Husband left me at the back of the starting line pack and threaded his way through to the crowd where the cool kids were. I heard some sort of horn and then everyone started to bunch together. Slowly we kept walking forward and I was getting a tad claustrophobic since I don't like crowds and didn't like the thought of us all having to squeeze together to wait for the gun.

But then we just kept going forward and going forward and suddenly I was crossing the start line and thinking, "oh. So that's what that horn meant."

It was 26 degrees and felt like 35 when we left the house at 5:30 am, so it was already pretty sweaty. We'd been tracking a major thunderstorm for the last couple of days and there was a 50/50 chance it would hold off until the race was done.

As soon as I crossed the start line, the spitting started. By Mile 1, it was a drizzle. By Mile 2, it had turned into a downpour. By Mile 2.1, my shoes were squishing. Mile 2.25, one of my earphones shorted out.

At Mile 3, my ankle started to hurt. And then I got really nervous. I'd never accounted for injury. So I spent about a mile wracking my brain for everything I know about the Achilles tendon (hint: it's not a lot) and wondered whether there would be an audible snap.

And then, everything just started to settle in. I was soaking wet, my ankle hurt, and I was at the back of a very long line (FYI - it's actually quite nice at the back. Lots of room - no crowding).

I figured, hey, how much worse can this get, and settled in with my tunes, punctuated by the squish squish squish.

There were rescue vans and medics, hovering around we shufflers at the back like vultures. Every time they passed, my eyes narrowed and I mentally telegraphed move along buddy. Nothing for you here.

At about Mile 5 I actually started passing people. I ran the whole way up the most monstrous hill at Mile 8. And at Mile 11, I really opened 'er up, and passed a whole whack of people.

Of course, with this waiting for you half a mile from the finish line, it's a whole lot easier:
(The Boy was waiting a bit further up ahead. I reached him and held my hand out for a high five and he exclaimed with relief, Mom, I thought you were DEAD!!!)

But dead, I was not. Tired, very sore, and so very very very proud of myself.

I met my goals: I finished and I beat the rescue van. For those of you keeping score at home, my time was 2:44:01. Now when I started this whole thing, I figured this was it. It was a one-time deal, I'd prove I could do it, and I'd go back to my ketchup-chip-eating-workout-thy-name-is-a-stroll-around-the-lake ways. And then I saw my time today.

And I thought, Bet I can do it faster next time. Also, to my darling, supportive, behind-you-all-the-way-honey Husband? I TOLD YOU SO.

Read more...

I'm Not Dead Yet!

One minute I was all, "June is busting out all oh-over" and the next second I was parking my shiny, little surrey with the fringe on top back in the stable for another year.

(Heh, heh. Rodgers and Hammerstein drive-by.)

Happy belated Canada Day, everyone! Some days I hardly notice that I'm not in Canada. I listen to CBC all day (Mountain time zone, so I'm totally up on what's going on in Edmonton), I don't get sick (so I never fill out insurance forms), and I usually make sure I've got imported ketchup chips and beer always at the ready for snacking.

But Canada Day always feels a bit strange, especially since I know y'all are off work and nobody down here is talking about anything but getting ready for the fourth of July. But we imported some Canadians to spend the weekend with us, and The Girl arranged strawberries in the shape of a maple leaf on the cake and, really, what more do you need?

Sorry so absent lately. Been too busy to blog, alas and alackaday. But the busy = mostly good. Lots of visitors - the Hotel PM concierge has been blissfully busy planning firesides, biking, and trips to the park.

Plus trying out new recipes, something I only do when I have guests because if it's a flop a) there won't be leftovers to force down my family's throat all week and b) I figure that since our room rates are pretty low, we can assume at least semi-willingness to be guinea pigs. We've got an overnight baked french toast that is a definite winner.

The littlekins are back into the routine of their summer program. Good times for everyone with field trips and games. Although it's a bit tough on The Boy; The Girl moved up to the next level and he's a bit jealous of the cool factor over with the big kids.

She's loving it. Two words: glue guns. (No surprise to her mother, whose favourite Red Rock skill was Arts & Crafts. I love me some four-strand braided leather bracelets and felt bookmarks.)

My biggest time suck has probably been my body. I started biking to work again a couple of weeks ago and while it takes a fair chunk of time, it's really great. Good for my heart, good for my mental stability (I see my exercising as a public service, actually), and good for the environment. In theory, good for my pocketbook, but I figure it'll take me 2.5 months of riding/not paying bus fare to make up for the fancy new pannier The Husband bought me.

And, of course, the running. Tomorrow is the big day! I'm excited. Which, in itself, is pretty much the craziest part about all of this. That I would be excited to run 13 miles. Even though it's forecast to be rainy.

I'm definitely nervous, although less so knowing that I have run that far in the past. I have only two goals: to finish, and to beat the rescue van. I'm pretty confident I'll do it, but there's still a tiny part of me that's doubting my ability. I figure a healthy dose of fear will be good though - it'll get me through those last mile, shuffling along and glancing anxiously over my shoulder for that van idling slowly along, its driver looking at me a bit impatiently and thinking, oh honey, just admit it and get in."

Read more...

Leaf Soup

I missed my grandma today.

It actually started this past Thursday. I've been reading lots of Michael Pollan lately in addition to hanging out with Mennonites and reading Simply in Season like a novel. Plus, I always turn into a rabbit in springtime, and find myself craving anything leafy and green.

So I've been trying to eat more locally. Unfortunately, by the time I started thinking about all of this, all of the CSAs I could find were full.

(Laziness, thy name is Peitricia Mae. Although, it is difficult to think about summertime fruits and veggies when there is still snow on the ground.)

Undeterred, I said to myself, Self, you have no excuse. Every Thursday in summer there's a farmer's market right on the street that runs alongside your workplace. For the past two years, you have passed all of these produce stands and all you have bought is the odd bunch of basil or mint or your weekly bouquet of wildflowers.

You have yet to take advantage of the fact that local farmers are bringing their wares literally to your door. Nevermind that Thursday night is grocery night, so essentially you are choosing to not purchase your lettuce from the farm-next-door and instead heading out mere hours later to purchase inferior versions of the same products that have been shipped in refrigerated trailers from California.

And so, self chastened, I've come home bearing bagsful of the most lovely garden treats. Strawberries (picked this morning!). Snap peas (they taste like the garden!). Eggs (hand-gathered by the lady who took my money). Spinach (totally food of the gods!).

This week I found new potatoes, beets, dill, and green onions on top of it all. And all you Mennos know what that means - sommer borscht.

Mmmm. I made it tonight and it was soooo good. And, like all food worth its salt, it reminded me of times past. My mom used to make it. We called it "leaf soup" and begged for as much of the green stuff as we could get. My grandmas both made it, each making it a bit differently - my Grandma E with ham as often as not, and my Grandma Peitasch with her farmer sausage in such tiny bits it was almost ground.

But what it really made me remember was Grandma Peitasch's "packets." Every year, she would take a mountain of greens, dill, and green onions from her garden and individually wrap them into small cylinders. She sold them for something like 25 cents, and they went like hotcakes at her garage sales.

I always had a few in my freezer. When I got married, I knew how to cook pretty much nothing. We lived on Noodles and Sauce, tater tots, and sommer borscht (two pre-made packets per pot). Whenever I got invited to a potluck, I brought sommer borscht because it was the only thing I could make.

(Oh yes - I'm probably the only person to bring soup to a day out at the cabin.)

And every time I made it, I thought of my grandma. Including today, when I'm long past the "packet in my freezer" stage and moving swiftly to the "I found these at the farmer's market and holy smokes I'll bet this would make the most amazing soup" stage.

Read more...

When Did My Daughter Get This Awesome?

Wes Anderson, eat your heart out:

(And the Oscar for Best Animated Short Goes to...)

Read more...

No More Teachers, No More Books

Well, books that are school-required, anyway.

No more 15 minutes of reading every night plus various math sheets plus timed recitation of French powerpoint presentation plus listening to CDs and matching the magnets plus cutting/sorting/writing/alphabetizing/illustrating vocabulary.

Makes me a little misty-eyed, actually.

We got the whole homework thing under control relatively quickly back in September (if not without lots of tears [them] and rampages [me]), but it was nonetheless a loooong year of printable weekly checklists and reminders about getting everything done.

But school's out now, and it's amazing how free and easy that post-work-pre-supper time feels.

In other news, I have reaffirmed (as if it were in doubt) that I'm simply not SAHM material. I'm home with the kids from today through Wednesday and thus far it's been...challenging. Totally not their fault - it's entirely my issue that I planned about eighteen days' worth of (solo) activities and that I somehow slept in past optimal coffee consumption time (which always leads to a day-long headache if I don't get the caffeine into the bloodstream by 8 am) and that I only realized in horror this afternoon that we I forgot entirely about the neighbour girl's birthday party this past Saturday.

So, a few yelling matches, dire warnings about what will happen if they don't start going through their stuffies (one of this week's organizational projects), a trip to Barnes and Noble and a shame-faced delivery of a birthday present next door later, and it would appear we've started off this summer holidays with a BANG!

Sigh. Only 60 hours until their summer program starts. Pray that we all make it.

Read more...

History Lessons

It's end of the school year, and you know what that means - Presentations and Spirit Week.

Today was a double whammy, and I got both:

Today's dress-up theme was "Past and Future," so The Girl elected to wear her Native American costume. And apply her very own face paint.

(We're growing out her bangs, as you can see. I tried to get her to pin them back, but I was informed, "Mom, Native Americans didn't have hair clips." I feel as though they might have, but didn't really have a leg to stand on, so here we are.)

The presentation du jour was for English class. They've been studying national monuments, so I actually learned a lot. Did you know the White House has 32 bathrooms?

The Girl's topic was the Lincoln Memorial. And, just for you, captured in all its loveliness:

Never fear, the CanCon's on its way. Next week is her Social Studies presentation. They're doing Our True North Strong and Free, and she managed to snag "Manitoba." Golden Boy, here we come!

Read more...

A Walk of Shame and an Attempted Rescue Van Pick-Up

Those of you keeping score at home may have noticed the little mile counter to the left tick past 300 this week.

(Or not. It might be like the odometer when you're at 299,990 and getting all excited and then you have a few crazy commutes and suddenly you look down and it's all 300,011 and you're all, oh man! Now I have to wait another 100,000 klicks.)

You're probably all anxious, nay, waiting with bated breath, for a PM training update.

(Or not. Perchance you care not one iota that I'm slowly turning into one of those annoying people who talk blithely about "my run" and say things like, "the first few miles weren't great, but after that I felt awesome!" or "I need to eat clean tonight and go to bed early - I've got my long run tomorrow.")

Nonetheless the quizzical and disbelieving looks and "really? a half marathon?"s that I get when I tell people about my summer plans suggests that some find this latest pursuit difficult to reconcile with my usual tendencies towards quieter activities, so perhaps a bit of a defense is in order.

Running, like most things I suspect, is about 90% attitude and 10% physical ability. But the 10% is a pretty important part.

My nemesis is my brain. It is constantly trying to persuade me that I'm too tired, too sore, too sick, too busy, too whatever to get on the treadmill. Once there, it goes into overdrive trying to get me off. Heck, it even pulls out the ol' vertigo if I'm watching TV and the camera gets a little too shaky.

(If The Boy is playing Mario Kart Wii, I have to focus on a knothole on the wall. His careening around the race course has made me trip numerous times.)

As with pretty much everything that's hard, the only way past the brain is to simply override it. I have to tell myself that I'm running 6 miles today and that's it. No rewards for completion, no punishments for failure - carrots and sticks only open up a conversation.

For the whole thing to work, it needs to be a "do or not do" situation, where "not do" only becomes an option if there's vomiting involved.

Case in point: two weekends ago, I got a bit of a late start and headed out for my long run as the sun was reaching its zenith. Combine poor clothing choices, poor sleeping habits, and a definitely poor attitude towards hydration that morning and at four miles in, I was done.

Well, my legs were done. And my brain, despite giving the ol' "once more until the breach, my friends" speech from Henry V, was simply powerless to convince them otherwise.

And thus began the long, hot, sweaty, discouraged plod home.

When you've hit a low like that, all kinds of badness happens to your brain. You start to wonder if you'll ever be capable of doing it. You start to think about dropping out. You dread the next time out, knowing it won't just be hard (which is usual) but that it will be scary.

Which is where that whole other 90% comes in. I decided that instead of waiting until the next scheduled long run to try again and giving myself way too much time to talk myself out of the whole kit and kaboodle altogether, I was going to get right back on that horse.

So the next day, clad in more breathable attire, heading out with a rested and hydrated body at a much cooler temperature, I gave it another try. Except it wasn't so much a "try" as it was a "come back with your shield or on it."

Running past the point where I'd bailed the day before was tough. All the doubts returned, all those voices saying "you know, if you keep going, the walk home is just going to be that much longer" got louder. But I reminded myself that running is pretty much just one foot in front of the other until you get to the finish line, so I concentrated on the one foot.

About two miles from home, I saw a hood I recognized and realized my car was coming toward me. It stopped right beside me, and The Husband leaned over and asked, "you okay? Need a ride?"

(Sweet boy. He forgets that he runs a bazillion times faster than I do, and that my "slow and steady" mantra depends on the former for the latter.)

"Nope," I said. "I'm fine. I'll keep going and I'll be home soon."

And I was.

Read more...

Happy May Long, Everyone!

Hope you all had a nice day off. Some of us had to work today.

(However, since it was Monday, "work" = sitting with my computer in the sunny dining room, drinking Dunn Bros. coffee, and listening to CBC all day. Extra hardship, I know. They should really give me danger pay for this gig.)

My handy weather icon has been flashing a Severe! Thunderstorm! Watch! for Steinbach all day, which sounds juuuuust about right when it comes to the die-hard May long campers. High of 5 degrees sounds a bit more normal, but if you can't have cold I suppose you'll have to make do with otherwise inappropriate-for-a-long-weekend weather.

So anyway, hope y'alls enjoyed yourself. I'll be thinking of you when I get my day off next week. However, nobody down here calls it what you're supposed to. Which I realized last week after talking about my May long plans and I once again got strange looks and that catch-all phrase "must be a Canadian thing."

Read more...

A Conversation Overheard

The Boy: Dad, there's this joke from school. But I don't get it.

The Husband: Okay. What is it?

The Boy: "Take the 'F' out of way...." That's it. But I still don't get it.

The Girl: [scornfully] But there's no 'F' in "way"! The Boy, there's NO F IN WAY!

The Husband: Sigh.

Read more...

On Your Mark, Get Set...

Check out the latest additions to the running craze:

Yep, they're into it, too. And by "into" I mean "their parents signed them up" and by "it" I mean a 1 mile race.

They ran just over 10-minute miles, which we kind of weren't expecting given that the few practice runs we had consisted mostly of walk/shuffle combos and declarations of it being too hard and needing to stop.

Go kids! Next stop, 5k!

Read more...

Stop Me If You've Heard This One...

...The Husband...travelling..yada yada...again...single mom...crrrrrazy in a bottle...constant barrage of kids requests...caved on sugary cereal at the store today...

...the usual.

In more pressing news - you guys have got to help me. I don't know what to do. It's like it's all ratcheted up in the last month, beyond a level that I knew existed and far, far sooner than I thought possible.

It's The Girl.

And it's allllll about the drama.

Oh. My. Word. There aren't enough ALLCAPS and italics and exclamation points to go around these days.

"MOOOOOM?!?! The Boy came into my room and for NO REASON he HIT me and I FELL!! DOWN!! and I almost BROKE my head RIGHT!! OFFFFFF!!!!"

Or this one, in the grocery store today:

"You know? You NEVER punish The Boy. He always hurts me and you TOTALLY see it and you NEVER do ANYTHING and, you know what?! You know, it makes me wonder - WHAT KIND OF MOM ARE YOU?!?!"

And I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. The rock = trying not to go on a drama rampage of my own, which happens when I've had a long day and there's no more ketchup chips and I've been accused of not pulling my weight around the house and MAKING HER CLEAN UP WHICH IS TOTALLY UNFAIR once too often.

The hard place = trying not to laugh. And I'm totally not good at that. Poor kid - she's pouring out her histrionic heart and I actually have to leave the room because I am shaking so hard with laughter. The "what kind of mom are you?!" almost had me rolling in the grocery store aisles today.

Or tonight, when I tried version 2.0 of the bean burgers:

Me: Well, I think these are getting better, don't you? I swapped out the green pepper for red, added some seasoning salt, made them thinner, and added more bread crumbs. What do you think of the texture? Oh, "texture" is how it feels in your mouth.

The Girl: [eye roll] Mom, I already know what "texture" means. They teach that in [with disgust] grade ONE!

Me: [mildly, hiding a grin] Oh. Well, that's good. But don't you think they're improving?

The Girl: Mom. If I were you, I would never make these again.

It is going to be a loooong tweenhood.

Read more...

Tough Crowd

New recipe for black bean veggie burgers: a conversation.

The Girl: Mom, these burgers aren't really my favourite.**

PM: Ah, well, they're an experiment. I can try something different next time.

The Girl: It's a failed one, then. Yeah, I'd definitely say that this experiment FAILED.

The Boy: [retching and gagging, ultimately spitting his mouthful onto the plate] I CANNOT eat anymore of this. More mayonnaise is not helping.


** This is actually an improvement. After several years of petulant whining and declarations of the barf-tas-tic-ness of some of my less well-received culinary forays, we have agreed upon "this is not my favourite" as an acceptable form of registering disapproval while avoiding sending me into a rage of Do you know how hard I worked on this?! You are eating homemade ______, made from SCRATCH and it took me two hours and you can't even be the least bit grateful and polite about it?!

Read more...

Our "New" Playstructure

Hooray for down-sizing neighbours! Well, "up-sizing" is maybe more appropriate - our neighbours built an addition on their house last year and have discovered this year that they have more stuff than yard. So they decided the play structure had to go.

We had a play structure when we moved in, but it was really old and, alas, one day it started to break and we had to tear it down last summer. The kids were totally bummed.

Well, bust my buttons, but wouldn't you know it - last week our neighbour asked if we would want the play structure since they had no room for it and otherwise it was headed for the dump. Would we?!

We moved it from one side of the fence to the other (and by "we" I mean lots of other people, including The Husband, while I stood and shuffled my feet) yesterday. The Girl immediately got out her paints and started to deface personalize the structure with her own symbology.

Perfect timing for summer, I'd say.

Read more...

Wash, Rinse, Repeat

Sigh. The Husband is travelling. Again. Fortunately, it's domestic this time, so no worries as far as all the Icelandic volcanic action of late, but nonetheless, not my favourite.

(Yikes - I just typed that "favourite" without the "u." Cultural assimilation, thy name is dropped vowels.)

I'd be upset about being a single parent yet again so very soon except that he came bearing some very nice gifts after last time:

(Smart guy.)

This, my friends, is a for real crepe pan, dragged allllll the way home from Europe. Of special note is the fact that The Husband had to check his bag in order to transport it, given that it would be less than wise to try to take something big and heavy with a convenient handle as part of one's carry-on.

(Checked baggage is The Husband's nemesis. Nothing says, "I love you with all my heart" like standing beside a baggage carousel for your wife.)

Also above is a cute little personal espresso maker. It says it serves 3, which means that I can almost get enough for myself out of it. They are both fabulous, and the PM household was essentially Little Paris this weekend because of them.

And have I mentioned lately how much I love older kids? The three of us distracted ourselves from our missing fourth yesterday by riding bikes down to the ice cream shop and then to the lake afterwards, where the munchkins made a fortress for some poor worm who didn't wriggle away fast enough while I soaked up some sunshine and some Robertson Davies. I was totally impressed by how good they are on their bikes - we even had some shaky hand signal action.

We've also got new fun on the docket:

Yep, they've discovered the wonders of Dutch Blitz and beg to play every day. They're getting pretty good (well, good-ish - The Girl is quite meticulous about slowly selecting her three cards and then turning them over. It's not the most fast-paced, but we get the job done).

Read more...