The Good Book

I am extremely, ridiculously lucky in that the good people at Random House send me review copies of some of their books. I don't write a post about every single one of them. Sometimes, I simply don't have time (loved The Lady Elizabeth, but life went crazy..and now the moment has passed). Some don't inspire me (sorry Vassanji, I'm usually a fan, but you lost me on this one). Sometimes, the book is amazing, but other bloggers posted way better reviews and I feel like I have nothing to add. (Have you read Six Months in Sudan? You should. It's the exact opposite of 'my type of book', and I loved it. Loved. Go read Kgirl's summary.)

But sometimes, I am truly enamoured by a book and I feel that I have to say something - even if it sucks as a 'review' - about it. This is the case with The Good Mayor. I was trawling Chapters looking for something to read, and finding nothing when I came across this book by an author that I'd never heard of. And no wonder, it's Andrew Nicoll's first book. The quaint, sepia cover caught my eye (I totally judge a book by it's cover. Totally. And the way it feels in my hands when I pick it up. I'm very tactile. And weird.), as did the quote:

'Simply makes you want to go out and fall in love with someone.'

I won't bore you with a summary of the story - especially as when you talk about 'what happens', it's really just a) the Mayor is in love with his secretary b) his secretary is married c) her husband sucks d) she starts to fall in love with the mayor. Not much to it, right?

Wrong.

I don't know how to describe it, except to say it's...magical. Nicoll has a way with words that is quite remarkable. Rich, plummy, unexpectedly descriptive words give this novel an offbeat charm that is simply entrancing. I had a hard time putting it down. I kept finding little chunks of time to read whatever I could, as often as I could. I was recommending it to people before I even finished it.

I was entirely captivated. The (surprise) twist near the end (which I won't reveal) was a little off-putting. But it was the only time that I was not completely under this book's spell. This is one that I think I will keep and read again. And again. A perfect, lovely, summer treasure. I look forward to more from this author.

Ironic.

Six months ago today, I had to quit my job because we lost daycare for Little G and couldn't find a suitable replacement.

Today, six months later, while playing in the park with G, I got an email from a nearby daycare. They have spots for both boys, and what would I like to do? They are close to my house. They walk the older kids to C's school. It comes recommended by a friend whose child attends. It is the most affordable daycare in the area (they're privately owned, and can do what they want.)

I don't have a job anymore.

Is this supposed to be some sort of cosmic joke at my expense? Is this a turning point in my life where I am supposed to make the "right" decision, but just can't see it yet? I feel like I'm in a movie and everybody in the audience is saying "Why can't she see what she's supposed to do? It's so obvious?" It's not obvious to me. And my life is not a movie.

If I take the spots, I'll no doubt find a less than inspiring job and wish every moment that I was still at home with them. If I turn them down, I will no doubt be offered my dream job within the month. This is the irony of my life.

Why can't the different paths in life be marked with signposts?? Things would sure be a lot clearer.

Family STAY-cation '09

I. Am. Exhausted.

I need a vacation.

Oh, wait. I just had one.

Mr Earth took some time off from work coinciding with Canada Day, so that we could do things as a family. We didn't have the money or the energy to go somewhere exotic and new, so we decided to check out all that the Big Smoke has to offer. Well, not all. Not half, really. But a couple of things.

Big C was so excited to take Mr Earth to the Science Centre. The boys and I have been there a couple of times, but never with Daddy so it was very! exciting!. Big C took him around in a mad panic trying to show him everything there was to see. Little G and I hung out. It was overwhelming for him and he was racing around screaming at everything, but he really, really liked the ball drop area. They had a lizard and snake exhibition. I saw the biggest snake I ever want to see when I'm only separated by a thin layer of glass. Shudder. I personally will not go back to the Science Centre until school is back in session. It was a madhouse. Mad. House.

You gotta love a boy with balls.

Next we went to the Big Zoo. We brought the stroller, but Little G walked almost the entire 3 hours. He was falling-down tired by the end. I'm not sure what he made of the live! animals! He looked bemused half the time. We checked out the Kids Zoo area for the first time, and it was pretty neat, actually. Big C was disappointed that there were no animals he could pet.

Now doesn't the sight of brothers holding hands just warm the heart?

This photo is for Kgirl. It's the closest we get to matching outfits here at Casa Earth.

Big C and the baby Alpaca. I just love this picture.

Finally, after much deliberation, we decided on the CN Tower for our last excursion. Did I mention that Mr Earth is deathly afraid of heights? Fun times. Little G and I loved the aerial views. Big C was a little more hesitant. (Mr Earth would say SMART.) I'm impressed that Mr Earth and Big C did make a special trip to see the glass floor (from a distance), and even go outside.

Little G and I danced on the glass floor. (See my toes? I really was there! Even if I'm not in any photos.)

What a view.


A great time was had by all. And now I am so tired, I can't speak. I wish Mr Earth could stay home every day. But then we really would have NO MONEY. I like money. So off to work he goes. We will miss him during the day, though.

Two's Company

Big C spent the weekend at his Nana and Papa's house, so Little G had us all to himself. Sometime in the middle of Saturday, Mr Earth turned to me and said, "Why did we ever think that having one baby is so hard? This is so easy! It's like a vacation!!" I just laughed, because it's true.

But here's the thing -- it's not nearly as fun.

It's kind of like having a dinner party... (Now c'mon, you know I can't write a post without a bad analogy right? Do they have rehabs for analogy over-users? Hm.) ...Anyways, it's like having a dinner party. If you like intimate dinners for two people, and that's all you want, that's fine. You have civilized conversations, you give that person your undivided attention, you buy the more expensive cut of meat perhaps. It's all good. But if you like hosting a raucous dinner party for your ten closest friends, having one guest can seem intimate (and is a lovely break now and then), but it's more likely to just seem a little bit lonely. And yes, you can't spend as much time with each guest. Yes, you have to plan the meal based on what you can afford, and what stretches well to feed everyone. Yes, it's more work. But still. The possibilities for fun are multiplied as well.

(Don't ask me how two kids equals ten dinner guests in this analogy. I'm artsy. I don't do math.)

I guess I kind of fall somewhere in between: I like the intimacy of a small party, but it's a lot of pressure. It's all me, all the time. I like to be able to take a back seat now and then, and just listen. To watch the powerful play unfold. And having a second child forced me to relax a bit, to not micro-manage every moment. To realize that as perfect as I may want things to be, sometimes I just have to let it go. And I'm a better parent for it. It's easier, because I'm not unknowingly making things harder.

The best thing of all is that they have a friend who will always be there, who will always be connected to them no matter where they end up in this life. Big C taught Little G how to use a spoon, not me. He's the person that made Little G smile, laugh, crawl and walk sooner than he probably would have. He just wanted to keep up with his big brother. And Little G is teaching Big C more about sharing and being kind to people who need help and patience better than I ever could alone.

It's heart-breakingly lovely to watch. And so very, very worth it.

Bugaboos Aren't Always the Best

(Epic) Stroller Buying Advice from a Parent in the Trenches

I love talking to people who are about to have their first baby. They know their lives are going to be changed forever, but they don't KNOW. You know? It's like watching videos of people who are about to bungee jump, or rappel down a mountain - you want to warn them to take all the precautions, but in the end all you can do is stand back and watch them go.

I have a morbid curiosity, though, in what people buy to prepare for their first child. I want to know what they've stocked up on, what they still need to get and where they are planning to shop. Part of me wants to know what's considered (baby on the)hip or (old s)cool these days, but more specifically, I want to know if they are unprepared as I was. And I want to help. I want to guide. I really do! But I have to bite my tongue, because, as I've found, people don't really want advice. They may think they do, but they most often don't.

The thing I'm most curious about, though, is what stroller people are planning to get. So far, I've found that people either have no idea what to get (to which I think you really should do some reasearch. Really.). Or, they invariable say "Oh, I'm getting a Bugaboo. Everyone says that they are the best." (to which I think Hmm, yes and no.) If they ask my advice, they regret it, because I have a lot to say about strollers. A LOT. I have to watch them and make sure I stop talking when their eyes start to glaze over and they look like they're going to go out and buy a stroller right that minute just so I will SHUT UP.

So, if you are a parent and are actually looking for advice on buying a stroller, if you feel as lost as I did when trying to choose the right stroller, and if you want to avoid having Stroller Graveyard in your back shed like I do, you may wish to read this. And please, if you are a parent who has bought and loved (or hated) a particular stroller, please add your two cents to the comment section. I'd love to hear any advice you have. Cause I feel the need to purge the information from my brain so that I can stop putting people to sleep at baby showers. And perhaps move on with my life.

Really think about how you are going to use your stroller. This is the hardest part, in my opinion, especially if you are going to buy the stroller before the baby arrives (as most do). I bought my first stroller - a Peg Perego Atlantico - because my sister-in-law had that stroller and loved it, and I didn't know any better. My SIL and I do not have the same life and we are not the same person. She liked walking around in malls with the baby. I liked walking in High Park on the trails. While that stroller was fine on flat surfaces, it did not like any kind of rough terrain, or snow deeper than a few centimetres. I trashed that stroller with my extreme strolling, and even lost a wheel at one point. Still don't know where it is.

Size matters. Wheels, storage, and overall size. In this one respect, you get what you pay for. Generally cheaper strollers are larger and bulkier. They also often have small, hard wheels. If you plan to only use your stroller in the mall or on large suburban streets, then it doesn't matter if you have a great big, stroller. If you are using it in the GTA, for example, you're screwed. There will be shops you can't go into (unless you offload the kid every single time), and you will even find it hard to navigate the city sidewalks with all the signs and flower pots. There are MANY people who don't want "SUV-type strollers" in their stores and go out of their way to make them inaccessible (Stupid, that, because who is spending the money during the weekday but parents at home with children? Others are probably working, not shopping.) Don't even get me started on taking a large stroller on the subway... Also, storage is essential - unless you like pushing a stroller while juggling groceries, diaper bags, jackets, snacks and sand toys. (Have fun with that.) And something I didn't know? The larger the wheel (the inflatable, bicycle-type wheel), the better it goes through the snow. VERY IMPORTANT in Canada.

Strollers to consider:

Bugaboo. Yes, I want one. Yes, I have stroller-envy. But yes, I realize now that this would never have been the best option for me. They are cute, light, easy to manoeuvre and totally what all the cool parents are buying. (Yup, still jealous. Just checking.) But they are not right for everyone. Plus they cost $1300! I consider them like Porsches. No one can deny that they are great (and expensive!) cars, but are they right for every lifestyle? No. Would you go off-roading in a Porsche? No. Would you go camping with a Porsche? No. A friend of mine has one, and she doesn't think that the tires don't go through snow very well at all. You can buy snow tires (at an additional cost, of course), but then the tires lock and the whole "easy to manoeuvre" aspect is gone. My main problem is the cost. Not only is it insanely expensive, but what happens if you have a second child? Yes, you can attach a "boogie board", but you better hope your kid is old enough and responsible enough to hang on. And, I doubt this feature is terribly useful in snow. (Note. Peg Perego's Skate is a cheap knock-off of this stroller, minus the storage. Who doesn't want storage?)

Phil and Ted's. I'm biased, because this is the stroller we bought with Little G on the way. In my opinion this is the best option currently available for families planning to have two children close in age. You buy it as a single, and then you can add the second seat later when you have another child. You can lie the baby flat when newborn and put the additional seat in front for the older child. You can buy a Coccoon which slides right into the stroller so you can take the baby out with waking. It's the smallest double option available, lightweight, and most importantly - when your older child is walking consistently, you're not left with a double stroller that you can't use. Oh! And it's great in the snow. BUT. Because I do have this stroller, I know it's not perfect. I've had tire issues. I'm sure it's just me because I haven't heard of anyone else with this problem, but I've had to replace the inner tubes far too often. When you do this, you have to go to a stroller repair shop (not just "any bicycle shop", as the salespeople assured me), because they are the only ones that carry inner tubes with angled valves. If you don't have an angled valve, you can't pump up the tires when they deflate. Also, your kids either have to be very close in age or very delicate. My boys are 38 and 28 pounds respectively. The max weight is 88 lbs total, which we haven't reached yet, but I assure you that you will not be able to push a 26 lb stroller with 88 lbs of kid inside it. The total weight with my kids and stroller is over 90 lbs and I have now officially refused to push both of them. I am a fairly fit mother of two who works out 4 times a week, and I think I might have a heart attack if I have to push them both one more time.

Maclaren Umbrella Stroller. I love this stroller. It's light, packs easily and can manoeuvre shops and coffee joints like a dream. It's expensive for an umbrella stroller (you can get a usable umbrella stroller at any Zeller's type store for $20 or less and this one costs over $100 dollars), but it's worth it for the extra: it reclines, it has a sun hood and a rain shield. Also, their doubles version is probably the only realistic side-by-side stroller option for city life. But, because their wheels are small and hard, it's a lost cause using this in the snow. We have one, and I call it my "summer stroller" because I wouldn't even consider trying to go through snow with it.

Running Strollers. I am a runner. A devoted, long-distance, not going to give it up anytime soon kinda runner. For that reason, I have always wanted a running stroller. The reality is, I don't actually like to run with the stroller all that much. I always preferred to use that time as a break from the kids. It's my form of meditation, and I don't like it being interrupted by demands for snacks and constant whining. And now, with two kids, I can't imagine trying to push both of them. (Wow, that would be some kinda workout.) I think that a lot of people feel the same way, because I always see ads on Craigslist for running strollers that have barely been used. Either that, or people find that it's hard to run with a stroller. However, if we had extra cash and storage, I would buy either a BOB Ironman stroller or a Chariot Cougar or CX. The BOB is lightweight and supposed to be the best for handling the wear and tear of true running (ie. you could do a marathon with it. Not that you would.) and I think it would be double well as a regular city stroller. The Chariot is way too big for regular use, but if you are a devoted exerciser, it's great, because the pod-like shape means you don't have to fuss with rain shields while you're running, and toys won't fall out. Also, there's a great storage feature for all your exercise needs.

If I was going to buy a stroller for my first baby all over again, I'd probably buy the Phil and Ted's because of it's versatility. But, if you're only going to have one child, then it probably woudn't be my first choice. If I wasn't worried about using the stroller for a second child (if we were only going to have one, or if I had the cash and the storage space to buy as many strollers as I wanted to) I'd probably buy the BOB Ironman, the Quinny Buzz. I've also seen some UppaBabys and Zooper Zydecos that I thought looked worth trying. I haven't used any of these strollers personally, but I've watched them go by many times and thought "Damn, I wish I had that stroller."

Whoosh. If you made it this far, you are either:

a) About to become a parent and are doing research. (Good for you.)
b) A stroller freak like me. (It's a problem, isn't it?)
c) A good bloggy friend who stuck it out to the end eventhough I bored you to tears. (Thank you! I love you!!)
d) My husband. (Although he probably stopped reading ages ago. He's heard this before.)

Please, if you have stroller suggestions or banishments, leave them in the comments. My obsession continues.

The Accidental Gardener

No good can be found under a bush that hasn't been trimmed for seven years.

Heh, heh. Who knew gardening could be so dirty..?

I don't understand gardeners. On your knees, in the dirt, slaving under a hot sun. Digging and pruning and weeding. At the end, the reward is a nice-looking garden that eventually dies. (Well, at least it does at my house. Just call me The Black Thumb). This does not sound like fun to me. Know what it does sound like? Work. Hard work. No fun work. There's supposedly some sort of zen euphoria that comes from working in the garden. I could think think of many things that would create such a euphoria, and most of them don't even involve illegal substances.

Here's how I garden: someone comes over to my house unexpectedly and I see the backyard through their eyes. Flower beds that haven't been weeded since, oh, last year sometime. Bushes taking over the garden. Sticks all over the lawn. God knows where they come from. I am embarrassed beyond belief thinking that said person has gone home wondering "How can they live like that? How can they just not care??" And I become obsessed with fixing the problems.

So basically, I garden only when I think I am being judged. Or will be judged

By the way, if you come over to my house and I have gardened before your arrival, please don't be offended. I don't think that you, specifically, are a person who will judge me. It probably has nothing to do with you at all. More about my need for perfectionism, and my desire to have people think that I care about the upkeep of my house. I don't. Well, maybe I do, but not enough to actually do something about it.

I realized this as I was doing some work in the garden the other day. (Which, by the way, I decided to do because I had a dinner party on Saturday and was horrified by the encroaching weeds). And, by "work", I mean the bare minimum I need to do to get by.

Here are the rules every Accidental Gardener must follow:

1. If it looks like a weed, rip it out.
2. If it looks like a plant, but you didn't plant it, it's probably a weed. If you don't like it, rip it out.
3. If it looks attractive, let it stay. Even if it's actually a weed.
4. If it looks attractive, but threatens to take over lawn, rip it out. No mercy.
5. If you get bored of weeding, use the rake. Pretend it's fancy mulch.
6. If a bush is getting too big for it's britches, cut it back. No mercy. Even if your husband has a sentimental attachment to bush. (Did she just say that? Whut!?)
7. Only buy plants that can't be killed.
8. If you must buy plants that look fragile, ask them if they have a death wish.
9. Once planted, everyone is on their own. Don't expect succor from Black Thumb.
10. Whatever you do, don't water. That takes time and effort.
11. Gloves are for sissies.
12. If the weeds are bigger than you, run.
    

Join the Accidental Gardening movement! We are one, but we are proud.

Just another Manic Monday.

Wish it were Sunday.

Strike that.

Wish it were Saturday. Had impromptu dinner party. Parents came over to watch kids for afternoon and stayed for dinner. Cousin and new husband popped over and stayed for dinner. Made full use of fabulous new patio set from Canadian Tire. Much wine was drunk. Am probably still drunk. Felt like real family settling into house instead of wannabes.

Saw new Star Trek movie while parents watched napping kids. Finally understand why people attracted to Kirk thanks to Chris Pine. Yowza. Hiya Hotstuff! Other actors better, though. More on that later this week over at Playdate.

Embarrassed to admit was scared by first episode of Supernatural. Lame, much?

Am terribly nauseous. Barely keeping down food. Too much wine last night? Since when is half a bottle too much? (Am obviously heavyweight drinker but am no drunkard. Yet.) Maybe should drink more. Hair of the dog.

Perhaps nausea stems from Bill Saundercook's daycare freeze? Am considering writing strongly-worded letter but don't know where to start..

Big C being total asshat today. Can say this about own children? Perhaps unwise. But not untrue. Have been screamed at more times than care to count. Timeout count rising exponentially. Restraining urge to throw things.

Evil Cat Willow also being jerk. Should have adopted hamster. Chew jacket? Jump on table. No sir.

Little G font of snot and site of unpredictable tantrum storms. Still.

Am wondering if people can really have 900 Facebook friends. 900? Really?? Perhaps "friend" should be redefined.

Have given up on use of pronouns and other words deemed unnecessary. Too much energy.

Bedtime yet?

Someone should get that kid under control.

Oh wait. That would be me.

This morning, Little G had not one, but THREE screaming tantrums. One of them in Dufferin Mall. We had been having a good time. We walked around Toys R Us and bought a soccer ball for the park. We were just sitting down to coffee and a snack at Second Cup, and it started. Arms flailing. Legs kicking. Face squashed on the floor, mixing snot and tears with the dirt on the floor. Wailing at the top of his lungs.

He wanted to sit on the grown up chair. I think. I don't know because he can't talk. Anyways, he's too small and too unpredictable to sit on a grown up chair yet. I tried sitting with him on my lap. I tried strapping him into the stroller. I tried putting him down so he could walk around. I tried holding him and shushing him gently in the ear. He screamed no matter what I did. In the end, I tried sitting him in the coveted adult chair by himself, and he vaulted out face first. Still screaming.

People stared. I know what they were thinking. Can't you get your kid under control? Should you be out in public when your child obviously hasn't learnt civility?? Do you know that you are a Bad Mother??? On their faces: utter horror.

Here's the thing, though, I don't know when he's going to blow. He's quite a happy, giggly, charming little man. Except when he's not. I can't stay at home, indoors, all day long because he might have a meltdown at some point. And if I left a store every time he screamed, well, let's just say that very very few errands would be completed. If any.

And he's loud. LOUD. When he's unhappy, he makes sure you know it. There is no minor complaint. Every wail is at the top of his lungs. Loblaws was christened the other day. I'm pretty sure everyone in the produce section knew that he didn't want to sit in the cart. One lady came over and spoke to me in soothing tones after the display was over.

I'm not embarrassed, really. I was with Big C when he had tantrums in public, and he wasn't nearly as loud. Nor did he get his freak on as many times as Little G. I'm just tired. Tired of walking on eggshells, waiting for the explosion. And stressed, because it's hard to listen to the screaming and not be able to help. He doesn't want my help. And sad that many more people than I would like don't get to see sweet little man that I know he is. That I've seen him be, countless times.

He really is a very good little boy. He's just a little loud, that's all.

A R-ruff and a Royal Growl

My house looks like a bomb went off and shot piles of useless crap everywhere, and yet I still have time to watch American Idol. Apparently, watching pseudo-reality tv shows is more important than cleaning. Who knew?

Do you watch it too? You may scoff, but there are a lot of Really Important People who follow the show religiously. It must be an actor thing, because American Idol is pretty much just a fancier version of an audition. But I can't stop watching. And judging. And nit-picking. It's awesome.

And last night? The Big Upset. I had a funny feeling that Kris would win. Adam is clearly the better singer and performer (like, miles better) and yet he didn't win. And if I had the judges sitting in front of me, I would tell them that, no, Idol actually isn't a singing competition. Because if it was, Adam would have won, hands down. Idol is actually a pop(ular) competition. It's about finding someone that appeals to the masses, and that is not something that you can say about Adam. He challenges the audience, and downright frightens most of middle America. Kris is "cute", and Adam looks like he just came from an audition for The Cure.

Oh, but Adam is so ridiculously talented! If I had one ounce of his singing ability...I'd...well, I don't know what I'd be doing right now, but it would be a lot more exciting than, say, painting my box:

Whut?! Did Nomo just go all porno? Nah. Not me. But my son did say to me, more than once I might add, "I like yer box, mummy!" Wanna know why? Wanna see some pictures of my box?? Come on over to Playdate, my friends, and have a look-see. I'll show you as many pictures of my box that you want.

It Wasn't Me

I am completely against vandalism in any way, shape or form. But, if I had partaken in some illegal fun with city property, it would look something like this:


"If I should live forever
And all my dreams come true
My memories of love will be of you."

Seven Year Itch, my a$$. I never take my eyes off you. Happy Anniversary, love.

Switched at Birth?

While at a dance party in support of a wicked cool new moms blog, Mr Earth snapped the following photo:

Now, when he's a teenager and he does something that exasperates me, I can't use the time-honoured maternal guilt trip: "The hospital must have sent me home with the wrong baby, because you are not behaving like any son of mine...!"

Oh well. Apple --> meet tree.

I guess the real question here is: does he look like an aging mom, or do I look like a cute little boy?

Happy Mother's Day! Rock on, peeps.

Mother's Day Gift List Dissected

When I married Mr Earth, I married into a family that does not like surprise gifts. There is no searching for the Perfect Present. There is telephoning the person the week before the event and saying, "Whaddya want?", and then you go out and get it. The upshot is, of course, you never get anything you don't want. The downside is, there's little point in wrapping the gift because you already know what it is.

Assuming that my sons will grow up in this glorious tradition, I thought I would make life easier for them by running through the common Mother's Day gifts so that when they're frantically shopping the day before (men!), they would have a handy reference guide.

So, my sons, much like Jor-El did for Kal-El, I impart my parental wisdom in these words:

Card I'm really not a card person at all. Unless you made it with your own two hands (in which case I will treasure it forever), then don't give the card companies your money. It's all a scam to make you feel bad for not buying a card.

Chocolate The people at Godiva will have you believing that no only should you get chocolate, but you should get the best chocolate (i.e. them). With all due respect Godiva, your chocolate is good but also very, very expensive. I prefer Laura Secord french mint or buttercreams.

Flowers I love flowers! Except daisies, chrysanthemums, carnations or any other "filler" flower. Which means you have to pay a lot of money to get the kind of flowers I really like. These days, I think it would be better to spend your money on annuals that can be planted in the garden. The flower that keeps on giving. Still, you can't go much wrong with flowers.

Bath stuff I've always thought that this was a present you get for people you don't know very well. Plus, I don't take baths. And, I like plain old Ivory soap.

Perfume I have a soft spot for perfume, but it's very expensive and I hardly ever wear it. Plus the Body Shop and Crabtree and Evelyn both got rid of their freesia perfume line, so I don't know what I'd choose.

Spa stuff Well, this I love. But, it's really a present that only Daddies can afford, and technically, they're not supposed to be buying presents for me. I'm not their Mommy. (That would be sick.)

Breakfast in bed My gluten intolerance makes this venture kind of pointless, unless you're a Super Cook like Beck. Plus, I like to go for a run first thing in the morning on weekends.

Brunch I always feel obliged to eat too much to "get my money's worth" at brunch. And I dislike crowds. So I end up cranky, with a belly ache.

Handmade craft This is something I would treasure. A+

Prepaid Coffee Card Now, who doesn't like coffee??? A++

Probably the thing I would like best on Mother's Day is to relax, enjoy a cup of coffee and read my book. And the chance to not be the one "in charge" for the day. That, my darling boys, is priceless.


***********************************************

If the stars align, we are going to take ourselves to the pre-Mother's Day Bunch Family Dance Party tomorrow afternoon. I could use a glam rockin' party and some of those grown-up drinks. And a chance to help celebrate the launch of Canada Moms Blog featuring some of my favourite writers...and good friends.

Truly, the best kind of Mother's Day flowers are these, right here.

Race Day Report

Another first for me today. I haven't run a race since Big C was conceived. I think. (Oh my god, my mind is going. If I have run a race, it obviously made very little impression on me.)

Weather: 10 degrees Celsius, Clear and Sunny
Clothing: Long-sleeved technical Tee and bicyle shorts (to stop the jiggling)
Pre-race dinner: Tilapia, risotto and spinach salad
Pre-race food: Vanilla Crisp PowerBar (man that was gross, but they were sold out of Peanut Butter) and water
Distance: 10K

I should have worn a tee-shirt. But it's really hard to leave the house when it's frosty and you have to stand around the start line for an hour with nothing to do but freeze. No wait, I did have something to do - wait in a bathroom line-up for 40 minutes. Luckily, it was inside. And when I finally got there, it was surprisingly clean. Runners can be very civilized when they want to be. Thank you Yonge Street Second Cup for putting up with runners who want to pee, hate port-a-lets and can't risk buying coffee, or they will have to pee during the race. (Again.) I love you! But do you really need a mirror on the way to the washroom? No one needs to see what they look like with a full bladder and no make-up.

There were 12,000 people racing. That's a lot of people. The race started and we didn't move. I think I crossed the start line about 12 minutes after the race started. Still it was exciting. It's hard not to get caught up in the excitement. I totally understand mob mentality now.

After spending 40 minutes in line for the loo, I was way back in the crowd crossing the start line. Were I to do it again, I would want to be much further up. I spent a large portion of the race going in and out of pockets of people, trying to inch my way up. I may have actually run an 11K race instead of a 10K. And it was hot. I forgot how the race makes you feel so much hotter than you would in a regular run. Hence why I should have worn a tee.

The course itself was great - either flat or downhill - but so many people that I can't believe that runners are able to get their PB (personal best), unless they manage to elbow their way to the front of the crowd. I was running with a buddy, but lost her shortly after the 4k watering station because we got separated in the throng. It was very much like Titanic, but without all the drama or the Celine Dion music. So kind of not like it at all.

Overall, I was very pleased with my pace. I think I managed to keep it steady the whole way through. I always take walk breaks in my runs to drink some water (or because I'm lazy, take your pick) and I didn't in the race. It may have been because I was afraid to be run over. You know the Running of the Bulls? Picture that, but with Canadian runners sporting MP3 Players. And no bulls. Same, but different. I was thirsty by the end, though. I usually wear my fuel belt, but I thought I would somehow be faster if I got rid of any unnecessary weight. Ha, ha.

I ran out of juice by the last kilometre. Usually, that's when I put on the speed, choose my target runners, and start picking them off one by one. I was happy just to finish by that point. Proof that training for a race is a good idea. Results? Voilà:

Time: 51 minutes, 29.8 seconds
Pace: 5:09 per KM
Category Place (F 35 - 39...sigh I'm old): 133/904
Gender Place: 858/5886

Not terrible for someone who hasn't trained, and is uncertain that she has actually run 10K all at one time in the past 4.5 years. And it's got me jazzed to do more races, this time with actual preparation.

Hands down the best thing about this race? The fact that all my boys were there to cheer me on at the finish line. It doesn't get better than that. Good times.

I need some support hos

No, that's not a typo. I was trying to be all hip-like, and just ended up sounding like I can't pass a grade school spelling test (or grammar test, for that matter). Further proof that ageing caucasian females should perhaps not attempt street lingo. But after Randy Jackson stole the word "dude" from the caucasion population, I felt the need to get some of my own back.

Anyhow.

In a fit of fancy, I signed up for a 10K race this Sunday. I KNOW. Crazy, right? I don't think I've run a race since before Big C was born. Please send me some good vibes this Sunday at 8am (if you're awake). I will need all the support I can. And since the boys are all coming to cheer me on, I have to finish the race somehow. Run, Phatgirl, Run.

In other news, I am considering a new business venture over at Playdate. If you have young children, and are a fan of a good storytime, please pop over and give me your feedback, will you?

Yo.

Nuts and Bolts

One of my favourite memories of childhood is Sunday mornings. My dad would give me some money and send me down the street and around the corner to Tim Hortons (yes, I did live around the corner from a Timmies - proof I am Canadian) to buy a dozen doughnuts. After a healthy breakfast of one (okay, two) doughnuts, we'd get dressed and go to church. I liked church because I had friends there, I got to sing, and we had cookies after the service. (It was all about the food. Still is.)

After church, we popped over to the local Canadian Tire. (Yes, our church was near a Canadian Tire. More proof that I am Canadian.) My dad was always fixing things around the house, and later around the cottage, so there was always something we needed. My mom and brother usually stayed in the car, but I loved to walk up and down the aisles looking at all the shiny things made for mysterious purposes. Nuts, bolts, washers, nails of all sizes, plastic tubing and caulking. I had no idea who could possibly need all of these things but I thought they would make some lovely materials for art projects. Up and down the aisles I would go, getting deeper and deeper into the store until I began to get worried I would be lost. Or, more likely, that my dad would find what he was looking for before I found the toy aisle. (It's was all about the toys. Still is.)

It was a funny little Sunday morning ritual - doughnuts, church, Canadian Tire - but it was ours, and I remember it fondly. It was a part of the family that I belonged to, to which I still belong though I've grown up and moved away.

It's those little rituals that I sometimes feel that are missing from our family now. I doubt they actually are, but I'm living them right at the moment so I don't have the same kind of perspective. Who knows what my kids will remember when they grow up? But sometimes it really feels like I'm pretending to be a grown-up, a wife and mother -- living in a house, with a husband and two children -- who is this person?

For instance, we have a backyard that we almost never use. We garden. We paint the deck. We tore down the Grisly Garage and put up a pretty little shed. But we don't use the space. We don't live there. We haven't made it part of the home. Ever since we moved into this house, we have wanted to get a patio set, so that we could have meals outside, or even just enjoy a morning coffee and paper. But we never got around to getting one. The wiring had to be fixed. Tree roots trashed our plumbing. The roof needed replacing, as did the sad hardwood floors. There was always something. And the back deck remained empty.

Having kids just made the feeling that we needed to use that space more acute. But, you know, things have a way of just not getting done when you have kids. And the back deck remained empty.

This year, we were determined to get a patio set, and finally have family meals al fresco. Naturally, my first thought was to go to Canadian Tire. (I can't help it. Sunday mornings, you know.) There are fancier places you can go, of course, but we're not rich. (And in this economy, we're even less rich..) They have a lot of really nice stuff, and it doesn't cost an arm and a leg.

But a miracle happened. The people at Canadian Tire who lit up our Christmas with solar-powered snowflakes (Big C is still talking about them. Still.) contacted us and asked us if we would like to decorate our home for the summer. And they gave us this Satori dining set (with 6 chairs!!):


I'm speechless. I still don't quite believe it. Every time I look outside, I smile. When I think of the meals we can have there, the people we can invite over to enjoy our back yard, the coffee in the morning and the sangria at sunset - I just smile. Even Mr Earth said "Wow, that's really nice! I feel like we're actually grown-up or something. A family." (That last bit may not be verbatim, but you get the gist.)

Big C thinks it is AMAZING. "We can do art out there!" I never even thought of that. Way to go, Big C. Little G just made himself at home.

I'm hard at work thinking of all the ways I can make the space even more homey and relaxing: flowerpots, cushions for the bench, tea lights, a lovely outdoor Blossom dinnerware set that matches the red of the umbrella perfectly, and some Tibetan buddha statues. (A girl can never have enough Tibetan buddhas.) We are going to have so much fun out there this summer. I can't wait.

It's comforting to know that Canadian Tire is still, all these years later, the nuts and bolts of my family. I am my father's daughter, after all, and the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Now, if only I had me some doughnuts...mmm, doughnuts.

I put the kids to work cleaning the deck so that my pretty new set wouldn't feel so out of place. Child labour. Nothing wrong with that, is there??

I almost had an affair today...

...with the delivery man who came to my house at lunch.

I'd just gotten back from the Early Years Centre. Big C dragged his feet and whined the entire way home. I was holding on to a full bladder (for god knows how long) and desperately trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches for children who were acting like they hadn't been fed for days. There was screaming. There was leg-clinging. There was a knock at the door. My first reaction was:

"Who the hell is that?" (Dignity. Always dignity.)

A smiling man said: "No Mother Earth?"

"Yes...?" I replied warily.

"I have a delivery for you."

And he brought me this:


And this:

And this:

Teased? Titillated?? I've yet to get it up, so you'll have to wait if you want to see pictures of the full spread. But once it's up, it's going to be up till the weather gets cold again. And it is going to give me so much pleasure. I may just find that much-sought-after relaxation that has been eluding me lately.

I could have kissed that delivery man. He made my day. More to come later...

xoxo Nomo

Mm, Mm, My baby's got a secret.

Big C just told me that I was getting fat. "Why is your stomach so funny-looking? It's getting bigger! HA, HA!!" Happy Thursday morning to you too, buddy! Thanks for the vote of confidence.

Oh, and while we're at it, the weather can kiss my a$$ too. It better be awfully nice this weekend, or there's going to be some 'H' to pay. I am going to kick some serious weather butt.

If you want some lighter, happier secrets, come on over to Playdate today. I got a couple of good ones.

The Truth About Me and Books

I grew up with a mom who spent every spare minute reading books. I mean, every spare minute. If you wanted to know where she was when she wasn't working tirelessly teaching, grading, cleaning or cooking, she would no doubt be in the living room, reading a book on the couch. It was inevitable that I too would learn to love reading.

My first memory of reading, though, is from my first day of kindergarten. I have no doubt that my parents read to me as an infant, but I'm one of those people that doesn't remember much before I was four. I picked out Barbapapa from the shelf of books on my first day of class. It was in french, so I didn't understand it at all, but I was shy and overwhelmed and the pictures were neat.

I kept reading.

In the summer between grades 1 and 2, my best friend Rachel found a new best friend, and I found myself at a loss. I started reading every chance I got. Morning recess. Lunch hour. Afternoon recess. By the end of grade 3, I was reading a chapter book a day and I got my first pair of glasses. I had friends, but the vast majority of them were fictional characters.

I kept reading.

In the summer before high school, my best friend at camp - the one I looked forward to seeing all year - was joined by her cousin. Her cousin took an instant dislike to me. She had a forceful personality, and made sure the everyone in our group of friends stopped talking to me. That was fun. So, instead of hanging out at the fort, making pie-irons and playing flashlight tag, I hung out with my younger cousin and spent countless hours by the campfire or at the beach reading books. I packed more books than I did clothes. I took out books from the library by the truckload.

I kept reading.

Fast forward many years, and, while I don't spend every spare minute reading like my mother, I do when the book is especially good. I can't bear to not have a book on the go. When I am within one hundred pages of finishing a book, I must have one lined up to read next. Preferably bought and waiting on my shelf for the second I finish the one I am currently reading. I get stressed out if I don't.

I keep reading. I am always reading. I didn't realize, though, until today what it means when I start reading voraciously - as I have been doing recently. I finished The Lady Elizabeth by Alison Weir. I can't believe that I haven't read anything by her before now. I have a penchant for historical fiction, you see, because it marries my love of reading with my love of the stage. What is historical fiction except taking cold, hard facts and building an interesting, living, breathing story out of it? Preparing a character is the same thing.

When I started reading the book, it was like coming home. I've been reading for my book club recently, and while the novels have been absolutely interesting and exciting, they are not necessarily books I would choose for myself. Which is a good thing. It's like going abroad on vacation. I love to do that more than anything, but I don't want to live there. I wanted to live in Weir's book. It felt so comfortable, so exactly right. It was all I could do not to run out during naptime (they frown on leaving small children alone, don't they..?) and buy Innocent Traitor (a fictional account of Lady Jane Grey), and Elizabeth the Queen (to see how her non-fiction novel compares to her fictional account of the queen's early years).

I was puzzled as to why, though. I had Little Bee all lined up to read next. Why would I feel such a strong need to keep reading Weir's books? Yes, The Lady Elizabeth was excellent, but I've heard much about Little Bee, and was excited to read it. Why the sudden change of heart? That, in turn, got me thinking about my sudden upsurge in reading time lately.

I came to this conclusion. I read insatiably, unstoppably when I am feeling lonely. I am loving being at home with the kids, but despite never being "alone", it is kind of...lonely. I see my kids, I see my husband, and that's the vast majority of time. I'm not finding the moms around here at the drop-in centres or in the parks to be very friendly at all. The nannies are a clique unto themselves. The moms that I am friends with are either back at work, or clear across the city, so playdates are not nearly frequent enough. Add to that doctor appointments, sickness, and preschool conflicts, and setting up get-togethers is a complicated dance of duelling calendars.

Books are always there, though, and always accessible - even when friends are not. I lean on them far too heavily when I am feeling sorry for myself. Nothing wrong with that, I guess, excepting that literature should be a pleasure, not a dependance.

Thank goodness for blooming spring hope and bloggy love. Maybe they can help me out of this funk I am in.

Like Stealing Candy From a Baby

Big C was absurdly pleased to be faster than Little G at finding all the Easter eggs. We hid them so well (see white chairs). In his defense, Little G was more interested in the truck. He did get in the spirit of things later on. He found five eggs with the "help" of his big brother (who was being reminded to let his little brother find some eggs), and obediently put them in his basket.

Now I'm too busy stuffing my face with Laura Secord mini-chocolate eggs to type. Mr Earth bought 3 bags of eggs, and we hid the contents of 1. What can I say? We're good parents. And it was a very good Easter Egg Hump. (Big C's words, not mine..)

With Me, It's All 'Er Nothin'

I'm having such a hard time blogging lately. I have ideas, snippets of funny things that make me laugh, but they never develop into full-fledged posts. The problem is, I'm a little bit obsessive. When I do things, I tend to do them 100%. Which can be a good trait. And can also be a very bad one. It means I can be very focused and determined. But it also means other things fall by the wayside. Not only that, I have a terrible habit of being distracted by Pretty! Shiny! New! And then whatever I was spending all my time and energy on gets dropped suddenly for something temporarily more interesting.

For the past few weeks, it has been a return to reading. I've developed a voracious interest in the written word. Not from the computer, of course, that's anathema to me right now. It must be a book. Books with pretty covers, and fragile pages. Books about anything and everything. But no books with movie tie-in covers. (Those are just plain wrong.) When I find a book a really like, I make time in my day to read it. Any spare second I get. And I don't have a lot of spare seconds these days. Watching two kids all day is time-consuming! You have to do stuff! And answer questions! And feed them! It's all too too exhausting.

Anyways... time that could be spent blogging, or reading blogs, is spent reading books. I can't stop. Which is a roundabout way to say sorry that I haven't been around more. I want to be. I do! And now I feel like a terrible person who can't be bothered to respond to an email. (It's so easy! Just type a few words! It doesn't take long! Even if all you say is you're too busy to write right now!....Okay, clearly I have issues on this subject. Moving on.) I find I have, at most, one post a week in me these days, and for the past few weeks, that time has been spent ranting about Storytime at Chapters, dishing the latest on House or casting books in my head. And we're back to books again. I'm nothing if not obsessed.

I did find an awesome t-shirt online though, it read:

CDO

"OCD"

spelt alphabetically -

the way it should be.

Nope. I'm not obsessive. Not me. (I want to buy it.)

The weather has been sucky-ass sucky this week, but it finally cleared up and the boys and I had a playdate today with the Katie and Gigi. Outside! In the sunshine! For the whole morning! After the forced confinement of this winter, I'm not entirely sure it wasn't just a lovely dream. Gigi and Big C got along famously. The shared mini-Ritz crackers and talked about dogs. Gigi apparently gave Big C her phone number, but he can't remember it. Typical male. But he did tell me that if we want to visit her, we have to look for a building with a "J" and and "A" on it. Yeah. Way to be specific, Big C. I'll stick to Mapquest....

Wouldn't you give this boy your phone number?? All you have to do to win his heart is say the words "Oompa Loompa". Apparently, that's the funniest thing, evah.

Aren't you dying to have a playdate with us? We're a barrel of laughs.

Clearly, fresh air is not good for you. It's very tiring.

How are you doing? Tell me something good.