Real or Fake: AKA Getting into the Spirit of Christmas

Real or artificial?

It’s a debate for the ages. Some suggest full and natural, the way God created them, is the best. Others think there is nothing wrong with the artificial version, and that sometimes perfection is attained through a manufacturer, not necessarily nature. This is especially true when you are particular on size, shape, uniformity.

You know we’re talking about Christmas Trees here, right?

This year I decided I’d really like a real tree. And then I furthered the concept by deciding I’d like to get one from Mom and Dad’s property. Dad was thrilled. Mom objected. Especially when I asked for one of these…..

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So, I relented. After all, I didn’t want to look greedy. Dad was keen to help us out, and scouted a couple of locations. The problem was, everybody had an opinion about what kind of tree we should have. We struck out with the big truck, and headed back the lane way. After a brief search, the guys decided they found “The One”.

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Ah. No.

So, we kept walking, and walking.

Then they found this one…

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Really?

Still walking. Getting cold now people!

Then we came across this one.

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Now we’re talking turkey! We all agreed, this was our tree. The Big Guy got the cutting started with the handsaw, and Second Born Son quickly took over.

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He cut,

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and cut,

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and cut. Finally, we thought we heard something!

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I didn’t think it was serious, after all, my father is howling with laughter. But it looked like assistance may have been required!

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More than just a little ham was being served here, folks.

So after First Born Son took off to locate the truck, the rest of us debated the best route to get the tree out of the forest.

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Why, yes, that is a water gun. Why is my father holding a water gun? Because he’s carrying it back to the house for SBS. Why do we have a water gun? Because we are looking for a Christmas tree…Do I have to explain EVERYTHING???

Finally, we are making tracks.

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We load up the tree and take it home. Where, suddenly, something becomes apparent….

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Yes, that’s the tree, upright, outside the house. Adjacent to the sliding glass doors. No photoshopping here, Jack. That tree is THAT TALL. Hmmmm. Wisely, The Big Guy decided to wait until I was at work to bring the tree in the house. We knew the tree would need a little trimming. The top was very spindly, so we figured nipping that off would solve the problem. What I missed was A LOT of trimming. A LOT of sap and, my favourite, a middle of the kitchen stump docking. Yes, A SAW IN MY KITCHEN.

Thankfully, when I came home, all I saw was this…

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Let’s pause for a moment and note the amount of clearance between the top of my tree and my HAND PLASTERED CEILING!!! We opted for denial and started decorating.

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Again, I’m going to draw your attention to the TOP OF MY TREE!!!

Finally, after covering ourselves in sap, spruce needles and glitter, we had ourselves a Christmas Tree! We had one last thing to do…

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Folks, if my angel were to sneeze, she’d be wiping sap off her nose. The Big Guy crammed her on so hard, she might have to go out with the tree.

With my tree lit and angel violated installed, it finally felt like Christmas had arrived!

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From our house to yours, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Baby – Teenager

2013-12-03 14.06.19These eyes tell it all.

You were meant to come into our family and bring your own brand of humour, love and caring. For that, I will be forever grateful.

Second Born Son, like his brother, arrived fashionably late. He was supposed to be a November baby, but held on (almost literally) until December 3, 2000. Two trips to the hospital an hour away. Twelve hours of labor YOU LITTLE BUM – but totally worth it for the dimples alone!

Now this little man was born at 5:55 a.m. and he’s been a night owl ever since. (Save for the times around 24 months when he would put himself to bed if we had company over! Boyfriend needed his beauty sleep!) He was the happiest of babies until he was PISSED. OFF. Then you needed to be jumpin’, people. You need to be jumpin’. My husband’s family is known for its blond, strawberry blonde and downright redheads. They didn’t know quite what to do with a black-haired baby. He loved the dog, and adored his brother. I need to find a way to download video of him laughing his tush off at his brother because the laughter is from another soul. SBS IS laughter.

Because we had a son already, many people thought we were hoping for a girl. We didn’t care. What was meant to be would be. We were meant to have this baby. And with his arrival, we knew we were a full family. So while his brother made me a Mommy, this little guy…

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…made our family.

Love you Tootie! Happy 13th Birthday!!!! xo

 

Raising Rob Ford

So, the Rob Ford Soap Opera has given me quite a pain. Right over here. No back a little bit more…

Between horrific videos, more horrific press conferences and enough drama to keep a spin doctor employed through to the end of his term as Mayor Toronto, it’s truly a train wreck and we are helpless to stop it, or look away.

 Here we have an adult male who is having, in effect, a toddler temper tantrum on the world stage. I find myself over and over again trying to explain this man’s actions to my sons, who frequently reply with, “But didn’t he learn not to do that when he was a kid?” or “Didn’t his parents teach him that?” They have come to a logical conclusion here. This man needs some discipline; perhaps some parenting is in order?

 You think I’m over simplifying? Let’s break it down. I’m pretty sure we’ve all been told these gems once or twice.

 1. Lying Only Makes It Worse.

Let’s start at the beginning. When this all started, it was about a grainy cell phone photo where Rob Ford was doing his best Whitney Houston impression. And while he didn’t come out with Crack Is Whack, he did come out with a big denial. Had he come forward with an acknowledgement of the incident and some humility (I know, it’s not humanly possible for this man), he could have slipped off quietly for some rehab, stayed in office and people would have given him the second chance he seems hellbent on. However, LYING about the video’s existence started the entire saga on bad footing. We look back now and say, “Well, if he lied about that, what else is he lying about?” Let’s remember, this man has already been temporarily suspended from office, and disciplined for using public transit for his personal use – the transportation of his football team. Prejudice exists, I’m afraid, based on previous behavior.

 2. Don’t Lie To Your Mother.

Momma Ford and sister Kathy took to CP24 to defend Rob’s “honor” (?!) and say that he has been truthful to them, that he doesn’t have an addiction problem, and that they support him 100%. Either the Ford ladies are Oscar-calibre actors, or they have tickets on a cruise down De Nial as a half-wit monkey can see what the Ford family truly is; a bunch of enablers. I’m sure Big Brother Doug Ford was thrilled to look like a moron on Rob’s behalf; DEMANDING the resignation of the Chief of Police on the grounds of trumping up allegations, less than five hours before his brother would have a media conference where he would admit to smoking crack. Ouch!

 3. Watch Your Mouth. (aka – You Kiss Your Momma With That Mouth?)

Right now my eldest son is 16 years old. He swears. If you read this blog with any frequency, you know I do too. The Big Guy can let it fly with the best of them. Second Born Son is keeping it clean, but I fully expect him to melt down at some point and “expand his vocabulary”. I don’t say this with pride, I say this to be relative. Most (not all) people have sworn at some point. Most people (not all) know when it is appropriate and with what audience. My 16-year-old hormone-laden son knows that if he were to come out with some of the crap flowing out of Rob Ford’s mouth (in private, never mind in public), he’d have his jaw wired shut. Ever since the boys were small, we discussed what kind of words were “appropriate” since media, friends, and some family, don’t have the same frame of reference, and we didn’t want our five-year-old coming out with a big “What the HELL?” just before Easter Dinner. We started with negative words like “idiot”, “hate” and “stupid”. Stupid is still as big a swear word as “asshole” in our house and will get you promptly relocated to your room with a lecture to follow. Common civility dictates some words are simply not appropriate, especially the mouth they come from is four inches above the Chain of Office.

 4. Be a Gentleman/Lady.

This may seem self-evident, but what this means is, be polite to others. Hold yourself in certain regard, and you’ll be surprised in how others treat you. If you act like a common street thug, be prepared to be viewed that way. Strive for more. This means refraining from making lewd comments about oral sex with former staffers, and even more so, don’t make that first statement seem less offense by making a followup remark that is just as visual about YOUR. WIFE.

 5. You are Judged by the Company You Keep.

Remember the first time your parents had to tell you to watch the company you kept? Remember how confusing that was to figure out? eventually, though, we did. We understood that be associating with people who broke rules, were disrespectful, caused trouble, were in trouble, were looking for trouble, were often…trouble? Ya, Rob wasn’t listening that day.

 6. Say “Sorry” Like You Mean It.

When we were kids, saying sorry was like getting a band-aid. It solved the problem immediately. As we mature and the Sorry we need to say is for bigger issues than, say, slamming the door, we understand that Sorry isn’t a band-aid anymore. It’s an acknowledgement of our error and it’s impact on another person. One of my biggest pet peeves is someone using the word Sorry with no meaning behind it. At first Rob Ford refused to say he was Sorry. Within days, he was saying Sorry so much, it began to lose its impact. He quickly moved on to say that he’s said Sorry so many times, he doesn’t know what else to say. And that, my friends, is the problem. There is nothing else to say.

 7. You Always Get Caught.

Wasn’t it freaky how our Moms knew stuff? How did they know??? Did they really have eyes in the back of their heads? Was there a Secret Mom Society?? Any time we do something wrong, bad, hurtful and try to cover it up, it always comes back to bite us. If we didn’t learn this when we were four sneaking cookies, then perhaps we have to learn it in our mid 40s, with low-grade cell-phone video to rat us out. (FYI – There totally is a Secret Mom Society – in case my kids are reading this…)

 8. You Call These People Your Friends?

Not to be confused with #5, this point is for all the people who are lining up to say they support Rob Ford and that this media circus is nothing more than a witch hunt. If you are truly part of Ford Nation, and want to see this man re-elected for another term, you will show support in him stepping aside temporarily. Because if nothing else is evident, it is this; Rob Ford has issues, demons if you will, that need to be addressed now. His passionate refusal to leave the role of Mayor is not only an issue for the City and the Province, but most importantly, is jeopardizing his well-being and his role as a father and husband. Choose your priorities wisely. Voters love a Come-Back story. Be the new and improved Rob Ford. Everyone deserves a second chance, but its hard to rally from a body bag.

 Let’s hope someone, whose opinion matters to Rob Ford, can step in and give him the sage advice he needs.

Starting with a Time Out.

A Cutting Revelation

As declared by First Born Son, trying to make a selection in the Men’s Grooming Section of Shoppers Drug Mart…

“$49 for razor blades?!?! No wonder Santa doesn’t shave.”

 

 

Hi! My name is Sarah!

Okay, so we didn’t actually break up, stop being so dramatic!

The fact is, Summer is my favorite season and thanks to my ever evolving career (standard work week – yeah, shift work – BOOOO) I’ve tried to max my time outside as much as possible.

So let’s catch up, shall we?

For starters, this guy –

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Has grown into this guy….

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And folks, that photo is over a month old. The most recent check-up revealed that Roman is a fighting 33 kgs and Cane is 27 kgs!!!! He’s only six months old. I’m actually thinking about using him as a sled dog to get me to work this winter!

Naturally we watched ball. M&M was on a kick-ass team and had a very successful season at a number of tournaments, not to mention the Super-Duper Nationals in Nova Scotia in August. They won. Of course.

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As you can see, she picked #22 because it is the date of the birth of her favorite Aunt. She’s so thoughtful that way. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

During the skills competition in Nationals she won for fastest runner.

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Which is why THIS is such a dangerous posture for the opposing team.

First Born Son took to the field for his final year in ball.

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And he had a great season! Lost in the finals for the A-Side Championship, but hey, going down swinging means there’s no shame in the game! He’s also had some other big events in his life.

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Sumthin’ missin’ here? THE BRACES ARE GONE! We are really proud of the fact that he’s done so well in caring for this teeth, which meant the braces could come off early for all the late summer/early fall activities on the calendar.

However, we are still paying for the braces…… For a couple of months…. Seems wrong don’t it?

With a family wedding coming up, we needed a suit for FBS. Thankfully, my Dad was able to help us out with this!

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With as much experience as my father has in selling suits, NOT taking him was not an option. Watching him flip through the fabric actually made my eyes a little leaky! Love how FBS is ROCKIN’ the running shoes, shorts and jacket look!

Second Born Son had easily the BEST. SUMMER. EVER. After starting with a party for his Confirmation….

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…he only had a few short weeks until he left for camp….

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…where the first thing they do is check for lice. I’ll give you a moment to scratch your scalp.

Better?

He also got his trip to Canada’s Wonderland, with his best bud, (who also went camping with him).

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The two of them mastered the rides. While The Big Guy and I waved from the ground in a couple of instances.

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This is Leviathan. It’s stupid big. We STARTED our day on this ride, and the boys ended their day with it. It’s so big, that when you think you should be at the top of the first big hill you look up and realize, you’re only half-way to the top!!!!

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That is my child up there. I could not fit the top and the bottom of the hill in this frame. They loved it. I am apparently getting old.

We also enjoyed the prerequisite trips to the beach. We love laying out on a blanket and enjoying the sand. Until some ass comes along and parks right in front of us with la-z-boy style “beach chairs” that obliterate our view of the water. We’ve decided to stick with the more secluded beaches from now on!

Then there is “The Party”. We decided to have a pork roast this summer, which coincided with our 20th Wedding Anniversary.

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Yup – did it up right. Got a tent, tables, and waited for the friends and family to arrive! Some even stayed over. We had our own little tent city!

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Needless to say, the highlight was the pig. My parents had pork roasts on our farm and I’ve always remembered how much fun we had, and how good the food was!

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SBS could have done without the head on the pig, but Roman didn’t seem to mind! Some wanted to contribute and brought their own favorite salads…

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So if anyone left hungry, it was their own damn fault! We had a fire pit that night and enjoyed a huge breakfast in the morning for those who stayed overnight. The kids are ready to do it again.

I think I’ll need a year to think about it!

The boys and I headed to the beach with LS’s family and my parents.

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The beach is my father’s favorite place. It’s a genetic thing as I’m pretty much ready to live near water NOW! The weather was perfect and the kids had a blast. ALL the kids…

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**STYLE NOTE** LS has buzzed 85% of her hair off. And yes, she’s rocking it!

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When I had to back to work (shift work – BOOOO) the boys had a little fun in Toronto.

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The Hobbit House made out of Lego – such a wonderful, family-oriented place, Fan Expo…

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…uh…ahem, where exactly is your hand my husband????

Okay, we’ll wrap this up now. Suffice it to say that it’s been a jam-packed summer and with the “fun” associated with back to school – FBS in Grade 11 (sniff sniff) and SBS entering Grade 8 (whaaaaaaa) I’m just starting to catch my breath now!!!

Would love to hear below how you spent your summer!

 

 

 

Puppy Tale

Like all great stories, this one starts off with “Once Upon A Time”.

I’m going to prepare you now – this is a bum nummer and you may require Kleenex. I’ll wait for you.

Ready? ONCE UPON A TIME a friend of mine at work, who is a fellow dog lover, told me about a litter of pups that was in the custody of the local animal control. Then she sent me a photo….

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…and that wasn’t a good thing.

The Big Guy and I had been discussing the possibility of adding to our family in the four-legged fashion. You see Roman had been demonstrating a lot of clinginess.

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He was really missing us while we were at work and school, and I remembered our German Shepherds while I was growing up. They did really well with a buddy.

At first The Big Guy came to a logical conclusion; dog x2 = food $ x2 and poop x100. I mentioned his math was a little off and suggested we go have a look at the pups. Between my friend at work and the Animal Control, they gave us the story on the litter.

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The original family lost their home in a fire. They were made aware of the fire by adult dogs, Angel and Max. They had a young litter of pups, but were able to make their humans aware of the danger they were in and everyone escaped safely. Their bravery was rewarded by being locked up in the shell of a house, left to starve to death. Fortunately neighbors contacted Animal Control and the family was quickly relocated and cared for.

Animal Control contacted the local “Humane Society” to assume responsibility of the canine family.

<PAUSE> I have to employ the use of quotations here for no other reason than my lack of respect for this organization. Now I know, many of you will protest that “Humane Societies” do great work and have provided support for countless animals. Unfortunately, I have not had this experience. Without broaching Slander, we’ll leave it at that, okay? <PLAY>

“HS” advised animal control that they would take the father and the mother, but was not interested in the pups, to the extent that they stated they would euthanize them. Yup – you read that right; KILL THEM THERE PUPPIES. The rep at Animal Control couldn’t abide by that. She offered to care for the pups and raise them until they were weaned, if “HS” would take them on at that age. It was agreed that “HS” would provide the necessary shots for the pups and would get the four, three males and a female, when they were of age to adopt. “HS” came for the male, as there was no need for him to stay on with Animal Control, and he left his little family.

A week or so later, when the time came for the first shots, the Animal Control rep contacted “HS” and booked a date, asking how the father had fared in the adoption process.

“Oh, we had to euthanize him.” she was told. YUP KILLED HIM!!! The rationale? He was “nippy”.

<PAUSE> Let’s take a moment here and review the facts. 1. The dog had been in a house fire. 2. The human family he loved and in fact, SAVED, had abandoned him. 3. He was left to starve with his brand new litter and mate. 4. He was taken from his home to Animal Control and then to “HS”. I think it’s fair to say he had a couple of reasons to be “nippy”. <PLAY>

The Animal Control rep was devastated. She said she had the male for more than a week, and he did have an aggressive personality, but she was able to work with him and felt he would be a wonderful pet for someone who was interested in giving him love and stability; understanding the trauma he had been through. He had calmed considerably in the time she had him.

With heavy hearts, we decided to see the pups in person, as the story was indeed intriguing.

2013-04-27 13.40.38Within minutes, we knew, we had to put our name in for one of the pups. Second Born Son joined me and The Big Guy as we met with Animal Control and got up close and personal with the pups. We asked if we could adopt from Animal Control, and they referred us to “HS”, who indicated, no, we would have to get our application in like anyone else. I asked if we could get on top of the list, as we were very  interested, were the first ones to contact them, and would even have agreed to help support the pup while it was with Animal Control. Would it not be easier on the puppy if we just moved him from Animal Control to our home? Was it not in the best interest of the animal??

“HS” wasn’t interested.

I didn’t have a good feeling about “HS”.

In spite of this, The Big Guy agreed that we should move ahead. We told First Born Son that we were going to look into adopting another pup. He questioned this, stating he was happy with one dog, until we showed him a photo…

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And that, my friends, was THAT. Hook, line and sinker.

So we waited to hear that the pups were at “HS”. SBS and I headed to “HS” the first day applications were accepted. We planned on buying the puppy gear we would need on the same trip, so we would be ready to be new parents – again.

We asked to see the puppies and I was advised I’d have to turn over my driver’s license. When I asked why, I was advised by the “HS” rep, “So you don’t walk out of here with my puppy.”

Kinda like using a sledge to kill a fly, dontcha think??

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I surrendered my driver’s license and we saw that the pup we wanted was growing before our eyes. His mandatory neuter was the next day, and the micro chipping would take place at the same time.

Later we would find out that within two days, 30 applications were filled out for FOUR PUPS. At this point, they cut off applications. The paperwork was one step away from a Revenue Canada Audit. Four pages of detailed questions. “What other pets are in the home?”  “Who is your vet?” “Names and ages of everyone living in the home.” “What kind of collar would you use for your dog?” “What kind of property do you have?” “Where will you sign up for obedience class?” “Does anyone have allergies?” “How much do you expect to spend on your dog in a year?”

Admittedly, some of these were valid queries and sadly some of them are necessary to weed out the twisted individuals who think the “HS: is the place to pick up animals for medical testing. HOWEVER, it would be nice to not be treated like a criminal before I’ve even signed my application. It took more than 15 minutes to answer all of the questions and when I turned in the form, I was told that we would have to bring Roman down for a meeting with the pup, IF we were successful in moving on to that stage in selection.

What

the

holy

hell??????

As we walked back to our vehicle, I turned to SBS and said, “You know I believe in being truthful, but I think this is a case where honesty may not have been the best policy!” He was so sad that I told him he would shop for the pup anyway. When we got to the cashier, I told her, “We’re dealing with the “HS”; I need to be able to return everything.” She gave me a knowing look and said we could, other than the custom name tag we were getting engraved. We promised we would not tell anyone what name we had picked out.

A week later, we were advised that we could come down with Roman to meet the pup. I pointed out that it was an hour drive, and I wasn’t sure it was in my dog’s best interest to have to travel that distance, as he was only used to traveling 10-15 minutes maximum. There was no budging on this point. We had to take him down or we’d forfeit the pup. Oh, and could EVERYONE in the family come along as well, please? Getting the five of us in my vehicle took a great deal of timing, co-ordination and begging.

Roman traveled well, met the new pup and was a complete and utter gentleman. The pup loved Roman. I thought things were looking good!! Then TBG and I were called into the office for a meeting. With the boys tending to Roman, TBG and I sat through a 20 minute grilling on what I had put on the form. What was perceived as “right” and “wrong”. I was told that I would have to register for obedience class. I pointed out we had three dogs at this point, two of which had gone to class, and we felt we had learned enough to train them ourselves.

Wrong.

answer.

Bub!

We were advised we would need to enrol if we wanted a pup. I pointed out that living in the “sticks” means we have puppy classes spring and fall. Too late for one, too early for the other.

Wrong.

answer.

AGAIN.

I promised to look into classes.

As we left, we were advised that we would be given an answer by the end of the week. Excited, but nervous, we returned home and waited for a call.

And waited.

Longer still.

Need a bathroom break yet???

Theories ran rampant. Maybe we wouldn’t be picked because we already had a dog? Maybe they didn’t like that we saw the pups before they belonged to the “HS”? Maybe the applicant (me) was too much of a bitch herself to be considered as the successful candidate!!!??? (Admittedly, the kids never actually SAID this in my presence….)

Friends offered to be references for us. Friends offered to “influence” the “HS”, but agreed with us, that it might not be well received!! We all agreed that there was a reason why puppy mills and kijiji do so well when it comes to selling puppies. One assumes they are helping an animal when they go through a “HS”, but it is more like undue hardship!

I called the following Monday and was told there was another couple coming in for an interview on Wednesday. Folks, this has been a month since we completed our application. At this point, the entire family is frustrated, along with my friend who was wishing she hadn’t mentioned the litter to us in the first place, for all the hassle it was turning into!

I waited until Thursday to call the next time. Left a message. Hours later, “HS” calls back.

We got the puppy! The other couple attended the night before with their dog for a meet and greet, which did not go as well as Roman’s did.

In short, Roman is the reason we got the puppy!!!

TBG and I brought him home and surprised the boys. No one was more surprised than Roman!! We introduced them right away. Roman, meet CANE! Cane, meet Roman!

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He bounced like a gazelle for 15 minutes, “OMG YOU GOT ME A PUPPY!!!!!!” It was truly one of the sweetest things you will ever see!

Well, other than this…

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…or, perhaps, this…..

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So for now, the house smells like wet dog. But they are happy, wet dogs!

Looking for a Good Friday

It’s been quite a week.

Whenever a holiday rolls around, it seems like time moves twice as quickly and my list of things to accomplish is twice as long. In the case of this week, we are down a day as well. I really enjoy Easter for a number of reasons, and look forward to it all winter long.

I wanted to be mindful of the religious meaning of this week; to take things in stride and be flexible when something popped up. But for some reason, it was the “Let’s See How Much Shit Sarah Can Tolerate Week”. Unfortunately, I didn’t get that memo.

Monday to Thursday was filled with tests and challenges. Kids who were seeing how far they could push each other, and me; days at work that went from slow and monotonous to being assigned a mountain of work; barely speaking to my husband, and not because we didn’t want to talk, but because he was just as busy as I was. Trying to sympathize, empathize and take the high road.

A friend of my was caught in a bind regarding the care of her horses, and being faced with no alternatively, I offered to help her out. It was something I found myself looking forward to! Which did help somewhat with the ongoing frustrations of the week.

Each time I looked at these events as challenges I could deal with. The kids were tired, and coming down with colds so I tried to get them to bed sooner. Well, I tried – they argued and resisted and ended up going to be a the regular time. I tried to think of improvements at work that could fill my down time and worked efficiently when the work load suddenly doubled. I gave a lot of thought to how we could accommodate the various schedules over the Easter Weekend so that everyone was happy.

That’s when things really started to hit the skids.

Every now and then, I find I go through a couple of days, or in this case – a week, where I could say “Hey, How are you today?” and the person I’m speaking to would hear “WHAT THE F— IS YOUR PROBLEM?” I’ve been told this is a problem for Virgos, so when I saw it starting to rear its ugly head, I made a point of gearing down and measuring my words. Sympathize, empathize, high road…… Rinse and repeat.

Yeah, that bombed.

So by Thursday afternoon, two people thought I was a Grade A bitch, ironically, the two people I had gone out of my way to accommodate. Massive FAIL. In both cases, the exchanges ended with me removing myself from the conversation so I didn’t say what was really on my mind.

On Thursday afternoon, I’m fighting my way through the throngs of people. People who leave their cart in the middle of an aisle in a grocery store so they can look for FRIED ONIONS THREE FREAKIN’ AISLE OVER! People banging in to you, and your cart, which is overflowing. People who think the day before a long weekend is the BEST time to catch up with their neighbors, five feet inside the store doors.

Throughout my tour at the grocery store, I noticed two women; one about my age and her daughter, who would be the same age as First Born Son. I noticed them look at me in the meat section. Then again in the frozen foods. I could feel someone looking at me a couple more times, and thought I was getting a complex.

Finally I navigate the humanity that is a grocery store at 5 p.m. on Maundy Thursday, and I end up in the line behind these two women. They look at me, look at each other, and then START WHISPERING.

Folks, I nearly lost my mind right there. After trying so hard to not feel negative, to try and look at things from other peoples’ points of view and trying help out friends and family who have need help throughout the week – only to get slammed, I was ready to put my fist through their carton of eggs. Very. Ready. “WHAT THE F— IS YOUR PROBLEM?” was on the tip of my tongue – and I would have meant to say it!

As we crept toward the cashier, and I started unloading my groceries, when the mother spun around, leaned in towards me and said,

“Your hair ROCKS! I LOVE it!!!!” with the biggest smile I had seen all week. The daughter, behind her, was smiling and nodding vigorously.

In a instant I felt horrible for being such a mental bitch to her, combined with a mix of feeling flattered and pleased, because one does not expect to receive compliments, never mind in public. I gave her a big smile and said thank you. She and her daughter continued to converse, but now I could hear some of it, “awesome” came up a couple of times.

Once I got in my vehicle, I thought about how things can spin on a dime. All week I had worked so hard to make everyone else happy, and  not a single person recognized me for it, or in fact, told me I had made things worse. Here, I go about doing my own thing, and a complete stranger comes up to me and gives ME a compliment; something that I myself have made a habit of doing to other people.

And the hair….

2013-03-28 17.11.51

 

Totally ROCKED!!!!

Happy Easter, Happy Passover!

 

 

 

The Joy of Boys

These conversations actually happened in my house.

Honestly, I can’t make this stuff up…..

 

Second Born Son: Having a girlfriend is expensive.

Me: How do you know this?

SBS: Everybody knows this!

Me: (Ok, I’ll indulge him) Hmm. So how is having a girlfriend expensive?

SBS: You have to buy the gifts for their birthday, for Christmas, Valentine’s Day. So I’ve figured it out.

Me: Oh, have you?

SBS: Yup. I’m going to break up with them. Right before their birthday or Christmas or Valentine’s day. 

Me: Oh, you think that’s going to work?

SBS: Yup. Then I won’t have to buy them any presents.

Me: Well, I think that’s only going to work for you once or twice, then the word is going to get out.

SBS: What word?

Me: That you are a lousy boyfriend!

 

Followed by this gem…

 

First Born Son: I think I’ve figured out the Valentine’s Day thing.

Me: What’s that?

FBS: It’s not what you do on the 14th that counts…

Me: Ok… (I’ve got some hope here!)

FBS: Ya, it’s what you do on the 15th! And besides, everything is on sale then!

 

I can see I have my work cut out for me!

What do you want to be when you grow up?

So what do you want to be when you grow up?

Harmless enough question. Except when you are the one who has the answer it. We recently sat down with First Born Son and his high school guidance counsellor to discuss his second semester course selection, which was somewhat jumbled. It ended up being a discussion about where he wants to go to college, and ultimately, his career.

Since FBS’s Plan A is not to be, we are looking at ways to get him where he wants to be; on a farm, even if we can’t start him off on one. He needs to make enough money in his primary profession, so that he can eventually buy his own piece of land.

As FBS is half way through Grade 10, we thought it might be a little premature to start the college convo, but according to the counsellor, it’s never too early.

What a change.

When I was in school, you filled out a form half way through Grade 11. It listed your likes and dislikes. The Big Guy did this as well and was advised he would make a wonderful undertaker. My results were inconclusive, and when I went to my guidance counsellor for clarification, and get his opinion on my thoughts for a college education, he suggested that I enrol in university. His only qualifier for this was a random comment about my appearance. I left his office confused and slightly disturbed.

As far as career planning, it was left to my interests at the time and my lack of faith that I would actually be accepted to any college. There was never a conversation about employment options, or earning potential. I applied for Journalism at College 1, Graphic Design at College 2 and Flight Attendant at College 3. I figured wherever I was accepted to, that would be where I attended. So much for a plan. Months later, I hear back from the applications. I’ve been accepted at all three; color me amazed!

But now, it is best to have a plan from Grade 9. The level of study you enter will determine if you will attend university, college or trade school, or enter the work force directly from high school. Each year you narrow your options, putting a finer  point on your field of study. FBS had a fairly sharp point on his future, but learned the hard way that he’s going to have to keep on taking Math, English and Science for the next two years!

I wasn’t sure who was more excited during our meeting, FBS or The Big Guy. The counsellor kept coming up with awesome college courses, more awesome college campuses and EPIC career options. Studying outside, high employment ratios, not tied to a desk!!! I gotta say, it was sounding so good that I was ready to sign up, except the commute is brutal. Apparently the “best” programs were the ones farthest away from home.

Of course they are….

At least I have two more years to get used to that idea, and find ways to keep The Big Guy from stowing away in the luggage!