The Date and not Hungover*

Our anniversary dinner date was lovely.

The man had hired a car, so we wouldn't have to worry about driving. We left the kids in the capable hands of my mother, who was staying overnight. And even better, my sister, her husband and my cutesie niece came up to have dinner and a visit with them. When we headed out the door, only my sister was there to wish us a good evening. The kids were already off partying. Signs of things to come, I suppose.

Le Select Bistro was a great spot. The decor and ambiance was very much that of a Parisian bistro, and even better...no attitude from the waiter. (Okay, I know I'm stereotyping here, but I've had first hand experience of seeing a server get upset at a colleague because HE had heard the order wrong and brought back a sandwich without ham...another story for another day...).

So where were we...oh yeah, back at the bistro...

A beer for the gentleman and a lychee martini for the lady please. Very nice.

Puff pastry appetizers (escargot of course), lamb and slow cooked beef short-ribs entrees and a lovely bottle of wine from one of the hugest wine cellars I have seen in a restaurant. Wonderful, knowledgeable service amidst the quiet buzz of many a customer having a fine dining experience.

We didn't set the place on fire this time. At least not with actual flames.

After dinner, we walked up Spadina Ave. to Queen Street to enjoy some cocktails on the patio of the Rivoli. Quite a different scene. It was funny because this was just a couple doors over from the original site of Le Select, before it moved to its new location three years ago.

We ordered a couple of G & T's, and set about people watching while we sat amongst a patio of Queen Street hipsters. We've brought the kids down here many times, but hadn't had the opportunity to enjoy the vibe at night just by ourselves in a very long time.

I laughed about the henna tattoo I got a lifetime ago at the neighbouring Le Chateau ... we watched with interest as gaggles of young women walked by wearing sky-high stilettos and skirts barely covering their arses...a family walked by, with Mom pushing the stroller while Dad wore baby and they all wore matching afros ... we got annoyed as the groups of smokers outside of the restaurant hovered in front of us ... the signs from the huge H & M across the street were a bright reminder that indeed, this Queen Street was not the same that we had frequented as students. We noticed the students in their ripped jeans, slouchy hats with their carefree attitudes and we talked about whether we wished to be them again. So much has changed in 16 years.

We got caught up. Turns out there wasn't too much catching up to do. After all these years, we're still in tune with each other. Which in all honesty, was the most beautiful part of the whole evening.

*****

The boys went to see GI Joe the next day. A solid nine out of ten is what the boy rated the movie. What was the story about? He didn't really know, but it didn't matter. Action, it's all about the action, Mom.

The man brought home Famous Magazine and said: "Do you think I look like him*? A little? He's your type isn't he, fair, light eyes..."



I replied, "Actually, he does kind of look like you. Like 15 years ago..."

And so I checked. And he did. Sorta.


Lucky me.

(In more ways than one obviously. I finally got rid of that "Gilligan borrowed John Lennon's glasses and traded in the sailor shirt for a beater" look. Thank gawd.)

*I have yet to see the Hangover, but I hear it's hilarious. In the most immature way, I'm sure, but who ever said I was overly mature?

*****
Musical memory, here's one of our fave songs of 1993...

Friday Fragments - Anniversary Edition

Welcome to another edition of Friday Fragments - please visit my friend and brilliant mind who started this all, the lovely lady Mrs.4444.

*****

I'm a little sick of getting up at the crack of dawn, particularly since I am not a farmer and there is absolute no reason for me to be awake that early. I wish that fight or flight mechanism that makes the insides do somersaults for fear of the unknown, would just go away already. But we are this close, people. I'll keep you posted on the next episode of "How the stomach churns..."

*****

My Dad's monument was finally installed, and last Sunday was the first time we gathered around to take a look at it. This time, though, it was a bit of a bigger gathering, as some of my mom's best friends also came to pay their respects. It was much like our regular trips to Montreal, only this time Dad wasn't there in person with us.

The stone is absolutely beautiful, but one would hope it would be, as we went back and forth with the design so many, many times. He deserves that and so much more.

And more importantly, Mom was pleased.

Because there were others there, I didn't feel the freedom to let my emotions get the better of me. But as we walked back to the car, my boy came up to me, noticed my silent reflection and some wetness in my eyes, and asked if I was okay. I told him I was, and asked him to help Grandma to the car.

"I'm glad you're okay, Mom. He's at peace, you know." he said as he ran back to hold her hand.

And I realized that I am glad too.

*****

I took the kids to see the movie Shorts this past week. I'd never imagined that a piece of lettuce leaf that my little girl has plucked out of her nose might have the capacity to mutate into a goober monster. I hope that seeing this in live action on the big screen will help my daughter refrain from any future picking.

*****

The boy got his spacers put in on his teeth yesterday. After I dropped him off at the orthodontist's office, I went to make an important phone call before coming back in to wait for him. Who knew the office is like a factory? Apparently there was no wait. When I came back in, my boy asked if I'd gone for coffee, and took me with him to the technician. Bad mother moment..."It would have been better for me to show you how to adjust it before I put it in his mouth, but we didn't know where you were..."

Great. At any rate, she showed me how to use the little screw driver to adjust the mechanism. After five minutes of trying to find that little hole in the appliance attached to the roof of the boy's mouth, I've come to the realization that I probably need bifocals. Even more wonderful.

*****

And now comes the reference to the title of today's post.

It's our 16th wedding anniversary today.

To celebrate, we will be going out for dinner tomorrow night at one of the restaurants we used to frequent when we were dating. The last time we were there, we set the hanging bread basket on fire with the candle on our table.

I guess that's why they moved. But we found them again.

Sixteen years ago I was in a house around the corner, getting ready for one of the best parties of my life. My stomach was certainly churning, but in the most perfect of ways. Who knew that all these years later, I would be here making bacon and eggs for my cute kidlets, kissing my hubby as he heads off to the office, and sitting down to blog about it. Life is pretty good isn't it?

Life is about to change, as it has to. I have a feeling that it'll still be pretty darn good. I suspect that Dad is keeping an eye out and is proud of me for the things that are happening.

Happy weekend, all!

Musical Musings Part 2

Celebration, Madonna's new single, was playing on the radio.

"How old is Madonna, Mom?", asked the boy from the backseat. At least he knows she's still alive.

"I think she's 51 this year. She's got four kids, I think the youngest are babies she adopted from Malawi."

"Wow, they're lucky kids! And can you imagine, when they're teenagers their Mom will be in her 60's!!!"

"Well, Madonna isn't your average 51 year old. She'll probably look like she's forty-something when she's that age."

"Yeah, probably. Do you think she's had plastic surgery?"

"I'd say she likely has, but it's very subtle."

"Yeah. Not so obvious. I mean, look at Joan Rivers. She's definitely got buttocks on HER face!"

I almost drove off the road.

Musical Musings

Music has always been a large part of my relationship with my husband. I think of it sometimes as likely the only interest we really had in common when we'd first started dating. Well, that and beer.

It was the 80's, and we were both religious listeners of 102.1, CFNY radio, which is now called "The Edge". A station where they'd play the likes of U2 (when they were young and edgier), the Alarm, the Cure, the Cult, the Smiths, Depeche Mode, Japan, Canadian content (Blue Peter, Images in Vogue, wow, now we're talking ancient)... all the usual suspects. When the content changed in the 1990's following the grunge and newer punkish movement (Nirvana, early Green Day, Pearl Jam, etc...) we were there.

So it's not so much of a surprise that our kids love music, and the boy has even taken over my iPod. Truth be told, it was never really mine. He's loaded it up with all sorts of Hip Hop, rap, top 40s poppy/rock like Nickelback. I think it's hilarious sometimes when we're on the road especially on long trips, and he pays attention to our flipping on the radio. If we land on classic rock, or something that doesn't sound like today's flavour he'll ask who it is. And then he'll ask whether they're dead. I guess that's how old he thinks we are.

While the Edge is still more geared to those under 30, I still keep it pre-programmed in my van. They're the only station that I've heard play anything by Metric, so I'm still sold. Yesterday, we're in the car and I've got it on The Edge, and the Red Hot Chili Peppers come on. After a little while, the boy says,

"Mom can you switch this? This is so bad, I mean who LIKES this stuff?".

"Actually, they're the Red Hot Chili Peppers and a lot of people really like them. They were really popular in the 80's and 90's."

"Really? Cuz they're horrible. I mean, it's annoying and reminds me of Yo Gabba Gabba - 'In my tummy - in my tummy - party -party- there's a party in my tummy....!" Oh. My. Gawd!!!!!".

Yes, he's fairly dramatic.

I've never been the biggest fan of the Chili Peppers.

Now I think I know why.

Weekly Winners - Aug 16 - 22

Just a few shots this week, and one mommyblog effort.

We took the kids downtown to Harbourfront and witnessed some wonderful Canadian aboriginal story telling and traditional hoop dancing as part of the Planet Indigenus Festival:

Organic Television

Update on the Barbie situation -
found lost long twin sister buried alive under toy mountain,
good thing I made two pillows...

For more photo fun, check the home of Weekly Winners, chez Lotus.

Friday Fragments - Scattered

Welcome to another edition of Friday Fragments, the brainchild of the lovely lady Mrs.4444. Make sure you visit her place and give some comment love.

*****
I took the girlie with me to Costco again (worst thing I ever did was get a membership - I get happy when I receive my rebate cheque, and then my heart thuds when I realize how much I spend there in order to GET that sizeable cashback...but I digress) and we stumbled upon lovely Barbie in her fantasy bedroom.

"Oh Mommy, can I have that? I NEED that!", the girlie squealed.

"But what happened to the two Barbies you currently have? Where are they?", I replied in my practical Mom voice.

"I lost them. I don't know...".

Well, I do know where they are. One is on the floor of my minivan under the front passenger seat. The other, which actually came with some boudoir accessories, is sitting on her dresser, gathering dust. I don't dust.

"Oh, but Mommy I'll play with it, I PROMISE!"

Whether or not she would play with it was beside the point. We already have so much plastic crap at home. Plus I hate toy packaging.

I decided to take the scientific approach. What exactly in that box did she want? She didn't really need the doll, that she agreed with me. It was the bed itself, and a fancy lamp. I managed to talk her out of the purchase, with the promise of an afternoon of crafting our own fantasy Barbie bedroom.

So brace yourselves, because I am the anti-crafty Mommy...and cheap.

With her help, I sewed (whassat??!!) a couple of pillows out of old sweatsocks (tops only, so it was only moderately eww - stuffed with old Robeeze shoe fluff ; the bed is a juice box, her blanket is an old facecloth.. and the lace is from my Grandmother, which I have saved for about 40 years to use on I don't know what.

Looks more like rag-tag Barbie bag lady from under the overpass to me... but the girl loves it.



*****

I was driving (what else is new, mom chauffeuring services are on high demand during the summer programs) with the kids, and we had to do a double take at the intersection as we saw a tractor drive slowly in front of us, with an open topped wagon in tow. We do have some farmland and industry near us, so it shouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary. Only in the wagon there was a couch, and sitting on the couch was a woman having a smoke!

"That's sick Mom. Did you see that?" shouted the Boy.

At first I thought he meant ... "cool", "neat"...but the girlie asked, "What's sick? Who's sick?"

"Sick is when someone is not thinking right... I mean, what were they thinking, that is so dangerous!! The couch could fall over, and that woman was SMOKING on top of it! Not too smart! Hey, this would be AWESOME for your blog"

But damn, I didn't have my camera. Figures.

*****

We have a friend who's got a big milestone birthday coming up, the big Four-Oh. No big celebration though, which got me and my husband talking about when we turned 40. I threw him a surprise party that absolutely blew him away (and gave me a nervous breakdown, it'll be its own separate post). But for mine, it was low-key, the girl was only about 10 months old, and a night out for a lovely dinner was all I needed. I don't know, maybe it's a woman thing, but most of my female friends didn't have huge bashes either.

My boy, listening to the conversation, piped in..."Hey, I wonder what I should do for my big One-Oh next year!".

That kid, what a crack-up!

*****

We've got a couple of barbecues planned for the weekend, and yes, of course we're expecting rain.

Should be fine, though, I'm not the "Chef-de-grill" (isn't that a riot? We've used a cottage rental service who would describe their cottages with that term for the "man"... and then would actually say "lady of the house would love the kitchen". Normally I would be so offended, but I guess being in cottage mode, I would just laugh because it was so corny and antiquated...okay, now I'm just rambling...)

****

Have a good one, guys...

Isn't it ironic?

The husband has been overly tired lately.

Oh, it could be the weather,

or the fact that he's getting back into the swing of things after being out the office for three weeks,

or the fact that he's the father of two young children and he's got a spouse who's going through some career/mid-life crises the magnitude of which threaten to get even bigger,

or maybe he's not getting enough sleep.

"I wonder if I'm having sleep issues because of sleep apnea. Do I snore?"

If you're said husband's mid-life-crisising conflicted spouse, you should know better than to say,

"Well, you don't really, at least not in a long while."

Because should you reply in that manner, be prepared to be serenaded by the rumblings of successive oncoming trains at 4:00 AM.

Just sayin'.

Weekly Winners - Aug 9 - 15

Well there's a paucity of photos this week because I thought I'd give the camera a rest. Or it was just so lovely out I was out with the kids every single day and kept forgetting the camera.

Storm in Suburbia

A Proud Cupcake

Party'd Out

For more photo fun, check the home of Weekly Winners, chez Lotus.

Friday Fragments - Life in the Fast Lane, or not

Welcome to another edition of Friday Fragments, the brainchild of the lovely lady Mrs.4444. Make sure you visit her place and give some comment love.

So it's Friday, the end of the first REAL week of summer here in one of the coolest and wettest summers in recent memory. Because my long term memory is fading.

Let's take this opportunity to create some shorter term memories then...

-I woke up with this freakish need to vacuum. Freakish, because I never vacuum. Seriously, I hate it. I do it so infrequently that it's almost akin to foreplay for the husband. And yes, he is a neat freak. Perhaps this is the secret to a long, loving relationship.

I suppose I'm taking another look at my SAHMness, and embracing it in ways I haven't in the past.

-I'm apparently obsessive about cleaning my glasses. I do it about 50 times a day. No wonder they're so scratched up. I suppose it's better than biting my nails, though.... what nails?

-Is it wrong that I am ecstatic about summer time TV? Not only did we just finish watching So You Think You Can Dance, US version, but the Canadian season just started this week.

But the pièce de resistance?

Mad Men. Third Season. Starts Sunday.

Drooling. Get an old lady a bib.

-I shopped around at the various Costco's and picked up Wii Resort Sports for the kids. So apparently I am the Best. Mom. Ever. I kinda like the sound of that.

The butterfly effect

... a phrase that encapsulates the more technical notion of sensitive dependence on initial conditions in chaos theory. Small variations of the initial condition of a dynamical system may produce large variations in the long term behavior of the system. ... - Wikipedia

My boy woke up with a "severe" stomach ache on Monday morning. An ailment that I was expecting, as it was coincident with his first day of swimming lessons. It's something that I've become accustomed to. Firsts. Nerves will do it to him every time. Even though he is an amazing swimmer for his age, he has doubts about his abilities, and the nerves are bad enough that they manifest into a physical ache for him. It has resulted in screaming matches, crying fits, and outright defiance. Despite the fact that underneath it all, he knows he can do it.

This time, I was prepared with my pep talk. As I rubbed his back during his refusal to get out of bed, I told him how confident I was of him. I mentioned that it was just fine to be nervous, even though there wasn't anything he needed to worry about. It was normal that he was fearful of the unknown.

"What if the instructor's mean?"

"Well, I highly doubt he/she will be mean. All your instructors to date have been great teenagers..."

"But Mom, I can't keep a five pound brick up while treading for two minutes! It's so heavy! I haven't had swimming lessons for six months!"

"Well, they won't necessarily make you do that on the first day, they'll work you up to it. Don't worry, Mom and G will be watching and if you really can't handle it, just let the teacher know and I'll come get you. You can tell your teacher you haven't swam in six months and that you're rusty...did you want Mom to tell them?"

"No, don't you tell them, NOOOOO, don't!"

"I won't then. But no worries, even if you don't pass this time you've got four years to do it before you go onto the next level anyway. Give it a try, okay? It's just important that you keep your skills up, swimming is very important. And you can do it."

"Okay Mom."

My brave boy then combatted his fears, and tamed the butterflies that were wreaking havoc on his insides. He got out of bed and got ready for his lessons.

Later on at the pool, I saw him disappear into the water and resurface, dark goggles and teeth shining as he grinned from ear to ear. He was in fine form.

*****

Over the last three weeks I've been enjoying some wonderful family time. An escape from a decision that has the potential to be lifestyle altering. Since I've been home, I've been living with some butterflies of my own. Knowing that I just had to push a button to release from "pause", the process toward becoming a full-time career mom.

As I sent the e:mail to my friend the head hunter, to notify him of my return to reality, it felt like I was flapping my own little butterfly wing.

Who knows what will happen next? I can only hope that it will be a positive turning point in my life, our lives. And that this forward motion will be toward some good chaos.

Can chaos be good?

Again, one can hope.

I felt pretty, oh so pretty

Remember a couple of weeks back when I mentioned in my BlogHer pictorial recap, that it was my last post about BlogHer? Well, I sorta lied.

On the Thursday night shortly after I checked into the hotel, I had the pleasure of attending a little party at Macy's, hosted by the folks at Estée Lauder. It was courtesy of Estée Lauder and the Advanced Night Repair party, that I managed to look (to quote a certain male person who lives in this household who is in the good books these days because we just had three weeks of major quality family time...) "really quite pretty" in most of the photos.

Make-up, babe, it was all in the make-up.

Check out the details on my review blog by clicking here.

Weekly Winners - Summertime

It's been over a month since my last WW, and I've missed this. This week just some snaps of what we've been up to, colder summer temperatures notwithstanding...

Nightime at a friend's rented farm near Thornbury:

Exploring the Scenic Caves of Blue Mountain:

My off-roader in Albion Hills

The beach in the hills

We took the kids to Markham Museum, an outdoor museum which captures life as it was in the 1800's. A little gem, which I'd always wanted to visit but never had the chance. We had our own tour because no one else was there! First, inside a typical variety store:

A wreath made of human hair, displayed in a family home:

(Edited to add: uh, I think when I posted this initially it looked like, yeah, a wreath of human hair is just so everyday to me, when really I was thinking "OMG, a WREATH made of the stuff, it's sorta creepy, I HAVE to post this!!" and then thinking what an awesome wreath I would be able to make with all the serious high Asian hair turnover I have...that's the truth!).

And finally, newfound friend in our garden

For more photo fun, check the home of Weekly Winners, chez Lotus.

The same ... but not

I went back to the gym for the first time in over six months on Tuesday. I'm sure it wasn't the smartest way to dive back in, but I decided to try my beloved Bodyjam class. Yes, the one with all the fab twists, turns, jumps and deep knee grooving to a funky hip hop beat. Go big, or go home with a broken knee, I always say.

But how could I not? I was so passionate about it, and for over two years, the sessions that I looked so forward to three times a week - that had me pushing my over-40 body to the limit - kept me feeling great about myself, and more importantly, kept my mind relatively stress-free.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't nervous.

The last class I had attended was about six days after my Dad's diagnosis. My knees were intact, and Dad's prognosis, although not wonderful (being an upside of 18 months), was at least something to strive for. I hit the routine hard, throwing my body into the ferocity of Kanye's "Stronger", somehow trying to will the strength to my Dad to fight...or more likely willing myself to find the strength to deal with the enormity of it all. I remember working through it in tears.

Less than four weeks later, he was gone and my will limped in unison with my bum knee.

Aside from the fact that I couldn't physically get much from the gym until my leg got strong enough, there was a big part of me that was reluctant... or even afraid to go back to the gym. Routine, what was that anymore? How could life go on just as it was before, when the world I knew, and especially my mother's world, was shattered?

I suspect this is what made me drag my heels to the physiotherapist - and made it even more difficult to start with my regular classes again.

So here I was this week, tackling Bodyjam Release 49. The same class at the same time, with many of the same friends ('Hey, Karen, where've you been? It's been a long time...') ... but it was not the same. The instructor was new; the routine was new; and my confidence not exactly at a high. Especially when the instructor told me to watch for the advanced options she would be throwing out there, to make sure I wouldn't push myself too far.

Damn, I used to love to jump, twirl, spin, samba... all that fun advanced stuff! This would be more torturous than I thought!

In the end, it turned out not to be too bad, and I managed to complete the class feeling just sweaty enough, with no twisted limbs to show for it. Which was a bonus. It was difficult to hold back, and it certainly wasn't the old me out there on the gym floor.

So it was done. No more excuses. I intend to get back into my regular exercise cycle again (which will have to include some core strengthening workouts).

As I drove home from class, I was stopped at the railway tracks. Unexpectedly, as I'd never had to wait for a train at this time before, not once in the past two years of regular Tuesday night classes. I watched each car pass in front of me, in rhythmic tandem with the piano riffs of Coldplay's "Clocks" playing on the radio.

And I thought of Dad, and how I missed him, how I wished he was still with us ... but also about the inevitability of time, how life must still move forward, and how he'd want me to continue to move forward. Remembering the profound words that my daughter had said to me, just hours earlier when talking about her grandfather...

"Just pretend that he's still here, Mommy, when you get sad. It will make you feel better."

While pretending the odd time isn't quite the same as reality, it'll allow me to take more concrete steps toward the future. I did feel better.

After the last car of the train went by, and the railway crossing arms lifted, I took my foot off the brake.

And headed home.

Happy to be home

It's been an entire week that I've been away from the blog and surprisingly enough, I do not have the shakes.

This is the first day I've been really home since July 16. A trip to Vancouver with the family, followed by a quickie weekend to Chicago all by my lonesome, and then a week with family at a cottage, capped off with a resort visit at Blue Mountain brings us back home today... and exhausted. It looked great on the calendar, but now I need more vacay from the vacay.

A few things I've learned during the whirlwind of the past couple of weeks...

• having my own "thing" (blog, blog conference/ girls weekend away), something that's mine, all mine, is okay. In fact, better than okay. I got to rediscover who I am as my own person; the kids got to spend quality time with their Dad, and I came home to a clean fridge and cupboards cleared of expired goods, vintage 2006. I told you, I'm a horrible housekeeper, but what a strategy, don't you think? I need to get away on my own more often;
• there are a gazillion cute little dogs in this universe, all on vacation and more than willing to help my kids with their pressure tactics;
  
• my son loves having swimming races with me, and I can still do a surface dive in the deep end of the pool and come up with only one blood shot eye rather than two (it was the swimming, seriously, not the drinking, come ON!);
• trying to remember the lyrics to 80's and earlier songs (aloud) while dancing and making s'mores for your kids around a campfire, will make them think you're drunk. It was only mid "Stairway to Heaven", when I reminded my boy not to perform a faceplant into the flames that he remarked, "that's great Mom, thank goodness, now I know you're still here with us!"
  
• my daughter is in such a rush to grow up and two 16 year old female cousins will trump Mommy every time;
  
• my relationship with the man is still strong enough to withstand his new love affair with Ms. GPS. Damn her sexy robotic voice; but if she can navigate while I sleep, it's a win-win;
  
• missing a blog post or two in a week can set you free. I'm hoping to have better quality writing and real posts some time soon.
  
• there's nothing like your own bed.

Happy to be home indeed.