Sunday, November 30, 2008

Lunch is the most important meal of the day.

Thirty-two years ago today someone very special was born. I first met her in grade 7 homeroom. She was blond, quiet and so short that she fit under my chin (which considering that I am only 5'2" means a lot). Soon after that we both happened to be hanging around the school at lunch while everyone else went to McDonald's, and we ended up sitting in the gym bleachers watching intramural sports and breaking all the rules by eating in the gym...well, maybe not all the rules, but the one about "NO EATING IN THE GYM" (we were quite the rebels). I remember how easy it was to talk to this girl who I'd only just met. I remember being surprised at how much this "quiet" girl could talk. I remember how talking to her put me completely at ease...unfortunately it put me so much at ease that I forgot the necessity of covert eating in the gym and got busted by the gym teacher when he saw my granola bar. I got kicked out of the gym, but Susi came with me and we got to finish both our lunch and our conversation elsewhere.

The years went by and we grew up (well Susi grew up, I merely got older- so now we're the same height). We spent few lunch hours apart in junior high, even fewer apart in high school. In university we'd trek across campus to find a quiet alcove, stairwell or hallway to eat our lunch.

Yes, Susi and I have done a lot together more than just lunches. Through school, youth group, sleepovers (including some midnight baking sessions), summer camp, ski trips (now, there was a disastrous lunch -for Susi at least, but now she checks expiry dates on all convenience store sandwiches), trips to the mall, and just hanging out at one of our houses, I've learned that Susi is the best girlfriend a person could hope for. She has always been an example of what being a friend is all about, but I think I learned the most from our lunches together. If I forgot my lunch, she would not offer half her sandwich, she would feign satiety and offer her whole sandwich . Then she'd offer her cookies, and whatever else she had. One year for my birthday, she carried custom-made donuts (she worked at one of those smoky donut shops) around in her bag all over campus until lunch when she pulled them out, compete with candle. Who knew that my dream donut of a chocolate-filled maple dip with sprinkles would be so disgustingly sweet. I've always looked forward to lunches with my dear friend, where I can speak my mind where I'm not only heard by the best listener I know, but I'm validated by her gentle words.

Now our shared lunches don't happen nearly often enough and are usually spent making sure our combined 5 children (soon to be 6) are getting their nutrients. But I know when I need a friend, she's just a phone call away. Happy Birthday Susi! Let's do lunch soon.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Not yet 2 and already a Fashionista!?!

I'm not a big follower of trends, mostly because whenever I see one, I think "I could never pull that off!". But, as a teen my room was strewn with clothes, not because I took off my dirty clothes and dropped them on the floor (because I had a laundry chute for that), but rather, my room was a pile of clean, but rejected clothes. Every weekend night and many weekday mornings I'd try on clothes, not like something about them, and take them off, adding them to the pile of clothes to be put away later. I never thought this part of history would repeat itself until my children were in their teens, and I hoped...nay, dreamed that maybe because I have boys, the cycle would end with me. But life never happens as we expect.

With Luke there would sometimes be some bargaining to get him to pick a shirt and pants that he was happy wearing and that made me happy because they didn't totally clash (I have OMD, but more about that later), but there were few battles. We are now going into hours 2 of today's Let's get Toby dressed battle, in which I'm taking a short blogging break to try to regain some sanity and perspective.

Like I mentioned before, I have what I call OMD - Obsessive Matching Disorder. My bra and panties have always matched (that is, as long as I've been wearing a bra). Back in the day of scrunchies I had an entire drawer full so that I always had one to wear that matched. Even when I'm sick, my clothes may be stained with vomit, but you'd better believe that they match. I'd rather have my hands pulled up into my sleeves with frostbite nipping at my fingers than to wear gloves that clash with my jacket. It's a disease. I know it's unreasonable, but it's like I can't help myself.

On days like today when there are more dirty clothes in the hamper than clean clothes in the drawers, Toby is my OMD shock therapy:

This shirt?
How about this one?
Look at this one? It has an alligator on it!
You could wear this red one...just like Luke's red shirt.
Okay, why don't you just pick one out of the drawer?
Come on, just PICK one!
Let's try pants first then, do you want to wear jeans?
Okay, put these ones on.
Which ones do you want?
(Puts them on)
No they're not too small, let's get a shirt...
(Pulling the pants off) No, No No!
Okay, how about sweatpants?
and on the story goes...

I no longer care if Toby's clothes match, and frankly this morning I no longer care if he has clothes at all, but it's rather cold outside to be streaking, so I guess we're stuck at home until I get the laundry done for him to pick out something he does like.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

I personally would have stuck with "Trick or Treat"

Yesterday was Halloween. I was working for the first time since the kids were born. I had debated on trying to trade a shift to get the day off, but realized that since there would be many Christmases where I'd have to work, and it wouldn't be possible to find someone to trade that shift, I didn't want to take the chance that the boys might get the idea that Halloween was more important than Christmas. I had hoped that I'd manage to get home in time to see the boys in their costumes, but by the time I left work and called home, they were no longer cowboys. So I had to rely on the pictures that Bruce took.

Well as I predicted it would be a bit of a fight to get Toby into costume because he didn't remember the whole you get candy for dressing up thing (but apparently he snapped out of his crying tantrum as soon as Bruce gave him a piece of chocolate). The boys looked pretty cute in the pictures of them in their cowboy duds, and that made me even sadder to have missed it. Then, Bruce got Luke to tell me what he taught him to say at the door when trick or treating, but it was hard to understand with his mouth full of chocolate. So Bruce showed me the video...

Needless to say, I thought it was cute, but I was a little disturbed. Yes, I guess shouting 'trick or treat' is actually quite rude, and if you think about it really is a threat, but it`s been tempered by years of tradition. However, 'give me all your candy and no one gets hurt' while holding a gun is slightly more threatening. As a mother, I can`t help but worry that some little old lady is still annoyed at the rude young cowboy that showed up on her doorstep demanding candy. As a father, my husband was proud of teaching his son something so "funny".
I'll never understand men.