Today was not the day I had planned. I am well known for being fairly rigid and not adapting well to not getting my way; whatever way that happens to be. And today was no exception.
It is Family Day here in Saskatchewan. People had their Family Day plans plastered all over Facebook and so Ryan and I decided we would jump on the bandwagon and take the boys skating this afternoon. Family fun! Skating, then maybe hot chocolate, maybe cookies, maybe a movie-hell for all I knew we were going to break out into a choreographed song and dance routine on the ice. (Highly unlikely as I can barely skate. Or sing. Or dance without the aid of alcohol).
Instead our day was very unlike this. There was singing. In the car. We let our 8 year old run the iPod. So we listened to a lot of popular music and ended with a little Justin Bieber. Then we settled on the radio for a bit. My husband turned up the volume on a song that made me question if maybe he was about to get his period for the first time...but I digress.
Before we even left town we stopped for a heart and family friendly lunch at McDonald's. This was due to the fact we needed groceries and nobody was much interested in another lunch of Kraft Dinner or peanut butter toast. So McDonald's is the obvious alternative (at least in the minds of our 8 and 4 year old).
We sat eating our cholesterol raising, Type 2 Diabetes promoting, heart attack waiting to happen lunch when I began eavesdropping on the folks behind me. And then the heart attack began stemming from my angry place more so than my lunch.
According to these, I'm sure highly educated folk, people on "welfare" would likely be better off living with one of them "shovelling their walks, cutting and watering their grass, and washing floors" then on actual assistance. That was the highlight of, again, what was a very intellectual conversation involving immigration. I angrily sucked back my child size chocolate shake (my attempt to pretend I am making healthy choices). And when I could stand it no more, I turned The Prophet himself was a nearly 400 lb. man. So apparently he can make choices that will continue to cost me as a tax payer but we shan't have immigrants coming in or anybody else for that matter living off of assistance.
This man could sit and spout bullshit all day long while his heart screamed in protest as he swallowed yet another Big Mac whole and then when his heart finally figures what's the point and stops screaming and attacks him instead? He will end up in hospital. We are lucky enough to not have to pay for a hospital stay here in Canada but that does not mean it's free. It's called taxes. Taxes I willingly and gladly pay for this privilege, just so we're clear. He will be told to make lifestyle changes. He will not listen. But I think I have the answer-you see if he really doesn't want to make any big changes, he could come to my house a few times a week and wash floors, clean bathrooms, clean the litter box, pick up dog shit...you know, things that would get him moving. An active lifestyle goes a long way toward health and longevity. And furthermore he'd be practising what he preaches. It's really win-win all the way around.
So my day didn't go as planned but I was lucky enough to end up with fodder for this post without revealing the real upset of my day and I made homemade Snickers bars. Again, I'm winning in a fashion that would make Charlie Sheen blush.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
I Like My Children
Some of you will read that title and think: "Duh. Of course you do. Their your children." I, however, am of the belief that children are not instantaneously likeable by the mere fact that they are shorter and have charming speech impediments. Children are people, believe it or not. They have very distinct personalities. There are some people who proclaim "I LOVE KIDS!!". They also probably love anything animated, pastel and musicals*.
In short, they are annoying.
I barely like people so I apply the same rules to children as I do to adults. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate kids, I just don't believe in giving them a free pass because they have yet to see an R rated movie (depending on who their parents are, I suppose. I 'carefully' monitor what my children watch, to an extent, but have no problem whatsoever dropping the f word like it's hot and perhaps akin to oxygen in relation to my very existence).
This is why when I recently decided to begin volunteering in my 8 year old's classroom I had my doubts. I have a history of not really gelling with other people's children and figured this would really put things to the test. Great news though-apparently my son does not have to spend much time with assholes (aside from Yours Truly). The kids were all pretty decent and the ones that weren't, were just assholish enough that I appreciated it. The child who sat down to read for me and refused to make eye contact with me or the book and commanded that I read it to him? I admired his style. Especially when the bell rang and he looked at me over his glasses (which, for the record, is bad enough when adults do it but he's 7...and perhaps headed for his own episode on TLC's The Virgin Diaries) and announced "It's recess." Yep. Look at that, it is. And you will enjoy recess as soon as you read this book because I know that you can. To his credit, he read it. With zero expression but he read it. In a hurry. And then proceeded on to recess.
There were other highlights as well. Like when the entire class sang O Canada. Some of these kids are clearly waiting, with baited breath, for Canadian Idol to make a comeback. I snuck a glance or two at the teacher and noticed she was enjoying this as much as I. Some of the children were attempting to harmonize...enough said.
So what makes my children so great? Well, obviously yes they do have an advantage because they are mine and have inherited the gift of sarcasm. Sarcasm is really the way to my heart. And vodka. And chocolate. So basically if you are sarcastic (and not stupid-the two don't always go hand in hand), have chocolate and/or vodka, I will probably get along with you. They all love music. And decent music. Again, I will try pretty hard, until they are about 12 to make sure they don't catch a glimpse of an errant breast or 'worse' on TV but I will let them listen to Eminem's "Shake That Ass" or Sublime's "Wrong Way"... My children do not have college funds, per se (read: they don't have college funds. As of yet. Parenting fail.) but they do know who Ray Charles is and when the right time is (Night Time, keep up).
They don't take shit from anyone. Including me. My two older children impress me with their levels of assertiveness and confidence. The two little boys are only 8 and 4 but hold their own.
I just like them. Plain and simple. And I honestly believe this is key. I do happen to believe you love your child no matter what. There is no other love like it. But you can love somebody and not like them and I happen to be lucky enough to like my children. All four of them. That's not to say they are perfect and that at times I would prefer to be drunk on a beach far far away from each and everyone of them. But often, in those situations, they are acting an awful like their mother. I do possess a great deal of insight. This doesn't make it any easier but I do recognize when my own 'charm' is coming back to bite me in my fantastic ass.
And folks, this is yet another step towards the ray of sunshine that is part of my new positive perspective on life. Step One, in case it isn't clear, is liking your own offspring. Stay tuned for more inspiring tidbits of sunshiny optimism!
*For the record, I like musicals...it just fit well there (this is purely so my daughter, who I like very much, keeps liking me (the little bit that she does) ;)
In short, they are annoying.
I barely like people so I apply the same rules to children as I do to adults. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate kids, I just don't believe in giving them a free pass because they have yet to see an R rated movie (depending on who their parents are, I suppose. I 'carefully' monitor what my children watch, to an extent, but have no problem whatsoever dropping the f word like it's hot and perhaps akin to oxygen in relation to my very existence).
This is why when I recently decided to begin volunteering in my 8 year old's classroom I had my doubts. I have a history of not really gelling with other people's children and figured this would really put things to the test. Great news though-apparently my son does not have to spend much time with assholes (aside from Yours Truly). The kids were all pretty decent and the ones that weren't, were just assholish enough that I appreciated it. The child who sat down to read for me and refused to make eye contact with me or the book and commanded that I read it to him? I admired his style. Especially when the bell rang and he looked at me over his glasses (which, for the record, is bad enough when adults do it but he's 7...and perhaps headed for his own episode on TLC's The Virgin Diaries) and announced "It's recess." Yep. Look at that, it is. And you will enjoy recess as soon as you read this book because I know that you can. To his credit, he read it. With zero expression but he read it. In a hurry. And then proceeded on to recess.
There were other highlights as well. Like when the entire class sang O Canada. Some of these kids are clearly waiting, with baited breath, for Canadian Idol to make a comeback. I snuck a glance or two at the teacher and noticed she was enjoying this as much as I. Some of the children were attempting to harmonize...enough said.
So what makes my children so great? Well, obviously yes they do have an advantage because they are mine and have inherited the gift of sarcasm. Sarcasm is really the way to my heart. And vodka. And chocolate. So basically if you are sarcastic (and not stupid-the two don't always go hand in hand), have chocolate and/or vodka, I will probably get along with you. They all love music. And decent music. Again, I will try pretty hard, until they are about 12 to make sure they don't catch a glimpse of an errant breast or 'worse' on TV but I will let them listen to Eminem's "Shake That Ass" or Sublime's "Wrong Way"... My children do not have college funds, per se (read: they don't have college funds. As of yet. Parenting fail.) but they do know who Ray Charles is and when the right time is (Night Time, keep up).
They don't take shit from anyone. Including me. My two older children impress me with their levels of assertiveness and confidence. The two little boys are only 8 and 4 but hold their own.
I just like them. Plain and simple. And I honestly believe this is key. I do happen to believe you love your child no matter what. There is no other love like it. But you can love somebody and not like them and I happen to be lucky enough to like my children. All four of them. That's not to say they are perfect and that at times I would prefer to be drunk on a beach far far away from each and everyone of them. But often, in those situations, they are acting an awful like their mother. I do possess a great deal of insight. This doesn't make it any easier but I do recognize when my own 'charm' is coming back to bite me in my fantastic ass.
And folks, this is yet another step towards the ray of sunshine that is part of my new positive perspective on life. Step One, in case it isn't clear, is liking your own offspring. Stay tuned for more inspiring tidbits of sunshiny optimism!
*For the record, I like musicals...it just fit well there (this is purely so my daughter, who I like very much, keeps liking me (the little bit that she does) ;)
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
No Control
I literally had no idea what I was going to write about when I opened this up but just said to my husband, "When I'm stressed, I have no control." And there you have it; a spur of the moment topic sentence.
There is great truth behind this statement. I was referring to food. We have been watching what we eat as well as using a new product to lose weight. It's going fairly well. My husband is down 23 pounds and I was down 11. Again, with his penis, he can think really hard about losing weight and it melts away. My vagina prefers that my body hold on to every last roll until the last possible minute. Although I can't blame it all on her. My mouth is somewhat to blame as well.
I was doing so well. The new product we are taking had almost shut down my sugar cravings. No snacking in the evenings because I simply didn't want to. Then Christmas hit. Christmas is stressful at the best of times but this past one I did not have enough money, I did not have enough available family, my husband had to work and there is food everywhere. Why? Because I bought it.
Enough is a relative term. Christmas was fine. The kids were happy, I spent Christmas Day with my husband and kids and then with great friends, my husband did work but this allowed him to be home for Boxing Day which we spent with his family. The food though? The food was still here.
I often jokingly refer to myself as a 'food addict'. And in some ways I am. I fell off the wagon and dammit if I can't get back on! Sugar is my lover. Junk food in general is my mistress...is there a male equivalent to that word? Anyway, I like it. I am also lazy. I do not really enjoy cooking all that much. I enjoy vegetables less. I don't like anything that requires more than me opening a package, can, my mouth.
Sigh. That last part sounded dirty. It wasn't supposed to but because I'm juvenile and it makes me snicker a little, I'm leaving it.
So anyway, I am back on the program. Sort of. With the exception of Saturday night where I force fed myself roughly 12 mini peanut butter cups chased with mini pretzels. This was while I was watching Betty White's 90th Birthday Celebration. Yes, my weekends are wild.
Then Sunday, I thought that's enough. Time to get my shit together. Except there are still peanut butter cups in the house. And pretzels. And popcorn twists. And salt 'n vinegar chips at Stacey's house.
So I weighed myself Monday morning. Just to see what the damage was. And yup, sure as shit, back up a pound and a half. No, not horrible but entirely preventable.
The point of this entire post is, I have zero coping skills. Wait, that's a LIE. My coping skills are food, bitching and alcohol and not necessarily in that order. Although my friend Vodka has not been nearly has prominent of a figure as she once was. Fickle girl.
So instead I make trips to Wal-Mart for toilet paper and come home with $10 worth of back fat.
No. Control.
A friend of mine's mother once said to her life is all about choices. I couldn't agree more. Why I continually make the same choices is beyond me. I do believe that's the definition of insanity...Great. I'm a crazy bitch with back fat. Granted, less than before but if I don't get it together, it's going to come creeping back and pretty soon I'll be able to keep my keys, lip balm and such in the handy folds on my back instead of in my purse.
Today is a new day. I'm starting it off right. Did just receive some unsettling news about my cell phone bill but I will not cope with food! I will bitch instead. Bitchy girls are not fun but are generally thin, so there. Problem solved!
Glad we got that worked out, now carry on.
There is great truth behind this statement. I was referring to food. We have been watching what we eat as well as using a new product to lose weight. It's going fairly well. My husband is down 23 pounds and I was down 11. Again, with his penis, he can think really hard about losing weight and it melts away. My vagina prefers that my body hold on to every last roll until the last possible minute. Although I can't blame it all on her. My mouth is somewhat to blame as well.
I was doing so well. The new product we are taking had almost shut down my sugar cravings. No snacking in the evenings because I simply didn't want to. Then Christmas hit. Christmas is stressful at the best of times but this past one I did not have enough money, I did not have enough available family, my husband had to work and there is food everywhere. Why? Because I bought it.
Enough is a relative term. Christmas was fine. The kids were happy, I spent Christmas Day with my husband and kids and then with great friends, my husband did work but this allowed him to be home for Boxing Day which we spent with his family. The food though? The food was still here.
I often jokingly refer to myself as a 'food addict'. And in some ways I am. I fell off the wagon and dammit if I can't get back on! Sugar is my lover. Junk food in general is my mistress...is there a male equivalent to that word? Anyway, I like it. I am also lazy. I do not really enjoy cooking all that much. I enjoy vegetables less. I don't like anything that requires more than me opening a package, can, my mouth.
Sigh. That last part sounded dirty. It wasn't supposed to but because I'm juvenile and it makes me snicker a little, I'm leaving it.
So anyway, I am back on the program. Sort of. With the exception of Saturday night where I force fed myself roughly 12 mini peanut butter cups chased with mini pretzels. This was while I was watching Betty White's 90th Birthday Celebration. Yes, my weekends are wild.
Then Sunday, I thought that's enough. Time to get my shit together. Except there are still peanut butter cups in the house. And pretzels. And popcorn twists. And salt 'n vinegar chips at Stacey's house.
So I weighed myself Monday morning. Just to see what the damage was. And yup, sure as shit, back up a pound and a half. No, not horrible but entirely preventable.
The point of this entire post is, I have zero coping skills. Wait, that's a LIE. My coping skills are food, bitching and alcohol and not necessarily in that order. Although my friend Vodka has not been nearly has prominent of a figure as she once was. Fickle girl.
So instead I make trips to Wal-Mart for toilet paper and come home with $10 worth of back fat.
No. Control.
A friend of mine's mother once said to her life is all about choices. I couldn't agree more. Why I continually make the same choices is beyond me. I do believe that's the definition of insanity...Great. I'm a crazy bitch with back fat. Granted, less than before but if I don't get it together, it's going to come creeping back and pretty soon I'll be able to keep my keys, lip balm and such in the handy folds on my back instead of in my purse.
Today is a new day. I'm starting it off right. Did just receive some unsettling news about my cell phone bill but I will not cope with food! I will bitch instead. Bitchy girls are not fun but are generally thin, so there. Problem solved!
Glad we got that worked out, now carry on.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Shit that which Disturbs Me
I have spent the better part of the holiday season compiling a list of things that piss me off. These little epiphanies would strike as I shopped, ran errands and took in the general merriment of the season. And although Christmas has passed, the irritation has not.
I took a few moments today to begin an actual physical list.
This is what it is entitled:
'Stuff that pisses me off'
-chewing with your mouth open. So gross. So wrong. So unacceptable unless you are under 2 years old or over 90.
-Safeways, Costcos, etc. If this one confuses you, it is you who pisses me off.
-tight clothes. On other people and on myself. Tight clothes are a nemesis to us all. If you are the one wearing tight clothes you are uncomfortable. However, some folks are repeat offenders and maybe they do not feel this discomfort I do when a waistband is digging into my sides creating the fluffiest of muffin tops...
-"I'm drunk". Pronouncing this loud and often is usually a sure indicator that said "intoxicated" person? Is not.
-Lack of respect of time. Here we take a serious turn but I loathe waiting. The end.
-Lying. This is pretty universal but I am currently caught in a conundrum wherein I am not sure if a person is lying to me or if they are too stupid to even understand that is what they are doing. It's tricky and requires further research but given my sheer abhorrence at the thought of spending even five minutes with this person EVER AGAIN, it may remain an Unsolved Mystery. Does anyone else remember that show? Man, our whole family used to cozy up to the TV for that little gem. Two channels. No remote. We even watched the commercials. Crazy times I tell you, crazy.
-Stupidity. See above. There are a few breeds of stupid. There are those who are so stunned they believe they are smarter than everyone in the room and will make that known, without question. Stupidity often goes hand in hand with lying. These are the bad liars who lie so blatantly and obviously there is no doubt whatsoever that they are lying, yet they carry on. These people, I've heard, are also fantastic fundraisers.
-Spending money on vehicles. I hate when a vehicle breaks down. I can barely stand to part with money for gas, never mind hundreds or thousands on something that should just work and keep working until I don't need it anymore.
-quarter-ton trucks.
This is, obviously, a working list. Stay tuned for further additions and possible deletions (although I highly doubt it). Feel free to respond with suggestions of your own for said list.
So what else happened today?
I watched a middle-aged woman park a half ton truck in an expansive parking lot with ridiculous amounts of room like she was parking a semi. This did not impede my parking at all or trip into the store I was visiting, but for the love of Pete, dress in drag if you are going to go out and do stupid shit like that. Otherwise it is nothing but further fodder for the penis-bearers to lament the skills and abilities of women drivers.
The day did end on a happy, or at the very least, amusing, note. My husband, two youngest children and I ventured to Wal-Mart tonight to look for birthday party invitations. This was a failed mission-the birthday boy, oddly enough, did not want Barbie themed invites.. That aside though, while Rhett, who is 4, and I waited for our shopping companions to return from a trip to the cold medication aisle, he shared some important information. He turned to me and said: "Mom, during the day when sometimes my penis gets stuck to my leg, I just do this." And with that he proceeded to spread his legs and squat a little. This was said matter-of-factly and without pomp or circumstance. I was left to reply with a smile and a "ok".
Shit that which disturbs me....
I took a few moments today to begin an actual physical list.
This is what it is entitled:
'Stuff that pisses me off'
-chewing with your mouth open. So gross. So wrong. So unacceptable unless you are under 2 years old or over 90.
-Safeways, Costcos, etc. If this one confuses you, it is you who pisses me off.
-tight clothes. On other people and on myself. Tight clothes are a nemesis to us all. If you are the one wearing tight clothes you are uncomfortable. However, some folks are repeat offenders and maybe they do not feel this discomfort I do when a waistband is digging into my sides creating the fluffiest of muffin tops...
-"I'm drunk". Pronouncing this loud and often is usually a sure indicator that said "intoxicated" person? Is not.
-Lack of respect of time. Here we take a serious turn but I loathe waiting. The end.
-Lying. This is pretty universal but I am currently caught in a conundrum wherein I am not sure if a person is lying to me or if they are too stupid to even understand that is what they are doing. It's tricky and requires further research but given my sheer abhorrence at the thought of spending even five minutes with this person EVER AGAIN, it may remain an Unsolved Mystery. Does anyone else remember that show? Man, our whole family used to cozy up to the TV for that little gem. Two channels. No remote. We even watched the commercials. Crazy times I tell you, crazy.
-Stupidity. See above. There are a few breeds of stupid. There are those who are so stunned they believe they are smarter than everyone in the room and will make that known, without question. Stupidity often goes hand in hand with lying. These are the bad liars who lie so blatantly and obviously there is no doubt whatsoever that they are lying, yet they carry on. These people, I've heard, are also fantastic fundraisers.
-Spending money on vehicles. I hate when a vehicle breaks down. I can barely stand to part with money for gas, never mind hundreds or thousands on something that should just work and keep working until I don't need it anymore.
-quarter-ton trucks.
This is, obviously, a working list. Stay tuned for further additions and possible deletions (although I highly doubt it). Feel free to respond with suggestions of your own for said list.
So what else happened today?
I watched a middle-aged woman park a half ton truck in an expansive parking lot with ridiculous amounts of room like she was parking a semi. This did not impede my parking at all or trip into the store I was visiting, but for the love of Pete, dress in drag if you are going to go out and do stupid shit like that. Otherwise it is nothing but further fodder for the penis-bearers to lament the skills and abilities of women drivers.
The day did end on a happy, or at the very least, amusing, note. My husband, two youngest children and I ventured to Wal-Mart tonight to look for birthday party invitations. This was a failed mission-the birthday boy, oddly enough, did not want Barbie themed invites.. That aside though, while Rhett, who is 4, and I waited for our shopping companions to return from a trip to the cold medication aisle, he shared some important information. He turned to me and said: "Mom, during the day when sometimes my penis gets stuck to my leg, I just do this." And with that he proceeded to spread his legs and squat a little. This was said matter-of-factly and without pomp or circumstance. I was left to reply with a smile and a "ok".
Shit that which disturbs me....
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Chapped Lips & a Perm
I am now officially a hockey mom. This is my 7 year old son's third year in hockey but this is his first year where he actually gets to play games, for points, where someone notices who's won and who's lost. It is a big deal.
It is a big deal for most of these little boys who have been practising and learning to skate for at least two to three years prior to their first real game. Further to that, it's a big deal for their mothers. A bigger deal than I might have imagined. A bigger deal than I might think is normal or within the realm of common sense and decency.
I don't think I'm cut out to be a hockey mom. I like hockey. I like my children. You would think, therefore, there wouldn't be a problem. Wrong. See I generally am not a fan of small talk. I also am not a fan of those who 'put on airs'. I am not a fan of women. Don't get your panties in a bunch. I have some really good female friends. Oddly enough though, the three women I have at sometime or now still do consider my best friends, are women who generally get along better with men than women. My best friend ladies swear. They are direct. They are intelligent. They, I am quite certain, know the measure of importance that should be allotted to a Novice 'B' hockey game. For those of you unfamiliar with hockey, the Novice division is for 7 year old children.
7 Years Old.
This is important to remember for a number of reasons. Some of these children, it could be argued, are playing hockey because their parents want them too. Some of these children are playing hockey because they love it and have dreams of the NHL. Some of these children are playing because it's fun.
I do believe their mothers fall in the same category. I am not intentionally picking on moms. They are just who I'm spending time in the stands with at the rink. I have heard horror stories about the dads too and I'm sure in the years to come I will have those observations to share as well.
Some of the moms have encouraged their sons to play hockey because they love hockey or their husband loves hockey or because it's just what boys (in Canada, at least) are supposed to do. Some of the moms are supporting their sons playing hockey because their child loves it and is having fun. Some of the moms are supporting their children playing hockey because it apparently, in some way or another, defines who they are as a woman, a mother and human being.
These are the women I take issue with. The woman who sat in the stands at the very first game last weekend and literally screamed at her seven year old child and his team. She didn't scream anything that warranted intervention but one could surmise it was fairly intense and unnecessary at this level (or any for that matter) of hockey. And one other woman did surmise this. How she found the time to come to this realization is beyond me as she spends the better part of her time at the rink applying lip balm. It comes in handy when you kiss as much coordinator ass as she does. That being said, she did notice and instead of moving or choosing to ignore immature behaviour, she told this woman to "Shut up!" Apparently this was not well received.
SAH-PRIZE, SAH-PRIZE.
I have a long road ahead of me folks. Which is good for you because I don't foresee running out of material anytime soon. Reese is only 7. There is a lot of hockey ahead and he loves it. Rhett is 4 and wants nothing more than to be like his brother, so yes, more hockey. More lunatics. More perms.
I fear I will not make a lot of new friends. I fear I will end up a permed screaming lunatic with chapped lips if I am not careful and do not plan accordingly.
So here it is, I will maintain friendships outside of the rink, I will have hobbies, read the paper and watch TV. I will ask my hairdresser to sign a contract with me vowing never to perm my hair never mind how much I beg (wash and wear would be such a breeze with early ice times though...). I will save my screaming for adult sports events. I have yet to kiss ass and really don't think the rink is the place to start. What if my lips get frozen to coordinator ass?! It's a risk I just can't take.
All I ask from you is if you see my slipping, if you notice a change in behaviour wherein I simper in front of hockey 'royalty' (read: coaches, coordinators and whoever else could be deemed as all powerful by the Hockey Gods) or I suddenly don mom jeans and blue shadow, step in, please.
I mean, I need to stay in top form for at least the next ten years and then I will be all set for our first NHL draft.
It is a big deal for most of these little boys who have been practising and learning to skate for at least two to three years prior to their first real game. Further to that, it's a big deal for their mothers. A bigger deal than I might have imagined. A bigger deal than I might think is normal or within the realm of common sense and decency.
I don't think I'm cut out to be a hockey mom. I like hockey. I like my children. You would think, therefore, there wouldn't be a problem. Wrong. See I generally am not a fan of small talk. I also am not a fan of those who 'put on airs'. I am not a fan of women. Don't get your panties in a bunch. I have some really good female friends. Oddly enough though, the three women I have at sometime or now still do consider my best friends, are women who generally get along better with men than women. My best friend ladies swear. They are direct. They are intelligent. They, I am quite certain, know the measure of importance that should be allotted to a Novice 'B' hockey game. For those of you unfamiliar with hockey, the Novice division is for 7 year old children.
7 Years Old.
This is important to remember for a number of reasons. Some of these children, it could be argued, are playing hockey because their parents want them too. Some of these children are playing hockey because they love it and have dreams of the NHL. Some of these children are playing because it's fun.
I do believe their mothers fall in the same category. I am not intentionally picking on moms. They are just who I'm spending time in the stands with at the rink. I have heard horror stories about the dads too and I'm sure in the years to come I will have those observations to share as well.
Some of the moms have encouraged their sons to play hockey because they love hockey or their husband loves hockey or because it's just what boys (in Canada, at least) are supposed to do. Some of the moms are supporting their sons playing hockey because their child loves it and is having fun. Some of the moms are supporting their children playing hockey because it apparently, in some way or another, defines who they are as a woman, a mother and human being.
These are the women I take issue with. The woman who sat in the stands at the very first game last weekend and literally screamed at her seven year old child and his team. She didn't scream anything that warranted intervention but one could surmise it was fairly intense and unnecessary at this level (or any for that matter) of hockey. And one other woman did surmise this. How she found the time to come to this realization is beyond me as she spends the better part of her time at the rink applying lip balm. It comes in handy when you kiss as much coordinator ass as she does. That being said, she did notice and instead of moving or choosing to ignore immature behaviour, she told this woman to "Shut up!" Apparently this was not well received.
SAH-PRIZE, SAH-PRIZE.
I have a long road ahead of me folks. Which is good for you because I don't foresee running out of material anytime soon. Reese is only 7. There is a lot of hockey ahead and he loves it. Rhett is 4 and wants nothing more than to be like his brother, so yes, more hockey. More lunatics. More perms.
I fear I will not make a lot of new friends. I fear I will end up a permed screaming lunatic with chapped lips if I am not careful and do not plan accordingly.
So here it is, I will maintain friendships outside of the rink, I will have hobbies, read the paper and watch TV. I will ask my hairdresser to sign a contract with me vowing never to perm my hair never mind how much I beg (wash and wear would be such a breeze with early ice times though...). I will save my screaming for adult sports events. I have yet to kiss ass and really don't think the rink is the place to start. What if my lips get frozen to coordinator ass?! It's a risk I just can't take.
All I ask from you is if you see my slipping, if you notice a change in behaviour wherein I simper in front of hockey 'royalty' (read: coaches, coordinators and whoever else could be deemed as all powerful by the Hockey Gods) or I suddenly don mom jeans and blue shadow, step in, please.
I mean, I need to stay in top form for at least the next ten years and then I will be all set for our first NHL draft.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Better
I need to be in a good mood. I have phone calls to make and aside from that, if I injure one of our dogs, on purpose, people will frown upon that.
What did the dogs do?
Nothing.
Neither did the kids but they are in harms way too. As in anyone who takes offence to "colourful" language because if it gets anymore colourful around here I'm going to start puking rainbows.
You guessed it, I have been possessed by hormonal fluctuations turning me from my usual feisty self to a something a little more akin to murderous/dangerous rather than "spirited".
The day started out okay. I went to Costco and walked away from some snowman solar lights. I carried them around for awhile but then used self-control and walked away.
This has nothing to do with the fact that I can go there again tomorrow, if I want, and buy them. Nor does it have anything to do with the fact that I didn't get a cart and had to set the lights down so I could carry a flat of water.
Nothing at all.
Then I had Wendy's for lunch because there is not enough salt in the free world right now and Wendy's fries are de-lic-ious.
Then I was on time for a workshop I attended this afternoon. It was held in a very nice boardroom with an educated intelligent woman at the helm. It was useful information and fed into the small longing I have, at times, to still be a part of the "professional" world. Not that I am not part of it now but given I work from my home and clean up cat vomit and occasionally have to wipe an ass other than my own, this was a real treat.
The commute home began the downhill trend. I had to pee. A lot but was much later than usual picking up my boys and my husband was working and so I was trying to hurry home...
oh wait, my 7 year old just spotted the "B"s my four year old decorated our off white couch with this weekend. The four year old immediately owned up to in the sense that apparently it was an "accident". There are roughly four "B"s, an "R" and some other random scribbles. Big accident.
Anyway, my bladder was ready to burst and my left eye was under assault from my contact lens and the sun was in my eyes and it all. sucked. a. lot.
Then we came home to feed the four ravenous animals awaiting us and then the kids. Then listen to arguing over who got more or better treats after supper. I luckily was awarded a free box of Halloween candy for spending an exorbitant amount of money on groceries on the weekend so after supper each boy got three treats. Except Reese got a peanut butter cup and Rhett didn't. Rhett chose different treats but lost his freaking mind when he realized he hadn't gotten a peanut butter cup. I did not give him one but chose to deal with this by having my own three (seven) treats.
My lamp died on my desk, I forgot to send back a skating permission form and the teacher put a note in my son's agenda and I NEVER forget stuff like that and my work area is cluttered and crowded and so after searching the house for a working lamp and bulb, I decided I best cope with the clutter and disorganization by writing this post.
And you know what? I feel better.
Not as good as I will feel after having few (the rest of the box) more treats, but better all the same.
What did the dogs do?
Nothing.
Neither did the kids but they are in harms way too. As in anyone who takes offence to "colourful" language because if it gets anymore colourful around here I'm going to start puking rainbows.
You guessed it, I have been possessed by hormonal fluctuations turning me from my usual feisty self to a something a little more akin to murderous/dangerous rather than "spirited".
The day started out okay. I went to Costco and walked away from some snowman solar lights. I carried them around for awhile but then used self-control and walked away.
This has nothing to do with the fact that I can go there again tomorrow, if I want, and buy them. Nor does it have anything to do with the fact that I didn't get a cart and had to set the lights down so I could carry a flat of water.
Nothing at all.
Then I had Wendy's for lunch because there is not enough salt in the free world right now and Wendy's fries are de-lic-ious.
Then I was on time for a workshop I attended this afternoon. It was held in a very nice boardroom with an educated intelligent woman at the helm. It was useful information and fed into the small longing I have, at times, to still be a part of the "professional" world. Not that I am not part of it now but given I work from my home and clean up cat vomit and occasionally have to wipe an ass other than my own, this was a real treat.
The commute home began the downhill trend. I had to pee. A lot but was much later than usual picking up my boys and my husband was working and so I was trying to hurry home...
oh wait, my 7 year old just spotted the "B"s my four year old decorated our off white couch with this weekend. The four year old immediately owned up to in the sense that apparently it was an "accident". There are roughly four "B"s, an "R" and some other random scribbles. Big accident.
Anyway, my bladder was ready to burst and my left eye was under assault from my contact lens and the sun was in my eyes and it all. sucked. a. lot.
Then we came home to feed the four ravenous animals awaiting us and then the kids. Then listen to arguing over who got more or better treats after supper. I luckily was awarded a free box of Halloween candy for spending an exorbitant amount of money on groceries on the weekend so after supper each boy got three treats. Except Reese got a peanut butter cup and Rhett didn't. Rhett chose different treats but lost his freaking mind when he realized he hadn't gotten a peanut butter cup. I did not give him one but chose to deal with this by having my own three (seven) treats.
My lamp died on my desk, I forgot to send back a skating permission form and the teacher put a note in my son's agenda and I NEVER forget stuff like that and my work area is cluttered and crowded and so after searching the house for a working lamp and bulb, I decided I best cope with the clutter and disorganization by writing this post.
And you know what? I feel better.
Not as good as I will feel after having few (the rest of the box) more treats, but better all the same.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Assholes & Cowards
I guess somewhere along the way I missed a memo. You know, the one that says adults should bully one another in the wake of someone else's passing. The one that said e-mail is an effective form of said bullying with Facebook being a close second. You see I thought this sort of behaviour only existed among the pre-teen and teenager crowd. Little did I know it's a new phenomenon among the Baby Boomer set.
My uncle passed away last month. For those of you who follow along, you know this. I spoke at his funeral. I wrote a eulogy and shared it. In said eulogy I spoke of his generosity, kindness, coolness, sense of humour, and maybe most importantly at present, his non-judgemental demeanour.
See some of these people he treated with such kindness and tolerance and not to mention generosity of the grandest kind, have chosen to act like complete assholes since his passing and in direct relation to his passing. They have chosen to bully.
They are not bullying me. Nope. And I'm not sure if it's because I'm still viewed as a child by these people who've known me since I was a child or if it's because I'm not an easy target. Or at least not viewed as such.
I would actually prefer if these cowards directed their dick-less sentiments towards myself as I am more equipped and prepared to deal with them than others. I don't like it. I don't like shaking and then weeping from anger. I don't like feeling like my life was sort of settling down and back under control only to have to manage another shit storm, but I will do it. I will do it because nobody deserves to be bullied.
I will do it because I can.
I will do it because I want to.
I will do it because there are far too many people on this Godforsaken planet that think it's okay to victimize, bully and disrespect rather than engage in open discussion, respect and tolerance. They would rather judge without knowing. Blame without thinking. Hurt without caring.
Even though it is no longer my profession to protect vulnerable individuals, I will continue to do so as long as I'm able. Should those individuals be related to me, expect me to come at you with force.
My son recently wrote an assignment for English where he likened me to a mother lion. It made me laugh at the time but there is truth in that. I will go to great lengths to protect and defend my own and anyone who chooses to willfully and knowingly hurt them, physically or emotionally, will not go uncorrected.
My uncle, as I said, was kind, generous, patient and without judgement.
I am kind, generous and without judgement in the grand scheme of things. I am not patient. I am not tolerant of assholes but more importantly, I am not tolerant of cowardice and lately, I am faced with both of these attributes much more than I might have ever imagined. At least among the supposedly educated, spiritual and mature individuals presenting in this manner.
It is exhausting, disappointing and frustrating but then again, so are assholes and cowards.
My uncle passed away last month. For those of you who follow along, you know this. I spoke at his funeral. I wrote a eulogy and shared it. In said eulogy I spoke of his generosity, kindness, coolness, sense of humour, and maybe most importantly at present, his non-judgemental demeanour.
See some of these people he treated with such kindness and tolerance and not to mention generosity of the grandest kind, have chosen to act like complete assholes since his passing and in direct relation to his passing. They have chosen to bully.
They are not bullying me. Nope. And I'm not sure if it's because I'm still viewed as a child by these people who've known me since I was a child or if it's because I'm not an easy target. Or at least not viewed as such.
I would actually prefer if these cowards directed their dick-less sentiments towards myself as I am more equipped and prepared to deal with them than others. I don't like it. I don't like shaking and then weeping from anger. I don't like feeling like my life was sort of settling down and back under control only to have to manage another shit storm, but I will do it. I will do it because nobody deserves to be bullied.
I will do it because I can.
I will do it because I want to.
I will do it because there are far too many people on this Godforsaken planet that think it's okay to victimize, bully and disrespect rather than engage in open discussion, respect and tolerance. They would rather judge without knowing. Blame without thinking. Hurt without caring.
Even though it is no longer my profession to protect vulnerable individuals, I will continue to do so as long as I'm able. Should those individuals be related to me, expect me to come at you with force.
My son recently wrote an assignment for English where he likened me to a mother lion. It made me laugh at the time but there is truth in that. I will go to great lengths to protect and defend my own and anyone who chooses to willfully and knowingly hurt them, physically or emotionally, will not go uncorrected.
My uncle, as I said, was kind, generous, patient and without judgement.
I am kind, generous and without judgement in the grand scheme of things. I am not patient. I am not tolerant of assholes but more importantly, I am not tolerant of cowardice and lately, I am faced with both of these attributes much more than I might have ever imagined. At least among the supposedly educated, spiritual and mature individuals presenting in this manner.
It is exhausting, disappointing and frustrating but then again, so are assholes and cowards.
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