The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

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Last year, I wrote this post about how much I hate Labor Day and how it mockingly heralds the end of summer.  But this year, there’s a bit of change a foot.  For the first time in my – ahem – forty-something years, I’m actually starting to count the days.

Its been an extra long summer due to the old teacher’s strike (which is highly likely to carry on into September) and Shorty #1 is bored!  We’ve tried to keep her well programmed with summer camps and what-nots but she is done.  She misses her routine and she clearly missed the vibrant social life that the classroom offers.  I’m ready for her to go back to school.  I’m ready for her to get back down to the business of learning.  And I’m ready for her to get settled into a routine.

I’m also ready for everyone to finish their freaking holidays and get back to work.  The summer slowdown this year has seriously cramped my style.  Everything upon everything I’ve been working on has been on hold while the masses are on summer vacation.  HONESTLY, if I get one more out-of-office email, I’m going to puke.  Yes, yes, you’re away for the next 15 days.  Quit bragging that you will only have “limited access to email.”  We all know that’s total bullshit.  Unless you’re spending your holiday at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean or in my kitchen (which is a cell black out zone for some bizarre reason) – you only have limited access to email because you don’t WANT to have access to email.  Just be honest:

“Please be advised that I am now on vacation with people that I love.  I don’t love you because we are merely business associates so I have no plans to respond to your annoying message until I am back in the office and have had at least one full day to complain to everyone about all the email I need to catch up on.”

Yes!  Bring on September and lets all get back into the swing of things.  Besides, Christmas break is just around the corner.

 

Head of Purchasing

The back part of my brain is responsible for the grocery list, the front part is for composing witty correspondence and the top part is for remembering where I left my phone.

The back part of my brain is responsible for the food inventory and grocery list, the front part is for composing witty correspondence and the top part is for remembering where I left my phone.

Yep, that’s me.  Chief in charge of acquisitions.  Its almost a full time job.  Seriously, this chore in my daily life takes almost as much brain power as my real job.  Keeping a ready inventory of all the dry goods, perishables, produce, socks and undies in this household is a never ending task.  The question “what’s for dinner” is followed by a beep beep boop and the whirring sounds of my brain as I open the file “what’s in the fridge” followed quickly by “what’s in the freezer”.  Once inventory is complete we can assess what sort of a meal we can put together without a trip to the grocery store.  Boxed mac & cheese with a side of steamed zucchini followed by a stale crackers and peanut butter.  Excellent – I’ll be back in 30 minutes.

Its ensuring enough food in the house to get all 4 of us through at least the next 24-48 hours.  Plenty of healthy and organic options too if you don’t mind.  Oh and have I told you yet – remember how last week I LOVED orange juice?  How orange juice was my jam?  How I was plowing through a liter of orange juice like it was crack and you couldn’t keep enough of it in the house to try and sate my UNDYING THIRST FOR ORANGE JUICE?  Yeah, well now I think its gross.

I mean, really.  How are we supposed to keep up with all the whimsy and ever changing appetites?

Groceries are a neverending task.  You see, you can’t just go to one store, stock up and be set for the next 7 days.  Oh no.  The super massive supermarket that should clearly be a one-stop shop, well it doesn’t carry the brand of gluten free crackers we like.  Or diapers, yeah they have them, but they are precisely $2.00 a pack MORE EXPENSIVE than the other stores.  But the one-stop super massive supermarket offers roughly 80% of what we need – until, you know, they completely run out of ketchup or some other vitally crucial pantry item we cannot live with out.  Not to mention that their produce is complete shit anyways.  So we spend an hour there getting the aforementioned 80% of stock.  Then off to the good produce place, which offers everything that is green that we could ever need.  But then, CRAP!  I forgot to buy cream cheese (which in our house is akin only to LIFEBLOOD) so over to the neighborhood grocery store where I remember we’re down to our last 1/2 cup of rice so I better get some of that too and oh look, canned soup is on sale.  Awesome done.  What?  Dental floss?  Are you f$%king kidding me?  We’re out of dental floss.  Off to the drugstore.  Wait, toothpaste.  Better get some now while I’m here.  And laundry detergent, that was getting low too.  The thing is that two days later, we’ll need hamburger buns and asparagus so I know I’ll be making the rounds again in just a matter of hours.

But its not just the groceries and consumables that fall under my portfolio of purchasing responsibilities.  Its things like undies.  Kids BLAZE through these things.  Not only do they grow out of them at a record pace “Mom, these gaunch are too tight!”  But they tend to disappear (Remember that accident in the restaurant?  We sacrificed two pairs of Minnie Mouse panties to the poop gods that night).  All of a sudden, Shorty #2’s down to two pairs.  And then, #1 seems to have shot up 3 inches overnight and all her pants are floods and every skirt is DefCon Kardashian levels of short.  Back to the aforementioned super massive supermarket that also remarkably sells clothes to stock up.

This is a constant battle of the inevitable in a family striving to consume less and be more environmentally conscious.  Yeah, we’re doing a shitty job.  But what do we do?  Maybe I should just buy more coffee – that would curb appetites and stunt their growth.

 

 

Summer Camp Save

Shorty #1 is at day camp this week.  This is her third of four different weekly day camps this summer.  In previous years she’s bopped around the various community centres and day camp programs in the city, happily adapting to her new comrades and surroundings with ease.  Until today.

This week she is at soccer camp.  She’s agile and coordinated so the thought of soccer camp seems great.  Plus she LOVED that she got new (used) cleats for the event.  However, like me, #1 isn’t a fan of the learning curve and this is completely new for her.  She needs to learn a skill and apply herself to the steps needed to adopt said skill.  And that for her is a major drag.

Day 2.  11:00am.  My phone rings.  “Hi.  Is this Shorty #1’s mom?”

“Yes.”

“This is Summer Camp Counsellor X.  Shorty has hurt her knee and is asking to go home.”

Soccer Camp Splat

Soccer Camp Splat

Ok.  I might have been able to predict this had I not been blinded by optimism!  Turns out #1 had taken a soccer ball to the knee which was a shocking turn of events seeing as she was playing soccer.  When I finally got her on the phone I asked if she was really hurt?  “YES.”  Did she need ice.  “Um, no.”  Do you need to come home?  EMPHATIC “YES!”

Its been a rough summer for #1, so rather than follow my book-learned parenting brain and say things like “Tough it out” or “You need to honor your commitment” or “Do you know how much those big socks cost?” I listened to my heart and said “Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

This camp is out on the extreme other end of the city, so in the car I get for the 40 minute drive over there.  I arrived just in time to meet up with her and the soccer gang skipping from the field to lunch.  Hand in hand with a brand new friend, she skipped straight past me.  Uh, hello?  Remember the call we had no less than 40 minutes ago when you were crying in pain?  Oh yeah, right she nodded.  “Just wait here while I eat my lunch with my friends.” she says.

Right.

So the Shorty and I had a little heart to heart.  She hoped I would take her home and deliver an afternoon of non-stop shenanigans and good times.  Sorry Shorty, Mom’s going back to work.  That was the straw, she decided to hang in there for the long haul and is ready to get back at it tomorrow.  So we cuddled for a second and off she skipped to lunch with her new pals.

Then I ran out all the way back to the car like Rocky Balboa, fist pumping to anyone who was watching.  Its T-minus one week to back to school.  But who’s counting?

 

D-BAD: Airlines

D-BAD aka DON’T BE A DOUCHE.  Each week I get to call out someone/ someplace or something for being a total DOUCHEBAG.  Its when I get to vent and take out my frustration on whatever makes me nuts each week, are you in?  Feel free to share your D-BAD’S anytime!

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Dear Airlines:

Can we have a heart to heart about change fees?  I mean, I get it.  If we all changed our reservations all the time willy nilly, it would be a total NIGHTMARE for you.  How could you plan anything?  But the simple fact is that we don’t use you like we did in the good old days. Its not like we’re only flying once every few years for the long saved-for vacation.  In this day and age we actually commute by air.  And that means we fly a lot and when we fly a lot the likelihood of plans changing is very high.

With this in mind, its ok to charge us a small, reasonable fee to make the change and detract from whimsy.  That’s cool.  But the change fee and then an additional fee to compensate for the change in fares?  C’mon.  DON’T BE A DOUCHE.  Its the same seat to the same destination.  Why do you have to get so assy and expensive about it?

As it is, we pay hundreds in hidden surcharges and taxes.  That’s cool.  We pay to change our seats.  Ok.  We pay to check a bag.  Sure.  We pay for the glass of wine and crappy sandwich on board.  I get it.  Can you please cut us some slack and let us make a change without having to cash in savings bonds?  I mean, you’re allowed to change itineraries and cancel flights on us and we don’t charge you.  Right?

C’mon airlines.  Don’t be a douche!

Love.

The R&R Mom

 

Hats Off!

Can we talk about hats?  Like as a fashion statement.  I like a hat.  I really really do.  I envy those airport paparazzi shots of Hollywood starlets looking all cool after a trans-Atlantic flight sporting a jaunty hat and sunglasses.  It looks good.  I treasure the image of my grandparents out for the day circa 1964 in camel hair overcoats and matching fedoras.  Its a pretty bad ass silhouette.

But I just can’t do it.

I own hats.  I think I even look good in a hat.  But I can’t.  I feel like a douche.  Maybe if I moved to Europe, I could reinvent myself and incorporate the hat into my daily street style rotation?  Is that it?  Would that work ok?  Otherwise, I’m the lady with the hats in the closet collecting dust.

Shorty #1 and I have some fun shopping.

Shorty #1 and I go shopping.

Maybe I should have been born into royalty, then I would feel more free to express my hat love more openly.  Good for you Katy Cambridge, you lucked out to marry into a hat wearing family.  Go for it sister.  Expand your horizons beyond that little fascinator and rock out a wide-brim why don’t you?  I know people judge you for what you wear but you can actually pull that shit off.

The truth is that a hat is a pain in the ass.  They are a nightmare to pack (I’m looking at you Mr. taking up half an overhead storage bin with your Tilley Endurable).  They make my forehead itch.  And seriously, when we’re inside and need to take the hat off – HAT HAIR.  WTF!  Any minuscule amount of fashion props we’re getting for rocking a great hat goes immediately out the window when you’re sporting a crushed blow out.

So, I guess I’ll just save you my precious for a day at the beach.  The rest of you are getting donated to the School for Johnny Depp impersonators.

Bad Choices?

Psst, hey.  Heeeeyyy, can I tell you a secret?  When I go on holidays I like to cheat.  Do you?  I bet you do.  And I bet you LOVE it too.  Sure, you feel shame afterwards and manage to return home with a great deal of self-loathing, squashing the desire to do it again.  Do you save it only for when you are away?

I tried to stop it once.  I planned and planned for it.  I was successful for one whole trip.  But then the next time I left town it happened again, and I realized I was an addict.

To chocolate.  To chips.  To ice cream.  To cheese.  To (duh duh duh) GLUTEN.

Oh, is that not what you were thinking?  I know you do it too though.

This is how it starts…

Day #1 – After Dinner.  Ok, I’m on vacation and I deserve a treat.  I can have an ice cream cone with the kids.  I mean, its only right.  This way I’ll be part of the fun, the memories we’re building with the kids.  Sure, its just a little Salted Caramel ice cream in a waffle cone.  Its fine.  We walked to the ice cream shop, so its like it practically never happened.

Day #2 – Lunch.  I can totally have a coke with my lunch.  Its ok I’m on holiday and it will just be this once.

And then…

Day #2 – Snack.  These chips look so good.  I’ll just have one.  Oooooh but they are so good, just a few more.  Well, the kids shouldn’t eat the WHOLE bag themselves.  I should help them.

Day #2 – After Dinner.  I know I had 3 glasses of wine with dinner, so I shouldn’t have dessert.  The wine is my dessert.  But its creme brulee.  And that’s gluten free so I am practically staying on plan with that (even though it is entirely comprised of dairy AND sugar).

By now, what can you do?  You are in!

Day #3 – After Dinner.  Oh, are we walking to the ice cream shop again?

Day #4 – Lunch.  If I say no bun and order a turkey burger, that’s ok right?  Then I can totally ALLOW myself 1 (or 5) of those amazing onion rings.

Day #5 – Breakfast.  TODAY I am getting back on my plan.  The egg scramble with roasted veggies is super on plan.  The spinach and coconut water smoothie was exactly what I needed.

Day #5 – After Dinner.  What?  Did we just pass the ice cream place?  Oh did you guys want to stop there again?  Alright.  Ok.  I had that spinach smoothie today, so I deserve it.

And so on and so on.

Now we’re home and I’m in detox.  Except for the leftover bag of chips from the car ride.  I mean it would be a waste to NOT finish them, right?  Owwww, my tummy hurts…

I totally can't eat just one.

I totally can’t eat just one.

Traffic Jammed

Traffic jam - in my living room/ office/ study.

Traffic jam – in my living room/ office/ study.

Picture if you will, a sunny summer afternoon in the Pacific Northwest.  A rare day where warm breezes tickle our cheeks, the smell of salty sea and cedar forests kiss our noses.  We must be outside enjoying the lovely day.  NOPE! NO WE ARE NOT.  We are inside, working.  Why you ask?  Because its a Thursday!  So unless you’re enjoying your summer holidays – GO BACK TO WORK YOU LAZY GIT!

I wish I could go to work today.  But I can’t.  Our offices are being renovated you see and there’s no where for me to set up shop without the constant dulcet tones of a table saw and the fog from piles of dust.   We’re just back from our annual summer vacay and typically I would be quite keen to head back to the office today.  A chance for adult conversation, to put on more make-up than simply sunscreen etc.  So I tried to brave the construction site but only lasted a mere 30 minutes and headed home.  This is where things get interesting.

 J is also mid office renovation so he too is working from home.  And Shorty #1 is home on one of her rare weeks off from Summer Camp.  #2 is running around along with our nanny.  The tutor is here, the phone is ringing, emails are piling in and I’ve been relegated to my bedroom.  I’m trying to be productive (as you can see, its going well) but as I’m all thumbs on this touchpad mouse I just marked all my unread emails read.  That’s REALLY bad as its my to do list.  So now I’m busy scouring over 55,000 emails to make sure I am not missing anything.  By the way, WHY do they call it a lap top if its impossible to use on your lap?

Tomorrow should be more of the same, with pleas from the attic and J’s office to keep it down as multiple conference calls are being conducted and kids are tearing around searching for their stuff.  I think I may become one of those people that sets up shop in the local Starbucks for the day.  If you’re looking for me, that’s where I’ll be.

D-BAD: Mr. Contractor

D-BAD aka DON’T BE A DOUCHE.  Each week I get to call out someone/ someplace or something for being a total DOUCHEBAG.  Its when I get to vent and take out my frustration on whatever makes me nuts each week, are you in?  Feel free to share your D-BAD’S anytime!

 

Dear Mr. Contractor:

Thanks so much for all your hardwork to fix our house.  The half-assed way in which you completed the job has left me breathless with disappointment.  I realize that you are being paid by an insurance company so I’m technically not your customer, but the way you completed the job makes my house look worse than it was before you started.  I mean, if it were your house – would you be happy?  Oh and the mess you left is great.  I’m really enjoying the stains and paint drips all over the place.  The open can of turpentine you left out where my kids could easily get at it was an amazing touch.

So, Lovely Mr. Contractor could you do a job right?  Could you finish it so it looks nice and not leave a million loose ends that I have to call and remind you about?  Could you show up when you say you will and not be pissed off when you show up un-announced and there is no one home to let you in?  Oh and do me a favor – DON’T BE A DOUCHE.

Love,

The R&R Mom

Keeping Them in the Dark?

I’m a worrier by nature.  Can’t help it.  Always have been.  So deal with it… I know I have to and so does everyone around me.  As a kid growing up, I remember every time Peter Jennings broke into Happy Days with a “Special News Bulletin” I was sure it was due to imminent Armageddon.  The Soviets were surely pointing nukes our way or maybe Aliens had just blown up Tokyo, London and New York.

When the Shorties came along, I didn’t want them to experience the shroud of worry that hung around my youth.  So I thought it was better to just keep the bad news from them.  No need to have CNN on in the background, lets just keep things light and airy.  Now they are venturing into the world and there are more and more people around them, introducing, sharing and growing their circle of influence.  Not to mention the fact that they are wildly unprepared for the millions of scary things that could befall them on any given day.  It never occurred to me that I would one day need to warn them of the dangers that could befall us at any moment.

I remember the day #1 came home from Kindergarten and told me about all the various drills they learned at school.  The usual – fire drill (“We all line up and go outside.  We DON’T run!”), earthquake (“We make turtles and cover our heads with our hands” and finally the Code Red.  “What’s that?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s when we close all the blinds and the teacher locks the door and turns off the lights and we have to be quiet.”

I nearly fainted from the grave reality of what a Code Red actually was.  This is what it is to be a kid in 2014.

That was the day that I realized that I had done a shitty job of preparing my kid for just how scary and messed up this world really is.  Now what do I do?

We had a friend over for dinner the other night and he was recounting the story of having the news on and his son hearing about a rather horrific murder/ suicide involving a dad and his two kids.  Our friend M was so upset asking how do you help a kid un-hear something like that?  You can’t erase that kind of information.  It imbeds into kids and becomes part of their psyche.  Or it rolls in one ear and out the other leaving no impression at all?  Tough to know what will stick but you never know and who wants to play Russian Roulette with which scary stories will live with them forever.

Its a fine line of keeping their optimism alive in hopes they can carry the future out of the constant brink of calamity that we seem to live in.  But at the same time teaching them street smarts so they can stay safe.  I don’t know what the answer is, other than to just do our best.  Its all we can do really.

PS – I realize that this topic is a departure from all the travel, fashion and nonsense I usually write about.  But its my blog, so I can do whatever I want, right?

 

 

D-BAD: An Introduction

I’ve decided to create a weekly post called D-BAD aka DON’T BE A DOUCHE.  Each week I get to call out someone/ someplace or something for being a total DOUCHEBAG.  Its when I get to vent and take out my frustration on whatever makes me nuts each week, are you in?  Feel free to share your D-BAD’S anytime!

THIS WEEK – The BC Liberals

Dear BC Liberals:

Its almost August.  The teachers are still on strike.  We haven’t heard a peep from you for weeks.  The first day of school is almost a month away.  What gives?  Are you all on summer vacation?  Are you meeting with the BCTF in secret?  C’mon, throw us a bone.  Let us know what’s going on.  If there is NO chance we’re going back to school on September 2, can you give us a clue?  I don’t want my kid to experience any more disappointment or disruption because you can’t get your shit together.  DON’T BE A DOUCHE.

Love,

The R&R Mom