My husband has announced that he’s leaving us.  Tonight.

Okay, he’s only leaving for the weekend, but I thought that initial announcement made for a much more interesting opening line, no?

He’s actually heading up north with some other guys to a friend’s cottage.  Try to guess what they’re going to do?

a) help fix a leaking roof

b) play a round of golf

c) drink more beer than I will likely drink in all of 2010 (and possibly 2011)

d) take the riding lawn mower for a spin

e) all of the above

I believe the answer is obvious.

And it’s all fine with me.  In fact we’re hoping to get up to said friend’s cottage for a few days this summer with the boys, so “helping to fix the leaking roof” might just be what seals the deal on our invitation.  And I get a quiet weekend at home with my boys out of the deal.

So last night he packed for his 3 night / 2.5 day excursion.  It took him exactly 5 minutes.  No, perhaps I’m being generous.  It might have been closer to 4 minutes.  4 MINUTES! To pack for an ENTIRE weekend!

Do you have any idea how long this would have taken me?  Probably as long as it would have taken you – because there’s lots to be considered, isn’t there?

First you have the weather.  We’re in Ontario, so there can be a very wide variety of weather thrown our way over the span of 2.5 days.  You need something for a hot sunny day at the beach, something for a cool rainy day spent lounging in the cottage and something warm for around the campfire at the end of the day that protects you from mosquitoes.  Something that’s suitable for hiking.  Something that’s suitable fishing.  Something that’s suitable for going into town . . . there’s just so many scenarios.  And of course things need to match.  And be comfortable.  And be cute.  But not look like you’re trying too hard.

And of course I wouldn’t wear half of what I took.  But I would have it with me just in case.  Because I like to be organized and prepared for any and all cottage situations that may possibly arise.

THEN there’s all the different types of appropriate footwear.  And hair & make-up.  And first-aid related items.  And stuff to do (like a good book, perhaps a movie or two, maybe a laptop with a wireless air-stick . . .)

THEN there would be the food - planning the menu and shopping for it.

It would take me HOURS to pack.  He, on the other hand, apparently only needs one change of clothes, a toothbrush, a ball hat and 4 minutes.

I shudder to think of the state of him when he walks back through the door on Sunday.  But I’ll be glad when he does.

In the meantime . . . girlie sleep-over party at my place Saturday night!  Who wants to come?! (yes, I’ll have buttertarts)

Could you pack in 4 minutes?  If you were coming to my sleepover Saturday night, what would you bring?

(The Eldest – aka “Sporty”)

One of the perils of living in house full of boys is sports.  Lots and lots and lots of sports.  My guys are all particularly athletic, and it’s what they live for.  Their list of favourites include, but is not limited to -  hockey, soccer, golf, volleyball, basketball, track & field, cross country, swimming, football and farting (what?  that’s not a real sport?  could have fooled me).

If they’re not playing it, they’re watching it.  And if they’re not watching it, they’re talking about it.  But two sports in particular run most of my life.

Obviously, I live in Hockey Land.  Canada.  The Great White North.  Where we construct an ice rink in our backyard for the winter and make approximately 5 trips a week to cold, stinky arenas.  Where nasty smelling hockey equipment can be found either at my front door or drying in the basement from October – March.  Where balls of used hockey tape are regular accessories in my Family Room and trips to the skate sharpener or stick store are frequently on the weekly agenda.  Where our television is tuned to NHL games approximately 3 times a week and where getting a kid up for a 6:00am practice on a Saturday morning is significantly easier then getting the same kid up for the 8:15 school bell.

But then it ends.  And Angels sing.

Then soccer season begins.

Which is a similar schedule to the hockey months – our front yard OR backyard can double as a soccer pitch at any given moment.  Nets and pylons.  Ball and drills.  You never know when Coach Daddy will break out a skill building session, or when an impromptu game will be played.  Where we make approximately 5 trips a week to a soccer pitch.  Where cleats can be found at my front door and jerseys hang proudly in their closets.  Where stinky shin guards are left to dry on bedroom floors and a folding chair takes up permanent residency in my trunk.  Where the annual arrival of our seasons tickets to the Toronto FC MLS team is great cause for celebration.  Where temporary coloured hairspray is used to accent “faux-hawk” hairstyles to match their uniforms and the sweat of a hard fought game is cleanse by a dip in the pool afterward.

But there’s one big difference . . . the weather!

I’ll gladly take a warm sunny summer’s evening on the soccer sidelines over a cold, snowy, early morning at the rink ANY DAY!  And with the World Cup of Soccer set to begin this Friday, you don’t need to guess what my life will be revolving around for the next couples of weeks.

Now if I could only get them as interested in clothes shopping and home decorating . . .

Will you be watching the World Cup?  Got any little athletes in your house?  Do you feel as sorry for me as I do during hockey season?

(not my leg – mine is far less defined)

The summer season has come to Ontario.  Early and with a vengeance.  Bringing with it weather that rivals that of Cancun, heat alerts and record breaking temperatures.

It’s fabulous!

And with it comes the summer wardrobe.  The shorts, the skirts, the capris and the bathing suits.

Of course this means I’ve had to quickly shift into “summer legs” mode.  Which involves regular shaving and moisturizing – two things that have been grossly neglected throughout the winter months.

Which is partly due to the lack of a requirement when the gams are buried beneath long johns, pants and socks and partly due to sheer laziness.  Did you know that after a certain point, stubble gets soft?  It’s true.

But the older I get the harder it gets to shave properly.  I’m finding it increasingly difficult to see what the heck I’m doing.  And no matter how much time I take, or how careful I am, the minute I step out into the sunlight – there they are.  Fuzzy knees.

Would it be so hard to invent a proper knee shaver?  Or perhaps one already exists that I don’t know about.  I’ve considered shaving out on the back deck where the sunlight will surely aid my cause, but I don’t think the neighbours need to be subjected to that.  I’ve also considered stashing a ravor in my purse for when I’m at work.  Apparently fluorescent lighting helps to shine the light of truth on the little hairs that seem to fade away in the dim light of my shower.

Am I the only one that has this problem?  Do I simply need to get my eyes checked?

Yes, I’ve been absent.  I’m sure you’ve missed me terribly.  Or not.

Where have I been?  What have I been doing?  Did I join the circus as previously threatened?  No.  I’ve been at home.  Doing all those things us busy working Mom’s do.  Such as;

- Winning an awesome Le Creuset giveaway from Rita at Fighting Off Frumpy’s Reviews & Giveaways blog!  Woo Hoo!  I NEVER win anything, and these are beautiful, so I consider this event particularly helpful in breaking The Funk

- Attending MANY of my boys soccer games.  Which frankly I don’t so much mind on a nice, sunny summer evening.  Call me a fair-weather fan if you will, but you won’t find me sitting on the sidelines in the rain.

- Sitting in a STINKING hot school gym for 1.5 hours to watch a musical adaptation of “Alice in Wonderland”.  The Youngest was one of the many “back up singers” but we couldn’t even see him let alone hear him.  Fail.

- Spending approximately 6 brutally hot hours staining our large back deck with Willie.  Back breaking, but it looks great.  That’s where you can find me for most of the summer.

- Sweating my ass off.  Don’t know if you’ve heard, but Ontario Canada has been experiencing some highly unusual HOT weather lately.  Not that I’m complaining.  I spend 9 months of the year putting up with crap weather just to get to June, July & August.  But MAN it’s been hot!  Thank God for air conditioning and pools.

- Obsessively water the lawn and gardens.  See above.

- Buying a new summer chick-lit book.  I’m not going to tell you which one till I’m finished in case you say “oh, I read that.  It was crap” because that will really piss me off, and I’m looking forward to diving into it.

- The Eldest kicked some major ass at his school’s area track meet and came home with a collection of ribbons!  How can a child born from me be such an uber-athlete in all sports?!  Fortunately he looks like his Father’s twin, or else I’d suspect a hospital switch.

- I managed to complete another month end at work.  This is basically 3 days of hell that comes in the form of reports and spreadsheets.  Fortunately I kick ass at reports and spreadsheets, so I haven’t had a month end beat me yet.  But it’s stressful nonetheless.

- I had a date with Willie.  Okay, maybe less of a date and more of attending a funeral together (the elderly Father of a friend – no one close).  But we were out together.  Without the kids.  So I say that counts as a date.

- Almost forgot to get The Youngest to a friend’s birthday party.  It just totally slipped my mind.  Good thing Toys R Us was on the way.  Gotta love gift cards.

- Enjoyed a dinner out with some girlfriends on a local restaurant patio!  Nothing helps drive away The Funk like estrogen, good food, frozen drinks and neighbourhood gossip.

- My Niece gave birth to her first child!  Her daughter Cali was unexpectedly born via emergency c-section at 30 weeks and only 3 pounds, but is doing really well in spite of her tiny size.  She’s expected to stay in the hospital for awhile and we’re all keep our fingers crossed for her continued progress.  A few of your fingers wouldn’t hurt either.

- And finally, I been trying to identify something I enjoy about each day in an attempt to drive out The Funk.  If you only concentrate on the negative, then that’s all that will reveal itself to you.  Concentrate more on the positive and you will find that there are many small moments worthy of your attention and your affection.

Hope you find something to love about today!

I’ve been in a funk for the past week.  For no apparent reason.  Just one of those things that happens from time to time I suppose.  Hormones?  Lunar cycles?  Pollen?  Who knows.  I certainly have nothing to be funky about – health is good, kids are fine, job is still paying, weather has been great, even the husband is in the good books!

And yet the funk.  Which, frankly, is getting kind of annoying.

I figure if I go about doing regular things then maybe I’ll start to feel regular again, instead of this increasing desire to run away and join the circus.  Clearly I’d look terrible in tights, a top hat or a clowns costume, so that’s just not an option.

So, rather than continue to wallow in my own melancholy, I decided that maybe I could try to happy myself up a little with a new summer haircut this weekend.

I’m really happy with it, so if you’re not – please keep it to yourself.

Now, if you’ll pardon my spotty posting and commenting, I’ll do my best to get back on track sooner rather than later.

And in the meantime, I’ll be in the backyard practicing riding a unicycle and training lions – just in case.

(via Google)

Late last night I managed to uncurled myself out of my pitiful PMS fetal position, crawl out of my pit of despair, dispose of all the tear crusted tissues that were littered around me, wipe the crumbs of chocolate and potatoes chips off my face (WHY is that such a delicious PMS pairing?!), and happily said “buhbye” to that damn monthly zit  (I don’t get zits, like ever, except for PMS time – grrr).  I believe I’m now on the road to recovery and am feeling more like myself today (Willie – it’s safe to come home now).  WTF???  Why do some months come and go with nary a symptom, and other months give you a full out throat punch?  Eff you Mother Nature!

So today I just have a bit of housekeeping for you.

First up – we have a new Office Tour today!  Woot woot! *pumps both arms in the air*

Be sure to head over to see Shana at Fumbling Towards Normalcy.  Not only does she work in NYC, she has a kick ass view of a terrace that has been known to play host to a certain celeb.

Who’s going to do the next one?!

—————

Next up is a reminder of the awesome giveaway my girl Surferwife has going on.  She’s twitter friends and besties with a crazy amount of celebs and one of them has offered up an autographed copy of their new book.  AND she’ll ship it to Canada!  Surferwife is SO international.  Head over here and enter.  Right now.  I’ll wait . . .

—————

And finally, the other day, during my PMS haze, I did a guest re-post here over at Jade’s blog Now That I’m No Longer 25.  Jade lives in Scotland, and in addition to other great stuff, she does some awesome travel posts.  I only hope I’ll get to visit some of those places one day (hey in laws – check out this one on Glasgow!).

Okay.  Must run.  There’s a box of Midol calling my name.

What’s your favourite PMS snack?

(via Google – yada yada yada)

I have always loved grammar. I know. Big Nerd. Whatever. But I have. And so does Willie. In fact he seems to think that he’s the King of Grammar around our house, but I strongly disagree. He should learn to use spell check more frequently before he makes such outrageous claims.

And since my mood as of late has been, how shall I say . . . unpleasant, I thought I would dust off my grammar skills for the sake of a blog post and give you all a little grammatical insight into the current state of The Only Girl.

Today’s lesson is about our friend, the ADJECTIVE. An adjective is;

• a word which acts to modify a noun (which you might remember is a person, place, thing, animal or abstract idea)
• a word used to describe nouns and/or give more information about a noun

Adjectives make your writing more interesting.  Here’s some examples;

The busy Mother felt stressed and overwhelmed.

(see how the word “busy” accurately describes the word “Mother”? Do you get that I am, in fact, said Mother?)

She had considered changing the name of her blog to “The Flabby Girl”.

(in this example, “flabby” perfectly describes the “girl” we may or may not be speaking about today)

Her pathetic wardrobe made her cry every morning.

(enough said)

She was desperate for a cute haircut.

(not just any “haircut”. A “cute” haircut. Which is hard to get, I can assure you)

Packing school snacks & lunches was the bane of her existence.

(sorry, that one is not an adjective example. It’s just something I felt you all needed to know)

Okay, I’m done.  Leave me some words that describe YOU today.  Or else I’ll do a lesson on nouns.  I mean it.  I will.  Don’t push me.

(I am  not really a Teacher.  This post was not meant to be educational but rather tongue in cheek.  If you feel I’ve inaccurately described adjectives and done a great disservice to the grammatical world, then may I suggest you forward a complaint to my PR Department at get.lost@youidiot.ca.  Thanks)

My Youngest attended a birthday party last weekend.  He also had 2 more this weekend.  He also has another coming up this week.  And that’s in addition to his own 2 parties this week (1 with his friends, 1 for family).  I know!  Craziness.  And lots of time spent in the toy department.

In preparation for his party, I’m tasked with the job of arranging loot bags today.  Ugh.  I’m between three schools of thought on this;

1. Head to the Dollar Store and fill up on junkie crap that will either break in the first 24 hours, not work at all, or annoy the other parents so badly that it prematurely ends up in the trash
2. Go with a gift card to a local toy store or ice cream parlour, where the little 6 & 7 year olds can participate in the joys of capitalism
3. Be the first Mother in this age group to buck the loot bag system and send the little darlings home with nothing but a “thanks for coming”

I’m really tempted to go with # 3.

Where did this craziness called “loot bags” come from?!  And at what age does it stop?!

Is it not enough to invite 16 children for 2 exciting hours of play at the Enchanted Castle, where all their indoor private playground dreams will come true?  Where climbing structures, bouncy castles, air hockey, video games and germ infested ball pits with all their friends is theirs for the taking?

And if that’s not enough, they will be fed pizza.  PIZZA for God sake!  What kid doesn’t dream about that?

And for the few that have managed to slip by still unimpressed, surely the ice cream cake will win them over.  No?

Clearly not.  All these things do not win them over.  What they really came for, is the loot bag.  And I know this because each Mother attempts to win the kids over more than all the other Mother’s before her.  Loot bags are no longer just a collection of tooth-rotting candy like when I was a kid.  No no.  We’re now on to full blown craft projects they can take home and create.  Like the “design your own baseball hat” or “personalize your own mini hockey stick” The Youngest recently received.

The kids have also become wise to rating the loot.  In fact I had to give The Youngest a little “just be thankful” lecture after he recently returned from a party and announced that “this is the worst loot bag ever”.  There’s definitely some loot bag pressure and it’s being doled out by the kids themselves.  Go figure.

But this weekend I feel we had a loot bag break through.  One Mother simply placed a $5 bill inside a helium filled balloon – a straight out bribe.  “Here kid – here’s $5 bucks.  Thanks for coming.  Now go tell everyone this was the best party ever and that no one’s Mom is better than me.  Spread the word.  That’s a good boy.”

What’s the strangest loot bag item you’ve seen?  At what age do these bribes loot bags stop?  Should I go with Dairy Queen gift cards or Toys R Us and how much?  Help!

(do I really have to spell it out that this image is from Google?  Is someone out there really thinking I may have actually taken this picture myself and photoshopped it into a DVD cover?  Really?  Okay f ine.  It’s from Google.  Happy?)

I’m sooo tired today.  Don’t expect much from me.  I had one of the worst sleeps ever last night.

Allow me to explain.

As you know, Willie’s out of town on business.  Whenever one of us is away, the boys always like to sleep with the parent that remains.  Which, frankly, we enjoy.  Snuggling their warm, soft, quiet little bodies through the night is one of the joys of parenthood.

But of course they both want it to be their turn.  And it’s really hard to say “yes” to one and “no” to the other.  Because that means someone’s going to be left out and unhappy.  So I agreed they could BOTH sleep with me last night.  We have a king sized bed, so I figured the three of us could easily fit.

They went to bed first, and when it was my turn, I quietly slipped under the covers in between them.  It was a Mommy Sandwich and I was the meat – as they like to say.  Which I don’t particularly think is all that flattering, but I’m sure they mean it in the very best way.  Don’t they?  Don’t they?  Anyway, I happily drifted off to sleep.

Until The Eldest and his legs of steel made an appearance at about 2am.

I’m a very very deep sleeper, and yet I was vaguely aware that I was being kicked and pushed by two incredibly strong legs.  Suddenly the middle spot I had carved out for myself had become more of a sliver than a spot.

I drowsily pushed him back.  He pushed harder.  Every time I moved his legs, they’d reappear – heavier and stronger than before.

After about an hour of this I seem to remember some very harsh words escaping my lips that sounded something like “STOP IT!  GET OFF ME!  I’M NEVER SLEEPING WITH YOU AGAIN!”  Words that may or may not have been accompanied by a quick left handed punch to his upper thigh.  I have no excuse.  I was in a sleep induced haze.  I regretted it immediately.

At this point I decided to just throw in the towel and take my leave.  I headed off to his room, which was sitting vacant, and found a quiet, peaceful bed to lie down in.  It was now 3am.

But guess who came wondering into his room looking for me at 4am?  Guess who had had a bad dream?  Guess who proceeded to climb into his bed with me?  Sigh.

I wonder if his bad dream had something to do with a crazy woman yelling and punching while he innocently slept . . .

Do you like sleeping with your kids or not?  Should I be offended at being called “the meat”?  Was I justified in my late night tirade?   Could I have psychologically scarred my son?  This are all important questions people.  Leave me answers.

Exactly 2 weeks before his 7th birthday, my youngest FINALLY lost his 1st tooth!  He’s been desperate, and I mean desperate, for this to happen for about a year. 

Late bloomer?  Perhaps.  But blissfully happy and cute as can be?  Absolutely.