Almost every night, about 30 minutes after I naively believe everyone is asleep in this house, I hear footsteps wander down the hall, tip-toe down the stairs and slink into the living room.
Oh, hey Will. Shouldn’t you be asleep?
“I feel… weird”.
“I feel like… half my brain wants me to sleep but the other half of my brain doesn’t.”
“Why did someone invent school?”
“What do people use safes for?”
After I answer 1 or 2 or 11 questions, the stalling stutters to an end:
“Um… (long pause) But Mum… (long pause as he searches for another question)…”
“Good night Will. It’s late.”
“Ok fine. But why did someone invent a school just for boys and girls couldn’t go and I wish only girls had to go to school but I don’t understand why they had to shoot that girl just because she wanted to go to school and it’s pretty lucky she survived, don’t you think?”
Note to self: Research this question.
…
He’ll then take the most circuitous route back to his bed possible, usually involving a water stop and some neck-craning back towards the living room to see what he could possibly be missing.
Clearly, I’m getting old(er) and crochety(er) by the minute.
I’m currently working in the library. Quietly. Because, to my knowledge, libraries are meant to be quiet. I had that notion ingrained into me at a very young age.
Herewith, a list of my pet peeves about today’s situation.
1. The library is not your personal kitchen. Those crunchy cracker things you keep pulling out of the crinkly bag? I can hear you chewing them from 10 feet away. Stop it.
2. The library is not your personal living room. Put your shoes back on. Wake up. Stop snoring.
3. The library is not your private office space. That phone call at top volume to check on your client? Stop it. Go outside.
4. The library is not your personal coffee shop. If you and your friends want to catch up and chat, go away.
5. I text as much as the next girl. But turn your phone sounds off *ping* *lalalala* *bzzzz*
Sitting at the counter, surrounded by bits and pieces of Christmas and New Year’s detritus. 1 kid at daycare, the other 2 playing outside with a friend in what can only be called an honest to goodness downpour. Welcome 2014!
So… whatcha been up to these last few weeks? I wish I could think of something riveting to say but I can sum up the last 6 weeks in bullet points and pictures. Hurray for the iPhone camera feature! Otherwise I’m pretty sure my memory would erase 87% of the daily stuff that goes on in these parts.
– Ski school, blessed wonderful ski school has resumed for 2/3 kids. That means we can now all ski together. And that also means we don’t fit on one chairlift (cue the “I want to ride with Mama/Dada!” arguments).
-I couldn’t really hack retirement. Back to work! Thrilled.
-I’ve tackled some more structured training in light of some looming races (damn you, foolish near-unachievable goals!) It feels good to shift into a routine. And hey! I can almost swim! And I’ve remembered what it’s like to sweat on the wind trainer. GTs.
-Contrary to all the lovey-dovey, 2013 was so wonderful #lucky13 posts I’ve read lately, I am not at all sad to see this year end. It was a frustrating one for me and I’m ready to move into even numbers.
-Speaking of the New Year, I’m not one for resolutions but I suppose I resolve to eat better (hahaha – I say that every year) and to spend at least one weekend every month totally unplugged. I think even I can manage that.
—
In kid news, this 2 week/3 weekend Christmas break with very little snow is kind of kicking my ass. They might be loath to admit it, but I think even the boys are ready to head back to school.
A few of the latest Anja quotes:
“Mama, when you were on your trip, I was looking at the ground and then I splattered my face on the ground.”
Me: “Can you be quiet?” Her: “No. My heart doesn’t like that so I listen to it.”
“Mama, elephants do not wear bathing suits.”
—
And lastly, a round up in pictures, in no particular order.
Best friends. Who fight like cats and dogs.
My men.
Proof that I’ve been riding my bike. However, when watching Scandal I get an urge to drink wine while spinning.
I believe this was the last time I saw sun.
Cousins!
Steep learning curve.
Yeah!
In the running for my favourite picture of them of all time.
Teeny weeny slays the “tree runs”.
She really hates skiing. Can you tell?
Oh so rare.
Courtesy her brothers.
Worked at the Luge World Cup. Twas not warm.
Santa Claus parade. No snow but lots of fun (for kids). This parent undecided.
This afternoon, I went to the gym for about an hour before picking up the boys from school. Lately, I’ve not been wearing headphones when I’m there because I can focus a little bit better on what I’m meant to be doing but I suppose the downside to that is that I am privy to every grunt, gripe and conversation around me.
I was minding my own business in one corner as a ‘personal trainer’ was working with a client near me. The client was a new mother – as evidenced by the new baby in the car seat by her side – and because I heard her say “It’s my second baby”.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as the ‘personal trainer’ guided her through a sees of basic exercises but cringed inwardly at her terrible form. But, obviously, I said nothing.
Moments later, they pulled a mat to the floor and the client lay down, per the ‘trainer’s’ instructions, to do some ab work. I continued to watch surrepticiously. But here’s where I wonder if I should have piped up.
The client/new mom told her ‘trainer’ that her abs had split during her pregnancy. The ‘trainer’ looked confused and said “what do you mean?” The client then explained that there was now a sizeable gap in her abs. The ‘trainer’ bent down, touched her client’s stomach, squealed and then jumped back saying “Ew!” The client laughed awkwardly.
‘Trainerlady’ then proceeded the lead her through a series of exercises that she clearly couldn’t do. Her only advice was “make sure you do the same number of reps on each side”. Shortly after that, the ‘trainer’ signed off the day, telling her client to keep at it and that she’d see her Thursday.
Here’s my dilemma. I had the same “condition” after each kid. I have some pretty basic knowledge of what you can and can’t do in that situation. The fact that this ‘trainer’ had never heard of the condition, let alone what to do with it when training a new mother, made me uneasy and wondering if I should have pulled the client aside after the ‘trainer’ left and given her some friendly, albeit unsolicited, advice.
I bow down to you, full-time stay at home moms. Seriously. I’m onto day 4 and I’m exhausted. Work was so… quiet.
Don’t get me wrong: I love the extra time I get to spend with my kids. But I have never met 3 people who verbalize their every feeling quite like my kids – and in particular, the smallest one who quite literally never. ever. stops.
RIP, job.
—
This happened, and it was awesome:
Dixie Chicks. 2nd to last row. So fun.
—
Then the next morning, this happened:
Can you see the flu starting to creep into my head? I can.
33.3km separate me from the kids today. That, in and of itself, is not unusual. I go to work, they do their thing, and so it goes. Our little family has been spoiled of late as Jay hasn’t been on the road as much, my schedule has allowed for some flexibility and Ann is always in the background with a helping hand.
But today, as I dropped the boys off at school and Anja at daycare, it really hit me that once I head South on Highway 99, they are on their own in this little village until I come back at 5pm. Jay’s fall travel schedule has kicked in, Ann’s back at school. I’m 33.3 kms away.
The kids were fine as I waved goodbye and watched their little selves walk away. Nothing different in their worlds, really. Friends, puddles, activities… I, on the other hand, got hit with an overwhelming wave of separation anxiety that I just can’t seem to shake. I mean, what if they forget about their after school activity and stand in the school parking lot waiting for me for hours? What if the road gets closed? What if, what if, what if…
Surely, this too shall pass. I damn well hope so, otherwise it’s going to be a very long winter.
This morning was not one of our more efficient mornings when it came to getting out of the house. We all woke up just a few minutes later than usual and those few minutes tend to make things noticeably more frantic when trying to get 3 kids out the door, 1 adult to one job and the other to another office. We all made it, despite some raised voices and (1) construction delay.
I barely made it to my meeting on time, and then floated from task to task for the rest of the day, before coming home to reconnect with the little people. I didn’t take a lot of time to do much of anything else between tasks but I did force myself to sit outside at lunch and read an actual paper paper – such a luxury these days – and avoid screens for 30m.
This got me thinking about this article I read the other day. I don’t think I’ve read anything better in ages. The only thing I’d have done differently would be to change the title from “PLease Stop Complaining About How Busy You Are” to “Shut up with the busy, already.” Seriously. The more I hear the “ohmygodimsobusysobusysobusy” refrain, the more I have to peel my eyes out from the back of my head, the results of rolling them so hard. It’s interesting that people try to “out-busy” each other. Why would you strive to be more busy? Lord, how dreadful. I’d rather strive to be like my more zen-like friends (hi, Tandy! Hi Martin!)
Everyone’s busy. I get it. But guess what? No one wants to hear about it.
I caught myself answering a “how are you” question with that typical “oh so busy” response the other day but I caught myself: God, how obnoxious. Am I really so busy that this person cares to hear about it? Bleh. No, thank you.
So next time you ask me how I’m doing, I’ll have a host of responses ready, none of which will refer to the state of my Outlook Calendar, to-do list or how much I need to get done in X amount of time. I promise.
See these girls? Not busy. Lots of awesome. Chilling after the Pemberton Terry Fox run.
My workation began yesterday. What’s that, you say? Why it’s simple. It’s where you take a week off from your “real” job and immerse yourself into another job. In this case, that other job would be Ironman Canada. Because the reality is… if you can’t race ’em, join ’em!
Sidebar: I cannot believe that it’s been 8 years since my last Ironman. Yeesh.
I won’t lie and pretend that seeing all these athletes on our roads and trails all summer hasn’t made me totally envious, because it has. Triathlon FOMO in full effect! But this gig is kind of assuaging me and I think it will likely keep me busy enough that you won’t find me in the registration lineup come Monday morning. I think.
So should you find yourself in the Expo with some time to kill, do come find me and throw me a high five. I’ll be easy to spot: I’m the short one in the sling telling people where to put stuff.
And that’s exactly what it is. A non-update. Status Quo. No change. Keep on keepin’ on. I met with the surgeon yesterday. Our conversation went like this.
Doc: “Everything looks great, you are right on track”.
Me: “Amazing! I brought a list of questions.”
Doc: “Ok, let’s hear them”
And then it went like this:
Me: “Can I…”
Doc: “No.”
Me: “Ok. Could I then…”
Doc: “No.”
Me: “Right. How about…”
Doc: “No.”
And so it went for all 8 of my questions – which, let’s face it, were all asking in one way or another for a Get Out Of Jail Free Card. But the truth is that I have 3 weeks and 6 more days left in the sling (also known as the arm cooker as per Anja – and a truer name was never assigned, given its black polyester nature and the 32C nights).
And so onwards I go, perfecting my left hand-typing, mouse-maneuvering, veggie-chopping skills. But I still can’t tie my own shoes.
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