Tag Archives: summertime

Forty-Nine

Things we did yesterday:

1 Arlo did his Saturday morning karate class at the community centre
2 then we dropped kids at my parents’ place for the afternoon
3 SA and I took the bus downtown
4 we went to the Alibi Room for lunch and beer
5 and ate brunch instead because there was no lunch yet, even though it was 1 pm, you crazy hip young people
6 got a stomach ache because beer at lunchtime is not usually how I roll (though it was delicious beer)(and brunch)
7 walked through Gastown and enjoyed the fine flora and fauna, including cruise ship tourists (so! shiny!)
8 took pictures and felt self-conscious about it and then noticed a guy sitting at a cafe table, taking a picture of the next cafe table through the slats of the chair and felt less self-conscious
9 walked up to the butt-end of Pacific Centre so SA could use the bathroom
10 walked through Holt Renfrew and then tried to get out of Holt Renfrew
11 had to be directed out of Holt Renfrew
12 into the mall! Which is very like a mall but much more fleh, where fleh means fancy and rich
13 then out of the mall onto Granville Street
14 there was a hip hop break-dancing demonstration on the street
15 those boys were young! and very good at break dancing. And sweaty!
16 we kept walking up Granville and then up to Chapters
17 though it felt kind of stupid to be in Chapters when there’s one at Metrotown
18 nevertheless. I needed to look at books.
19 ran into the dad of one of Arlo’s friends, working in the Indigo Kids section
20 asked him if there were any locking journals for sale (there were not)
21 looked at the biography section, the blank book section, the new fiction section
22 looked for deals, didn’t find any
23 got a peppermint tea from Starbucks because my stomach still hurt
24 considered using the bathroom but decided against it because SO MANY PEOPLE WERE IN LINE
25 took the escalator to the top of the store and then back down again
26 met up with SA again and we walked back to the butt end of Pacific Centre to use the same bathroom he used before
27 bought six doughnuts from Tim Hortons to share with the kids and my parents for dessert
28 tried to remember where the bus stop was, but couldn’t, so walked all the way back to where the bus starts
29 waited for the bus
30 saw a young woman on a fancy old-style bicycle, talking on her cell phone by holding it against her ear with her shoulder, wearing no helmet, crossing Burrard Street in a very wobbly fashion, as you would if you were riding a bike with your head glued to your shoulder
31 restrained myself from shouting rude things at her
32 rode the bus back to my parents’ house and walked up the very steep hill from the bus stop and nearly expired
33 found the children drinking ginger ale in the back yard, covered in dirt and the remnants of face paint
34 entertained them until dinner time; no small feat, as they were tired and grumpy and hungry
35 ate delicious barbecued meats and oven baked potatoes and home grown lettuce
36 lingered over wine while the children entertained us with their revue show “The Idiot Children”. They called it that. Eli came in the room with his t-shirt on over his legs like pants and no shirt and said, “Greetings fellow grownups. We are the IDIOT CHILDREN.”
37 were somewhat irritated by the second act of The Idiot Children until we realized that Arlo had lost the second tooth on the top of his mouth so had a legitimate reason to be sucking on his shirt and interrupting our conversation with his “urgent” voice
38 noticed it was quite late, well past our usual departure time and encroaching on bedtime. Despite our better judgement, gave the children doughnuts for dessert
39 packed up our stuff and came home
40 fought back a jigger of road rage and kept my eyes forward while driving when a douchecanoe in a thumping bass car passed me on the right just as I was about to change lanes because I was two blocks from home
41 ignored Arlo asking me “what’s a douchecanoe?”
42 put the children to bed. Once again, Arlo decided not to leave his tooth for the tooth fairy.* That makes four teeth the tf has not been allowed to claim
43 poured a snifter of wine
44 watched an episode of Homeland on Netflix
45 ate a few chips
46 locked the door
47 read my book
48 went to sleep.

* 49 this morning we learned that he actually *did* put his tooth under his pillow but didn’t tell us, as an experiment. He wanted to see if it was Eli who would take his tooth, or the tooth fairy.**

** Apparently there is a tooth fairy and s/he is a thief because the tooth is gone, no one in this house took it, and there was no money left.

Forty-Eight — Brothers Bear Arms

One of the books I’m reading is Quiet: The Power of Introverts. It’s a “speed read” so I only have a week to read it. Can I do it? Well, will everyone leave me alone, please? THANK YOU.

My children love me so much. They want to sit on me and tickle me and, inexplicably, dangle from my neck. “Please don’t dangle from my neck,” I say, “I am happy to hug you, but — arghhhh.” Why? Why do you want to destroy me? I FEED YOU.

Eli has been going through a phase, I think he is almost done it now, where every sentence starts with “Mommy?”

Mommy?
Yes.
There is a sock in my drawer! And I have other socks. And Mommy?
Yes.
I don’t mind if my socks match or don’t match, it’s OK with me because who cares! Right? And Mommy?
Yes.
I’m hungry. Mommy?
Yes.
I’m going to get a snack now.

Are you super irritated just reading that? Are you?

Are you?

Well? Are you?

After the first I don’t know how many weeks I realized I didn’t have to answer every Mommy? because he would just keep talking. He just needed the two second beat — it could be silent, filled with my voice, or filled with raspberry jam.

Perhaps that’s why he’s moving out of the phase. I gritted my teeth and ignored the impulse to answer him.

I think if my kids could pee on me to mark their territory, they would. That’s what summer vacation is like. A constant dodging of metaphorical, territorial peeing.

“You had her all year!” Arlo says with his actions, not his words, “NOW SHE’S MINE.”
“Screw you, Bro,” Eli says, sometimes with his words AND his actions, “SHE LOVES ME THE MOST BECAUSE OF ALL THE MUFFINS SHE BOUGHT ME WHILE YOU WERE IN SCHOOL FOR THREE YEARS.”

So it goes. Siblings.

We are arguing about gravel! It is a productive discussion!

(Not every day. Some days — some moments within some days, even — are not like that.)

This morning, for example, they got up and were horrible to each other for the first hour and my heart sank because the days are sort of long when it’s hot and sunny and everyone is horrible. But then they went outside and raced some snails and that took, like, forty-five minutes, and by the end of it, they’d forgotten to be horrible.

Eli described Arlo as “his mean brother” at the park when they were playing a game with the park attendant girl, but that’s par for the course. During a discussion about the meaning of “trust” last night we determined that Arlo could trust Eli to save his life but not to lend him a nickel. I guess that’s pretty good for age 5 and 7. I hope so.

Cheesy.

Forty-Seven — Swimming, Revisited

Indoor Pool Swimming Lessons, Fall and Winter Edition:

— Get your rain boots and coats and hats on, children, we’re going to the pool for lessons! Yes, it is dark outside and it feels like bedtime, but that’s just because it’s 5:00 pm in November. In the pool it will be warm and you will learn to swim.

— It’s important to learn to swim. Even in the winter. Stop crying. It is not that cold outside. It’s just wet! You will be wet in the pool anyway, right?

— The pool is in a building the size of several airplane hangars strapped together. It is hot and clammy in the change rooms and steamy in the pool area. The pool area is dark. Can’t they afford lights? It costs $20 for a family to go for a swim here.

— There are fifteen swimming classes going on in the teaching pool, all the lengths lanes are open, there are old folks in the hot tub, and diving lessons at the other end of the building. It looks like a cave and sounds like a canyon. I think there are things dripping from the ceiling. The ceiling seems very far away.

— Oh, the pool is COLD! Well, the air is warm. Go on now. Learn to swim.

— Here comes my twenty-five minutes to read a book! But there is nowhere to sit that isn’t damp because there have been lessons here for the past three hours straight. Damp damp damp dampness in my butt. I am sweating and damp and clammy.

— Why would your instructor dunk you in the pool and traumatize you for the next six weeks? How terrible.

— It’s 22 minutes past the hour; I must put away my book and grab the towels and meet the children at the edge of the teaching pool; run, run, run to get a change room, there are only ten rooms for sixty kids, what do you MEAN no running on the pool deck, RUN RUN RUN COME ON!

— Yes, those people *are* fighting over who was in line first. Yes, they *are* adults. Well.

— Peeling wet suits off children; trying to dry them while they aim the hand-held shower head at each others’ feet; getting the towels wet; working up a sweat because I am fully clothed in what is basically a sauna; listening to the children in other rooms scream and get screamed at.

— OF COURSE YOUR SOCKS WILL GET WET IF YOU STEP ON THE FLOOR IN THEM THAT IS WHY I PUT YOUR BOOT RIGHT THERE WHERE YOUR FOOT IS WHAT IS WRONG NEVERMIND

— (or, the other half of the time, not getting a change room, deciding *not* to wait 20 minutes in line, so getting dressed in the disabled peoples’ stall in the bathroom. Insert row of ‘don’t touch that, don’t put that there, get off the toilet, etc.’ here.)

— We are going home for dinner as soon as you’re dressed. Yes. I know you’re hungry. So get dressed.

— Holy crap it’s COLD outside. And still raining. We forgot your umbrella. Let’s go back and find it.

— No, I won’t buy you vending machine food. No vending machine food. No vending machine food. Come ON.

— Wash all the things because they were all dropped on the change room/bathroom floor, which was wet and covered in hair and god knows what else.

— Fail Preschool Level 1 and Preschool Level 1, respectively.

Outdoor Pool Swimming lessons, July Edition:

— You’re already wearing your swim trunks because it’s hot. What a lovely day. Let’s get in the car and go to the pool for swimming lessons!

— Arlo: Are we late? I don’t want to be late. I hope we’re not late. Me: We’re not late. Arlo: Oh good.

— Take off your t-shirt and shoes. Put on your goggles. Bye, have a good class.

— What a lovely, shady tree. I will sit under it and read a book.

— This pool is small, so they don’t cram as many kids in. About twenty kids, four teachers.

— The breeze blows back my hair. Some sun flits through the tree branches. All around me is the sound of children playing in the park, children splashing in the pool, instructors instructing. “Let me see your ‘scissors.’ Where do we put our ears?”

— I hear Eli’s voice above the others in his class. “I want to go FIRST and be the FISHIE IN THE MIDDLE.”

— Class is over already! The children are dry before they leave the pool deck. We move a few feet into the sun and put down a blanket, eat a picnic lunch, then the children go play in the playground.

— Do I care if they pass the level? I do not.

— (A little. I care a little. But not nearly as much because I haven’t gone to as much trouble! It’s all about me.)

Outdoor swimming lessons in the summer: Recommended.

Forty-Four — EveryMom

We spent the weekend camping with a bunch of people, some of whom I knew and some of whom I didn’t, all of whom were totally awesome. Little kids frolicking on a mossy forest carpet, adults drinking their weight in assorted alcoholic beverages, walks and brisk air and sunshine and tent sleeping and campfire smell. O! Campfire smell, I have missed you. Perhaps I will have an opinion to share about camping with the kids, something we only did once before, three years ago, and which obviously scarred us. But at the moment I am too tired and can only relate two anecdotes.

1. Yesterday I was walking, alone, up the very steep hill from the beach to the campsite. A man and his teenage daughter and their big shaggy dog were walking ahead of me. The dog kept turning around to look at me and smile and pant at me. The man was getting annoyed because it is a steep hill and come on dog, just walk. They were walking so slowly that I passed them, and then the dog sniffed me and smiled and the man said, “There, you saw her, are you happy?” to the dog and I smiled at them and thought, “gosh I am such a special person that even DOGS have to smile at me,” and then I heard the man tell his daughter that he thought the dog thought I was her MOM. Not the dog’s mom. The girl’s mom. In other words, the dog thought I looked like its owner, who is the mother of a teenager.

2. Today I was at Safeway, alone, replenishing our food supply because we ate all our food when we went camping. Weird, huh? Anyway, this dude was pushing a toddler in a stroller and as I passed him the toddler got all excited and said something toddlery. I ignored him because I don’t talk to strange toddlers and then I heard the man say, “Yes, she DOES look like Mommy but she’s not really Mommy.”

First of all, suddenly my “you look familiar” face has gone from “that girl from the cheese shop? Maybe?” to “Mom” and how do I feel about that, I wonder? And second, he made it sound like I was purposely impersonating the kid’s mother. “She’s not REALLY MOMMY. Don’t be fooled.” Hey, I’m just buying bread and apples, man! I don’t want to be anyone else’s mommy! I sure as hell don’t want to look like EveryMom, unless I can make money from it. Can I?

Is it too late to do commercials for laundry soap or yogurt? I guess then I’d have to eat yogurt. DEALBREAKER.

Forty-Three

Whoops, I missed a day and I’m about to miss another one. Don’t panic. Here are some pictures to sustain you.

Three tiny heads in the lake.

We went to the lake yesterday and it was cold outside but warm in the water, so that’s good enough for my crew.

This is how we encourage early literacy.

It is easy to read one story to one child but add another child and you end up with butts.

Oh what a feeling. Balloons on the ceiling.

Have a happy Friday and a swell weekend, see you Sunday night!

Forty-Two — PEEING

In the first house I shared with roommates, there was a window through which we could see the bathroom of the people next door. Their bathroom window had no curtain so when the man who lived there went to the loo, we could see the top half of his torso and because we were young and a bit obnoxious, we would holler “peeing!” when we saw him so that anyone else in our house who felt inclined could gather ’round and laugh hysterically.

***

Today I took the Skytrain and the Seabus (and I just realized how .. plain-spoken, or perhaps child-like are the names of our local modes of transportation. They are exactly what they sound like: a train that travels in the sky and a boat that acts like a bus by making short trips back and forth on the sea) with a friend and our collected four children and the main concern of all was: where can we pee. Is there a bathroom on the Skytrain? (no, there is not) Is there one on the Seabus? (nope) But there’s one in the terminal (yes) and one in the Lonsdale Quay market (yes) and there’s one in this restaurant (yes) and everything will be fine. Don’t worry if you have to pee now, there will be a place to pee later.*

Honestly, children, with a tiny bit of planning ahead, you should never have to pee so badly that it stresses you out. Could this be my most important piece of advice? We will have to wait and see.

* unless you are right downtown Vancouver, because there is no bathroom in the Waterfront Station and the promised bathroom at Harbour Centre across the street is closed for renovations, so Arlo had to pee at the Tim Hortons around the corner and that meant I had to buy an iced coffee that tasted like iced-coffee-flavour but on the bright side, Eli found a long-stemmed red rose on the sidewalk. True love, dropped.

The Big Four-Oh

Hi, this is my fortieth post. I want you to know that I just spent two minutes staring at the letters “for” and wanting to type “tiest” at the end. Fortiest. It’s the FORTIEST!

Today I got the day off because Saint Aardvark is having a vacation, and it’s coming from inside the house! How splendid. After a week of summer vacation and two birthday celebrations for Arlo and a heat wave and some other stuff, it sure was nice to have a day off with no small children grappling at my flesh or talking to me.

First, I slept in until 7. Well, first I woke up at 5 but I managed to suffocate myself back to sleep until 7. By suffocate I mean put a pillow on my head just hard enough to shut out the world but not hard enough to actually suffocate. Obvs.

Then, I had a blueberry banana smoothie and some coffee and wrote in my morning journal out on the porch.

The kids and SA left for a trip uptown to the library and park. I ate some cereal.

Deciding to pack as much stuff into one day as possible, I decided to go for a run. I nearly expired from the heat. It is not that hot and it was only 9:30 and I don’t run that far — roughly 5 km — but I got really overheated anyway. I stood stock still under the cold spray of the shower when I got home, and it was so good I might have cried. The run was also good. I get a bit squirrely if I don’t get my exercise for a week.

I visited a friend for 11 am. We caught up on our lives and our children’s lives and she made us salads from her garden’s lettuce and topped them with hard boiled eggs and Swiss cheese. Then we went out to a nearby coffee shop to have a writing date. This friend and I get together periodically and the math goes: one hour of talking to fifteen minutes of writing, but the fifteen minutes makes us feel incredibly proficient and good about ourselves, so it counts for twice as long. I declare it.

I had an Earl Grey tea and she had an iced tea that was the colour of Hawaiian Punch.

At 2:30 I drove myself home in the car. It was hot like an oven so I drove fast to cool off. When I walked in the house, Eli shouted, “You’re HOME!” and ran over to hug me. “I am going to have some apple juice!” he announced. I believe these two statements are unrelated but you never know.

The rest of the afternoon was lazy and ended with barbecued chicken and corn on the cob (the children still don’t like corn on the cob, in case you’re keeping track. Apparently it’s “too sweet with a weird taste” [that’s Arlo; Eli won’t try it {sigh}]) and leftover birthday party cupcakes for dessert.

Now I hear bagpipes through my living room window — they practise in the Justice Institute across the street — and SA has gone to a mountain with his telescope to look at the night sky. I’m having wine, the cat is next to me on the couch, and now you know: the rest of the story.

Thirty-Eight — Monkey Bars

As part of Ginger’s Bring Back the Words series of prompts, I am posting a moment of peace from my week.

I was going to do this prompt days ago but guess what, there has been little in the way of peace this week. Lots of noise, fighting, adjusting, deep breathing, and some sleeping, but little that I would call peace, until today.

This afternoon the kids and I walked up to the elementary school to play in the playground. It’s a really nice playground, with big trees that provide some shade, and several different levels of playground equipment. We played there before it was Arlo’s school, when my heart leapt to my mouth when he was a toddler climbing the so-many-feet-tall green playground structure. And we have spent many, many hours there since he started school, during which hours I have watched him jump to the ground from that same green structure.

Today, both kids were all about the monkey bars. Arlo has a graceful way about him on monkey bars, a rhythm. He has the same rhythm when he walks, which looks more like skipping or dancing. He uses his whole body, head to toe, to propel himself from one bar to the next. He learned to do the bars halfway through his kindergarten year and has incredible upper body strength. I am awestruck every time.

As a younger sibling, Eli has learned the monkey bars a year earlier than his brother did. He moves from bar to bar with a more jerky movement, his lower body stays stiff while he swings. And he can’t reach the higher bars because his arms just aren’t quite long enough, but he tries and tries, dropping to the ground, laughing, getting up and trying again.

The two of them on separate sets of bars, swinging without speaking, all concentration and the slap of bare hands against metal. I could watch them forever.

Thirty-Six — Hammers

How is it only Wednesday, July 3rd? Seriously.

I mean, already! Already Wednesday, July 3rd. Thinking positively!

We spent almost four hours at the park with the wading pool today. The wading pool gets filled at noon and drained at 3. It takes 45 minutes to fill and test for poisonous bum germs, and another 30 for the park attendant to throw all the toys in. Among the usual water toys (buckets, boats) were three inflatable hammers. At first the shock of the freezing cold water rendered my shouty children speechless (well worth the price of admission.) Then they proceeded to fight over the inflatable hammers because wouldn’t you? Yes, there were three hammers and three boys who were playing together (my two and their friend), but there were also two older boys who took one of the hammers and oh! there was much hammer negotiating and hammer smashing and “don’t smash me with that hammer!”ing.

Bless the park attendant, who engaged everyone in some ball-tossing and What Time is It Mr. Shark-ing, but before long, one boy had turned his head, looking for the hammer, and shortly thereafter the hammer wars started up again.

Next time I go to the park with the wading pool, I will slip a safety pin in my pocket. Hammer problem: solved.

Thirty-Five

Reality has set in. The first half-day of summer vacation, it rained. The second we went to run errands. The three-day weekend involved two adults. Today, it was just me and two kids.

I had no plan for today. I thought about making a plan and then I thought, no, I will WING IT because people do, all the time, and nothing bad happens. Wrong! People do, all the time, and they suffer for it. Make no mistake. Learn from mine.

6:00 The kids are up.

6:30 I am up.

7:00 SA leaves for work.

8:00 The kids have finished breakfast and TV time and they go outside to sell rocks, a task which involves paper and pens and making signs and deciding on price points.

8:30 No customers. Sadness fills the land. They decide to make bookmarks instead. I try to help them make nice straight bookmarks but they are all about the speed. Eli scribbles madly on a bookmark. I am unjustly irritated by this. “What is that?” I ask. “It’s SPACE,” he says. Fine.

9:00 No customers. Sadness fills the land. They come inside and paint each others’ faces with face paint and then decide they will paint peoples’ faces instead of sell rocks.

The same problem occurs, namely that there are no customers. It is Tuesday. People are at work, on holiday, or our lovely retiree neighbours J & B, who have bought their share of rocks already and are no way in hell going to get their faces painted.

9:45 I offer to take the kids to the park. They decline, insisting they will wait for face paint customers.

I feel good about this, I guess, because they are self-amusing, so I can tidy the kitchen and read things and do laundry and not talk to anyone but I also feel out of sorts because we go out in the mornings, it’s what we do, and I feel like I can’t commit to anything unless the proper protocols have been observed which is why, in a nutshell, I cannot WING IT. There are protocols. If I start something, I will be interrupt–

10:00 We need a snack! (see?)

They eat a snack and then go back outside to wait for face paint customers.

10:30 I ask them when they might want to go out and get some apples. We are all out of apples. I have given up on the park but I will not relent on the apples. Eli says in 30 minutes. I take a shower.

11:00 Arlo decides he wants to go out after all! and spend some of his birthday money on a toy. He proposes Toys R Us. I counter-propose Superstore, since I can get apples there. We agree.

11:30 – 12:30 Superstore. I walk past the fitting room in the clothing section and hear two children fighting and their mother say “That is IT there are NO MORE CHANCES,” and I almost go over and knock on her door to tell her it will probably all be OK but I have to stop my children from hitting each other with clothes hangers.

Arlo buys a small gun that shoots darts. Eli brings $2 of his money to spend and while I appreciate that my children are careful shoppers seriously oh my god just buy something I am going to die here listening to Peter Cetera and other peoples’ children fighting in the fitting room. Eli buys two bottles of scented bubbles and is very happy with them so that’s a relief. No bubbles buyer’s remorse.

I buy apples.

3:00 We make an afternoon trip to the park across the street. We are so lucky to have a park across the street. If the park was further away I would *really* be annoyed that Arlo just sits there next to me the whole time we are there while Eli runs around playing, and then whines and complains when I say it is time to go. “I was having fun,” he insists. “It didn’t seem like it to me,” I insist back. “Next time just ask me,” he says. Oh you bet I will.

6:00 Dinner: barbecued chicken, couscous salad with broccoli. SA comes home and takes the kids over to the community centre for Arlo’s first karate class. At first I plan to go too and then I think better of it. If I’m going to survive this summer, I need to take whatever scraps of solitude I can.

(Don’t worry, tomorrow I have a plan.)

bad with titles

pretty good with stories