During tough times, I often think of what my mom, Aunt Kathy and grandma would say. Neither Grandma nor Aunt Kathy is with us anymore, but if I need a refresher, I can always give my mom or cousin Steph a call.
Below are a few of these classic sayings with my more modern interpretation. "Kind" and "gracious" are two words that come to mind when I think of these women. How my mother ended up with such crass daughters is beyond me.
The italics are my explanation for each adage.
Turn your sails. Stop obsessing about that thing you're obsessing about because you're wearing a groove into your brain.
Anger is like an acid that dissolves the container it's in. Stop swimming in the shit. You're just making yourself sick.
Resentment is like eating rat poison and expecting someone else to die. See above.
Anyone can have a normal mother. My neuroses are preparing you for the real world.
Put a good face on it. Play along and try to avoid doing or saying something you'll have to apologize for later. There's nothing worse than having to apologize to an arsehole.
Don't take it out of your hide. Stop beating yourself up.
Let sleeping dogs lie. For god's sake, why are you waking a sleeping baby to feed her?!
Only offer one excuse for opting out of something. If you have more than one, even if they're legitimate, you look like a liar. You have the right to NOT explain yourself. The less said the better.
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Just do it and deal later.
If you have nothing nice to say, then don't say anything at all. Shut up, bitch.
And that's where I'll end this.
What about you? What are the family sayings that pop into your head?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Wordless Wednesday: Ahoy there, Sleepy!
Who said an eyepatch and a pantyhose cap can't be sleepwear?Monday, March 15, 2010
I'll have the français fries
I don't parlez-vous
But hubby and the children do
And they pulled me through
We had a family getaway to Montreal this past weekend to kick off March Break. It was a relief to escape the home front even for only 48 hours.
The girls were so excited. We've never been tourists before. We usually visit relatives or stay home. Getting out of town where you know no one is very liberating, provided you set your expectations sufficiently low when traveling with children.
And what's a hotel stay without...
Wear your glasses and use a flashlight. In an earlier post, I wrote about dealing with bed bugs. The goal here is to avoid, avoid avoid. If you see any evidence, then quietly ask for another room. But the Holiday Inn in Longeuil passed the test. However, we stored our luggage under the sink in the bathroom, just in case.
The girls were thrilled with the pool, but when the manager mentioned the pool opened at 5:30 a.m., I could've decked him.
As it turned out, it wasn't thoughts of the pool that awakened my little 7-year-old, it was the coffeemaker that got her heart racing at 5 a.m.
Lying there in that twilight between sleeping and waking, I felt I was being watched. I opened my eyes and it was a blue-eyed cyclopse staring at me.
"Mommy, do you want coffee? I could make you a coffee," she asked, hopeful of a yes.
"It's too early."
And that was it. Every 10 minutes the question was repeated. I know when to throw in the towel, or at least when to throw it into a bag.
At 6:30 a.m., the swimsuit-clad girls and I headed to the pool. At least it wasn't 5:30 a.m.
After the buffet breakfast of français toast and Fruit Loops, it was off to the Biodome.
I loved this outing; next time though I'll sign us up for the insectarium and the botanical gardens too.
We saw:
Although, when I look at the above picture all I can think about is how I need to get my roots touched up.
It's not a tumour! Actually, this bony deposit on its head is how the duck stays in constant communication with the mothership.
If you squint very carefully and touch your nose to the screen, you'll see the penguins behind Elder Daughter (back) Younger Daughter.
Although, after watching that terrible new Robin Williams and John Travolta movie, Old Dogs, in the hotel room that night, we realized how fierce and dangerous penguins can be.
After that we were off to...
On the short jaunt to the lookout, there was an owner with a Great Dane in front of us. It was a male (the dog, I mean). It was hard to miss, with those furry balls bouncing and jiggling in front of us.
I had a Kelly Oxford moment, remembering her Tweet about this, I said to my husband, "Put some underwear on that dog."
We were giggling through our noses quite a bit.
"Ew! What's that onion-shaped thing hanging from the dog's butt?" asked Younger.
"Why, those are the dog's testicles," replied Oli, channeling his inner science teacher.
"Yuuuuck," said Elder.
It was a learning moment.
I think my husband's going to patent jocks for dogs and then we can retire early and travel the world, knowing we've saved future pedestrians from views of unfettered dog balls.
But hubby and the children do
And they pulled me through
We had a family getaway to Montreal this past weekend to kick off March Break. It was a relief to escape the home front even for only 48 hours.
The girls were so excited. We've never been tourists before. We usually visit relatives or stay home. Getting out of town where you know no one is very liberating, provided you set your expectations sufficiently low when traveling with children.
And what's a hotel stay without...
A thorough mattress examination.
Wear your glasses and use a flashlight. In an earlier post, I wrote about dealing with bed bugs. The goal here is to avoid, avoid avoid. If you see any evidence, then quietly ask for another room. But the Holiday Inn in Longeuil passed the test. However, we stored our luggage under the sink in the bathroom, just in case.
The girls were thrilled with the pool, but when the manager mentioned the pool opened at 5:30 a.m., I could've decked him.
As it turned out, it wasn't thoughts of the pool that awakened my little 7-year-old, it was the coffeemaker that got her heart racing at 5 a.m.
Lying there in that twilight between sleeping and waking, I felt I was being watched. I opened my eyes and it was a blue-eyed cyclopse staring at me.
"Mommy, do you want coffee? I could make you a coffee," she asked, hopeful of a yes.
"It's too early."
And that was it. Every 10 minutes the question was repeated. I know when to throw in the towel, or at least when to throw it into a bag.
At 6:30 a.m., the swimsuit-clad girls and I headed to the pool. At least it wasn't 5:30 a.m.
Yes, the hot tub can be relaxing at ANY hour.
After the buffet breakfast of français toast and Fruit Loops, it was off to the Biodome.
I loved this outing; next time though I'll sign us up for the insectarium and the botanical gardens too.
We saw:
A nice porcupine.
Although, when I look at the above picture all I can think about is how I need to get my roots touched up.
A duck with a facial tumour.
It's not a tumour! Actually, this bony deposit on its head is how the duck stays in constant communication with the mothership.
Penguins! Loved the penguins.
If you squint very carefully and touch your nose to the screen, you'll see the penguins behind Elder Daughter (back) Younger Daughter.
Although, after watching that terrible new Robin Williams and John Travolta movie, Old Dogs, in the hotel room that night, we realized how fierce and dangerous penguins can be.
After that we were off to...
Mont Royal for the lookout shot.
On the short jaunt to the lookout, there was an owner with a Great Dane in front of us. It was a male (the dog, I mean). It was hard to miss, with those furry balls bouncing and jiggling in front of us.
I had a Kelly Oxford moment, remembering her Tweet about this, I said to my husband, "Put some underwear on that dog."
We were giggling through our noses quite a bit.
"Ew! What's that onion-shaped thing hanging from the dog's butt?" asked Younger.
"Why, those are the dog's testicles," replied Oli, channeling his inner science teacher.
"Yuuuuck," said Elder.
It was a learning moment.
I think my husband's going to patent jocks for dogs and then we can retire early and travel the world, knowing we've saved future pedestrians from views of unfettered dog balls.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Can I have my brain back now? Please?
I feel that I should be reading all kinds of self-help books about grief and had a couple suggested to me--The Year of Magical Thinking and The Mourner's Dance. Thing is, I can't read very well and I can barely write because the adrenaline is gone. I feel like I have a family of squirrels nesting in my cranium.
In addition to my inability to read or write coherently, I can't follow conversations well. At all. I'm a visual learner. I need pictures and I need to actually do what I need to learn. I can't follow verbal information unless I can run the meeting or take over the conversation with questions. I'm always like that. Now, I feel like I'm under water when people are talking.
When people write about depression, they often talk about going to a dark place. But my place isn't all dark, it's kind of stupid really. It's a foggy, stupid place.
Also, I have the attention span of a gnat. But that's been a problem since I had children. Actually, having children was the time the first couple of squirrels moved in, ate some grey matter and replaced it with fluffy nesting material.
I decided I'd make up my own stages of grief. A couple of them are mine, but a couple are the real thing. Can you tell which is which?
Speaking of typos, my own personal favourite occurred a while back when I accidentally ended a work e-mail with "Retards" instead of "Regards" and no one noticed.
In addition to my inability to read or write coherently, I can't follow conversations well. At all. I'm a visual learner. I need pictures and I need to actually do what I need to learn. I can't follow verbal information unless I can run the meeting or take over the conversation with questions. I'm always like that. Now, I feel like I'm under water when people are talking.
When people write about depression, they often talk about going to a dark place. But my place isn't all dark, it's kind of stupid really. It's a foggy, stupid place.
Also, I have the attention span of a gnat. But that's been a problem since I had children. Actually, having children was the time the first couple of squirrels moved in, ate some grey matter and replaced it with fluffy nesting material.
I decided I'd make up my own stages of grief. A couple of them are mine, but a couple are the real thing. Can you tell which is which?
- Anger - Did a post on this. Nuff said.
- Projectile vomiting - Did a post on this too.
- Seeking a geographical cure - Since most accidents happen close to home, let's move. Now! But, since packing up my family and moving us all to Sudbury is impractical, I signed up for a cycling trip to Spain in April. See also #4.
- Retail therapy - Superficiality is the balm for my soul: bought stuff, have become an avid reader of People magazine because the story lines are easy to follow, actually started whitening my teeth with those Crest White Strips in my drawer and now do the occasional mud mask. And yet, I'm not watching the Oscar's? Why? Too hard to follow. Too many names and title thingies.
- Bitterness - Don't feel there's much of a point to being optimistic. Especially when I think back to New Year's Eve when my husband and I clinked our glasses together and said 2010 would be "a good year". What were we thinking? Am now so negative that I figure if my plane to Spain doesn't crash, I'll probably get hit by a car while riding around Mallorca on the fancy rental racing bike.
- Depletion - Not feeling resilient. Dealing with my brother in law's death, my husband's heart failure and various house woes, including bed bugs over the past five or six years has me running on empty.
Speaking of typos, my own personal favourite occurred a while back when I accidentally ended a work e-mail with "Retards" instead of "Regards" and no one noticed.
Monday, March 1, 2010
A brother's tribute
My husband's eulogy for his older brother was the most beautiful tribute I've ever heard or read. He has given me permission to print it here. First, a little background.
I've often said that Simon and Oli looked like a photo negative. Both strikingly similar in height and good looks, but one light and one dark. Simon took to every motorized sport going--snowmobiling, four wheeling, boating, motorbiking; whereas his brother embraced the motorless ones--running, biking, skiing, swimming, rock climbing, windsurfing, canoeing...
Simon was bold and loud, a true Ottawa Valley lad; Oli introspective and soft spoken. The picture below, sums up their relationship, the light above, the dark below. Simon would jump into things and Oli would go along too, but he always had his brother's back.
I've often said that Simon and Oli looked like a photo negative. Both strikingly similar in height and good looks, but one light and one dark. Simon took to every motorized sport going--snowmobiling, four wheeling, boating, motorbiking; whereas his brother embraced the motorless ones--running, biking, skiing, swimming, rock climbing, windsurfing, canoeing...
Simon was bold and loud, a true Ottawa Valley lad; Oli introspective and soft spoken. The picture below, sums up their relationship, the light above, the dark below. Simon would jump into things and Oli would go along too, but he always had his brother's back.
Note: The names of our daughters have been removed for privacy reasons.
Simon: A life so fully lived
How can it summarize a life lived so fully, the life of my brother, your friend, your son, in just a few minutes? I can't. But I can tell you about some of the important people in Simon's life.
Simon was extremely loyal to all of these people. He lit up a room with his smile and his booming voice: "Hey, what's goin' on?"
Jeff and Tom, you guys are like brothers to Simon. Jeff, you guys talked several times a day. Your family--Julie, Cindy, Charles and Ellen--you all meant so much to Si over the years. Julie, so many good times.
Tom, how many times did you rebuild that damned sled?
Lex, how he loved coming down to the Bay to relax, fish a bit and chat a lot. I haven't forgotten about the minnows for life (Simon installed a furnace for Lex shortly before he died and said he'd take payment in the form of bait. Lex operates a bait, tackle and ice hut business on the side).
Peter whose couch Simon slept on through much of high school--the weekends anyway. Sharing tea around your family's table the next morning.
Wheels, you are The Country Man. Imagine you, working for the city.
David, (I offer) thanks to you and your family for taking Si under your wing with the hunt camp. He loved going up there so much!
The Baskin Family--Tom, you recognized Simon's incredible capacity for work. And of course, his love of cash. Alma, Mark and Bruce, you all believed in and brought out the best in Si.
Dad and Liz, so many gourmet dinners over the years. Dad, your love and pride in the man Simon had become. And the Pathfinder "Chili" you gave Si. He put more miles on that in the last few months than I put on in a year.
My darling daughters, who helped Uncle Si's tender loving heart to shine through. Younger daughter, I'm sure that you will remember the chemistry set and the cuddles. You swarmed him with, "Uncle Si! Uncle Si!" when he came to visit.
Elder daughter, how you absolutely adore your uncle. When Si came back from out west, I remember you dancing for him to the song, "Cowboy take me away". You are so brave. (She choreographed and performed a dance to Dixie Chicks' Easy Silence as part of the funeral service moments before).
Patti my darling wife, you always included Si and made him feel so welcome in our home.
Mum, who loves every fibre of Simon's being. Who stuck with him, bailed him out. Who managed to convince our young entrepreneur to go to college. You introduced him to Mexico and the hammock. Oh, I know how much you will miss him.
Oh Si, you are so worthy of our love. I will miss you so much. We all will miss you so much! You will continue to be in our heads and in our hearts. Brother, my love for you is unconditional.
Now that the hard part has been said, Lex, you know those minnows? I was thinking we should start a memorial fishing tournament. Can I share my free minnows with everyone?
Simon: A life so fully lived
How can it summarize a life lived so fully, the life of my brother, your friend, your son, in just a few minutes? I can't. But I can tell you about some of the important people in Simon's life.
Simon was extremely loyal to all of these people. He lit up a room with his smile and his booming voice: "Hey, what's goin' on?"
Jeff and Tom, you guys are like brothers to Simon. Jeff, you guys talked several times a day. Your family--Julie, Cindy, Charles and Ellen--you all meant so much to Si over the years. Julie, so many good times.
Tom, how many times did you rebuild that damned sled?
Lex, how he loved coming down to the Bay to relax, fish a bit and chat a lot. I haven't forgotten about the minnows for life (Simon installed a furnace for Lex shortly before he died and said he'd take payment in the form of bait. Lex operates a bait, tackle and ice hut business on the side).
Peter whose couch Simon slept on through much of high school--the weekends anyway. Sharing tea around your family's table the next morning.
Wheels, you are The Country Man. Imagine you, working for the city.
David, (I offer) thanks to you and your family for taking Si under your wing with the hunt camp. He loved going up there so much!
The Baskin Family--Tom, you recognized Simon's incredible capacity for work. And of course, his love of cash. Alma, Mark and Bruce, you all believed in and brought out the best in Si.
Dad and Liz, so many gourmet dinners over the years. Dad, your love and pride in the man Simon had become. And the Pathfinder "Chili" you gave Si. He put more miles on that in the last few months than I put on in a year.
My darling daughters, who helped Uncle Si's tender loving heart to shine through. Younger daughter, I'm sure that you will remember the chemistry set and the cuddles. You swarmed him with, "Uncle Si! Uncle Si!" when he came to visit.
Elder daughter, how you absolutely adore your uncle. When Si came back from out west, I remember you dancing for him to the song, "Cowboy take me away". You are so brave. (She choreographed and performed a dance to Dixie Chicks' Easy Silence as part of the funeral service moments before).
Patti my darling wife, you always included Si and made him feel so welcome in our home.
Mum, who loves every fibre of Simon's being. Who stuck with him, bailed him out. Who managed to convince our young entrepreneur to go to college. You introduced him to Mexico and the hammock. Oh, I know how much you will miss him.
Oh Si, you are so worthy of our love. I will miss you so much. We all will miss you so much! You will continue to be in our heads and in our hearts. Brother, my love for you is unconditional.
Now that the hard part has been said, Lex, you know those minnows? I was thinking we should start a memorial fishing tournament. Can I share my free minnows with everyone?
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