Something interesting happened on the way to the barbecue.

Each year the parents of my children's elementary school host a welcome back barbecue during the month of September. All the other logistics aside, the greatest challenge of recent years seems to have been how to get people to actually come to the barbecue. Which honestly is a bit odd to me, given that our school is relatively small, less than 300 children from kindergarten through grade 7. We are quite a tightly knit little community, what I would almost call a small town in the midst of a much larger city. Many of my parental peers actually grew up themselves in this same area, went to the same schools as our children now attend. But for some reason, people drifted away from each other, and consequently from supporting our school as a group too. Granted, it can be very difficult to maintain relationships with other parents and families if you are working long hours yourself, which leaves very little time left over for your own family, let alone your friends.
But last night something kind of amazing happened. Blame it on the nice late summer/early fall evening full of sunshine, or maybe the full moon that appeared later on, but it was fairly overwhelming, and certainly unexpected. Forms had been sent home inviting everyone to come and requesting that food orders be filled out so that we could gauge how many people to cook for. A small group of us parents spent the day of the barbecue shopping, slicing and dicing on the verge of hysteria (trust me, you try cutting up onions for almost 3 hours with someone who has resorted to wearing their daughter's bright blue swimming goggles in an attempt to keep from onion induced helpless weeping) and setting up all the necessary tables, chairs, food, drinks etc. The pre-order forms had come back with decent numbers, so by the end of the school day all we had left to do was sit back and hope everyone showed up.
Within the first half an hour though, we could see that our event was shaping up to be something completely different. The families started to arrive, and they just kept coming. And it wasn't just the folks who had filled out their order forms ahead of time. There were almost as many people showing up on the spur of the moment, hoping to be able to pay for supper on the spot and join in the fun. While I tried to split myself between the barbecue station, the condiments and drinks area, and the ladies selling the extra food tickets, I noticed a near identical look on the faces of all the parents who were volunteering to run the show. Everyone was wearing a look of almost fierce concentration and excitement, which I realize today was a result of the pride I would say we were all feeling at having somehow managed to bring all these people together. Not to mention the atmosphere in the gym and on the playground - it was almost electric. Incredibly, we ended up almost selling out of all our food and drinks by the end of the evening. I believe there were eight hamburgers left, and a few diced tomatoes and onions which are currently brewing in my crockpot as spaghetti sauce. A great many hands other than those who had signed up to help turned out to clean up and by 7pm the evening was a wrap, and we went home fairly exhausted but definitely exhilarated.
Why was it different this year? Maybe that's just how things go, you cycle through some bad years and then back through some good years, I don't know. But there was something in the air last night for sure, something exciting. And I wasn't the only who felt it - many parents and teachers expressed to me the same feelings that I was having. So now we have to ride the wave, keep this good vibration going. Something interesting definitely happened on the way to the barbecue. What's next?

If women ruled the world....

If women ruled the world, tampons would be free. At least I like to think so. Maybe not diapers, but men would have to change more of them.
If women ruled the world, there would be dancing every day. Every PAC meeting would end with dancing. We would have dance breaks at work. I'm talking full body, let it all go, dancing with total abandonment dancing.
If women ruled the world, there would be no such thing as underwire bras. Muffin tops would be desirable, and stretch marks worthy of adulation.
If women ruled the world, rapists and child molesters would be dealt with swiftly and never heard from again.
If women ruled the world, there would be no such thing as supermodels. Just super role models. 
If women ruled the world, shopping would be a recognized Olympic sport.
If women ruled the world, being a housewife and/or mother would be among the most highly valued and revered jobs in society around the world. And it would pay well too.

I could go on. And on. What am I saying? That we don't rule the world? Hmmm. So if not, why not? What would it take to get there? Do we have to rule? Could we be happy being co-captains of the world, or at least our own worlds? Maybe that should be the ultimate goal for all of us. Being happy in your life, being proud of what you do, feeling valued for what you contribute. That would be a pretty perfect world.
Oh yeah, and don't forget the free tampons.

the marital bed

Yes, I'm going to stand up and say it. Why on earth do we continue to attempt to sleep in the same beds as our spouses night after night? Let me be perfectly clear. I am not referring to the sexual side of the marital bed, not at all. Get it on whenever you can, and all the power to you, especially if you are trying to squeeze it in(ha, so to speak) between nocturnal visits from your kids. But other than that, what are we thinking? Let's face it. Unless you are the uber perfect couple from another planet, at least one person in each partnership snores or grinds their teeth or flails around all night whacking the other person periodically in the head or talks in their sleep(or if you're my husband, yells, laughs, and carries on lengthy conversations) and so on. You all know what I'm talking about.  I mean, when Lucy and Desi had twin beds in their room, we assume that it because back in the day the networks couldn't show a couple sharing a queen size mattress together, heaven forbid. But now I am thinking that maybe they were actually on to something. I however would venture that we take it a step further. I will go out on a limb here and say that I believe every adult should have their own master suite. Really, can you imagine? Wouldn't that be great - dare I say fanfrickingtastic? But it rarely happens. Why? Because no matter how desperate we are to get a good night's sleep, we don't want to hurt the other person's feelings by making them think we don't want to be near them. When in reality, we really don't want to be near them, WHEN WE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP. Why is that such a bad thing? I cannot tell you how many times my husband and I have both lost sleep because one us has put a pillow over the face of the other one who is snoring, causing that person to wake up and wonder loudly why there is a pillow over their face...and then we're both awake, and crabby and you all get the picture. So we should just each have our own rooms. Think about it, we could each decorate to our own tastes, so if you're a girly girl it won't matter to your husband if you want frilly pink pillow shams anymore, and he could watch Sportsnet all night long if he wants to in his man bedroom/cave. I think it's a win win no matter how you look at it.
Okay, but here's the tricky part. See, we are a very busy couple. Like most people we know, our life is full. By the time we are done with work, dinner, soccer, homework, fixing broken plumbing, cleaning up the dirty dishes, making lunches for the next day etc etc etc, it's pretty late in the evening. So our quality time together tends to spent in bed for the last hour before we crash for the night. And there's the problem.  We both finally relax and indulge in our favorite evening past time together - watching the Real Housewives and the Food Network, come on, get your minds out of the gutter - and then eventually fall asleep. If we had our own rooms, which one of us is getting up to go there before we fall asleep and which one of us gets to stay put? Do we have to work out a  schedule, take turns? See, because now it sounds like maybe just too much work, one more thing to pencil in and organize. So until I figure out how to teleport from one room to another, I suspect the marital bed will remain shared, and we will just have to stock up on Breathe Right strips and earplugs. Good night!

Easy button.

I want an easy button. You know, that big red button you get to push when whatever it is you are trying to accomplish just becomes too overwhelming, and you just can't take it any more. And if could have one, I would swear to use it for just one purpose. I would willingly slog through every other thing that comes my way, if I just have the easy button for this one thing. What am I talking about? The LAUNDRY. I know, I know, just the other day I said I hated trying to figure out what to make for dinner. True. However, the upside of that chore is that once you DO figure it out, all you have to do is cook, and the task is complete. With laundry, the job is never done, you never get to the finish line, it just goes on and on and on.  And I swear to god or whatever almighty thing may be out there in the universe that there is a conspiracy by my family to make my laundry nightmare as complicated as possible. So here are my list of laundry rules that I would like to try to live by, since I suspect that easy button aint coming my way. In fact, I think I am going to print them out, laminate them and post them somewhere I know everyone will notice  -  like the tv.

First, if you get up in the morning and notice you are out of underwear, turn your last pair inside out, gather up your dirty pairs, take them to the laundry room and then ask me nicely if I would mind washing them. I can do that. However, what I cannot do is magically make a clean pair appear for you right now this second, and sorry but I refuse to go through everyone's dressers on a daily basis in order to monitor the levels of your clean underwear. In my books, if you are old enough to put on your own clean underwear and pronounce the word underwear, you are old enough to figure out when you are about to run out of underwear. This rule of course applies to my husband as well.
Second, if your clothes are dirty, please put them in your hamper. Do not put them back in your dresser, or drop them on the floor, or hide them in the back of your closet, or place them ambiguously on a chair or on top of a dresser. Then I have to play the "is this dirty?" game, which usually involves having to smell said clothes, and that can turn out to be quite gross.
If you try something on and decide not to wear it, PUT IT AWAY AGAIN. If I give you a stack of neatly folded clean clothes to put away, PUT THEM AWAY. Please. In your dresser.
And lastly, if I accidentally wash a red sock with your whites, and turn all your underwear pink, I am sorry. Look on the bright side - at least you have CLEAN underwear, right?

If this works, I'll let you know. I'll frigging patent it, make a million bucks, and hire someone else to do my laundry for the rest of my life. Now THAT would just be too easy, wouldn't it?

If you build it...

I like to think of myself as a "the glass is half full" kind of person - always look on the bright side of life if you will. (Cue the Monty Python music please) So when the sewer backed up into our basement yesterday, rather than despairing over the damage my first thought was, well, thank god I have this terrible cold right now, and I can't smell what according to my kids is an absolutely revolting odor coming from downstairs. My second thought was hey, maybe it's time to reno the basement a little sooner than we'd planned - I guess we'll get some nice new flooring out of all this. Easy for me to say, I am the idea lady, and my husband is the master of my disaster. This is the joy of living with a general contractor. Although I have to be very careful - if I muse out loud one day that it might be nice to get rid of that wall between the kitchen and the dining room, I have only myself to blame when I arrive home the next day from shopping or whatever and find the house in a total state of deconstruction, wall gone, kids cleaning up old drywall and nails.
I've heard people say that the renovation obsession is a relatively new phenomenon. While it's true that I don't recall a single renovation show on tv as a kid, I think people have been house proud since the dawn of time. And I totally get that, I really do. I walk around my home, and our property and feel an almost fierce sense of ownership at times. So while granite countertops and stainless steel appliances have replaced formica and shag carpet as the must haves in our homes, the need to create the perfect personal space remains the same. Although really, I'd like to know who died and made granite god? It's super duper hard, and things break when they fall over on it. But I digress.
Anyway, I am just as guilty as the next person, maybe more so. I went to school for interior design, so great was my thirst for building and architecture. I married a general contractor, who can build anything I can dream up. My kids have literally grown up surrounded by power tools and drywall mud. I take loads of before, during and after pics. We lovingly spent 4 years gutting and renovating our old rancher, and the moment it was done, we said "oh, isn't it beautiful now?" and then sold it. Honestly, I can't imagine living in a house where I wouldn't want to change a thing. Fortunately for me, it will literally be years before I will ever come close to that dilemma in our "new" home. And I wouldn't want it any other way. Maybe that's the real reason that ruined carpets, or leaking ceilings ultimately don't phase me. I am an optimist, it's true. But more than that, I love having something to look forward to, something to dream about. And it's even better when you can share that with someone. How does the saying go, the couple who renovate together procreate together? Something like that.  While my husband and I don't agree on everything - ha! - we do share a passion for renovation, and placing our personal stamp on our home. Thank god, because he's got some stinky, soggy carpet to deal with when he gets home tonight....!

having a great time, wish you were here.

Hello all, love to stay and chat for a while, really I would, but someone is hungry, someone else won't stay in bed, and the sewer has backed up into our house and all over the basement carpet. Thank god my husband has access to plumber's tools and is in the process of being my hero and fixing this mess. However, I still have to go through the agony of defeat dealing with a child who will not stay in bed. I just want to take a shower and watch the season finale of Entourage - hopefully I recorded the right show this time, not some generic cop show again. As my mother would say, this too shall pass. Or maybe I'm thinking of Scarlet O'Hara - tomorrow is another day! Now she was a kick ass housewife.
Later!

I'm hungry

Before my lovely husband and I got married, some friends threw me a wedding shower. Actually, it was a surprise wedding shower. Having both been married once before, and with our first daughter already a year old and the twins percolating nicely in my oh so fertile womb, we were planning a very simple wedding, and hadn't given any thought to the extras like showers etc. So it was a fun surprise, complete with goofy party games and silly hats and excellent cake. The game I remember most was one where each person had to write down which household chore they hated the most, and then hand it over to the lady in charge of the game. Then each one was read out loud, with the tag line "between the sheets" added on to the end of each chore.  Naturally, much hilarity ensued. For myself, it was a tough call; I would gladly do away with ever having to do housework of any kind forever if I could, so how to choose just one thing? In the end I drew inspiration from my already daily household routine of housewife and mother, and picked "figuring out what to make for dinner", which isn't really all that funny when you add "between the sheets" after it. But seriously. Of all the things I deal with on a day to day basis with my family, I have to say the one that continues to threaten to push me completely over the crumbling brink of my sanity is hearing that dreaded phrase, "I'm hungry. What's for dinner?" Actually, even just hearing "I'm hungry..." invokes an immediate stress response in me.  I swear sometimes planning meals is the only thing I use my remaining brain cells for (okay, all that partying in university really took it out of me, and most of the rest of them have just wasted away amidst the recent years of dirty diapers and snotty noses). But try as I might, I don't enjoy it. Ironically, once I have made it through the torture of figuring out what to make, I really enjoy cooking. I'm even not half bad at it, most of the time, although there are certain gastronomic disasters in my past that I still have not lived down - yes, I'm talking about the slow cooker stuffing in particular, to all my in-laws who might read this!
One of my favorite ways to plan and execute a meal is with my sister. She and I try to cook dinner together at least once a week, while enjoying a glass (or three) of red wine. She has three teenage sons, so has been doing the family cooking thing for a few more years than I have, and therefore has a much vaster wealth of experience to draw from. So I find it quite inspiring to cook with her, as she always has great kid friendly yet haute cuisine ideas to put on the dinner table. Plus of course there's the added bonus that she lives in a time zone one hour ahead of me, so while she is putting the finishing touches on her supper table, I still have time to play catch up to get mine done. Yes, we live over 1000km apart, but that doesn't stop us from enjoying each other's company in the kitchen on a regular basis. Another big gun in my arsenal of menu planning is the cook book my mother made for me for Christmas a few years ago. She filled it with all our favorite family recipes from when I was growing up, and I have continued to add to it whenever I come up with a new winner. It is truly one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.
And lastly, when all else fails, and my brain totally jams, I have my husband to fall back on. Yes, I am one of those lucky ladies whose husband loves to cook, is great at cooking, and actually does cook every chance he gets. He reads cook books like they're novels. When we started renovating our kitchen 3 years ago (what, we like to take our time, get our renos just right) he installed a fabulous gas 5 burner, double oven range and hasn't stopped cooking since. So while I take care of most of our week day meals, I know that on the weekend it's his show, and I quite happily take on the role of prep cook and official food taster.
In answer to the dreaded "I'm hungry..."uttered mid-morning and/or mid-afternoon by my daughters, I am working on encouraging them to plan and prepare their own snacks(with supervision and veto power of course). I guess I'm hoping that it will kill two birds with one stone, so to speak - keep them from driving me completely mental, and instill in them how much more fun food is when you pick it, prep it and cook it yourself. Plus it would be a nice bonus if I could pass along the tradition of sharing kitchen time with your sister.

Just breathe...

When our children are sick, we drop everything and take them to the doctor. When our spouses are sick, we are expected to drop everything and BE the doctor. But when we are sick, what do we do? Do we stop, drop and roll and call the world to a halt so that we can take care of ourselves? No. In fact, I would say most of us housewives/mothers do not take care of ourselves until things become desperate. And usually by then, we are so sick that it takes us weeks to fully recover, made even more difficult to do because we continue on with our daily lives while attempting said effort to recover. Why is this? I will be the first to step up and say I am so not interested in being a martyr, so why can't I take a break and look after myself, or better yet ask someone else to take care of me when I'm not well? Perhaps it's genetic, or even just a learned behavior passed on from our mothers, who knows. But it's time to break the cycle, ladies!
Today I got up and realized that the cold I have had for some time now has definitely progressed passed just the cold stage, and it's time to face the fact that I have crossed over into the sinus infection/some kind of bronchial issue chapter of my illness. My first reaction was to dig through the "medicine" cupboard in the kitchen in search of old antibiotics that might be kicking around leftover from someone else's previous infection of some kind. I struck gold, about 3 days worth from the looks of it, and they even have my name on them - from the time I cut my foot on a piece of sheet metal and I reluctantly went in for a tetanus shot. I only did THAT because everyone said "oh, you should get a shot, you might get tetanus" and I thought, so really, how bad actually IS tetanus, and I googled it and saw a photo of some guy in final stage death contortions on the first page that came up, and so I thought, yeah that looks pretty bad, and I went and got the shot. And the doctor gave me some antibiotics for good measure, which I obviously didn't finish. Anyway. So I take a couple pills, find some old sticky eucalyptus oil bottle and inhale some of that thinking, okay, I should be good to go.
Not. Then I realize, hey, my kids are all in school now, all day long. I could drop them off and then go to the doctor. Actually get like, a check up. What a concept. So that's exactly what I did, and a few hours later I returned home armed with nasal spray and puffers and fresh antibiotics. I feel quite liberated. Not to mention I think I am already feeling better. So next time I feel like crap, instead of sucking it up and keeping it myself, I am going to take a deep breath (if I actually can) and I am going to ask for help! When my husband offers to make me some tea because he senses I am not myself and his kind heart is trying to find a way to help, I will let him! I will ask myself the question, if this was my child or my husband, would I take them/send them to the doctor? And if the answer is yes, then I will take myself, or if necessary, have someone take me.
So to all you housewives and moms out there, I say to you, just breathe. Take a big breath if you can, and take care of you.

you have entered another dimension...

So I'm watching my daughter at soccer practice the other night - yes, I have officially entered another dimension in space and time known as... the soccer mom zone. I decided at one point to go to my car (yes, alright, mini - fricking - van, there are you satisfied?) to sit down and sort through some library books I'd put on hold but hadn't really looked over yet. So I'm sitting in the passenger seat, with my door partially open, my foot outside on the pavement. Okay, here comes the hysterical housewife part...I look up just in time to see a rather posh looking older woman approach my car, thrust out both her arms, and proceed to slam my door against me. Reflexes still amazingly intact, I catch the door before it does too much damage to my leg/ankle, and stare in mute (yes, I know me, mute?) disbelief at this woman, who has now become part of a couple, as her husband appears to have joined her. I'm thinking, I don't know these people, what is going on? (not that people I DO know generally try to slam my car door on me either) Then they go for it. She starts screaming at me that my door was open so wide that I was blocking her sidewalk - which for the record is totally untrue - and that I don't belong in her neighborhood and I should get out right now. So I asked her whatever happened to manners - she could simply have asked me to close my door if I was in her way, instead of slamming it on me. At this point her husband screamed "that wasn't slamming the door, THIS is slamming the door!" and then he starts trying to force the door shut on me. Wow. So I calmly reached over, picked up my cell phone and said "Wow. You guys are CRAZY. You need to leave right now, or I am calling the police." However, instead of this striking fear into the hearts of these nutbars, they continue to scream at me, "ya, you go ahead, you call the police, you are the person who doesn't belong here...blah blah blah" you get the picture by now. And I'm talking about a nicely dressed, very put together older couple maybe in their sixties, walking their french bulldog. And I'm a nicely dressed, put together woman in her 40's watching her kid play soccer at an elementary school, which by the way, actually does happen to be in my neighborhood too. So great. Now what the hell do I do? Call their bluff, and dial 911, and say, yeah, I need some help, I'm being assaulted by the elderly at my  8 year old daughter's soccer practice?  So I'm waving my phone, and they're waving their arms, and we're all yelling at this point, and finally they walk away, and I put down my phone and attempt to stop shaking and figure out what just happened. Honestly, I still haven't got there. All I can glean from this bizarre experience is number one, for some reason I can't fathom, there are people out there who truly believe that normal rules of society just do not apply to them, and therefore it's perfectly okay to go around maiming innocent people who get in their way. And number two, why does it seem like I am ALWAYS one of those people in someone else's way?
So I have decided to take the high road on this one. Perhaps the hysterical housewife who attacked me was a shade of the future, a warning to me to remember not to take life too seriously, don't sweat the small stuff, or I'll end up shrieking at soccer moms in front of my entire neighborhood.  Hmmmmm....or maybe she was just a COMPLETE AND TOTAL LOON who served no other purpose than to provide me with just one more incredibly weird experience to add to my collection of strange tales I use to amaze my friends and family with.
If nothing else, I would have to say she sure made me look good...so thanks, crazy lady, and maybe I'll see you at tonight's practice....:)

The first day of the rest of my life...?

So today it's official, all three of my children are in school all day long, 5 days a week. And yes, you may ask, what am I doing with my precious, hard earned time? I started by reading my horoscope, which seemed incredibly and magically appropriate to today's atmosphere. Then I realized I had read Aries horoscope, and I am a Taurus. My real horoscope was much more garbled and vague as horoscopes usually are, and ended by asking me how I express myself creatively. Well, I thought I must express myself creatively all the time right? After some soul searching I was forced to admit to myself that retelling stories about the latest weird incident in my personal life to other moms on the playground probably doesn't count. Okay. So I figure writing definitely counts as a form of creative expression - I'll start a blog and then I will have an amazing answer for all those people who are going to or have already asked me what I am going to do with all my free time now!! For those who don't know me, until recently I was employed outside the home as a lover/seller of books. However, I am now a full time housewife, ready and waiting to be at my family's beck and call....really, did I just say that??
So here I am, taking the plunge into the virtual world of cyber writing, or whatever it is. Why the name hysterical housewife? Come on. While I'm sure there were other mommies at the school this morning tearfully dropping off their little ones, I will be totally honest and say that I was seriously trying to figure out how many drinks one could have and still have one's blood alcohol level back down to normal again by 3pm pick up time...hypothetically speaking of course.
All in all, I have to say us real housewives are a fascinating and shall we say, layered bunch? As in, there is definitely more than meets the eye. And since I have decided to embrace my housewifeyness (not sure if that's a word) I think it's time to venture boldly forth on a journey deep into the heart of every housewife out there, and see what's REALLY on their minds. Heheh, this is going to be good.