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January 14, 2005
Stalling implies the need to buy time. If there was a place I could go, like a store or a site on-line, that would take my order, for you know, TIME, I’d make the proprietors filthy stinking rich. My intention in coming here today was to leave you with my latest most embarrassing moment ever, so you would know I was alive and they would not move me over with the completeders just yet. But now that I’m here I’ll stay long enough to gush out an entry. If you could so kindly allow me a page or two of personal growth, the sniveling search for how I’m going to live the rest of my life, before I offer up my dose of humiliation.
Once upon a time, (September? October? November?) I swore you would never believe how insanely over my head I’ve been. It got crazier. What with my career as a dedicated wife and adoring mother to three busy-body children and the two full time jobs I was trying to squeeze into one and volunteering at the school and homework and cooking club and hockey and swimming lessons and illnesses and dance cards that were jam-packed, emails and phone calls owed, so many I felt sick, I could barely take my contact lenses out at night. My life was spinning round and round and something had to give. Like the woman who gains five pounds and then ten and fifteen, but only when she hits TWENTY does she take powerful steps to get back on track.
I stretched myself thin. People always ask me how I do it. What, juggling like a maniac? I’d shrug them off, or giggle. It’s my nature to be on the go, to keep busy. Not a lazy bone in my body, not even a knuckle. I’m loaded with over-extended ones mind you and that’s what I realized was my problem. I have this insatiable need to squeeze in one more thing…one more errand, one more project, one more phone call, one more load of laundry, one more party…one more batch of cookies. Trying to be everything to everyone and do it all? Maybe three kids ago I could swing it, but now? It’s physically impossible. I need to narrow my priorities. I’m aging by the half hour.
In fairness, Christmas sucks the life out of even the calmest, quietest souls. The true meaning of the holidays, the tightness of family and the joy and the awe of the season? When it comes down to a fight over a parking spot at the mall or fretting over whether your gift will be the same value as theirs or the dish you have to prepare for a party and the groceries you still have to pick up so you can prepare the dish for the party or how painful it is to see what you already bought is now really on sale, and wrapping, the wrapping I tell you, that is ALWAYS underestimated? I had moments where I wondered what the hell is the point. I was getting worse disorganized by the second. Forgetting things in my rushes, losing things in my messes. The only times I sat down in December were those times I was driving, but the one realistic notion I will give myself credit for? I knew my only option was to survive the holidays and be a new me in the New Year. The prospect of this was exhilarating.
So in the rush, we had the third or fourth annual kid’s gingerbread party. This year we left out gingerbread. One year they ate so much candy off the houses they didn’t recognize their parents and I’m still cleaning glue and glitter off my floors from last years foam house kits. This year there were TWENTY-FOUR kids ripping through my house. The girls were sweet and well mannered. Some of the parents, my friends, stayed. The ones with daughters nearly lost their eyeballs out their heads because the boys were wild. Flipping wild. I had the kids come in pyjamas for pizza, Santa Clause letters, a craft and a movie. Elf for Brandan’s gang and Caillou’s Christmas for the little girls. We skipped the craft, they skipped the movie. Hanging like a monkey or karate chopping an opponent is preferable, no? I think that was the one night in my year when time crept along. I planned to invite parents in for eggnog at the end of the night but as I peeled boys off walls or bodies I had them prepare their boots and coats and loot by the door, like firemen. The doorbell was their alarm.
There was one Saturday night, on the last busy weekend, days before Christmas, when Remo and the husband of one of my close friends, arranged for all of us to go to a movie downtown (Ocean’s Twelve, Brad, Jen, why?) and then to a nice restaurant (Newtown, owned by race car driver Jacques Villeneuve, our meals were awesome), we went out dancing, actually the guys did, we she’s felt under/over dressed, very not cool. Then we stayed at a hotel downtown. We had a blast but man, three days before Christmas?
At my cooking club in December, Molly taught us how to make sushi. Though the ingredients are not generally handy, it was surprisingly easy and if you made it for a party you would come off a genius. She started her meal with an endive-walnut-blue cheese salad, followed with stuffed roast pork, roasted sweet potatoes and garlic rappini and wrapped it up with a cranberry topped coffee cake. I loved the whole meal and will post how to’s as soon as I’m sure how to. Last month I hit a bad streak for cooking. Every recipe I tried, flopped. Even things I’d mastered, were disasters. The year came to an end, and I've pulled off some pretty good wowzer meals. Beef bourguignon that's fantastic for entertaining a crowd. A very good, sought after cranberry orange cookie. Both recipes are hitting the board as fast as I can type.
I bought a cookbook at Costco called the Rest of the Best Bridge Series, all tried and true recipes and I'm really excited about them. I have tough standards. Over and above delicious, I'm looking for things the kids will love or I could proudly serve for company. The bonus comes in it being as make-ahead as possible. I have two three-inch binders packed full of recipes and maybe 50 cookbooks. My plan this year is to start a new binder filled exclusively with my favorites, the ones that passed all my tests and I'll send down through the generations. They say cancer signed people have a passion for cooking and all three of my children are cancers. I guess that’s providing my gene pool had anything left to share.
Is it time for my story yet? Nah.
I know some baby congratulations are in order but I really want to catch up with the Moms to be first. I’m close, ladies.
This was a great year because the kids were mesmerized with the magic of Santa Clause. We talked him to DEATH and speaking of that, Brandan actually asked me why it is he got old before all of sudden he started to live forever. Hhmmm. Why do they call a U-turn a U-turn if on the sign the u looks like an n. The other day’s question was why is it when you balance on your head the blood rushes to your head and your face gets red but when you’re walking that doesn’t happen to your feet? Anyone know? Brandan has a need for logic and to question what appears illogical. Funny how my brain accepts things as they show up. Imagine having to get back to a six year old?
I’m pleased to report Kaillan turned sociable. For two months straight she flipped her lid everytime she had to go to daycare, worse, when she was there she stayed quietly, sadly away from everyone. Round about then, one of my girlfriends was able to get her daughter in on Kaillan’s days, and we noticed an incredible improvement. It was a fine a fine line. As she started giving into her anxiety she started dabbling in the fun of it. What an amazing turnaround. For all her drama princess routine, Kaillan is charmingly warm and sensitive. When a couple weeks ago Remo and I were knocked down by a gastro (because days before I bragged I never get the things), she wouldn’t leave my side, caressing my face and whispering about how I’m her best friend and she’s loves me three (She still says it. When she tells me she loves me and I say I love her too, she says she loves me three). Emmie was into repeating the sounds while Brandan was thrilled by the grossness.
Along came New Year’s and oh did I have me some fun. On and off the rocks. We crawled in at 4:30 and it took me till noon the following day (and a big mac, a mcchicken and the rest of two happy meals) to appreciate the blast we won’t be having again anytime soon, ever. Did you make any resolutions? I went to town with them. People are funny about these things. There are those who absolutely don’t believe in them and those who make more general pledges to say, exercise and eat better or to get organized. One of my global ones is to walk around with a smile on my face. It sounds kind of sucky but you see people all over the place in their frantic rushes looking miserable. There’s something about a cheerful disposition that adds bounce to your pace. I find we plow through life with this never ending list of things we’re going to get to or always wanted to try. Why not go for it? Why not make a vow to do it? Focus is motivating and I think resolutions should be obtainable goals you can scratch off your list. As done. Tried.
- Once a week we're going to do something as a family that is only about fun (i.e.; going polar bear hunting, building a fort, heading off to a movie or a fancy lunch, we'll try to make it an adventure).
- I will take Brandan and Kaillan camping.
- I will master 10 new, fool-proof, knock-out, impressive, entrée to dessert meals I could proudly serve company. I will teach Remo three great meals that will be his specialty.
- I will learn how to play soccer, not watch it, play
- I will, with each of the kids, dream up an imaginary story that’ll be just their/our own
- I will take at least three - four weeks off in the summer.
- I will use my agenda religiously and establish a system for my lists.
- I will read three satisfying books (there was a time when I could swing it in a week).
Aw man, I could go on and on and on. I started working on some, I’m adding more as I go, and what it means to me? I’m not, we’re not, wasting time. We’re keeping life full and challenging ourselves to be more open-minded and adventurous. Remo’s always wanted a piano, my thought was oh, what an expensive little hobby, why not take some lessons and see if it’s really your thing before you spend our vacation on a piano? Our conversation became a tad heated when I found out the piano was actually coming on Wednesday, but I will fairly say, he’s got an ear or ten fingers for it. He’s passionate. There was a soprano in his family you know. Who knew, Brandan would especially be into it, the math part of the brain benefits are bonus. The two of them started with jingles for commercials, and what’s great is they’re all hyped up together.
I should keep at this, but my eyes are crossing and really, it freaks me out my last entry was November. If I don’t get something up right this minute, they’ll close me down. If my apostrophes turn into @’s in this post one more time, I’ll be choked.
I hate to keep you hanging, but come back in droves, please. There’s still so much to tell you and Tsunami too. I think I’m gong to shake up my format a bit and post in shorter, frequent spurts. Blogish. I’m actually on top of things these days so a vow to be back very soon is not unreasonable at all. You think I'm feeding you a line don't you? New me. I SWEAR.
Three weeks and not a single Coffee Crisp. I sound weak, huh?
Allisun
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