|
Journal Archives (January-March 2009):
|
|
|
|
I've seen him eat salmon nigiri on occasion. I don't really raise my eyebrows at that. But mainly I see him drink C-Plus cola and eat Reese's Peanut Butter Cups (they come in an orange wrapper), and with the latter he'll typically eat 2 packages one after the other (yes, that's a total of 6 cups). I always know when he's been through our kitchen area because I'll see the discarded orange wrappers in the garbage can or the orange soda cans in the recycling bin. I think the main purpose of these colour diets is to eat more greens or avoid white ingredients like refined sugar and flour. I don't really know about this orange diet. It's kind of bizarre and not really healthy. And come to think of it, I've never seen him eat a carrot or an orange? Things that make you go hmmmmm.
03.29.2009 "A
Worldwide Hallmark Holiday" Again, let me emphasize that the logic behind this initiative totally makes sense. However, I fear that the Earth Hour celebration is becoming the ecological event equivalent to Valentine's Day. You see, I have an issue with Valentine's Day. It happens once a year and we're all expected to participate in it. It doesn't matter if you're a wonderful spouse, boyfriend, girlfriend, etc. 364 days a year. But if you don't 'show your love' on February 14th (God forbid), people look at you funny and think that you're seriously lacking in the romance department. Please. I refuse to be a cliché in February, running around holding flowers and chocolates and teddy bears and dashing off to book an overpriced dinner at a fancy restaurant. And that's how I feel about Earth Hour. Why should I be bullied into turning off my lights for 1 hour once a year? Do you know the countless other efforts that I make consistently throughout the rest of the year? I could bore you about details about turning my computer monitor off every night, composting, hard-core recycling, growing organic vegetables in my backyard, using cloth diapers, drying clothes on a laundry line, using cold-water cycles for the washing machine, making my own household cleaners using 100% biodegradable and earth-friendly ingredients, etc. The list goes on and on. You see, I am a good Earth ambassador on a regular basis. But I don't feel the need to give myself a pat on the back all the time about it. I just do it. Then when Earth Hour comes around and I don't feel like shutting off all my electricity during that time slot (I'd rather watch a movie, thank you), I refuse to feel guilty about it. And at the same time, I secretly roll my eyes at people who think that by doing something environmentally-friendly for 1 hour once a year they deserve some kind of recognition for it. Please. I know how much energy they waste the rest of the year. They're the same people who cheat on their partners and suffer through miserable relationships but yet on Valentine's Day they think a stuffed bear holding a heart will fix all their problems. Not me. Instead of carrying flowers and chocolates and teddy bears on Earth Day, I'm holding compost buckets, air-dried laundry, and garden-grown vegetables. Now I'll get off my high horse.
03.27.2009 "Narcissistic
Parenting 101" And I am acutely aware that this stage won't last forever. "Just wait until she rolls her eyes at you for the first time!" parents of older children tease me. Yes, yes. I know that day is quickly approaching. Soon it will be a time of, "Oh, whatever Mother." So I'm totally taking advantage of the hero-worship stage she is at right now. Every chance I get, I scoop her up in my arms or get down to her eye-level and ask her point blank, "Is Mommy pretty?" or "Do you love Mommy?" And of course every time the answer is an enthusiastic "Mommy so pretty!" or "I love Mommy!" Oh, and it's the best reaction a parent could hope for. Yes, yes. I'm totally being a narcissistic parent right now. But whatever. Let me have this. Don't judge me. Because soon these unconditional, loving responses will be replaced with sarcastic comments and eye rolls. Let me enjoy it while it's good.
03.20.2009 "Prison Soup
and Tio Taco Can Suck It" The first major offender is a Mexican fast-food stand that I will call Tio Taco. I really don't look forward to smelling greasy tex-mex at that time of the morning. Ugh! I understand they're already preparing for the upcoming afternoon rush, but it's a bit much for me to smell these future fast lunches before 9am. But the worst offender is right outside the elevator. I don't even know the name of the cafeteria-style business but I've nicknamed them Prison Soup. I don't know for sure that they make and sell soup. All I know is that each morning the smells that waft out of their order counter are enough to almost make me gag. It smells like cheap, chemical-laden soup i.e. prison soup. and each morning, it's the same smell.
AND, to make matters worse, the prison odors
sometimes sneak up the elevator shaft and I can
smell them right outside our office space 18
floors up. Seriously. It's enough to make
someone quit and go work elsewhere. Well,
almost.
03.18.2009 "A New Kind of
Business Persona" She'll wear a long black trench-coat on her way to her office job and try to blend in with the rest of us office drones, but her true identity is tipped off by her accessories. She'll be sporting tight, knee-high, faux-suede, high-heeled boots with long tassles. And on her arm is an over-sized, vinyl, zebra-print purse. What could be inside that work bag, you wonder? Maybe some important legal documents in a manila folder, nestled between her Mousse and liquid eye liner and red lip gloss? And almost always keeping her Motley Crue-era, Tommy Lee-like locks in place is an enormous faux-pearl and gold hair clip.
I don't mean any disrespect
to the Slutcretary. I'm actually very intrigued
by her fashion choices. And in fact I respect
her ability to seamlessly combine fun, evening
attire with the business world. Keep it up!
03.13.2009 "It's Not an
Accessory" Please, if you're working inside a mall at a coffee shop, please don't wear your sunglasses around your neck, so there's like an extra set of eyes peering at me from your larynx. It looks stupid and it's completely unnecessary. In this case, the sunglasses are not an accessory. They serve a purpose, when you're OUTSIDE in the SUNSHINE to protect your EYES.
That's all. Phew. I'm glad I
got that off my chest.
03.12.2009 "Time Capsule
Toys" This toy kicks ass. I used to play with it for hours when I was a young child. I would meticulously set up all the different components e.g. I'd set up the tractor and trailer, arrange the modular fences, make sure some of chickens were up in the loft and some were perched on the fence posts, hitch up the horse and cart, ensure the trough was readily available for the thirty pig and sheep, etc. And who could forget the door that moo'd every time you opened it? This plastic farm was an incredible babysitter. I would lose myself for hours at a time, engaged in my own gentle fantasy play. Sloane also has the 'new' Fisher Price farm. It was a hand-me-down gift from a family friend. But it's totally different. First of all, it doesn't open up like a real barn would. Instead it opens up in an unrealistic (but accessible) cross-section view. And there is no tractor or moo'ing door. Boo! Plus, the animals look ultra-cartoonish. Don't get me wrong. I totally appreciate having this 'new' farm but it just doesn't compare to the original. Last night before bath time, I went looking for my daughter. I found her playing with her old farm (yay, she has good taste!). So I sat down to engage in some valuable mother-daughter time, and also take a trip down memory lane. Before long, I realized that I had totally taken control of play time. I was setting up the farm like how I used to. However Sloane (being a toddler) couldn't help but interrupt. She would snatch up the horse and cow and bend their legs into ridiculous poses and try to stand them up end-to-end. Then she'd pluck the chickens off of their perfect perches on the fence posts and adamantly insist, 'No!' Well I must say I got a little frustrated at first. But then I had to remind myself: this isn't your toy anymore. This is for your daughter. She is entitled to do with it as she sees fit.
Plus, I reminded myself,
after I put her to bed I can play with this
thing to my heart's content. Absolutely. But
that would be a little weird....????
03.11.2009 "Quote of the
Day 19: Sorry for the Techie Talk" The crew (minus JJ) were at Aki for lunch. We had a typical lunch-time conversation, discussing the logic of glory holes and whether any of us had visited a prostitute ever (that would be a unanimous 'no'). But as we left the restaurant, Alex and Peter started talking about external USB hard drives and wireless routers (or something like that). Needless to say, I tuned out. I wasn't annoyed at the conversation shift, but I just didn't feel the need to participate. Their techie talk faded to the background of my consciousness until Alex noticed my indifference for the current conversation. He interrupted and apologized, saying something like, >Rena, I'm sorry that this isn't sex talk anymore. Hahhahaahaa! I love it.
03.10.2009 "Dentist
Evolution" Well, nothing in life is constant, and that includes my dental office setup. When I called their office recently to schedule a cleaning appointment, I was horrified to hear that my favourite hygienist had retired. Oh, what a nightmare. Lori really KNEW me, not just my teeth (and sensitive gums). Big sigh. What can one do? So I booked with another hygienist in the office whom I was familiar with. Things weren't so bad. The appointment was pretty quiet, there was none of that all-too-familiar banter that I used to engage in with Lori. But it wasn't full of physical pain and discomfort (a definite good thing). I couldn't help but notice the small things (I wasn't allowed to hold the suction hose and instead the 'new' girl preferred to manage it herself, and I had to request a baby toothbrush for my daughter instead of it magically being placed in my purse). However all in all, it was okay. Then I was told that Dr. Wilson had brought in a new partner and this new dentist (a woman) would be checking me out today. I wasn't surprised about this announcement because I knew my dentist had gone to part-time hours a few years ago. When I was told the new dentist's name, I didn't really catch it. I just knew that it wasn't your typical Anglo-Saxon name. I recalled all my previous visits, how my dentist would stride boldly and confidently into the examination room after I was all scraped and polished. He'd be wearing his ER-looking scrubs (complete with mask) and he'd greet me with a 'Heya, kiddo!' or 'How's it going, squirt?' (remember, he's known me since I was a young child). His large, ex-Footballer, hairy arms as well as his sable moustache and friendly, booming voice were all too familiar. But that wasn't going to be the case today. He was probably playing a round of golf in Palm Springs, or watching Oprah in his bath robe at home. For the new dentist, I pictured a woman striding into the exam room, maybe all of 5' 2" with a slick, dark ponytail. I imagined sharp, petite features all wrapped up in a white, lab coat. It would be efficient friendliness at the most. And to her, I would just be another patient, another number, another chart.... "Hello, I am Neela," a husky, female voice suddenly rang in my ears. I looked up. A large, dark hand was extended in my direction. My new dentist was about the same stature as my previous dentist (let's say she wasn't exactly small - okay, she was pretty big) and she appeared to be Indo-Canadian with short, smartly-coifed hair. A change indeed. She was gentle and thorough and apologized for making me wait. She also had a firm handshake (I like that) and she made a point to make eye contact and remember my name. All good signs. And there was something warm about her. Her mocha-coloured arms were a far cry from my ex-BC Lion dentist's arms, but I could imagine her hugging her young children (assuming she had some) with those arms. There was definitely something inviting about her.
All good things have to end.
But new things take their place and life goes
on. Let's just say I'm totally not dreading my
next visit to the dentist in 6-9 months. I think
everything's going to be just fine.
03.05.2009 "Forget the
Spoonfuls of Sugar, It's All About Toast" I was in the kitchen doing some clean-up when my daughter wandered in carrying 2 pieces of her plastic toast on a plastic plate. "Here Mom," she handed me the offerings, her 2 small, pudgy hands clutching the plate so carefully. I took the plate of fake toast and said a very enthusiastic "Thank you!" and she smiled and wandered off. Who needs a spoonful of sugar when your considerate toddler gives you some plastic toast? I got a boost of energy and I could feel the love.
03.02.2009 "I Am the Stuffed
Animal Whisperer" When I read any kind of self-help literature, I always take it with a grain of salt. I don't follow instructions to a 'T'; instead, I pick and choose from the articles and implement the parts that make sense to me. One tactic that seemed appealing involved talking to stuffed animals in order to influence your child's behaviour. As the book explained, if you want young children to listen to you, one way is to pretend that you're telling a secret about your child to a favourite toy. For example, my daughter has been fighting the sandman lately and I've been conversing with her stuffed animals within her earshot to try and get her to bed. She's not cranky or miserable when it's close to bedtime, but she does want to play. After bathtime she'll want to play hide and seek, or else jump on the bed, or try to dial Thailand on the phone. As a result, getting her to wind down and settle in for sleepy time isn't exactly straightforward. So lately I've been taking her into her bedroom, dimming the lights, putting on her Fisher-Price aquarium (all to set the mood for nighty-night) then picking up her Ice-Bat ugly doll who lives in her crib. I'll hold him up to my ear while I'm holding Sloane and I'll pretend he is whispering into my ear. "What's that, Ice-Bat?" I'll say, and I can see Sloane watching out of the corner of her eye. "Oh, you're tired? You want to go to sleep? Oh, that sounds wonderful! [pause, as I pretend to listen to him] What's that? Oh, Sloane? Yes, she was a very good girl today. Very good!" and I'll make Ice-Bat nod in agreement, then hold him up against my ear again. "What's that? Oh yes. I think Sloane is ready for bedtime. She was a very busy, active girl and she's very tired now. And she's such a good girl, she's going to lie down now and go to sleep now." And lately, 9 times out of 10, it works. After overhearing this fake conversation, Sloane willingly reaches for her mattress and lets me tuck her in. She leaves Ice-Bat alone (I've already said 'good night' to him at this point and put him down on the pillow and she thinks he's asleep already), then she cuddles her stuffed dog and settles in for bedtime. "Good night, Mom," she'll say quietly. I love it. So yeah. I'm the stuffed animal whisperer. And no, I don't feel guilty or manipulative for staging these night-time theatrics. It works, and I'm sticking with it.
03.01.2009 "I Draw the Line At
Stuffing My Daughter Into a Pea-Pod and Taking a
Picture" For example: when my daughter is lying in her crib and cuddles up to her stuffed dog, wrapping her little dimpled hands around its soft face and ears, and tucks herself further into her fleece blanket, then smiles at me and whispers, "Good night, Mom," I just want to implode. The beauty before me is just too much. When my daughter tries on her sunglasses, I whip out my cell phone and try to snap a few pictures of my 'cool kid.' When my daughter obeys my request to hug and kiss Tyler (her same-age friend), I melt at the sight of two toddlers pressing their pursed lips against each other and saying "Mwah!" while they do it. And of course the camera flash is going non-stop while I order them, "Do it again!" I want the perfect picture of this overdone image (but it's novel for me). Oh, lordy. What have I become? My life has become a series of photos that you could find on greeting card covers everywhere. Just as long as I don't force my child to pose in a symbiotic relationship with fruits and flowers. No, that would be the last straw.
02.19.2009 "Casa Bonita At Our
House" There is a "South Park" episode where the boys go to their favourite restaurant (Casa Bonita) and there is a scene in which Cartman goes ape-shit running around the place. He tries to pack hours of fun into just a few minutes. He goes to see the indoor cliff divers, dances with the mariachi band, scarfs down some Tex-Mex, etc (this clip is just an audio of the frantic activities but I think you'll get the gist of it).
Anyway, the point to all this. Right
before bedtime, Sloane knows what's coming up after
she's had her bath and pajamas put on. So she runs
around the house trying to pack maximum play time into a
few minutes. She hangs out with us in our bedroom and
reads some books, then she runs off to draw on her
easel, and sweeps up the floor with her mini broom, and
plays with her animal farm, and counts the fish in the
tank, etc. It's a regular Casa Bonita around here every
night. It makes me laugh.
02.16.2009 "The Cross-over Entry" I read the short story "Frank" by A.L. Kennedy in the below-mentioned book last night. It was so haunting that when I closed the book, turned off the light and tried to curl up in bed, I knew I didn't stand a chance. I wasn't going to be able to drift effortlessly to sleep. I was too wired and disturbed. I announced to Robin that I was going to watch a bit of TV to help take my mind off things. But even 10 minutes of "Robot Chicken" didn't help. I was still quietly freaking out inside, the emotions and words from the pages still imprinted on my brain. Eventually I did get to sleep. My dream that night, however, was terrifying. I dreamt that I was in the bathtub and it was dark everywhere. It seemed that it was 2:00am and I couldn't remember how I got in the tub? From where I sat I could see the 2 upstairs bedroom doors closed and I knew Robin and Sloane were fast asleep behind the doors. I could see my reflection in the bathroom window and as I stared at my blurry image I swore I saw another face appear beside me. I started to laugh in spite of myself, terrified and hysterical with fear, but hoping to will away the evil forces that hung heavy in the night. Then suddenly Sloane was sitting beside me, on the bathroom floor. And she was happy and giggling. And I felt so much better and sane. Plus I noticed sunlight was starting to show and it wasn't so dark anymore....
The short story I had read before
bedtime was about a couple who have lost their daughter,
and how the wife blames the husband. It sounds like a
simple enough tale but I tell you, I was so upset about
it. Anyway, my haunting dream reflected my current state
of mind but as usual the dream had a happy ending. I
wish life was always like that.
02.15.2009 "Other People Are Inspiring" Seriously, to have writers such as Dave Eggers, Nick Hornby, Miranda July, and Daniel Clowes all together, tucked between 2 covers - what a dream. I'm only on short story number three and I'm already hooked. I love how each writer only needs about 6-15 pages to create such memorable and intriguing people. These are such talented writers and their characters whom they create are indeed real. I'm so inspired to do some more writing again. I love it.
02.13.2009 "Try a Comedic Role This Time" Maybe I'm tired of playing that responsible, common-sense driven, rational, balanced role all the time? Why shouldn't I shake it up every now and then and be the crazy, spontaneous, demanding diva every once in awhile? I definitely wouldn't be 'typecast' in my life then, would I? It would totally keep people on their toes, that's for sure.
02.07.2009 "More Cuddly Attachments" Well, guess what. Now when Sloane goes to bed she insists on having all three hard, plastic animals with her. It's a regular zoo safari at bedtime. And she now relates all three animals to each other. For example, when you ask her what a camel says, she squints her eyes and throws back her head and says, "Roar!" (As you can guess, she says the same thing when you ask her what a lion says and what a crocodile says). Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I think it's adorable. But then I pretty much think everything she says and does is adorable. I know, it's nauseating. But I'm her mother. What do you expect?
02.05.2009 "Black is the New Black"
01.27.2009 "I Wish JJ Hadn't Said That" Robin has been quoting JJ lately, citing something that she said. Apparently, after one of Robin's rants while we were out drinking, my other half made the observation that he was being negative. To this JJ responded, "No, Robin. You're not being negative. You're just telling the truth." Now whenever I accuse Robin of being rude or negative or insulting, his response is, "No, I'm just telling the truth. JJ was right." Ahhhhhh! I can't win!
01.25.2009 "I Wish I Hadn't Told Those
Stories" 1.) Meatballs: I was reminiscing with Robin about the movie "Meatballs." I was talking about the scene where the camp attendees are participating in a bunch of competitions. One of the activities is to race while holding an egg balanced in a spoon. There's one awkward teen participating and while he's running past the crowds they all try to psyche him out by chanting, "Spaz! Spaz! Spaz!" Anyway, whenever I screw up anything at home now (e.g. spill some food on the floor), Robin chants, "Spaz! Spaz! Spaz!" It drives me crazy!!! 2.) Maybe, Maybe Not: I recounted a story that I had heard from one of our former office managers (who is a friend of mine). She was trying to keep the kitchen area clean and she was being very vigilant about co-workers leaving anonymous messes. One day she saw one of our colleagues (who has a reputation of being a bit of a loose cannon) walk into the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes then walk out empty handed. My friend ran into the kitchen and saw a stack of dirty dishes discarded in the sink, unwashed. She put two and two together and confronted the co-worker. And the unbelievable response was, "I may or may not have put the dirty dishes in the sink." What? Excuse me? As I said: unbelievable. Anyway, I told Robin this story recently. Now whenever I try to confront him on messes around the house (e.g. "Pumpkin, did you floss your teeth in the sink and forget to rinse it out?"), his answer now is, "I may or may not have..." Aaargh!
01.23.2009 "Bird Feeder Shrapnel" There is also a bunch of bird seed that has been flung from the feeder and has landed on the ground (due to the frantically-hungry birds, no doubt). I thought to myself: I wouldn't be surprised if rats soon discovered the bird seed shrapnel on the ground. I mean, they must be desperate for food too. I can just picture it. One morning I'll look out from the back window, our backyard will look all scenic still covered with snow, the sun will be rising in the backdrop. And there will be a cluster of rats gathered on the ground under the bird feeder, fighting over the fallen bird seed, a tangle of rat tails and snarling mouths and twitchy noses.... Yeeesh! Gross. I hope not.
01.21.2009 "Hobos vs. the Ham Sandwich" Today I had to catch the #19 from Main and E. 5th to downtown. As we rolled through the rougher part of town, I noticed 2 hobos get on the bus. They lugged their large garbage bag full of recyclable cans and bottles on to the bus, then took awhile to dig out their bus fare. I eyed them a bit suspiciously, thinking they might cause a bit of trouble. But it turns out I judged them incorrectly. After they paid their fare they sat down and talked casually amongst themselves. Then I noticed a young, urban hipster get on the bus with his fitted suit and leather satchel. On first glance he seemed to be the standard image of downtown decorum. But then I noticed the large ham sandwich in one of his hands. He sat down right across from me and started to aggressively eat the sandwich, with crumbs and bits of deli meat flying everywhere. Ewww, gross. In the battle between hobos vs. the ham sandwich guy, the hobos won. They were way better behaved and civilized.
01.20.2009 "What's Your Shoe Size? A
Double-D?" The other day I was eating a Mandarin orange in the kitchen. I was wearing my black, knee-high boots that day. Derek walks in, sees me, and says, "LOVE the boots!" However, instead of commenting on my footwear, I thought he was describing my chest endowment. I choked on my orange slice, and not just for dramatic effect. I seriously thought he had said 'boobs.' When I told him what I thought he said, he just paused, then smiled. Yep. It makes me laugh.
01.16.2009 "Our Cute, Harmless Poltergeist" Our toddler is at the stage where she likes to arrange things. Tonight after dinner as I was cleaning up, I noticed 4 happy-face magnets (which normally live on the fridge) were stacked on top of each other on the kitchen table. Now they're round with beveled edges and they're not necessarily like Mega-blocks; no, these little guys are kind of finicky to pile on top of one another (especially if you have small, not-so-coordinated fingers). Anyway, I had to laugh. We have our own, little, OCD Poltergeist. But she's totally harmless. And cute. I just hope she doesn't try to suck us into the TV while we're sleeping tonight.
01.09.2009 "Breakfast Oatmeal Never Tasted So
Rebellious" I love it. Breakfast time is always entertaining as Sloane holds out her near-empty bowl and commands, "More bad-boys! More bad-boys!" It makes me laugh every time. And this morning I even wrote down 'bad-boys' on our grocery list for our shopping trip. Why not? Speaking Toddler-ese is fun.
01.06.2009 "If You Let Fear Take Over, You
Might Not Get That Easter Bonnet" I'm reminded of my dear grandmother Ruby who passed away over a decade ago. About 2 years before she left us, we realized that she was no longer fit to live on her own. She was still mobile and capable, but she was forgetting things (like to unplug kettles) and she was just getting old. So we convinced her to move in with my aunt and her family. We found this great program for seniors and thought it would be ideal for Ruby. A Handy-Dart bus would pick her up 2 days a week and take her to a seniors' center in West Vancouver where she would socialize with others her age, do gentle exercises, and do some stimulating activities. Perfect, right? Not quite. "No way!" was my grandmother's response. She was like a stubborn toddler, a defiant teenager wrapped up in a grey, acrylic cardigan and polyester pants. Was she being difficult for the sake of being difficult? No, she was probably scared. She probably feared walking into a room full of strangers, trying to make friends with these people only to risk having her advances be ignored or rejected. I mean, who wants to be in their 80s and told they have to 'play nice' with a bunch of strangers? And who wants to be snubbed by said strangers? Fear is everywhere and it affects all of us. "Please!" my aunt begged her, over and over again. Finally my aunt convinced Ruby that she only had to go once, and if she did not like it then she did not have to go ever again. My grandmother finally boarded the Handy-Dart bus one day in April and got whisked off to the unfamiliar seniors' center. When she returned hours later she was carrying a crafty, Easter bonnet (made out of a paper plate and ribbons). She was also wearing a smile. "Look what I made!" she showed off her arts and crafts project proudly. Then she proceeded to tell my aunt's family all about her adventures and experiences at the seniors' center and the friendly nurses and volunteers and the nice 'old' people. She had a great time on that first visit. And then for 2 days every week after that, Ruby ensured that she was ready and on-time for the Handy-Dart bus to pick her up. She even waited at the bottom of the driveway in her leather coat and clutching her purse. It became the highlight of her weeks until she passed on. Sigh. So that is my message today. Don't let your fears control you. Let go every once in awhile and take a chance. Or you may never get that lovely Easter bonnet....
|
|
[ Home ] [ About Me ] [ Writing ] [ Photo Gallery ] [Favourites] |
