Fabulous Forty

Here's a tip for all you people out there.  When someone says, "You're invited to my 40th birthday party," don't hesitate, don't ask any questions, don't break eye contact.  You just say, as quickly as humanly possible, "That must be a mistake!  You can't possibly be forty.  You don't look a day over thirty-five!"

It's like the 'Does this make me look fat?' question women pose to their husbands.  This is what we call a 'no-win situation'.  Husbands need to learn that they don't proceed to check out their wife's body after hearing this; no.  They don't say, "Hmmm....turn around?"  They don't pause and consider the question.

No.  None of the above.  The man should not even take a breath; he shouldn't let his wife finish the sentence; he should yell forcefully and with great conviction, "NO!  Absolutely not!  In no way, shape or form!"  It is at THIS point that he can take a breath and run in the opposite direction, now that he is safe.

I hope that's clear.

And I've decided that is what people should do for any big birthday that people announce.  It's polite, and it will just make that person feel so much better.

Or you could just say what Steven Tyler said on American Idol the other night: "You don't look a day over fabulous!"

Hello Kitty Is My Worstest Enemy

My son had cut his finger, and we were all out of Star Wars band aids.  "I NEED A BAND AID!"  he yelled frantically.

"Okay, that's fine.  The only kind we have left are 'Hello Kitty' ones."  I replied.

My son gasped in horror.  "Hello Kitty!  I can't wear that.  Hello Kitty is my worstest enemy!"

I can see that.  As my husband said, that cute little kitty with the tiny red bow - she's pretty vicious.  You don't want to cross THAT kitty.  She'll best you every time.  It's always the small ones you have to watch.

I decided to try the sympathetic, compassionate approach.

"You will wear the Hello Kitty band aid and you will LIKE it."  I announced.

My son took a deep breath, sighed and held out his finger in resignation.

As I put on the band aid, I whispered, "Hello Kitty's going to get you!"

(I said it in a mature way, of course.)

Me! No, me!

My boys had been fighting and they were saying sorry.  I watched in disbelief as they began to argue over who was more sorry.

"I am more sorry than you!"  Colin announced.

"No!"  Ryan protested strongly.  "I'm WAY more sorry than you."

Colin shook his head vehemently.  "I TOLD YOU I was more sorry!"

"I am the absolutely MOSTEST SORRIEST!"  Ryan countered, not giving an inch.

Their voices started rising.

It soon disintegrated into the 'me', 'no, me!' kind of argument and then they started rolling around on the floor wrestling about it.  "I'm MORE sorry!"  Bam.  "NO, I'M more sorry!"  Whack.

It was a beautiful moment between brothers.  It was enough to bring tears to my eyes, honestly. 

I just watched them with my mouth wide open.  This has got to be a new low, isn't it? 

Or maybe that was when my oldest invented an 'Atomic Wedgie Machine'...

What a Nightmare!

Last night I had this terrible dream.  I dreamt that my children had grown taller than me!  And  - if you can believe how crazy this dream was - they were talking back.  I know.  Unbelievable, right? 

Currently I am still much taller than all my children.  In the dream, however, I remember distinctly that I had to lift my head up to look up at them; they were at least a head taller than me.

I woke up, and said to my husband, "Whew!  What a bad dream.  Luckily it was just a dream that has no basis in reality.  You know, there's absolutely no way that will ever come true...right?"

Oh, fine, I know it's just a matter of time.  I'm sure my boys will be taller than me.  Now about the talking back part...

I was speaking with a colleague who has teenaged sons, and she was mentioning a time one swore at her.

"Oh no!"  I exclaimed.  "They're going to swear at me?"

"Of course they will,"  she explained patiently, giving me an 'are you kidding me' look. 

And here I thought them yelling 'NEVER' was bad.

"Now wait until you get to the point where you swear back!  It's very liberating."  She laughed.

Great...I can't wait to be liberated!

The Difference Between Boys and Girls

My three year old daughter is currently obsessed with baths and showers.  Every day she wants to have a bath.  Sometimes twice a day.  She loves it.  Sometimes I actually argue with her about it, saying, "Honey, you had a bath this morning!  You don't need another one already!"

"But Mama,"  she protests, "I LOVE BATHS!"

That's great.  And there's nothing cuter than her singing to herself and pouring water into different boats with her hair pulled up in a little bun on top of her head.

And then there's my boys.

We're currently in a life-and-death struggle over wearing clean socks. 

I put out clean socks and underwear every day for them.  But then I started finding clean socks under the couch and the coffee table.  What was going on?

One day my oldest son stuck his foot in my face and I almost lost consciousness.

"Your feet STINK!"  I yelled.

He leaned over and smelled them himself.  He got a bit wobbly and his eyes watered.  "Whew!  You're right, Mom."  he agreed pleasantly.

There was a long silence while we looked at each other.  He was looking at me blankly, I should add.

Finally I got tired of the impasse and suggested gently that he change into clean socks.

He looked at me with a mystified air.  "Why?"

Shrove What?

Today I made pancakes for dinner.  I told the kids we were having pancakes because of Shrove Tuesday, and that's what you do on that date.  I said it with great self-importance.

They were just happy to be able to eat pancakes for dinner so they didn't question me any further.  My three year old daughter did her little 'pancake dance'.  We were all content.

My husband came home and when I announced we were having pancakes, he asked why.

"It's Shrove Tuesday, of course."  I answered nonchalantly, brandishing my spatula in the air.  "I mean, come on...everyone knows THAT."

"What is Shrove Tuesday?" he asked.

There was a moment of silence as I thought about it.

Finally I sighed and admitted, "I have absolutely no idea.  None.  Not a clue."

He just looked at me.

"Fine!"  I yelled as I ran to the computer.  I looked it up. 

Christians have pancakes on Shrove Tuesday because it's the day before Lent, when they typically give up the ingredients that are in pancakes such as fat, butter, and eggs.  'Shrove' comes from the word 'shrive' which means to confess your sins, which Christians do before Lent.

Anyway, we don't celebrate Lent.  But hey, for Shrove Tuesday....count me in!

Transition to Crazy...

My husband and I were at a party recently and he was telling a funny story about when I was in transition during the labour of our third child, our daughter.  He said I was yelling a word that I didn't think I'd ever said in my life.  I have nothing against swearing - I do it quite often under my breath or in my head - I just have no memory of ever saying this particular word. 

Transition is funny.  Technically it's the time when you're dilating the last 8 - 10 centimetres.  It is described as a time when a woman becomes quite different than usual - possibly irrational too.  I'd heard of women screaming at their husbands and throwing things.   But I mean, you try giving birth and see how rational you are!

I had read about transition and frankly it scared me, because I didn't like the thought of losing control.  But I wanted a natural labour so I accepted it.

After our first child was born I questioned my husband anxiously whether I'd sworn at him or done anything crazy.  He assured me I hadn't, and I felt relieved.  The same after our second child was born.  You'd think I would have known, but at some point during labour you are kind of in your own world.  I know what you're thinking, but I didn't have any drugs at all, and I was still in my own world.

I guess our third was different.  I think by then my body thought, 'well, here we go again, let's just give it our all; why hold back?  I'll show you crazy!'  At one point, in between contractions, I whispered to him, "All I feel like doing is swearing!"  (She was a big baby.)

I guess I did go through the irrational part, too.  I remember at one point thinking to myself, "No way am I pushing anymore.  This is too hard.  It's just NOT going to happen.  No one can make me!" 

I remember my midwives telling me to push and me yelling back, "NO!"  (See what I mean?) 

This made me feel better for a few minutes.  Until my sanity returned.  "Wait a second!  What am I thinking??  Push!  Push!  PUSHHHH!"

Oscars and Spanx

I heard that twenty year old Jennifer Lawrence was wearing Spanx at the Oscars.  In case you've been living in a cave, Spanx are body shapers.  They smooth out your body.  And I only know that because I've seen ads and things, of course.  I don't have any personal experience.  No way.

Anyhow, did I mention she is TWENTY years old?  She told the cameras that she has been wearing corsets (Hello, Laura Ingalls?) to all the awards ceremonies, but they were too uncomfortable so for that particular dress she just put on Spanx.  On her twenty year old body.

That's it.  That's really the limit.

What hope do we have when we're...you know, say 40??

OMG I am twice her age in a couple of months.

Gotta go  - I've got to see if I can fit in a quick boot camp class....

Sulphur Springs 25K Trail Run

I'm in training for the Sulphur Springs 25K Trail Run.  It will be my second 25K.  I've done one 21K.  The first 25K was Run For the Toad.  I enjoyed it, but it took a long time due to very muddy and slippery conditions (see older post on run). 

I'm really looking forward to the 25K Sulphur Springs one, because I do almost all my training on those trails.  I love them; they're beautiful.  It's a hard race as it's hilly, but the trail is great.

Anyone who has done this run knows 'the Gulch'.  Initially it was my nemesis, but I came to understand and appreciate the Gulch.  I felt I knew it and could handle it.  And now they've changed the route.  They've eliminated the Gulch!

And what have they done?  They've made it worse!  I didn't think it was possible.  Martin Road is the new hill and it's much, much longer.  It's a go-on-forever kind of hill.  And we have to do it twice.  And that's how we finish the race, running up a long long hill.

Really, race organizers?  Do we really have to finish a 25K on a steep long hill?  What are you, sadists??

Of course, what does that make me, because I'm signing up for it!

I guess that makes me hard-core.  (I love it!)

That reminds me of a time I was running with friends in the winter right before a predicted winter storm, and as we ran by a man he yelled, "Well, ladies, you won't be running four hours from now!"

I yelled back jokingly, "We're hard-core!"

The truth is, I love running in the winter.  I get so hot when I run that it's so nice to run in the cool weather.  It seems to give me energy.

I've run in very hot humid conditions and it's completely exhausting.

Now don't get the wrong idea and think I mean that I'm hard-core as in an elite runner.  I am definitely not elite.  I'm just addicted.  I don't want to win; I'm just happy to finish and I'm only running against myself.

I decided tonight, running in the cold, that my body loves running.  It loves it.  It's not just my mind that is addicted.  My body seems to need a really hard workout.  I feel much better and completely unstressed after a good hard run or a really hard boot camp workout.

I love that feeling of being completely worn out and having my muscles be exhausted.  It's very therapeutic.  Maybe it's just me...

That's a Good Sign, Right?

My son is weighing his butt on the bathroom scale right now.  That's what I said, his butt.  He just wants to know how much it weighs. 

That's a good sign, right? 

I mean, that shows he'll be a rocket scientist for sure, doesn't it?  I bet that's what ALL the smart ones do when they're five!  Tell me I'm right!