My daughter turned ten today. My hubby turns...another decade year...tomorrow. It's the year of the decades.
In less than an hour, I'll be married to a 40-yr old. This doesn't really phase me, because I'm a few years behind him, but it does remind me that our lives are, statistically speaking, about half over. Crazy.
Lately I've wondered why we put so much stock in our age. I used to think it was so strange that in some countries, people cannot tell you how old they are, or even on what day they were born. Now I think maybe they have it right. We place such importance in that number, and yet, what does it really tell us?
It doesn't tell us how we feel. I don't feel much older than 23. Half the time, I don't even know how old I am without consciously thinking about it. Maybe that's the old age setting in...
It doesn't let anyone know what we have accomplished, other than surviving for a certain period of time. The number doesn't tell anyone if we have squandered those years or used them wisely.
It doesn't dictate our physical capabilities. I'm certainly in better shape than I was when I was 23, though not nearly as good as I was at 29. I'm just leaving room for improvement. ;) I know people who have had PBs in their 50s, and it's not like they weren't in good shape to begin with.
It doesn't inform us of how much longer we have on this earth. Sure, it lets us know that we have fewer days than we did even a day ago, but we still don't know if we have minutes or decades left.
So I'm not going to worry about any number. Tomorrow we will celebrate the fact that my hubby has survived for four decades. Then I'm going to enjoy how ever many days I have ahead of me, and hope that most, if not all, of them are spent with the love of my life. And I'm certainly not going to let some number get me down.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Of Cell Phones and Laundry Baskets
We got my daughter a cell phone last fall. She was starting high school, which meant taking public transit on a daily basis, spending more time hanging out with friends, and general extra busyness outside of the home. We foot the bill, but with a condition - she does the towel laundry.
Through this experience, I have learned a few things about teenagers. Or at least my teenager. Based on discussions I have had with parents of teenagers, she seems to be fairly average, so I will assume for the purpose of this blog (as it is not a research paper or any other piece of writing that requires any sort of real accuracy), that I can generalize her characteristics to the teen populace.
1) Teenagers have selective sight.
In a household of 8ish people, dirty towels pile up pretty quickly. Now when I see the laundry hamper full of towels, my brain tells me to take them down to the laundry room and wash them. Apparently this trigger does not exist in the teenage mind. There were several times when the hamper was overflowing, and there was no indication that it would be emptied any time soon. Teenagers also have selective hearing (clearly this carries over from toddlerhood), as I would have to mention this several times before receiving a response, which typically included the statement, "I didn't realize that the hamper was full."
2) Teenagers will do minimal work to achieve their desired result. (To be fair, I believe that many of us do this. Teenagers just take it to an extreme.)
She wants to keep the cell phone. To do so, the towels must be washed. Upon threats of removal of the cell phone, my daughter would reluctantly get the towels and start a load of laundry. To the average adult, finishing a task means finishing all steps included in that task. To a teenager, finishing seems to equal starting. A typical conversation went something like this:
"I need your cell phone. I asked you to wash the towels, and it hasn't been done."
"Yes, it has. I washed them last night."
"But they're still in the washer."
"Yeah, I had to go to bed, and I didn't have time to put them in the dryer before I left for school. Besides, you didn't say I had to dry them, too."
Which brings me to...
3) Everything needs to be spelled out.
"I need you to wash the towels" became "I need you to wash, dry, fold and put the towels away. Oh, and you can't just leave the laundry basket in the washroom. It needs to be taken back down to the laundry room." I don't know how many times I walked into the bathroom to an empty laundry basket staring me in the face. It wasn't as if taking the basket with her was difficult. But when I questioned her about it, she told me she just forgot it. How do you forget a basket you just emptied? Point #1, I suppose...
Well, I got tired of harassing my daughter about the towels, and my husband, who won't harass, got tired of doing the towel laundry when it piled up. So I wrote up a set of rules. I was initially going to call it a contract, but then I thought that making it look like she had some sort of choice in the matter wasn't quite honest.
As a good employer, I took my employee's words to heart and addressed her concerns. She doesn't realize the hamper is full/can't remember to bring the towels down? It now must be done every morning. Simple. She's not sure when they should be washed? They must now be washed, dried, folded and put away before bed on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Failure to comply will result in immediate suspension of privileges. Today was the first Tuesday. I can tell she's a little less than impressed, but the towels are washed, dried, folded, and in the closet.
And the laundry basket? It's in the laundry room.
Through this experience, I have learned a few things about teenagers. Or at least my teenager. Based on discussions I have had with parents of teenagers, she seems to be fairly average, so I will assume for the purpose of this blog (as it is not a research paper or any other piece of writing that requires any sort of real accuracy), that I can generalize her characteristics to the teen populace.
1) Teenagers have selective sight.
In a household of 8ish people, dirty towels pile up pretty quickly. Now when I see the laundry hamper full of towels, my brain tells me to take them down to the laundry room and wash them. Apparently this trigger does not exist in the teenage mind. There were several times when the hamper was overflowing, and there was no indication that it would be emptied any time soon. Teenagers also have selective hearing (clearly this carries over from toddlerhood), as I would have to mention this several times before receiving a response, which typically included the statement, "I didn't realize that the hamper was full."
2) Teenagers will do minimal work to achieve their desired result. (To be fair, I believe that many of us do this. Teenagers just take it to an extreme.)
She wants to keep the cell phone. To do so, the towels must be washed. Upon threats of removal of the cell phone, my daughter would reluctantly get the towels and start a load of laundry. To the average adult, finishing a task means finishing all steps included in that task. To a teenager, finishing seems to equal starting. A typical conversation went something like this:
"I need your cell phone. I asked you to wash the towels, and it hasn't been done."
"Yes, it has. I washed them last night."
"But they're still in the washer."
"Yeah, I had to go to bed, and I didn't have time to put them in the dryer before I left for school. Besides, you didn't say I had to dry them, too."
Which brings me to...
3) Everything needs to be spelled out.
"I need you to wash the towels" became "I need you to wash, dry, fold and put the towels away. Oh, and you can't just leave the laundry basket in the washroom. It needs to be taken back down to the laundry room." I don't know how many times I walked into the bathroom to an empty laundry basket staring me in the face. It wasn't as if taking the basket with her was difficult. But when I questioned her about it, she told me she just forgot it. How do you forget a basket you just emptied? Point #1, I suppose...
Well, I got tired of harassing my daughter about the towels, and my husband, who won't harass, got tired of doing the towel laundry when it piled up. So I wrote up a set of rules. I was initially going to call it a contract, but then I thought that making it look like she had some sort of choice in the matter wasn't quite honest.
As a good employer, I took my employee's words to heart and addressed her concerns. She doesn't realize the hamper is full/can't remember to bring the towels down? It now must be done every morning. Simple. She's not sure when they should be washed? They must now be washed, dried, folded and put away before bed on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Failure to comply will result in immediate suspension of privileges. Today was the first Tuesday. I can tell she's a little less than impressed, but the towels are washed, dried, folded, and in the closet.
And the laundry basket? It's in the laundry room.
The Human Touch
I had a lovely lunch with a lovelier lady yesterday. Lovelier looks like a funny word... I don't believe I have ever written it before. But I digress.
I met Trinette when I was coaching triathlon Triple Threat. I liked her right off the hop. Her smile and energy were so infectious. She is one of those rare people who is somehow both positive and realistic. Although she won't hesitate to say if she is having a bad day, you never once get the feeling that she is complaining about it.
Admittedly, we got together because I needed to borrow a charger for my Macbook. Trinette lives clear across the city, and this was a closer meeting point. I suppose I could have just grabbed it from her and gone home, but lunch sounded so much nicer. And it was. The food was wonderful. The conversation was even better. The kind of stuff you can't find on Facebook. Just a nice break all around.
I don't really have friends that I hang out with. There are a select few that I get together with once every few months, but that's about it. It's just the nature of my life right now - pretty much all consumed with kids and their activities. My "spare time" is most often spent with my husband, because if it wasn't we wouldn't have much of a relationship.
There was a time when this bothered me. I wanted to have a "normal" life like people I know who seem to have those close relationships. They spend time together regularly. Call each other to have coffee. Get the kids together for playdates. You know, that "normal" stuff. Not having that made me feel alone.
Maybe social networking is partly to blame. Would I spend more face (or even phone) time with people if it wasn't there? I used to pick up the phone and call someone when I felt the need for human contact. Now I tend to go online and comment on someone's status or picture. Read a blog. Write a blog. A connection quick fix that doesn't quite do the job. On the other hand, I have been able to reconnect with some people who have always been very dear to me because of the networking that is at our fingertips.
I do still hope that one day I'll find one or two people that I do stuff with on a regular basis. Even though it doesn't depress me like it used to, I still miss that aspect of life. One day, eighteen years from now or so, life will slow down. I think. Maybe change more than slow down. Somewhere along the way, someone is bound to come along. In the meantime, I will enjoy the little gems like my lunch with Trinette.
I met Trinette when I was coaching triathlon Triple Threat. I liked her right off the hop. Her smile and energy were so infectious. She is one of those rare people who is somehow both positive and realistic. Although she won't hesitate to say if she is having a bad day, you never once get the feeling that she is complaining about it.
 |
| Trinette with my kidlets - the like her as much as I do. :) |
I don't really have friends that I hang out with. There are a select few that I get together with once every few months, but that's about it. It's just the nature of my life right now - pretty much all consumed with kids and their activities. My "spare time" is most often spent with my husband, because if it wasn't we wouldn't have much of a relationship.
There was a time when this bothered me. I wanted to have a "normal" life like people I know who seem to have those close relationships. They spend time together regularly. Call each other to have coffee. Get the kids together for playdates. You know, that "normal" stuff. Not having that made me feel alone.
Maybe social networking is partly to blame. Would I spend more face (or even phone) time with people if it wasn't there? I used to pick up the phone and call someone when I felt the need for human contact. Now I tend to go online and comment on someone's status or picture. Read a blog. Write a blog. A connection quick fix that doesn't quite do the job. On the other hand, I have been able to reconnect with some people who have always been very dear to me because of the networking that is at our fingertips.
I do still hope that one day I'll find one or two people that I do stuff with on a regular basis. Even though it doesn't depress me like it used to, I still miss that aspect of life. One day, eighteen years from now or so, life will slow down. I think. Maybe change more than slow down. Somewhere along the way, someone is bound to come along. In the meantime, I will enjoy the little gems like my lunch with Trinette.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Simple Pleasures
My 5-yr old and I walk home from the YMCA, where we have just spent "not enough time" swimming. His hand is in mine as we stroll along the sidewalk. I notice my face feels much colder than it did on the walk there. Although the wind is virtually imperceptible, the difference to the bare skin is significant. I hope he will make it home without too much complaining. He had opted to not wear a toque, and we could only find one of his mitts so he is wearing mini-gloves instead.
I enjoy every time we walk hand in hand. I know it won't last forever. I don't think the last time will come for awhile yet, but I know that when it does come I will be unaware, so I had better cherish each of these moments.
As we walk along, he picks the odd ice chunk and gives it a boot. We take turns kicking it along until it is out of reach. Then he chooses another and we start again. I know this is making the walk longer, increasing the risk that the cold will suddenly be more than he thinks he can handle, but on the other hand, he is enjoying himself. And I am enjoying watching that.
About half-way home, I hear the first complaint. "I'm cold."
"I guess you should have worn your toque," I comment as I try to bring his hood closer to his head. 'I need to just bring it next time,' I think, 'just in case.' It is then that I notice something in his jacket pocket.
"Look Justin - your other mitt! Should we put it on?"
"Yes, please," he replies. Conveniently, it is the mitt for the hand I wasn't holding, and I hope that I will be able to keep his other hand warm enough with my own.
Continuing on our way, I notice his face is quite pink. "Your cheeks are rosy."
"What? They're rose?" he asks.
"Rosy. They're red from the cold," I explain with a little smile. I love watching his mind take in new things. I still chuckle every time I tell him to hold his pants on and he grabs them. I haven't told him yet what I actually mean - I want to hold onto that innocence a little longer yet.
"Is my chin rose, too?"
"Yes, it is. And your nose."
"Oh. Two more blocks."
"Yup, we're almost home." Our walk is almost over, our special time coming to a close.
After we get home, I decide to put a pot of milk on the stove for some hot chocolate. Just for Justin and me.
"Justin, there's something on the table for you. It's in a black cup."
"Hot chocolate! Thank you, Mom!" He sits down and takes a sip. He pauses to look at me and asks, "Are you cold?"
"No, are you?"
"I was, but I'm not anymore."
I enjoy every time we walk hand in hand. I know it won't last forever. I don't think the last time will come for awhile yet, but I know that when it does come I will be unaware, so I had better cherish each of these moments.
As we walk along, he picks the odd ice chunk and gives it a boot. We take turns kicking it along until it is out of reach. Then he chooses another and we start again. I know this is making the walk longer, increasing the risk that the cold will suddenly be more than he thinks he can handle, but on the other hand, he is enjoying himself. And I am enjoying watching that.
About half-way home, I hear the first complaint. "I'm cold."
"I guess you should have worn your toque," I comment as I try to bring his hood closer to his head. 'I need to just bring it next time,' I think, 'just in case.' It is then that I notice something in his jacket pocket.
"Look Justin - your other mitt! Should we put it on?"
"Yes, please," he replies. Conveniently, it is the mitt for the hand I wasn't holding, and I hope that I will be able to keep his other hand warm enough with my own.
Continuing on our way, I notice his face is quite pink. "Your cheeks are rosy."
"What? They're rose?" he asks.
"Rosy. They're red from the cold," I explain with a little smile. I love watching his mind take in new things. I still chuckle every time I tell him to hold his pants on and he grabs them. I haven't told him yet what I actually mean - I want to hold onto that innocence a little longer yet.
"Is my chin rose, too?"
"Yes, it is. And your nose."
"Oh. Two more blocks."
"Yup, we're almost home." Our walk is almost over, our special time coming to a close.
After we get home, I decide to put a pot of milk on the stove for some hot chocolate. Just for Justin and me.
"Justin, there's something on the table for you. It's in a black cup."
"Hot chocolate! Thank you, Mom!" He sits down and takes a sip. He pauses to look at me and asks, "Are you cold?"
"No, are you?"
"I was, but I'm not anymore."
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
That Holiday Feeling
So today's my birthday. The day the number that indicates how many full years I've been breathing oxygen increases by one. It started much the way it has almost every year - ringing in the new year with family. A few things have changed over the years, but my first "Happy Birthday"s are always accompanied by "Happy New Year"s, and I like it that way.
My hubby asked me today what it feels like to be 30. (What a nice guy.) I said pretty much the same as being 29. Which was still more or less true, aside from the fact that when I was 29 (wow, that feels like forever ago...) I wasn't kept up until 2:30am by a baby who didn't want to go to sleep, I wasn't woken up at 5am by a 12-yr old telling me he had thrown up, and I wasn't dragged out of bed at 8am by the same baby, and then asked by a 5-yr old to make him something to eat. Actually, come to think of it, that last one may have happened.
Really, today didn't feel a whole lot different than any other day. The only thing really out of the ordinary was a birthday cake and going out to a movie with my hubby, both of which were nice. Oh, and the 80 or so Facebook birthday wishes. But it didn't feel like my birthday.
I remember the same thing just before Christmas. "It just doesn't feel like Christmas," I thought. It feels...ordinary. And then I wondered - what do I expect it to feel like?
I guess a part of me expected the excitement of childhood. The days spent in anticipation of the upcoming holidays, wondering what was in the wrapped boxes under the Christmas tree, eager to spend time with relatives, some of whom would be travelling from two provinces away. Forced naps on December 31st so my parents didn't have to deal with completely cranky kids at midnight, especially on the years when we celebrated at a friend's house. (I remember at least one meltdown when I was told it was time to go.) There were three families that spent New Year's Eve together for years, alternating houses every year. Those nights have some of my favourite memories.
I guess that was what I was waiting for. And then I realized that it wasn't going to come. Not because I don't enjoy Christmas anymore, or because I don't look forward to time with family and friends. Not because New Year's Eve is less exciting. But just because I'm older. More tempered. More grounded. (More boring?) Because life around the special days is busier. Because I view the days a little differently than I did before.
And I realized that's ok.
Christmas Eve with the in-laws was relaxing. Christmas Day with my family chaotic and loud, but full of joy and love. New Year's Eve at home quiet, but with loved ones. My birthday spent with those who mean more to me than all the world.
Yes, it feels different. But it feels right.
My hubby asked me today what it feels like to be 30. (What a nice guy.) I said pretty much the same as being 29. Which was still more or less true, aside from the fact that when I was 29 (wow, that feels like forever ago...) I wasn't kept up until 2:30am by a baby who didn't want to go to sleep, I wasn't woken up at 5am by a 12-yr old telling me he had thrown up, and I wasn't dragged out of bed at 8am by the same baby, and then asked by a 5-yr old to make him something to eat. Actually, come to think of it, that last one may have happened.
Really, today didn't feel a whole lot different than any other day. The only thing really out of the ordinary was a birthday cake and going out to a movie with my hubby, both of which were nice. Oh, and the 80 or so Facebook birthday wishes. But it didn't feel like my birthday.
I remember the same thing just before Christmas. "It just doesn't feel like Christmas," I thought. It feels...ordinary. And then I wondered - what do I expect it to feel like?
I guess a part of me expected the excitement of childhood. The days spent in anticipation of the upcoming holidays, wondering what was in the wrapped boxes under the Christmas tree, eager to spend time with relatives, some of whom would be travelling from two provinces away. Forced naps on December 31st so my parents didn't have to deal with completely cranky kids at midnight, especially on the years when we celebrated at a friend's house. (I remember at least one meltdown when I was told it was time to go.) There were three families that spent New Year's Eve together for years, alternating houses every year. Those nights have some of my favourite memories.
I guess that was what I was waiting for. And then I realized that it wasn't going to come. Not because I don't enjoy Christmas anymore, or because I don't look forward to time with family and friends. Not because New Year's Eve is less exciting. But just because I'm older. More tempered. More grounded. (More boring?) Because life around the special days is busier. Because I view the days a little differently than I did before.
And I realized that's ok.
Christmas Eve with the in-laws was relaxing. Christmas Day with my family chaotic and loud, but full of joy and love. New Year's Eve at home quiet, but with loved ones. My birthday spent with those who mean more to me than all the world.
Yes, it feels different. But it feels right.
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