Archive of ‘Wasting Time’ category

Back To School Posts? NO THANK-YOU!

For the past few weeks I’ve seen a tonne of back to school posts, ranging in everything from lunch container ideas for kids to ones giving up alcohol and chips for adults. I’m going to let you in on a little secret, I don’t read any of them, and I’ll tell you why!

I’m lucky enough this year to be able to take August off and spend it at the beach with my children. My guys are still young enough to have some carefree summers, but I know that won’t last forever. So for now, and hopefully always, I want to make this weekend last as long as possible.

So instead of back to school shopping, we are going to swim in the lake. Instead of me cutting up sandwiches with cookie cutters and writing love notes, we are going to dig in the sand and make sandcastles, instead of me feeling guilty about having a beer, I’m going to have two. We are going to drag this out until the bittersweet end.

We will head home tomorrow and go back to reality. We will be sun kissed, our bellies full of food and our hearts filled with love. We will crank our “Beach Mix 2016” playlist and sing, windows down and wind in our faces, and crawl into our beds sandy and sleepy.

Tuesday morning we will head off to school, a bit sleepy, but luckily my guys get back into the swing of things without much adjustment time. I won’t pack up a fancy container for lunch in a brand new lunch bag, I’ll send them off with last year’s bag with more of a June lunch than a September one.

Wednesday we will be back to “normal” and in full fall mode, but I will already be plotting how to be off again next summer. At the end of it all, I’m pretty sure my guys are going to remember that night we swam until dark over that time I spent a mortgage payment on Sistema lunch containers.

14225511_10158212038280206_7281992171603927024_n

 

Is THIS My Midlife Crisis??!!?? (Warning. A lot of swearing.)

So, something happened last night. I had an “Aha! Moment.” I know this is an Oprah thing, but since I’ve never watched Oprah, I am just going to go ahead and assume she means that moment when you realize you’ve TURNED INTO A GIANT FUCKING LOSER.

I was just plating our dinner (How’s that for an obnoxious term?) when I took a bite of the salad I’d made (I make salad every night, EVERY NIGHT, so I am not sure why this is a big deal.) and called out to my husband “WOW, I really knocked dinner out of the ballpark tonight!”

He didn’t really hear me, because he was busy talking over me, telling me who he would pick as his dream cast for the “Ultimate Ghostbusters Reboot.”

I stood in the doorway, holding our plates with my award winning, grand slamming dinner on it, staring at him as he then went on to say “For the record, they DON’T NEED to do a reboot. BUT since they are I love that it’s women and love the women they’ve cast, but I’ve heard they are also doing a men’s one, which is SO STUPID and thank god they didn’t do the one they had talked about years ago with Chris Farley and Adam Sandler BUT IF they do end up doing another one, and I could cast it, it would be Will Farrell, that funny Asian guy who’s in EVERYTHING right now (Randall Park), Chris Pratt and Kevin Hart.” “Oooh. Great cast!” I say. “I’d hit all of that.” I also say, because I always like to keep it classy.

We sit down, I hand him 40 napkins and say “Okay. We can eat on the new couch but PLEASE be careful.” Then we watch Netflix. We don’t actually watch a full show or movie, we scroll for a half hour pointing out all the things we could watch, and WANT to watch, but not tonight, because I have super anxiety and can only handle comedies.

A bottle of wine and some chips follow, and then I force him to rub my bunion. Welcome to my Saturday night.

Seriously. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK.

How did this happen??!!?? I used to be super fun and funny. I used to go out, and work nights and have crazy adventures and still manage to get up early and function. Now I can’t even handle staying up late. I complain about never getting invited to parties, but when I do, and the start time is after 9pm, I say “WHAAAAAAAAATTTT, WHO leaves the house after 8??” in a super high pitched voice, and usually don’t go. I went to my friend Laura’s house, and stayed until 2:30 am, and am still trying to recover three weeks later. I have actually been bragging about walking home at that time, as all the bars poured out onto the streets, and that the Domino’s Pizza was still open. STILL OPEN! Who even knew that? People under 40, that’s who. People way cooler than me, that’s who. Everyone else. That’s who.

I talked to my girlfriend about this, and said MAYBE just maybe I am having a midlife crisis. “But I am TOO YOUNG!” I said. She said “No. I think that’s about right. If anything, you should have had it about 5 years ago. Let’s face it, with your health and bad luck do you REALLY think you are going to make it to 80?”

Rude, yes. But not wrong. I don’t want to come right out and say I think I have a shorter life expectancy rate than others, but hey, some days MY ENTIRE LEFT SIDE DOESN’T WORK.

So, is this the midlife crisis? Am I two weeks away from getting a mom haircut? Is this the moment when my brain shifts to a new, comfortable spot where it stops keeping track of any new technology or cool music? Will I start wearing boxy shorts, fanny packs and cross trainers when I travel? Will all my tee shirts be from Northern Reflections? Will I start wearing bedazzled clothing??

SO MANY WORRIESOME QUESTIONS.

My biggest worry is that I have been this boring and middle aged my entire life, but that I am only realizing it now, as age brings some sort of wisdom. (It must, right?)

This was totally not what I pictured doing with my life. Do you know how I spend my days? Writing up “Fun Family Recipes” for Mom blogs that I never actually make, and get paid in gift cards. (Right eye twitches as I die a little inside.)

I can tell you this. Starting NOW I am going to make some changes. (Totally a thing someone says who’s having a midlife crisis.)

I won’t be buying a sports car or going on a fancy trip. Did I mention so far I also sort of suck at being an adult? I think I must HATE money. I have to get rid of it the second I get any, so these two items are definitely off the table.

I won’t train and run in a marathon either. I may be having a midlife crisis, but I am still super lazy. I probably won’t lose the baby weight I’ve been carrying. I won’t sky dive, change careers, or get plastic surgery.

I’m not sure what I’ll do, but it will be something. Or worse, my biggest fear, I’ll do NOTHING. Just get older and MORE BORING. I am frowning as I say this. Which I shouldn’t do, because now I have lines on my mouth that resemble a ventriloquist dummy.

40 is NOT the new 30. Only old people say that. Old people with Howdy Doody mouths and accordion foreheads.

Something’s gotta give, and it can’t be my hip.

Stay Tuned.

30. Oh 30, how I miss you.

30. Oh 30, how I miss you.

Grade 8. SO MUCH STYLE

Grade 8. SO MUCH STYLE

Early 90's. That's a lot of hair.

Early 90’s. That’s a lot of hair.

 

Hey, You Look Like A Lady Who Could Use A Hot Dog!

I just had my coffee and read thirty five some internet articles. One was about a woman who sabotaged herself and ruined every trip she’s ever gone on, by not being organized. Wow. She’s got the problems! I can’t imagine living your life like that! Speaking of trips…

I am leaving tomorrow for a much needed one. You know, to give me a break from my job of doing nothing all day long. I fly out at 8 am, so I need to pack today.

I also need to clean my house. My sister is moving in for the week, to help out my children. Knowing that I was flying out on June 6th, I decided from May 6th on not to clean or put anything away. WHY BOTHER. I will just have to do it the day before she comes anyway, because I live with three boys and a giant dog. (Hoarders were like “Naw, this is too much, even for us.”) So the cleaning and packing should commence, NOW. Oh. I also have to wash what I want to pack, since I only own three outfits. None of which are really even appropriate for the trip. What should I wear to tour Alcatraz, PJs or a formal gown? You decide.

This should all be easy enough right? Right. BUT I do need to clean the backyard first. Why you ask? Because today is the day! We have old propane tanks scattered around, broken equipment, toboggans and recycling. SO. MANY. WINE. BOTTLES. Will my sister be in the back yard? NO. But this should only take a few minutes. Let me just load up the car for a quick run to Big Box Land to return all this junk. Easy Peasy. THEN I will clean and pack. Here we go.

GARDEN CENTRE? Ohhhhh. A place for people who care about their yards. (I wish I was one of those people.) Annuals on for .99 cents? Hmmmm. Well, the front of the house does look bare. I can’t imagine weeding a garden and planting a few dozen flowers can take that long, right? I know I need to clean but I still have a few hours before the dog groomer shows up. Yes. I decided my dog needs a haircut before I leave. It only makes sense to spend as much money as possible before a trip. I love to feel anxious about cash flow while on a vacation. I want to make good and sure to keep this whirlwind of chaos going until I board that plane.

At the hardware store, I unload all the propane tanks. Did I mention they aren’t even mine? They were in the yard 6 years ago when we bought our house. So you can totally see the need to return them TODAY. Had to be done. They were crazy heavy, and I struggled all across the parking lot with NO ONE offering to help me. Whatever.

On my way back out, the hot dog cart man called out to me.

“HEY! You look like a lady who could use a hot dog.”

Dude’s not wrong. 99% of the time I pretty much look like a lady who could use a hot dog. I’ll take this as some serious high praise, considering the source!

I wander over.

“If I was allowed to leave my cart, I would have totally helped you carry those tanks!”

See. Chivalry is not dead.

“That’s disgusting the way NO ONE helped you, struggling like that. In YOUR condition. Let me treat you to a hot dog.”

There it is. My condition. Hot dog man thinks I’m pregnant.

I am not.

I am, however, interested in that free hot dog.

“What’ll it be?” he asks.

“Something’s telling me…chicken wiener.” (  I say this in a side talking, high pitched voice. Chiiiken WEEN AHHH)

Let me just say this. At NO point in anyone’s life, should something in their brain or body tell them chicken wiener.

“Coming right up!”

YESSSS. I am totally owning today. I take my free chicken dog and LOAD IT UP with all my favourite unrefrigerated toppings, which are just warming up nicely in the sun. Sauerkraut, corn relish, hot sauce, ketchup. Mmmmm. I thank my Knight in Shining Tin Foil, head to the car, and scarf down my snack.

As I wiped my face up with a bit of leftover bun, I glanced down to see it’s only 10:30am. Hmm. Maybe that was a food mistake before noon. Hmm. Maybe it was a food mistake before a 5 hour flight. But hey! I still have plenty of time to get at that gardening. I crank some Dexy’s Midnight Runners on the radio and I cruise on home.

It’s late afternoon now and NOTHING in the house is done, but I am still super excited for my trip. I am meeting my hubby for a sweet big city rendezvous. He’s been away for a week now, and I miss him. I sent him some sexy boudoir photos to remind him what’s coming his way in two days. I’ll share one with you now, if you promise not to show anyone. I don’t want them leaked like Jennifer Lawrence’s!

11181847_10155948610525206_5074072771496942540_n

Okay. That’s it. I need to stop wasting time and GET READY.

Just as soon as I finish off that project piece chair I garbage picked two years ago. I really feel like it needs to get done today. Now where’s that sander?

P.S. If you read this, and thought, hey, pregnant ladies shouldn’t eat hot dogs! You are right!! Pat yourself on the back for nailing this parenting thing! We are all doing alright.