Living the Dream

Those of you who know me well, know that I loathe gushing.  I don't mind so much when other people do it, but I bore myself when I do it.  Mainly because it's harder to insert dry, sarcastic wit unless you are complaining about something (or someone).  And if it isn't amusing, it isn't worth saying.

Having said that, this post dangerously brushes the gush-line.  You've been warned.  I'll bullet-point it, so as to avoid waxing poetic.  Additionally, I will also do my best to make fun of others, to bring it down a level.  Adrian seems the likely choice, given proximity.  Stay tuned.

So, it was Thanksgiving last weekend.  Ann's daycare sent us home a little leaf made of her handprint, on which to write all the things that we were thankful for, this Thanksgiving.  The leaves then got put on a communal tree in the daycare kitchen.  This was harder to do that I thought, because Adrian kept policing everything I suggested as 'inappropriate'.  Things like: 'Mommy's finally employed', and 'Maggie's stopped peeing in my bedroom' and even, 'My parents discovered how economical it is to buy wine in bulk'.  Anyways, this activity was timely, as it's been a pretty awesome fall, and it gave us a chance to reflect on this.  Everything is coming up Milhouse right now (if you are unfamiliar with this reference, please see here).  For me.  Adrian still had to work a lot this fall.  That's a bummer.  Reasons for the thankfulness are:

1. It's not money.  Everything's not coming up money.  I was barely working, and I paid lots of daycare.
2. We are thankful that Ann is at daycare, with lots of new friends to play with; new stories to read; new games to play.  And that there is a castle across the street! 

It's a castle.

She is having an amazing time, which isn't a surprise.  She loves routine and institutions.  She'd excel in the army.  She likes to see how fast she can put puzzles together and then take them apart, like she were cleaning a gun.  Anyways, they suggested I leave her there all day, regardless of whether I'm working or not, to get her into a routine.  Sighing resignedly, I responded that I supposed I could find something to do with my time.  Which is this:


"I can't read any more, Mommy.  Impressionable women everywhere are biting their bottom lips in the hopes that some  billionaire will abuse them.  Why are you reading this asinine drivel?"

And I can do it guilt free, because someone else suggested it.  Though it is worth noting that all that extra time at the dog park earned Maggie a case of kennel cough (yes, she'd been vaccinated), so that's awesome.  We were under quarantine that first week.  And $180 poorer.

2. We were thankful that Mommy had so much free time.  Until lunchtime, I would putter around the house listening to CBC podcasts, cleaning and organizing.  Earning knowledge of the world, and getting all zeitgeisty.  While this is arguably not the same as earning wages, I think that we can all agree that being a well-rounded person is very close.  I can then enrich the lives of Ann and Adrian as well, bringing them up to speed on the tolls on the Port Mann Bridge, reviews of Salman Rushdie's new book, and the intricacies of Justin Beiber's latest prank.  Adrian might feel that there's more value in making money for a new home, or even a new boat motor, but I feel that's short-sighted.

I've also been running a lot more.  Part of this has to do with the fact that I have friends now (figure 1).  And said friends will meet up with me on their lunch breaks from gainful employment and run with me or have coffee.

Fig. 1. Em and Cloe.

3.  We were thankful that Mommy's been cooking.  Like- every day, because it may surprise you to learn- that's how often dinner needs to be made.  Clearly, this is all new to me, even though I've been home for the last year. 

While I think most of you probably figure that Adrian's life is filled with hilarity and self-congratulations at snagging me, it's not always the picnic we assume it is for him. Aside from being absent-minded and emotional, I am messy and my cooking is hit-and-miss (meaning that sometimes I cook, and sometimes I get distracted by the fact that it's 4pm and there's wine on the counter). 

"I haven't seen the cat in days.  Is it time to clean?"

For the past year, I've moped and thrown myself about the furniture about the fact that while this move has advanced Adrian's career, it's set mine back years.  My feminist upbringing caused a short-circuit in the reasoning part of my brain.  I think that to make it very clear that this was a temporary arrangement, and that I was not fulfilled being a homemaker, I refused to make the home at all.  As if, by making the most of my situation and enjoying my year at home (or, by showing any aptitude for it whatsoever), fate might bestow upon me the opportunity to do it indefinitely.

And then, this summer, a series of events occurred that allowed me to get over it.  I won't bore you with the gushy details (See, that could've gotten boring.  You're welcome).  I came to the conclusion that wallowing is actually a bit selfish when you belong to a family.  I love my family and am thankful for the opportunity to clean my toilet before I have afternoon tea in the sun (read: wine), and for the time to prepare a meal that isn't a cream sauce pasta.  I actually ironed all Adrian's shirts this week, and dropped them off at his office, because he walks to work.  And I even bought a cookbook I'd been eyeing up. With money from my Wine Allowance. That's a pretty big sacrifice, so you know I'm committed to it.

4.  We are thankful that the dog eats less stuff.  Mostly.  (to be continued...  Adrian wants to watch Boardwalk Empire on the computer right now.  I'll do number four later this week...).

"I'm sorry, Mommy.  They pacify me..."

Creative English in Rap: Should their teachers be Chided, or Commended?

Snoop posted this pros and cons list on instagram recently.  I've reposted the (somewhat) work appropriate version:

Mitt has a dancing horse? 

There are lots of things inappropriate about this, but we don't have time to get into all of them.  Some of them need no explanation.  I'm not saying that some of them aren't right- I mean, come on, Snoop has a point- his name is 'Mitt'.  How can you take a country seriously when their leader is named 'Mitt'? Would VP Paul Ryan become the 'Mitten'?

My main point doesn't have anything to do with the presidential election, but is only illustrated by this list, and it is thus:  Who decided that the plural form of 'ho' would be 'hoes'?  If you make up a word- demeaning or otherwise- do standard grammatical rules apply?  Is there a gangster panel that debates these things?  I have decided that there is, and this is what it looks like:


There are a gaggle of men sitting around a table in the board room.  They all have low slung pants, and there is a bowl of toothpicks in the middle of the table, for which to help them think.  Dre stands up to call the meeting to order.  He's the leader because he's a doctor. 

"All right gentlemen- pencils at the ready- today's meeting has been called to discuss the grammatical issue of the pluralization of 'ho'.  Our options are thus: Shall we go the route of 'pros' and 'bros' and simply add an 's'?  Or shall we follow the lead of 'potato' and end with an 'es'?  Research shows that the 'es' lends more credibility to the word, and helps its case when we vote on addition into the misogynist dictionary, next year."


And they will all listen to him, because he did his dissertation in lyrical dialects. 

I leave you with the end of the meeting, happy weekend!

"To discuss for next week, friends; Faggot: We get a lot of flack for its use, but it rhymes so well with 'Maggot'.  How to proceed?"


***Disclaimer: Adrian feels I should clarify that I absolutely do not condone the use of any of the terms in this post that debase or demean any group of people.  Regardless of their pluralized spelling, or how well they rhyme with other words.