To sharpen or not to sharpen...

So I went to play hockey tonight and decided to get my skates sharpened.

 

This may not SOUND like blog-worthy news, but I haven’t sharpened my skates since we lived in Thunder Bay.  Which equals about 4 years.  I had myself fully convinced that not sharpening your skates was totally acceptable.  I think I heard someone once say that this one NHL player only sharpens his skates once a year.  Which, in my mind, gave me permission to only sharpen my skates every 4 years.

 

Basically,  I’m just lazy.   Not lazy enough to quit the best sport in the world, but lazy enough to do  it with old equipment and unsharpened skates and hope for the best.

 

But tonight sharpening my skates was the thing to do. Everyone was doing it.  And it was only $3 and the guy said he’d do them while I got changed- - efficient AND cheap.  SO I gave it a go.

 

Wow.

 

IT was like night and day - -as I whisked around the ice on my newly sharpened skates I felt like I’d traded in dull soup cans for Henkel knives.  It was incredible.  I realized that my pregnancy hiatus hadn’t left me COMPLETELY void of all hockey talent- - I could skate!  I could get the puck EVEN if the pass didn’t come directly to my stick!  I could stop at the blue line!  I even made a cool SHOOSH-ing noise when I stopped! 

 

It was like the day I got glasses and realized that trees weren’t just giant green blobs but actually consisted of discrete leaves that had edges and other cool things like that.

 

According to Rob, my I-don’t-play-hockey-so-I-shouldn’t-have-an-opinion-but-I’ll-put-my-two-cents-in-anyways husband, he has spent the past 4 years NAGGING me to get my skates sharpened.  To quote him directly, “I did TOO tell you to get them sharpened.  Everytime we drove past the Canadian Tire in Orangeville I’ve suggested it to you.”

 

(As an FYI - -we don’t live in Orangeville and when I’m driving THROUGH Orangeville I usually close my eyes and hope it ends soon.)

 

I think the theme of this week in my life is that sporting equipment caliber really DOES make a difference.  Maybe I haven’t been an unathletic clutz all this time- -maybe all I needed  were new skis and sharp skates!  I'll keep you posted...

Meet my nemesis : Powder

We just got back from an incredible vacation in Whistler, BC while Toby enjoyed some quality time with my parents.  I think it was  a success all round - -I’m not sure how my mom is going to cope without Toby, though, after getting used to having him around all of the time.  My dad even started getting  up early just because there was it was so exciting to be awake with Toby around.

 

Rob and I had a great time seeing friends from out West (and some from home as well) and enjoying our new skis.

 

I have to say – there aren’t many sports where a change in equipment can suddenly make you THAT much better.  But changing in my 10 feet long, neon gree, pointy tipped skis that I bought used when I was in grade 9 for a trendy new pair of rounded, short skis made me SO much better!  The first two days I gained more  and more confidence as I realized I could TURN without losing balance and not make a fool of myself.  By the end of the first few runs I was  happy to venture of the groomed runs and even enjoyed some tree runs and moguls. 

 

Saturday night it started to snow and, being with a group of skiing enthusiasts, we had a contingency plan for he morning if there was any fresh snow the next morning.

 

I don’t pretend to be well versed in ski lingo but I would have been an idiot not to have known that fresh powder in Whistler is a good thing.  SO for some reason it was me who phoned the Snow-phone at 7am and started rejoicing in the fact that there were 17 cm of fresh powder awaiting us.  I raced around our condo leaping for joy in my long johns and then making the joyous wake up call to all of our friends that about the MASSIVE amount of fun that was awaiting us on the hill.

 

Riding up on the chairlift we were definitely the first few on the hills and the fluffy cloudlike descents that beckoned us looked heavenly.

 

That is, until I tried to ski it.

 

I think it was my second turn of the morning where I lost my balance.  And the third turn that sent me tumbling into a cloud of white smoke.  And by the 5^th turn my legs were burning so much that I began to wonder what the appeal was.  But being with powder enthusiasts I didn’t have much time to vent at the bottom - -I’d made everyone wait long enough.  As someone pointed out to me that morning, “There are no friends on powder days”

 

SO I kept my mouth shut and carried on.

 

But by the time I found myself hiking UP a hill just so we could get to more of this torturously difficult powder stuff I couldn’t contain myself anymore. 

 

“THIS SUCKS”

I announced as I barreled down the hill.  I think I just wanted to get the run over with.

 

I’m pretty sure people thought I said, “This Rocks!” as I heard some cheering behind me, just before I tumbled down into another ball of powdered whiteness.  This time I lost my ski.  And my new skis are white.  And the powder was deep.  17 cm deep as I remembered from my earlier excitement.

 

It took 6 people about 20 minutes to FIND my ski and then another 10 to get it on my foot while balancing precariously on 17 cm of pure hell on an incline I’d vowed never to ski on.

 

That was the last run of the day for me.  Even though I never mastered the art of powder, I did manage to learn two things in that morning : a) Powder is overrated and b)  There ARE such things as friends on powder days.  And thank goodness for that. 

My Tough Kid

Toby dressed up as Mickey Rourke from the Wrestler last night for the Oscars.  He did this by giving himself a black eye just before bedtime.  He got so excited that I'd turned the bath on that he decided to SPRINT through the bathroom to the toilet, fall, and smash his face into the open drawer that was in his way.  Its a good thing we adults have grown out of our instinctual reactions to the excitement of bath time.

The GREAT thing is that he didnt need stitches.  Rob and I both went back into "sick kids mode".  One of us grabbed an ice pack while the other one grabbed "The Bear Book" and started reading.  We managed to keep some ice on his face for 10 minutes, gave him some advil, and had him in the bath and in bed on time.  We're a good team.

This morning, I was greeted by my beautiful boy with a jubilant smile and his multicoloured eye.

He's a tough kid.  In his first 11 months of life he's already gone through morphine withdrawl and gotten a shiner.  When anyone asks about this one all I'm going to say is -- "Oh, yeah? You should see the other kid..."

Why Not to Drink So Much....

Every now and then - -like, say, every 3 years or so, its good to remind yourself why its important not to drink too much.  And I guess my 31st birthday was as good a time as any to refresh my memory of the evil hangover.   When you spend a few YEARS either breastfeeding or pregnant, you watch your nonbreastfeeding-non-pregnant friends drinking with no inhibitions and you often think, "Doesn't drinking excessively look like FUN!?!?" .  Well I can tell you now from RECENT experience- - it is.  But the big question - -is it WORTH it?

Wednesday night was had 4 friends in for a "low key" birthday dinner for myself.  None of us had to work the next day and we turned it into a slumber party so no one had to drive home.  What started with a fancy dinner of fine cheeses, paella  and Amarone  soon progressed to rocking out with Rock Band and Beer and ended with a 3 hour hottub.  At 4am I had a sudden epiphany that it was BED TIME.

The next morning I woke up at noon.  

I am going to leave that as a complete paragraph because anyone who has a child under the age of 1 knows how RARE an occurance it is.  IN fact, I'll write it again  -- I woke the next morning at NOON.

I stepped out of the bedroom and scared my husband.  I then looked in the mirror and scared myself.  It was hardly possible, but I actually LOOKED as bad as i felt.  We're not sure if I was an allergy or just windburn but my entire face was red, swollen and blotchy.  I also had pink eye and had pus crusting both eyes which were swollen as well from either the pink eye or the mysterious ailment that was inflaming my face.  And my hair.  Oh my crazy hair.  Its ridiculous at the best of times, but imagine it after 3 hours of rocking out on the drums followed by a 3 hour hot tub and then being slept on the the strange position I finally ended up in.  It had a mind of its own.

As I stepped out of the bedroom my sudden splitting headache reminded me that the only thing worse than drinking excessive amounts of red wine, beer and bar shooters...was drinking an excessive amount of red wine, beer and bar shooters and then sitting in a hot tub for 3 hours.   That's a sure way to guarantee that  there was not an OUNCE of fluid left in my entire body.

Needless to say, it was a pyjama-and-glasses-day at our house.  Which Toby loves.  Mommy in her glasses = fun because if you pull them OFF her face, she IMMEDIATELY leaps up and grabs them out of your hands.  So its challenging and rewarding all in one.  We both made some changes to the game yesterday morning.  I, for one, was not able to jump up and chase after my glasses.  So Toby decided to singlehandedly spice up the game by announcing his arrival at my face by SCREAMING Into my ear before YANKING my glasses off my face.

I give props to my husband.  Not only was he a sport and stayed up with me until 3am - -he got up  with Toby and took care of him ALL DAY LONG while I wallowed in post party depression and played the role of dead beat mom with flourish.  And he didn't make me feel guilty ONCE.  I think he knows we won't be doing this again for another 3 years.  

SO for all of you who are pregnant or breastfeeding - -yes, those of us on the other side of life right now ARE having fun.  But give us a call the next day and we'll gladly trade places with you...

Happy Valentines Day!

We don't usually celebrate Valentines Day, but are feeling way to thankful for our little guy to let this day go without some sort of acknowledgement....So we dressed him up in his "I love my family" shirt and decided to take a photo to send to his grandparents.  Easier said than done.  Little did I know, our fancy high tech camera has the greatest toy-appeal in the house right now and I engaged in cruel torture play by not letting him get his hands on it. I would pose him and then try to snap a photo quickly before he LUNGED at the camera.  It took about an hour and we finally managed to get one "angelic" photo of him.  Now when I look at it it appears as if he's just sitting there patiently, thinking adoringly of how much he loves his family.  The reality is, he's catching his breath before making another ATTACK on the camera.  But we won't tell the grandparents that.

We don't have big plans today -- we were supposed to go out with friends but have ended up just spending time with Toby and after he goes to  bed we're going to have a nice quiet dinner at home.  A few months ago that may have sounded boring and ordinary but right now it's absolute perfection...

This morning we awoke bright and early to the sounds of "bap bap bap" (his favourite new "saying") as he happily played with his crib toys and moments later I had Rob and Toby bouncing into bed with me.  It was just after 7am and I was being smothered with kisses and baby drool.  It was the best valentine's day present ever.

Peanut Butter Shampoo

I can't believe its already almost been a week since my last post  - - we've been keeping busy enjoying Toby's new developments.  Last week we finally figured out why he kept picking things up and WHACKING himself in the head with them.  He thinks anything with buttons on it is a cell phone - -and obviously, the thing to DO with a phone is put it up to your ear!  As soon as we discovered this we a) rejoiced in the fact that he wasn't engaging in self harm behavior and b) reinforced the new behavior by laughing and imitating it back to him.  So now Toby thinks EVERYTHING is a cell phone.  

Yesterday when I got home from work his hair was wet.  Apparently Toby even applied his new game to his breakfast piece of toast with peanut butter.  The boys had a post-breakfast shower that day.

Peanut Butter is Toby's second new passion (second only to the cell phone game, of course).  Rob stayed true to his word and started Toby on it last week.  I think it was day #2 in the ICU when the doctors announced that they were going to start Toby on a third and "more powerful antibiotic" that Rob threw up his hands in despair and said, "That's IT.  When we get home I'm giving him PEANUT BUTTER. "  After MONTHS of patiently waiting 3 days between introducing new foods and ensuring he didn't ACCIDENTALLY eat anything with egg whites in it until his first birthday - -Toby has proved to us that he can handle just about ANYTHING.  So we slipped him some PB a month shy of his 1st birthday.  ANd he loves it.  (It especially feels good in the hair...)

He's also been enjoying some tobogganing outside.  WHat he REALLY likes is when we pull him down to the lake in knee deep snow.  Its a pretty good workout for mom -- ESPECIALLY when he gets tired of being in his sled and I have to carry him AND the sled back while balancing through the  deep snow.  We do have snowshoes that I could wear but our little man has acquired MY patience, so we don't have time to wait for me to slip them on before we have to get MOVING!!!

That's all the news from here.  Tomorrow night I'm going on a romantic couples valentines dinner out at one of the nicest restaurants in Collingwood.  Rob's going to soccer.  SO basically it will be me and 2 other couples.  They're such good friends that they've already pointed out that if its at ALL awkward least I"ll be able to blog about it :)  I'll keep you posted....

The Gym

I go to the gym regularly.  But only on weekdays (which eliminated Sat/Sun).  And only on days when I'm in the office (which eliminates Tuesdays and Fridays).  And only when I'm working with Care (which eliminates Thursdays.)   And only ever on our lunch breaks when neither of us are running behind,  And only ever on days when one of us doesn't have some sort of life crisis going on that necessitates a good deep fried meal at the greasy spoon restaurant across the street. 

That's right. I go to the gym regularly- -which averages about once a week.  But boy do we feel good about it.  

This whole thing with Toby's illness and me being off work for 3 weeks really threw off our regular exercise program.  We have both noticed the effects.   Care and I usually talk a couple of times a day, but lately we've had to add in an extra late night phone call to make sure the other one was COMMITTED to going back to the gym the next day and initiating our return to the gym.  Care is a good friend- - she sticks to the rules, too.  I'm sure she was tempted, but she remained loyal during my entire absence and didn't venture to the gym without me ONCE.

And so we recommenced our regular exercise routine last week.  I didn't go my first day back because we had things to talk about and paperwork to do -- and we also hadn't been to Tim Hortons together in a while.  Priorities.  But the Wednesday we had no excuse and we ventured back.

The problem came this week - -I was just getting back into the grind when out of the BLUE Care forgot her gym clothes.  Usually, when this happens, its a  welcome excuse for both of us to throw up our hands in innocence and make our way to Tim Hortons or some other lunch venue.  But last Wednesay marked the 4 week mark of my flirtation with complete inactivity.  And for the first time in my LIFE...I decided to bite the bullet and.....(don't judge me on this)....go to the gym...on my own...

It was a battle of willpower.  But I did it.  And I was bored.  And I felt guilty. And I was well aware of the fact that I would have much rather been leisurely sipping on a cup of Timmy's with Care...but I thought I was doing the right thing.   But these feeling were all minor compared to the HORROR I discovered when I got back to the change room....

I got to the change room and it was FULL of people. Which was probably about 5 but its a small gym and an even smaller change room and its really REALLY awkward when you're changing with 5 other women in very close quarters  you don't want to make eye contact with but you're not REALLY sure are not your patients.

SO I quickly grabbed my towel and headed for the showers.  Care and I don't usually shower.  We don't really work up TOO much of a sweat what with all the chatting that we do while exercising.  So I was feeling a bit out of sort already as I ventured to the shower room on my own.  I spent an extra bit of time in the shower, hoping that the giant change room crowd would have dissipated by the time I had finished.  I guess I underestimaed my showering speed.

As I grabbed my towel and my clothes I realized with HORROR what I had done.

I hadn't packed a towel at all.

I'd packed a rag.

A very nice rag, mind you.  A while terry-cloth rag with blue stripes on it. I'm sure at one point in its life it was a piece of a beautiful big bath towel.  Unfortunately, now it was a rag that was probably all of 10x10cm.  Which isn't much when your'e about to face a gym room full of skinny-work-out-women-who-may-or-may-not-be-your-patients.  And WHERE was Care in all of this?  Probably safely back at the office sipping tea and doing paperwork.  Ah, paperwork.  How I longed to be fully clothed doing paperwork.

It didn't take me long to run down my options.  I didn't have very many. I could either put back on my sweaty gym clothes or make a mad dash for my locker with my little rag protecting me from the crowds of staring women.  The answer was pretty evident.  I knew what I had to do.  And the REAL question became...WHICH genital to cover up....I had the option of the front, the back or the left or the right boob.  Now, most of you may think its a no brainer- - the front -- ALWAYS the front.  ESPECIALLY when you've spent the last month of your life at a hospital living on the bare necessities which DON"T INCLUDE razors.  But it wasn't that clear cut- - keep in mind I was planning to RUN Into the change room- -does one REALLY want their cellulitic ass bouncing around for all to see?  What about bouncing-saggy-post-breast-feeding-boobs?  But if I covered one then the other one would still be in plain sight...

I didn't think it through all that much longer. I opted for a weird dance-like-shimmy as I threw my arms about in flurried movements, covering various genitals in alternating succession while my feet did a kind of Greek grape vine like shuffle to my locker. Thank GOD I didn't fall fall on my face.  Or into my locker.

I made it out of the gym that day alive but missing a part of my dignity.  I was still red faced when I got back to the office and Care casually asked me if I'd had a good time.

No, I said.  I missed you.   I don't think I'll go it alone again anytime soon.

Enough said.