The highs and lows of the last few weeks are neither very high, nor very low because my life is very drama-free. Or at least in the grand scheme of things, it’s very drama-free. I have been known to throw a grown-up temper tantrum or two, but it’s usually because my blood sugar is low. Mama needs her elevensies.
Despite the relative mundaneness of the happenings around here, let me summarize everything for you by listing that which has disappointed me lately and that which has not.
Didn’t taste like Nanaimo Bars at all. I should have guessed because that’s a brownie on the tub, not a Nanaimo Bar. The chocolate coconut crunch balls were weird. Custard ice cream is like hyper-sweet vanilla, but not in a good way. But maybe I’m just being grumpy. Chapman’s Frozen Yogurt is my all time favourite and I’ll even risk being thrown out of the place by saying that I even like it better than ice cream. I could eat an entire tub of Maple Walnut in one sitting, Cheeky Monkey is the bees knees, and I think I’m best friends with Cappuccino. I just didn’t dig this flavour, which is OK. People aren’t supposed to like everything and I’m sure some find this flavour delicious. I’m just not one of them.
Not A Disappointment
Poster Girl is a short documentary about a young Iraq vet dealing with PTSD. It’s a couple of years old, but I just got around to it recently. Her story is told with such raw emotion, I was ugly crying on the couch. I won’t say much more, not that there’s a big dramatic climax I’d be spoiling, but take 40 minutes to hear about the emotional toll war takes on its soldiers. I think most of us don’t realize or think about that side of the story.
I’m sick. I always seem to get sick during holidays (this weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving). Growing up, I used to get all throw-up-y on Christmas day. I remember one Christmas, I spent the whole day lying in my parents bed, listening to the festivities from my blanket cocoon of sickness and doom, with my brand new boom box, playing my brand new MC Hammer cassette tape over and over again, hurling in a bucket. That was Super Awesome Fun Times. Thanksgiving is just about as good as Christmas. It’s basically Christmas without the prezzies. In our house, at least, we have pretty much the same meal on Thanksgiving as we do at Christmas and it’s the greatest meal of all time. So here I am, sick. Luckily, it’s just a cold right now, but my luck, I’ll be all queasy and pukey come dinner time thanks to the gallons of snot I’ve consumed over the past few days.
Not A Disappointment
I went to Winners the other day and bought myself a Roots sweater at a 55% discount. It is my most favourite sweater right now because it’s big and fluffy and has thumb holes and it’s new. I don’t often buy myself anything – if I go shopping, I find it very, very difficult to not buy things for the kids and then I feel guilty about spending money at all because I’m cheap and then I don’t get anything for myself, even if I need it – so this was a treat.
We took the girls to the movies on the weekend for the first time in a long time. We’ve all been busy and there hasn’t been anything out geared towards their age group. We thought Hotel Transylvania looked like good old-fashioned family fun, so we went. The girls liked it, I think. Or at least Eirinn says she did. Avery got restless half way through, opting to stand and wander in one spot and talk in a yell-whisper and lay across two seats. I think AH thought it was ok. I was thoroughly meh about the whole thing. It was meh, the laughs were meh, the storyline was meh, and meh. It’s a renter. We should have held out for Frankenweenie.
Not A Disappointment
The girls seem to be excelling in school this year. They’re both in the younger grade of split classes; Avery is in the first year of a two-year kindergarten program, and Eirinn is in grade one in a 1/2 class. Avery seems to be making friends with second year students, exclusively, which “oh no, hanging with the older kids,” but also the reason is this. She keeps telling me of all these kids in her class that speak different languages. “Like, they have an accent? Like Granny and Papa?” “No, a different language.” “Does your teacher understand them?” “Sometimes, but I can’t.” “Do their parents know what they’re saying?” “Yes.” “Do their parents speak the same language as them?” “No, they talk like me.” Ah. The kids speak Toddlerese. That happens. They’re still just little.
She’s also getting some kind of award at tomorrow morning’s liturgy. If memory serves from Eirinn’s kindergarten career, everyone in the class will get an award at some point during the year, BUT THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT ANY LESS SPECIAL. It’ll probably be a Plays Well With Others or Uses Her Manners award and I will be proud and take lots of pictures.
Eirinn is continuing being a smarty pants this year. Every week, she comes home with a spelling quiz. The lowest mark she’s gotten is a 7/5. 140%. How is that possible, you ask? Well, she gets all of the grade 1 words correct, and then she goes ahead and gets the bonus grade 2 words correct, too. Nerd.
So proud of both of them.