From Nat's Brain

Don't wait up for me...

I had a disappointing day at work. I hate when people let me down (nothing blog worthy -- without getting Karled). I put in my time, rushed to get The Boy at camp.

When I dropped him off in the morning, he'd been a bit apprehensive about the day ahead. The day camp was heading off to a water amusement park. (It's a ski hill in the winter.) We woke up to pouring rain and I think he'd hoped the whole thing would be cancelled. The Boy isn't really a dare devil, he's more cautious. I was a cautious child too. I try to gently encourage him to try new things. Sometimes, you just have to push your limits. But he was on my mind all day -- I was just a tad worried. (Parenting is such a balancing act.)

The camp is held at a local community centre. It's like the mother ship of day camps. (I kid you not they run like 15 camps a week, it's all kids all the time.) So pick up in the after-camp is a bit of mayhem. Big play-structure and I'm not sure what The Boy is wearing. (Turns out he was inside getting candy -- yes, I gave him a dollar.) I track him down and get a massive smile.

"Mom! Do you know what we did today?"
(Big sigh of relief in my head.)

Then he talked my ear off about his favourite rides. He said he was a little scared but that he and tiny Q had a blast. He came in second in one of the races. And he adored the ride called The Mammoth, and how he was too big for the kid section. Over dinner The Man explained about waterslides being like roller coasters. (We'll get him on one.)

"So Mom! When can we go?"

I was both hoping and afraid of that. Looks like I'll be subjecting myself to that special hell that is sports swimwear shopping. I can already hear the story "... Then Mom lost her bottoms!!!" Public nudity is best left to drunken starlettes without wig tape.

The Boy had had a good day and as I watched him post-dinner, it was clear that he was running out of steam. It amazes me how you can see tired in kids bodies. He had a happy exhausted and that peaceful sleep that comes from a long hard fun active day. Just the way summer should be.

I'm going to steal his happy sleep tonight, and think about the excitement of good happy days and our upcoming vacation.

Brought to you by the letter B

I looked down at myself at some point last week and realized that I wasn't getting nearly the support I used to. Clearly, I was hanging out all over the place. A seam was quickly unravelling and I was experience a clothing malfunction. Dread oh horror. I was having muffin top of the boobal variety. It was time for a very unpleasant shopping experience, time for a visit to the little bra shop of horrors.

Big boobs, little boobs, lactating boobs, post-lactating boobs, boobs that tried but failed, boobs that sag, boobs that run, silicone boobs, saline boobs, boobs for cleavage, boobs that are far apart, hot boobs, cool boobs, big nipple boobs, flat nipple boobs, old boobs, new boobs, pregnant boobs, pierced boobs, tattooed boobs.

No two boobs are alike. Not even on the same body. So when they stopped making my favourite bra, I took a day off work to mourn. It's this kind of loss you never really get over.

My boobs, well, they have been a round the block a time or two. I guess I have too. My boobs, overall, stay the same size. Their shape has changed. It really doesn't matter what I do. My chest size gets bigger and smaller. But the boobs they were a very reasonable B pre-child, and a very reasonable C post-child. Now I remove my bra and they hang quite a bit lower. I am pretty sure I would fail the pencil test. Children and gravity... those are the cleavage killers. Not that I ever had cleavage. There is just too much space between each breast.

All these things mean that I do not have the ideal breast, and as a result bra shopping is an ordeal. I gave myself 30 minutes to replace my beloved old bra. I picked out 7 utility bras (3 styles in B,C cups.) Give the clerk a don't stop me with this many items in the change room or I will kill you with this U hook. Only One fit. Curse the fashion industry -- and the stick insect with half large grapefruit for breast. Goddamn vanity sizing. (Serioulsy my last 12 bras has been Cs they all fit. WTF is up with this.) Went back got six more (C,D cups). I find one that fits. It's a D. Consider going for a spontaneous boob reduction. Swear I will drop 30 pounds. Or hook myself up to the Electrolux for home lipo...

Then I stopped. I just stopped. Why am I doing this to myself. Why am I letting these elitist "size 12 is fat" assholes make me feel bad about myself. Fact is, I am, for the most part ok with me. I am proud of who I am and how may body works. So I am saying no. I will not let this ruin how I feel about me. Or let it bring me down... The fact is I am a 37 year old mom. I don't have the perky girls I had when I was 22. They are gone, just like the girl I was back then. I am a woman now, and well, they say youth is wasted on the young. So true. I deserve to, for once, just not worry about the tag and just be... even if it is a D cup.

The Man, well his inner 13 year old in intact. I mention D cup his eyes light up... "Ooooooooooh boobies!!" I'll take sexy where I can get it.

Next weekend the real test. I need a new bathing suit.

Raise your arms up and say Wiiiiiii!!!

Karl and I got to chatting about our Wii' s over email. I'm looking for cool new games for the Wii so I'm open to any suggestions you may have.

Household favourites are:
Lego Star Wars The Complete Saga (The boy loves this one. Been playing it for weeks and weeks.)
Mario Party 8 -- which we all enjoy but I am totally inept at.

I like (Note I'm not so much into games and am rather old school)
Donkey Kong Barrel Blast (man do I suck but I love it)
Surf's Up (no clue why I like this so much)
Paper Mario (they this flipping thing between 2d and 3d which I kind of like. Not enough Microgame though

Personally I'd avoid Dewey's Adventure although it's good use of the remote I found it frustrating to no end.

Throw in your two cents.

Do you know where I was at your age?

I was speaking to a friend of mine online (natch) and she has been diagnosed with something odd. So I decided that I needed to do do some serious soul searching online because who knows what I could have. (With tongue firmly in cheek) I decided that some intense self-diagnosis was in order.

Here we go in no specific order, I have:
-- diabetes
-- bipolar disorder
-- shins plints
-- ovarian cancer
-- cardiovascular disease
-- acid reflux
-- golfer's elbow
-- achille's tendonitis
and an addiction to crack.

Thank god for the internet. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to ignore applications on Facebook.

Boot up iTunes: Ok so I am all about the now old Arcade Fire Album. So if you haven't definitely worth the bandwidth.
Other worthy tunes: Saint Alvia Cartel: Don't Wanna Wait Forever (just a happy little work out tune for when things get a bit hard out there on the pavement.)
Christine Fellows; Spinster's Almanac. (It's a genre I very much enjoy.)
The Wheat Pool: Neil Young (The song is called Neil Young to be clear.)

Hug your children

Not sure why this one hits so close to home. Maybe because I have a boy, maybe because I've driven that road, maybe it's a kinship with the community somehow...

My deepest sympathies to the families and to the community.

Clearly not getting it.

Saudi Arabia is trying to quell an international uproar caused by its highest court when it sentenced a woman who was gang raped to six months in jail and 200 lashes.

Agence France-Presses in reporting that the Saudi are standing by their verdict saying the woman has confessed to being an adulteress. You sentence me to 200 lashes and I'd pretty much confess to killing JFK and John Lennon. And you know, a confession makes it all better. (sarcasm) Funny how this happens after they take her lawyer off the case.

Clearly the Saudi are just not getting why the world is shocked. Clearly.
/insert tyrade here.

The Naked Hermit

If it weren't for winter and the cost of heating, I think I might go around naked all the time. Evidently cooking could get hazardous as well, you know as much as my boobs sag, I'd probably get them stuck in the oven door. OUCH.

But the main issue here is the cold. I just got back from a run. I've showered, and dressed, wrapped in bathrobe. And still, I am cold. See this is the issue with nudity. I'd freeze. Really. However, right before my shower, (cue Patricia the Stripper) I did peel off the wet gear and walk around in the all together. Read a few blogs, paid some bills. (Yes, your blog.) The Boy seems to have the same sort of affliction. At a moment's notice, off come the pants. And it's ok. It's our bodies, it's who we are... but more than that. It's damn comfortable especially after a run and you aren't cold yet. Just to let the sweat evaporate off you. Au naturel. Really you all should try it. (And no, this is NOT a sexual thing.) It's a naked nudity thing.

I selfing as it sounds, I feel a bit put out when I see that The Boy has a friend over on Saturday and that I lose my naked time. It's just not the same if the doors are closed. Or if I have to make sure I'm decent as I walk from the bathroom to the bedroom. Alas. But I feel a loss of freedom with guests and friends in the house.

I was thinking about this the other day. About people being afraid to change in the locker-room, or not going to the pool because of the way they look in their bathing suits. I refuse to let my size or other people's perceptions of it get in the way of the things I want to do. I just don't understand people who do. What are you waiting for? Life doesn't hand out invitations to the pool. I refuse to wait for perfection before I go out there and do stuff. Fact is even the size 0 over there is feeling self-conscious and we are all too busy worrying about our own buldges to worry about yours. Perfection will never happen, and before you know it life will have passed you by and you'll be bemoaning the fact that the world never let you do anything. In fact, usually the biggest obstacle is you. Do not be ashamed of who you are. And do not settle for anyone who makes you feel like you should be.

Totally not where I though this would go. But here we are...

Random musing for a Sunday morning...

I really can't seem to get it together to write a full post on any of these. I suspect some warrant it.

• As I was cleaning the bathroom (yuck!), I realize that The Man has more skin care products than I do. Not sure what that says about either of us.
  
• I am so The Boss's new album Magic, that I have not yet listen to Mr. Vedder's solo project. The hole mumble at "the voice from long ago.." at 44 seconds. Sexy. Damn. Sorry Ed.
  
• I got the last half hour of Grease in HD on The Movie Network. I was struck at how "normal" everyone looked: hips, average-sized breast. Dare I say it, Travolta had a bit of a pooch. Body fat what a concept.
  
• Speaking of fat, I re-signed up for Weight Watchers. Serving control. calorie watching and all that. I am doing point this week. I'll decide if Core might not be better next week. Goal is to drop a good 20. I have expected the weight-in program to pop up and say "My god, you've gotten fat." I did well on this last time.
  
• The Boy went to his first sleep-over birthday party last night. I know he was up all night since he called The man's cell phone at midnight. (He has cell that can call us only. Little electronic leash it is.) I have one tired, trying-not-to-be-but-is cranky young man on my hand. Ack. And we have a project to finish. I reckon if we give it a good hour, it should be done. Not gonna happen. "Did you get any sleep last night?" "Well Mom, I think I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds." Given the bags under his eyes, I'd say that was accurate.
  
• It's officially fall, I had to buy tights and pantyhose yesterday. Damn it. I hate both. In fact, I hate all socks. I only wear running socks because I hate blisters more.
  
• I want a pair of low-heeled boots. Just like the ones the girl at the salon had. I also think I may need a sweater dress.

  Wow, this is boring. Be back when I have something to say.

Searching for my lost shaker of salt

One of my most beautiful glamourous friends and I went for dinner at our favourite Mexican restaurant. You know it's a good night when after the fourth margarita I announce that I am really not feeling it, and she tries to talk me into doing a shot... the bartender/waiter offers up "really good tequila".

No go. Last time, I shot tequila I was three days into a week-long bender in Moncton with my sister and her girlfriend. We'd headed off to S's shack by the sea in Cocagne where we hooked up with a few more of their friends. It has a huge hole in the floor of the shack and bunkbeds.

Not to sure what transpired between the homemade wine and the tequila. The whole night is a bit of a blur. But I remember taking a shot of tequila (ok, it may have been shot three or four) a big bonfire burning stuff we shouldn't. next thing I remember all of us being on this lobster-fishing boat. What we were doing out there exactly, or how it transpire I will never know. The fishermen were a bit bemused, as if unsure what to do with this boat full of still drunk/ almost hungover girls. That is probably a good thing. Needless to say homemade wine/tequila and wavy wavy ocean waves were not a good mix. We were green but way too tough to barf over the side of the boat. We all know that it's the puking is a sign of it all going bad. Not that coming to on the boat in the middle of the ocean was such a great thing. (My sister explained at some point that she and her gf had decided that we all need some ocean air to make us feel better. She's full of good ideas that one (/end sarcasm).)

I made a rule as we arrived on dry land. NO MORE TEQUILA SHOOTERS. Turns out to more margs did the trick. Nicely pickled when I got home. But now I am feeling my age... it turns out my body will be nicely woozy and feel sleep deprived for a good 8-10 hours. The usually cure of fried eggs with toast, followed by much much coffee, a massage, and a greasy lunch is not working. And I seem to be craving Cheese Whiz. Odd mix age and booze.

Tonight, a little family gathering party at my sister's house. We're both moms. Excitement is much tamer than lobster fishermen now. But maybe a bit of the hair of the dog might help -- maybe she'll have some tequila.

Oh have you seen my ghost?*

This week is about looking back, like fate a few people have re-emerged from the past, ever so briefly.

It all started about a week ago, I was talking to the ethicist. We were in the main lobby chatting as a sea of humanity passed us by. You kind of grow numb to it, the coming and going. Keeping in mind at all times that whatever the reason you are in our lobby, it's bound to be stressful in some way. It's not the place it's the situation that got your there. But we get lost in our own little bubble sometimes and get caught up in our little conversations. The Ethicist, who I also adore, she's bitchy and catty. We were talking about her very skinny Mom and the fact that she was moving to the City.

Then, T. walked up to me. "Nat... how the hell have you been?" I'd have known him anywhere. He was visiting his mother. I think he needed to release. Nice guy. Talkative. Tim and I spent many an hour sitting outside a former exploiters. Me smoking a cigarette, while he ate an apple. Things have changed. Hadn't seen him in years. The exploiters have been bought out. The offenders fired. Some justice in that I guess. Still, it's one of those things. Bitter sweet. Good to see him, felt rather guilty that the only time I think of him is when I hear about his brother. T. is much older than I am. And I do enjoy his company although politically and philosophically we truly are polar opposites. I disagree but like him.

That night a Facebook message from D. my old boss. (Note to self don't drunk email.) Strange little email about something he'd done relating to a column that seemed deadly important at the time, and that now I can't remember. His kids have grown. So has The Boy haven't we all changed and evolved. I remember leaving the job, and how it felt like he and I had left so much unresolved. It was time... we both knew it. I was relating the departure to a mutual friend of ours who said "You know, he really liked you" in spite of the conflicts that preceded it. I like my present gig. I miss the wordsmithing, and the three hour lunch with Tops (shawarma and CDs -- traffic on Merivale) and well, little else about the place.

And then an email from a stranger, she is in a position I left before coming to the hospital. It was bar none the worst job I have ever had. Bad to the point where I considered quitting outright, and getting a job a Starbucks or something. The email stated simply that she wanted to know why I left. I have been at my new job 19 months or so. I'd have to talk myself into walking in the door every day. I'd sit in silence, receiving emails from a man an office away, with little support and even less recognition and expected to give absolute loyalty. I tried to get him to fire me. I'd show up late and leave early.

I guess it serves to remind me that in the last 19 months I found where I belong. Life is pretty sweet right now... I love my boss, I have a good kid (who is not wanting to do his homework -- ATM) but meh... a home, and peope who really honestly and truly have my best interest at heart. Now is really good.

----
* This is a line from the new single by Halifax band Wintersleep called Weighty Ghost. (They opened for PJ on the Canadian tour.) Definitely worth checking out.