The search (or the story of missing clothes that weren't missing at all)

This week swim practices started back up for both boys;  Noah is at the pool four times a week this year, and Will is there twice.  That means six opportunities every week for their stuff to get lost somewhere in the black hole that is the university pool's men's locker room.  I get twitchy just thinking about it.

Based on the boys' previous poor records in the "making sure we have all of our stuff before we leave the change room" department, I am not so foolish as to actually believe this year will be any better.  Still, I sent them both to the pool this week with swim bags full of all of their necessary gear, carefully labelled with their names, and a hopeful reminder about mental checklists and double-checking their bags at the end of the evening.  And then I crossed my fingers and waited.

Noah is two for two so far;  both nights he's had practice, he has returned home with everything stuffed back in his bag.  (Wait, could this be a turning point?  Is this one of the positive changes that parents see in eleven year olds, an increased ability to be responsible for their own stuff?  If so, I'll gladly take it, because it will help to offset the other, not-quite-so-pleasant changes I've noticed in Noah in the few weeks since he started grade 6.  The fact that he is rolling his eyes right now at this statement while he reads it from his Playbook in his bedroom with the door closed and is muttering under his breath that I just don't understand will give you an idea of what I'm talking about.)  But Will, who had his first practice at the pool last night, got off to a bit of a rougher start in the keeping track of stuff department.

Matt was heading down the stairs to meet Will outside of the locker room after practice, once he figured Will would have had enough time to have showered and changed back into his clothes.  He was greeted on the staircase by one of Will's buddies, who was dressed and ready to go home, and Will, who indeed had his backpack with most of his swim stuff in it, but who was also still clad only in his Speedo and goggles.  Will and his friend simultaneously started shouting at Matt, "SOMEONE STOLE MY CLOTHES! / SOMEONE STOLE WILL'S CLOTHES!".  Thus began a search of epic proportions.

Now, because I wasn't at the pool last night, these next details in the story are a little fuzzy and, frankly, incomprehensible to me.  It seems that Will had put his stuff in a locker right by his friend's locker when they got to the pool.  His friend had no trouble locating his own locker and clothes afterwards, and apparently they had checked the locker they thought Will's stuff should be in, but "it wasn't there".  It would seem to me that all that they needed to do once Matt arrived to help was to check the lockers close by the one where Will thought he had put his stuff and, assuming the clothes hadn't indeed been stolen (which was very unlikely, because no university student could possibly be interested in Will's tiny size 6 children's clothing or size 13 shoes), the search should have easily turned up his things.  But apparently it didn't quite go that way.  Matt and Will and his buddy scoured every locker in half the change room with no luck, and Matt even went to speak to the people at the front desk to see if anyone had heard of any incident involving kids' clothes.  At one point during the search, a frantic Will exclaimed to Matt, "CALL MOM!  CALL MOM!".

When I heard this bit of the story last night after everyone was back home (and, I might add, wearing clothes, which eventually were found in the exact locker where Will had left them), I couldn't help but laugh.  I wondered what on earth Will thought could be accomplished by calling me at home in the middle of this crisis.  Even if I had been there, I wouldn't have been able to go into the men's locker room to find his stuff.  I asked Will what his reason was for wanting to call me, and he said, "Well, you know, you're the one in this family who is the most organized (and he used finger quotation marks when he said the word "organized", as if he were highlighting it as some rare skill I possess).  It seemed that in his moment of panic, he was clinging to the desperate hope that if he called "the organized one" in the family, maybe his missing clothes might somehow magically reappear.

I'm glad things ended well and Will had clothes to wear home from the pool last night, and I hope that this incident might make Will a little more receptive to the suggestions I often give him for being more "organized" himself. Will might regularly argue with me and point out that I'm wrong about things, but at least he recognizes my apparent superpowers in his time of need.  It's nice to be appreciated.

A girl can dream...

Every fall, once the craziness of the first few weeks of school passes and things start to settle down in my brain, I find myself inspired to change the way things look in our home.  The cooler weather and rich autumn hues in the trees outdoors make me feel like adding warmth through colours and fabrics and cozy details in our inside spaces as well, and I find myself excitedly poring over the pages of home decor magazines and websites for ideas I can use to this end.  

This past weekend, Matt and I shared a lovely little getaway, just the two of us, in the Niagara region.  We did some sightseeing, stayed in a luxurious hotel, enjoyed a fantastic grown-up dinner out with my aunt Christina and her husband James, and did a bit of shopping in the States (which is so very enjoyable when there are no children present to complain about how bored they are!).  I came out of the mall with an armload of catalogues from one of my favourite home decor stores and spent most of the drive home yesterday absorbing the beautiful rooms pictured on the glossy pages and figuring out how I could recreate some of the looks in our home. By the time we pulled into the driveway, I had all kinds of visions and mental shopping lists and plans to apply, and was convinced that in no time, our house, too, would look like it was worthy of being on the pages of a current magazine.

It must have been the fact that I had been away from my children for 24 hours that allowed me to have such lofty (you might even say ridiculous) ambitions. Somehow I had completely blocked out the very real vision of what living with two boys looks like (and the knowledge that those pristine catalogue pictures are of staged rooms that are perpetually undisturbed by the "living" that boys like to do.) In the 24 hours since I've been back home, I've come across dozens of scenes that are the exact opposite of what I had envisioned. Instead of neatly lined rows of attractive baskets, perfectly stacked books, cozily placed throws, and decorative pillows with just the right dimple pressed into them, I've discovered dented storage boxes with lids half off, newspapers separated page by page and scattered all over three rooms, throws balled up into non-descript wads and abandoned in a heap, and all the decorative pillows in the house piled into one giant mountain to provide a suitable landing spot for the jumping portion of an obstacle course. Rather than seeing bedroom doors open at an inviting angle, revealing serene places for relaxation at the end of the day, I've been faced with doors that have long, mangled strings attached to them (Noah rigged up a system for opening and closing his door from the comfort of his bed) and that open up onto rooms that look like a herd of buffalo just trampled through them. Never in a decorating magazine have I noticed dirty socks left on stairs or yesterday's clothes stuffed behind the bathroom door (both Will's doing), or Lego robotics parts strewn across a coffee table and then forgotten, or hallways littered with homemade cardboard swords fashioned from wrapping paper rolls and hockey tape, but I saw all of these things and more at our house in the past day. 

I've crashed back down to Earth now, and have realized that while I can try all I want to have a home that looks like something out of Pottery Barn, the reality of day-to-day life with boys will always look a little more like just Barn.  Luckily, I've always had a real soft spot for cute looking animals.

On turning forty

I am turning forty years old today.  Forty is usually perceived to be a "big" one, a birthday decorated with extra special good wishes from loved ones and the frequently asked question, "So how does it feel to be forty?!?".  I can tell you that really, I did not "feel" any different when I woke up this morning compared to yesterday, and the fact that there is now a number four at the front of my age sits just fine with me.  Still, when I think back to who I was even a year ago, I realize that I have already gone through a process of gradual but very significant change in the months leading up to this milestone birthday.  When I look into the secret spaces of my forty year old heart today after an important recent personal journey, I love what I see, and in that sense, forty feels wonderful.

This past year has been one of intense self-reflection for me, a soul-searching of sorts from which I have emerged feeling more alive than ever, and more aware of and truly grateful for the many blessings I experience in day-to-day life.  I've been watching my two beautiful, smart, funny boys becoming more and more their own selves of late, and that has allowed me to focus more on developing my self as a person (outside of "mom"), too.  I'm finding myself less worried about justifying to people who I am and what I do these days;  I'm finally realizing that feeling good in my own skin matters more than approval from others.  Four decades of life experience have earned me a certain amount of wisdom, and a confidence that allows me to open myself up to learning and trying more, and sharing more of myself with the outside world. I feel like there is a whole undiscovered road ahead of me to travel, and I've realized that the travelling should be undertaken in the spirit of appreciating moments as they're lived, because each one is unique and fleeting.

In recent years, I've watched good friends my age struggle with serious health issues, which has made me take note that like them, I am not invincible.  I'm very aware now that good health (both physical and mental) is something to appreciate, and that taking care of myself is just as important as taking care of others.   I've also learned that being in tune with my own true self, with what my heart needs and wants, somehow allows me to better see the vulnerabilities of others and to be understanding of their personal needs and wants, too.  I seem to "feel" more of everything these days, and that sensitivity that has somehow grown deeper with age allows me to feel profoundly connected to life and the people I get to share mine with.  That's pretty powerful forty-year-old stuff.

Like most people are known to do, I sometimes look back at the momentous experiences of my twenties and thirties with a bit of wistful longing, but it is always a short-lived reflection.  This stage of life has its joyful, exhilarating, life-changing experiences, too; there is a richness here that is ripe for the taking.  Forty may come with some more gray hair and laugh lines around the eyes, muscles that ache a little more easily, a greater sense of responsibility to family and society, and questions about whether I'm making the most of my one, no-chances-to-do-over life.  But it also comes with a deep sense of pride for everything I've experienced and become thus far, and the exciting realization that sometimes at forty, life can still feel like it is just beginning....

Kale salad (v 2.0)

On my last trip to our local farmers' market, I came home with an absolutely enormous bunch of fresh kale, and I've been looking for interesting ways to use it up ever since.  Our guinea pig has been very happy to help in this regard; she squeaks like a maniac every night after we get up from the dinner table in the hopes that someone will bring her some of the curly green leaves (and maybe a piece of carrot and a slice of apple, too!) to munch on.  The people part of our family enjoyed a similar combination of fresh veggies and fruit tonight at dinner in the form of a crunchy kale salad.  While I've posted a kale salad recipe before, this version has become my new favourite.  The combination of kale, celery, carrots, and crisp fall apples along with toasted walnuts and a homemade honey dijon vinaigrette is delicious and oh-so-good for you!

Kale Salad with Apples and Carrots

For the salad:

1 bunch of kale, washed and shredded (*if you buy an absolutely enormous bunch of kale like I did, you may not want to use the whole thing!)
1 large carrot, peeled and grated
1 stalk of celery, thinly sliced
1 apple, cored and diced
1/2 cup raw walnuts, coarsely chopped and lightly toasted

For the dressing: 

3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
3 tbsp red wine vinegar
1 tsp raw honey
1 tsp dijon mustard
1 clove of garlic, crushed
1 tbsp finely chopped fresh parsley
sea salt and pepper, to taste

Add the shredded kale, grated carrot, sliced celery, and diced apples to a salad bowl.  In a smaller bowl, whisk together all of the dressing ingredients.  Pour the dressing over the salad and toss gently until all of the greens, veggies, and fruit are coated.  Sprinkle the toasted walnuts over the top of the salad and serve.

If you prefer your kale leaves to be a little softer, you can make this salad an hour ahead of when you plan to eat it and let it stand in the fridge.  Leave out the walnuts when you first make the salad, though, and sprinkle them on top just before serving.

This salad is a simply perfect way to enjoy the many health benefits of kale.  Our guinea pig doesn't need any coaxing to gobble up her greens; hopefully this salad will encourage your family to do the same!

A breakdown of the first week back to school (and perhaps a mental breakdown, too)

Remember eons ago (oh, wait, it was only this past Tuesday -- it just feels like eons ago) when I wrote something about keeping the mood "light and happy" at home this fall, and about carrying summer's "peaceful glow" with us as we move into the more hectic months?  Well, I have one word to say about that today:  HA!

I started the week with really good intentions, honestly.  I was organized as organized could be when the boys started back to school this week, and I felt prepared to glide us all smoothly through the transition from summer's laid-back days to fall's hustle and bustle.  Tuesday went perfectly; everybody was cheerfully up bright and early in the morning, the boys got off to school without a hitch, and I spent the day efficiently but still calmly doing errands that I had planned on taking care of once the boys were otherwise occupied.  After school, we talked excitedly about the boys' first day, I neatly filled out several sheets of school paperwork that had been sent home, we had a pleasant dinner together and I packed nice lunches for the next morning, and everyone was tucked into bed at a reasonable hour, content with how well we had all managed the first day back into the routine.

Wednesday morning felt a little rougher, but not overly so; I expected to have a bit of difficulty adjusting to waking up earlier and on schedule every morning again.  Will dawdled a little more through breakfast and I had to hurry him along a little when it came time to getting his shoes on and tied, but we still made it to school with time to spare.  I felt like I had a lot of things to accomplish in the short hours that the boys were at school, and was becoming mildly irritated by how many times I was being interrupted by a phone call from either a duct-cleaning company or a political candidate.  After school, there were more forms to fill out, and I had to go looking in pockets for the exact change I needed to send into school for agendas, etc., because I had already used all of the small bills and coins I had in my wallet the day before to pay for similar school items.  Dinner went smoothly; Will even came to the realization that he actually likes swiss chard (!?!), but I was decidedly less keen on packing lunches again for the next day.  By the time I went to bed (still at a reasonable hour), I was feeling pretty darn tired, and not particularly looking forward to waking up early again the next morning.

On Thursday, all hell broke loose.  The boys were bickering at the breakfast table, Will ate breakfast painfully slowly, and then he had the nerve to chide me that we were going to be late when he finally showed up at the front door to get his sunscreen on ten minutes before the time the school bell rings.  My plans to go to the market first thing in the morning fell through because I ended up having to wait for chickens to show up at our house (not as weird as it sounds -- it was a delivery from the farm where we buy our meat), so that left me awkwardly lugging huge bags of carrots and peppers and kale through market crowds in the heat of the afternoon AFTER I went to the dentist.  The phone rang 4963 times to remind me to go vote or to ask me if I had any gently used clothes to donate while I was trying to deal with laundry and housework, and the 3:00 school pick-up time seemed to show up in the blink of an eye.  Between the hours of 3:00 and 6:00 I could feel steam billowing out of my ears and I thought my head might explode.  There were field trip permission forms and monies due (requiring more exact change, which involved scouring through trinket boxes and car consoles and couch cushions to find this time), a French program information form, homework and gym and library schedules to wrap my head around, and a personal information form for Will's teacher that asked me to outline my child's likes, dislikes, favourite actitivities, hopes, fears, etc. etc. etc..  Will had math homework that he required help with (and was not happy about because he didn't understand one of the questions), and I was supposed to have dinner ready by 4:45 so that we could get to the swim club by around 5:30 for swimmer assessments.  In the middle of this chaos, somebody showed up at my door to remind me to vote (because, you know, the 4963 phone calls weren't enough), and Matt got stuck in traffic on the way home from Toronto.  The homework got done, we wolfed down dinner, we made it to the pool (where another mom and I should have earned an award for problem solving skills after we successfully drew up a carpooling plan that gets five kids from three families to and from swimming four times a week when two of the families' cars only hold four kids), we got the boys home and in bed, and then I scraped myself off the floor to go pack lunches (AAAARRGGGGH!) for the next day.  Finally, because I am a sensitive, thoughtful, perfectionist mom who loves her kid and wants his teacher to love him too, I sat down and wrote a novel for Will's teacher on that form asking about who he is.  I did not get to bed at a reasonable hour.

This morning was Friday.  Thank goodness.  I somehow felt calmer again, knowing that there was only one more school day this week to get through (with no lunches to pack tonight and two weekend days to deal with any more forms that might come home!).  The boys and I had a very pleasant breakfast together, with engaging and excited conversation over the news that scientists had successfully teleported quantum information a distance of 143 kilometres.  Will got ready pretty much on time, and I was feeling once again like everything was going well as we prepared to head out the door, and then Noah, out of the blue, said, "Mom, I want to walk to school on my own.  It's embarrassing now to be seen with you and Will."  Ouch.  After mildly protesting that I was not embarrassing, I good-naturedly agreed to let Noah leave a few minutes before Will and I (and then felt like a little hole had been punched through my heart, because while I know that he doesn't need me to walk with him to school, as a mom it still stings to know that he doesn't want me to anymore.  At least Will, that sweet boy, tried to patch up the hole by reassuringly stating, "I don't know what he's talking about, Mom.  I don't think it's embarrassing to walk with you."  Bless his heart.) 

Yep, it has definitely been a week of changes, and I have not handled them as gracefully or as calmly as I would have liked.  Thankfully, I'm still optimistic enough to believe that next week will somehow be better....

Oatmeal raisin bumpkins (gluten, dairy, and egg-free)

I noticed on the walk to school the past couple of mornings that the leaves on some of the maple trees in our neighbourhood are already starting to change colour.  Despite the fact that it is still close to 30 degrees outside in the afternoons, something feels different in September, and when I'm in the kitchen these days, I find my thoughts already turning to fall foods like apples and pumpkins and cinnamon.  Mmmmm.

Now that the boys are back in school, I've been spending some time trying to come up with new ideas for healthy snacks for them to take in their lunch bags every day.  While they don't ever seem to get tired of  eating the same old things, I get bored of packing the same old things, so I've been experimenting with some different combinations of ingredients.  Yesterday's concoction was these oatmeal raisin "bumpkins", a variation of the banana oat bundles that I make often, with the flavours of pureed pumpkin, fragrant spices and raisins.  (I know the name of them sounds funny, but after a family brainstorming session last night that produced even funnier ideas such as "pumpkin lumps" (Noah's favourite), "bumpkin" seemed like the best and most appropriate choice!) These snacks are similar in flavour and texture to a muffin, but shaped like a cookie; they are not too sweet and are a great, nutritious choice for a food to take on the go.

Oatmeal Raisin Bumpkins

1 1/2 cups rolled oats (use certified pure oats for gluten-free cookies)
1 1/2 cups ground oats  (I use a Magic Bullet or food processor to grind them)
1/4 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp ground ginger
1/8 tsp ground allspice
1 tsp baking powder
1 1/4 cups pumpkin puree
3 tbsp pure maple syrup
1 tsp vanilla
3 tbsp grapeseed oil
1/4 cup raisins

Preheat oven to 350 F.  In a large bowl, combine rolled oats, ground oats, sea salt, cinnamon, ginger, allspice, and baking powder.  In a medium sized bowl, whisk together pumpkin puree, maple syrup, vanilla, and grapeseed oil. 
Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and stir until combined.  Fold in raisins.
Drop mixture by the tablespoonful into mounds on a parchment paper lined baking sheet.  Bake for 15 minutes.  Cool and serve.

Oatmeal raisin bumpkins may not be the prettiest of baked goods, but don't let their appearance fool you -- these rustic, hearty snacks are really tasty, and their simplicity makes it possible to whip up a batch in very little time.  I hope you enjoy the pumpkin lumps!  ;)

Endings and beginnings

This past weekend was what I would consider a perfect end to a really fantastic summer.  We spent some time catching up with good friends, soaked up the sun and splashed in the pool as a family, enjoyed leisurely pancake breakfasts and delicious grilled dinners peppered with happy conversations, and strolled through the neighbourhood on foot/bike/scooter in the evenings. (Will even agreed to ride his bike one night and we were all really proud of him for overcoming his worry about it.) We laughed a lot (most notably yesterday afternoon, when Noah was performing hilarious shenanigans on the floating mattresses in the pool, Will was shrieking with hysterical delight watching him, and Matt and I were cracking up because I realized that Will sounded just like the riled-up chimpanzees in a documentary we had watched recently).  We also spent just a little time getting organized and doing some baking to make the back-to-school transition easier on everyone.  Each of us felt a little sad watching the last sunset of summer holidays as it glimmered between the leaves in our backyard trees yesterday evening, but I know I also felt a deep happiness and gratitude for the wonderful months we've all been able to share together.

This morning's return to early rising and moving through routines went very smoothly in our house, thankfully.  Despite the fact that it poured rain all day (as if nature wanted to acknowledge the transition from summer to school), I refused to pay too much attention to it.  I'm determined to keep the mood light and happy at home through the fall, to carry summer's peaceful glow into these more hectic months.  I talked with the boys over breakfast about what might be exciting at school today, admired their carefully chosen new running shoes and ball caps as they donned them at the front door, and sent them off to their first day of school with their favourite snacks and a note in each of their lunchbags that I hoped would make them laugh:

(The boys are both big fans of the Annoying Orange videos on YouTube.  Have you seen them?  They're.... well, annoying.  But the boys think they're hilarious and I thought I was pretty hilarious, too, when I came up with this idea for a lunchbox note using a picture of the Annoying Orange himself!  I was glad to hear at the end of the day that Noah and Will agreed with me!)

When I went at 3:00 to pick the boys up at school, they both burst outside with huge grins on their faces, and they both began talking at me a mile a minute in unison about their fabulous first day.  I am feeling so very good about the start of this school year after hearing them enthusiastically tell their stories.  Will got a teacher who I think will be excellent for him (Noah had the same great teacher in grade 3), and while some of Will's closest friends are in different classes than him this year, he is happy about getting to spend time with other friends he hasn't shared a classroom with in awhile.  He's also thrilled with his teacher's cool classroom supplies -- a big bin of Lego, awesome board games, and a fantastic and varied collection of reading materials, including sports magazines, Calvin and Hobbes books, and the entire Harry Potter series!  (Picture sixteen exclamation marks after that last statement and you'll have a sense of how Will said this the sixteen times he told me it.)  Noah's long list of wishes for grade 6 all came true:  he got the same wonderful teacher he had last year (this was secretly on my wish list for him, too!), he's in a straight grade 6 class rather than a split, he's in the school building and not in the portable this year, and for the first time in a few years, all of his closest friends are his classmates.  But the most incredible detail of Noah's day was that one of his new classmates, a boy who just arrived this year from a different school, is the very same boy who was Noah's best friend in kindergarten, before we moved neighbourhoods and lost touch with him!  How amazing is that?!

Last night when we went to bed, I think all of us were a little nervous about how things would go today.  Noah chose the shirt he wore this morning because he said it accurately reflected how he felt about going back to school:

After today's great beginnings, though, I'm pretty sure we're all going to bed smiling.