Notes from the Blue House

Owen likes to talk, he'll seize any opportunity to chatter away to an attentive physically present audience. Generally, he'll ramble on about his various bumps, bruises, and misadventures. Most stories start with the words "Well, you know what??" or "Guess what happened to my knee!". Then, he bombards the poor soul he's just cornered with a story that may only be interesting to him. One of those 'you had to be there' tales. Owen's articulate and social, and I'm not just saying that because he's my kid. He's always been a communicative guy, happy to reach out and connect with the people around him. As he's gotten older, he's four now, I've started thinking (and stressing) about Owen's view of the world around him. He thinks that everyone is good and kind. He's sure that everyone wants to engage with him, and he confidently strikes up conversation. I love that confidence in him and I'm hopeful that, as he gr...

It doesn't seem like all that long ago that a birthday meant I had an excuse to pull out a pair of heels and flat iron my hair. It meant vodka, lipstick and cover charges. My, my, my..how birthdays around here have changed. The mere mention of a birthday has me thinking of face painting and loot bags. We recently celebrated Owen's 4th birthday and we hosted his party at a play centre because we're not crazy enough to invite the kind of destruction that accompanies a herd of 4 year old's into our home. Don't get me wrong, each and every kid who joined us that day was a cutie patootie but they've got some serious energy to burn. By the time we schlepped our kids, gifts and leftover pizza home, Tim and I collapsed on the couch and moaned about how exhausted we were. It was 8:30pm. What the hell has happened to us? When we were dating in university, we were capable of rolling in at 3am and still getting up for class the next morning. Not so anymore, my friends. T...

I want to like Valentine's Day but I just don't dig it.  At this point in life, it seems I have no reason not to enjoy this day of love. I'm happily married to a guy I'm really pretty nuts about. Yet, there it is-that nagging disdain I feel for this day. I hate the garish decorations that fill every store. I hate the expensive and overly-mushy cards. I hate the dust-collecting stuffed animals, but most of all, I hate the pressure. This overly-hyped holiday takes me back to the 10th grade. Like most highschools, the one I attended hawked 'candygrams' during lunch break during the days leading up to Valentine's Day. I'm sure it was a good idea on paper and I bet it's still a popular fundraiser but, for me, it was an obvious display of popularity. Some dufus from the student council would knock on the door during Biology class and announce that he was there to hand out candygrams to the lucky recipients. You're damn right I got one every year, best ...