Adventures in Boyland

Boyland is not nearly as exciting as adventures in toyland and a whole lot louder, more cacophonous than even the clashing cymbal windup monkey toys.

 

It occurs to me that when I said time and again as a teenager and young adult that I like boys, someone was listening, but got their wires crossed. I didn't mean I wanted a gaggle of boys to watch over. I meant I would like one good one to date please.

 

My husband and I have five boys between us and his three are older and, well,  louder. They are physically bigger with deeper voices, so when they talk their voices boom through our cathedral ceilinged foyer and right into the room where I'm trying to sleep. Oh and they're nighthawks who play video games until the wee hours of the morning, 7 days a week, and if there's a problem with the internet for said games they come knocking on our door (like last night at midnight). They watch movies where things explode and play video games where they have to kill everything with large guns and explosives. And, they watch tv at full blast.

 

Dinner time is also an adventure where they discuss the latest Jackass movie or tell off colour jokes, or threaten to duct tape each others' mouths closed, or kill each other in their sleep. My single and childless girlfriends are soooo jealous of me!

  

When I tell people that I have five boys, I quickly add, three borrowed and two are mine. Otherwise people look at me like I'm too simple to know how to use, or have religious leanings that preclude birth control.

 

I am mad. Madly in love with their father, so I signed up for this adventure. Yes, maybe I'm crazy, but if I can survive five boys in one house, without going deaf or developing a twitch then it will only make me stronger right? Some days I think it might lead to early heart failure.

 

I won't be the tallest in the household or the strongest physically, but I am the only one who isn't afraid to have emotions and I know how to use them. When I feel like I've stepped into a Lord of the Flies nightmare and suspect there may just be a head around the corner on a stake, I ask my husband, nicely at first, to get a leash on the raging testosterone monster that is loose in our living room (the one that ripped our leather couch by barrel rolling over the sides). He obliges and relative calm is restored briefly. He also keeps me in red wine which helps.

 

When adventures in boyland become too much, I do what any woman would do, leave the house for the gym, the mall, the bar..... I consider driving until I run out of gas and/or credit, then sending a plane ticket for my husband to join me. Maybe the children won't follow. Why did we teach them to read and a few how to drive?

 

This Christmas we only have my two, so my husband will miss his and we will again have a full and lively house for New Years. Maybe after enough time off work and enough quiet nights of uninterrupted sleep, I'll get rid of that twitch, or maybe my husband will buy me new ear plugs and let me guzzle the champagne at New Years.

 

In boyland, you have to be careful what you wish for because you might get more than you imagined or can handle!

Late on a school night....

 

Twas twelve days before Christmas and not even a mouse would've been caught dead in the Rose and Crown, but my writing buddy and I snuck out of our domestic jails (kidding I love my family, I really do) and headed to the Writers Guild of Alberta Holiday Party (cannot mention Xmas for fear of roving bands of the pc police). We imbibed, nibbled appies and listened to Jeramy Dodd read his lyrical cowboy poetry and Barb Howard poke fun at the grant process and writers alike (only dogs came out looking good, well-groomed that is).

 

When I moved to Calgary 15 years ago I didn't enjoy the vibrant writing community because I didn't think one existed in cow town. Now I belong to the guild and enjoy all their events, workshops and even sit on one of their committees (granted I don't do much, but I'm learning and networking and getting my money's worth from membership).

 

I recognized a few familiar faces last night, even though I sat at a table with my 'date'. After the readings and door prize draws, of which I won exactly none, people mixed and mingled. I met a few new people and discovered I was one of a number of Susans there that night.

 

Despite discovering I am not at all unique, I also discovered that I feel a kinship to these writers, even though I've only published a few stories here and there. Someone asked me what I write and for now it's mostly grocery and to do lists, but I answered fiction. So now I have a place in the writing community, albeit a small one.

 

Cow town has come a long way and dragged me with it in the pursuit of progress, maturity, self-expression and fulfillment.

 

After two drinks, a few laughs and introductions, I left with my 'date'. She even drove me home, but not before my curfew. My boys were waiting for me and were just as rambunctious as I was tired.

 

It's good to escape on a school night ocassionally if just to remind myself that besides a wife, mom and working stiff, I am also part of a pretty fun group of people who just happen to have a way with words.

Happy feats

Feats of happiness are sometimes as small as the free hot chocolate packets our building concierge handed out to rushed, wind-blown commuters last week. Or maybe they're not acts of happiness, but things that bring joy instead. Mine are people - my sons, my husband, even my chocolate lab Bear and the way he greets everyone and everything with a slobbery grin.

In this article several people provide moments of happiness in everday life. My sister does that - bends to point out a pretty flower or lingers over a painting. Sometimes I'm too rushed, but I'll try to slow down so that beauty can catch up to me....

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/life/relationships/news-and-views/sarah-hampson/how-finding-beauty-in-ordinary-life-can-make-you-happy/article2258439/

Fav reads of 2011

Reading through the Globe&Mail's top books of 2011 is a daunting task. I feel like I have unfinished homework and I'm a procrastinating slacker. If only I didn't have to work and raise kids I could read all those lovely Canadian literary masterpieces. Maybe over the Christmas holidays when I sit down for a few minutes, if I can prop my eyes open after the turkey feast, I will tuck into some more.

I have only read two on their list - The Antagonist and the Sisters Brothers. I have a few more on hold at the library - Monoceros, The Cat's Table, and Better Living through Plastic Explosives. And now I have a few to add to my list that Santa can buy me - The Guardians, Don't be Afraid, and Every Time We Say Goodbye. Please tell my husband I want these, and to dust off his red velvet suit!

If I were to add one to this mostly comprehensive list of must reads, it'd definitely be The Woefield Poultry Collective by Susan Juby. Not just because she has a great first name, that in Hebrew means lily. But, mostly because it's funny and poignant and ultimately entertaining.

What was on your best of 2011 reading list?

Winter Tale

Winter is here. Minus 19 today. yup, livin' the dream in paradise.

Here's a little uplifting picture that my husband took that might warm the cockles of your heart. I remember the way the sand felt on my feet, as if I walked on silk pillows warmed in the dryer or how my husband's skin smelled like musky toast. The margarita's salt-rimmed tang made my lips pucker and these colourful cabanas were a fiesta for the eyes.

Since I can't hop back on a cruiseship this weekend I will try instead to think of good things about this much-maligned season when Canadians have to remember their hardiness, or die trying.

If you're interested, join me in writing a winter tale for the CBC contest. I'm also going out for dinner and drinking red wine tonight so you could try that as well.

http://www.cbc.ca/books/canadawrites/challenges/rules-and-regulations---winter-tales.html

 

Remember

I think I am one of the few working today, but only because Ontario does not recognize Remembrance Day as a stat holiday so the stock market is open. Do we really need to be here when my phone has rang twice? Plus, the banks are closed, so even if I do a trade there will be an extra day for the funds to settle.

I could be home with my children, who are off school. Or I could be at the war memorial service at the museum rather than taking my moment of silence in a half-empty downtown highrise at 11:11. Or I could be writing.

At least I'm not fighting. So I am thankful to be at work, in a free country that is not at war with anyone. Thanks to all those who made it so easy and enjoyable to be a Canadian.

Lest we forget....

Summer Lovin'

 

The kids are back to school and our summer place is winterized. The leaves have mostly fallen and next Monday is my husband's birthday when all the kids in the neighbourhood celebrate by dressing in disguise and begging him for candy. What fun!

 

Usually I don't write much in the summer as I'm too busy enjoying the weather. This summer I did manage to start a few short stories, won a contest to have a story I wrote a decade ago included in a local anthology and celebrated the end of the season by participating in the Anvil Press 3-day novel writing contest over the Labour Day weekend. But, the highlight of my summer was finding out that my nine year old would also be published.

 

I sent a story that he wrote into the Poetry Institute of Canda's contest and he won second place with his short story Robots, just published in Monsters at Midnight Anthology. My 11 year old son is an avid drawer and writer too so I'd like to get his art on my website and his writing into the contest next time around. My boys are by far the best thing I ever 'created'. Enjoy!

Robots

By Blake Cochlan

What do you call a bunch of robots? A flock, or a herd, a gaggle or a gang. For an inventor, a bunch of buckets of bolts are called a pain!

Why a pain you say? For one Dr. Duffy robots took over his lab and turned it upside down.

One morning as he enjoyed a donut at the local Tim Hortons, Dr. Duffy’s latest experiment Seven sat up, opened his heavy iron lids and looked around.

Seven saw tubes and wrenches, a blow torch and screwdriver on the table beside him. Six failed inventions lay on the floor at his feet. Piles of metal, the inventions suddenly stirred and stared at Seven. Their heads were not attached to their bodies. Some of them didn’t even have arms or legs. Still they stared and he stared back.

Then Six and Five smiled, Four winked, Three blinked, Two giggled and One hiccupped. Seven decided he would fix them and then they’d all have a party.

Seven grabbed the wrenches and started to attach arms and legs to the inventions. Then he took the blow torch and after burning a hole in the floor and ceiling, aimed it just right. Seven welded the heads to the bodies so that One, Two, Three, Four, Five and Six were finally fixed.