Life's a bitch ... if you're lucky

A blog about a dog. Not necessarily my dog -- who is the cutest dog in the world -- but dogs in general.

My late-in-life baby, Roxie.

I`ve noticed that, as their children get older, a lot of people acquire a dog. You could speculate that they were waiting until their offspring were old enough to handle one but I think it`s more of a substitution. Parents grow so accustomed to the demands of young children that, when this stops, their is a void in their lives. Since their need to nurture (and if you think you can nurture teenagers, you`re crazy) is no longer being fulfilled, they take on the most childlike pet they can find. Man`s best friend, the lovable pooch.

Dogs are like the easier version of children. They have to be toilet trained but it only takes a few months. They love every toy you bring home to them and will keep playing with them until they wear out (which can sometimes take mere hours). It only takes them one year to mature from puppies to full-on dogs and there are no annoying teenage years or terrible twos. Plus, you can put them in a cage at night or when they're bad.They never ask you for a ride anywhere -- in fact, they prefer walking since cars often mean a trip to "the vet".

There are a lot of advantages to owning a dog. When you come home after a long day at work, they get really excited and lavish you with love and attention -- just like your kids used to do. They follow you around (you know, dog your steps) waiting for the moment when you turn your undivided attention their way. If they`re like my dog, Roxie, they`ll actually perform to get that coveted pat on the head. When you`re sick, they`ll sleep by your side and they keep you healthy by making you take walks and throw things around for them.

As I mentioned, Roxie is the `princess`of our family. If you don`t give her immediate attention, she`ll give you a big hug and hold on as long as possible. This is a really cute trick and very effective, especially with young women (just ask my son's posse of girls). If that doesn`t work, she`ll jump onto a chair to bring her closer to your optimum petting level (she's a knee height dog). Roxie isn`t well trained, so she also has a habit of running up the stairs to our upper floor, yipping as she turns, jumping off the third step on the way down and launching herself full force at her favourite visitors. This can be cute or annoying, depending on your opinion or your sex (men are always warned to protect the goods).

How can you resist the cutest dog in the world?

This week, I picked up a rawhide chew for Roxie when I was at the pet store getting food for the menagerie (I`ll get to that in another blog). No one has been able to go near her bed since. If anyone even gets near the den where her 'bone' is hidden, she growls and snaps at them. Even the cat. She has literally disappeared every night, protecting her precious treat. Of course, that just encourages the men in the household to torment her by pretending to sneak up on her and hiding her chew when she goes outside. Since she`s resting on my feet at the moment, I assume she has finally eaten the thing. It`ll be a long wait until the next one.

Of course, all the adoration that a dog gives to you is well deserved. Think about their life ... they get waited on hand and foot, they sleep whenever and wherever they want, they get stroked just by putting their head in your lap (try that with one of your friends!!), the whole world is their bathroom and any time is playtime. No working, no money troubles, no worrying about kids or parents. They are the only animals that star in their own movies (I'm talking live action here), they have beauty pageants, spas, hotels, TV channels and songs dedicated to them.


It truly is a dog's life.

Spring has sprung?

"Spring has sprung, the grass is rizz, I wonder where the birdies is?
All the birds are on the wing. That's funny. I always thought the wing was on the bird!"
-- old English ditty

So far, the spring of 2011 has been a total bust. Leading up to the first day, the weather had been fooling us with quickly melting snow and weather that promoted the teenage Canadian uniform of board shorts and t's. But it seems that that was only a tease. For the last week, the weather in Ontario has been more reminiscent of mid-January than late March.

You have to feel sorry for the birds. Their nests were being feathered and the first robins appeared. I saw one yesterday. I think it had frostbite. Canada Geese are flying overhead, honking in displeasure, "It's too early -- point back to the south!".

Spring flowers that had timidly started pushing their way towards the sun have been rudely repulsed by bone-chilling cold. The earliest snowdrops have popped up their heads to open for an hour while the sun is warm, then hurriedly close up again to ward off the frigid wind chills.

Forecasts say that we will warm up to big 8 degrees (C) before the weekend. If not, I'm afraid my dog and I will be wearing our winter coats for a little while longer. Stupid groundhog.

Drive Me Crazy

Now that I'm not working (between jobs/a lady of leisure/semi-retired), I don't drive as much as I used to. Mostly, I drive my family from place to place which means I fill up my tank every couple of weeks. This commuting break has only been happening for the past 6 months or so. Before that, I would spend 2 or more hours of every day on the road. Do I miss it? Yes ... and no. The one thing I don't miss? Other drivers.

Since I stopped commuting, little things have started to irk me more than the used to. People who think I'm telepathic so they don't bother to signal. Important drivers who shouldn't be pestered by those red signs and are always first at a four-way stop. Truck drivers who splash mud all over your windshield -- usually when you're low on washer fluid. I used to call these people a foul name and keep driving. Now, it's become a full-on rant.

So, to relieve a bit of the tension that's been building up since my commuting days, I decided to make a list of my driving pet peeves. At least the ones that are bugging me today.

1. People who use their brakes on the highway. It's a highway. It's supposed to move fast. By definition, it is free of the traffic lights and stop signs that plague other roads. You don't need to brake. Take your foot off the gas pedal -- it works just as well -- and it won't send the driver behind you into a panic.
2. Drivers who pass you then slow down. Do you think it's a game? "Ha ha, I'm in front of you now. Your turn to pass me!" Usually, these are the people who have been tailgating you for the last 5km but can't be bothered to go around. Obviously, these are not Type A personalities. They have no leadership skills.
3. The four-way flashers. You know the ones I mean. Road conditions are not ideal so they put on their hazards. Here's a hint -- I know the road is dangerous, I'm driving right behind you. I can see you. If you put your flashers on, I think your engine or your brakes are failing and I will pass you (and I really don't want to on this crappy road). Are you trying to tell me about bad road conditions or that you are a bad driver?
4. SUVs. All of you (even Rob). Just because you have four wheel drive and a car that costs several hundred dollars to fill up, doesn't mean you own the road. You can pass me in the fast lane and leave me in your slush but when you hit that patch of ice up ahead and spin out, I will only wave as I drive by. BTW, having a big-ass vehicle, doesn't give you have super vision. You can't see any farther than I can.
5. Slooooooooooooooww drivers. I notice this more now that I drive during the day. Most of the people who are out and about are afraid of driving the speed limit. I guess that's why they wait until the middle of the day to do things. Now, I'm willing to give concessions to seniors and school zones. But there are some people who never hit third gear. And sometimes, they even drive on the highway. I know you don't want to drive fast but the people behind you do. Don't even get me started on snow days in Toronto!

This list could go on forever but these are my top 5 for today. When I did my regular road trips, I used to crank up the tunes, sing along and shrug my shoulders at idiots. I saw some strange things on my daily trips -- people reading at 120kph, jerks passing on the shoulder, women putting on make-up, guys shaving, people with their feet hanging out the window. I even saw one lady brushing her teeth -- I mean, where did she spit? 

Some days, it's enough to drive me crazy.

Teenagers

I know this topic has been done to death. Teenagers, you gotta love 'em because it's too late to kill 'em (now that they're bigger than you). Today I got totally spun around by the youngest, #2 as my father would have said, B'Jammin as we call him in rock star mode, or just plain old Ben.

Ben is suffering from TBDS -- Teenage Brain Deficit Syndrome. I've heard this is caused by hormones, which is the same excuse they give for women with PMS or "of a certain age". Symptoms include memory loss, apathy, procrastination and overabundance of sleep (during the day). I know this sounds like every day in a teenager's life but it has been getting worse, I swear.

My plans for the day included driving my husband to work and going to the gym. Ben had a doctor's appointment but he couldn't remember what time he had booked it for. Since he forgot to call and confirm when the office was open last week, we had to call as soon as possible this morning. We finally got through to the doctor's office at 9:50. His appointment was at 10. So, I passed on breakfast, pulled on the first set of clothes I could find, jumped in the car and took off for his school -- leaving my husband to text Ben and have him meet me at the front of the school.

Of course, when I got to the school, Ben was nowhere to be found. I went to the office to have him paged since I knew he had a spare. No luck. I checked the cafeteria (which is about the most embarrassing thing you can do to your kid). Still no luck. Finally, in frustration, I texted him which got a response. Let's face it, phone calls are a thing of the past. Today if you can't text, you'll never get in touch with your child. Luckily, the doctor still saw him and I got him back to school before his lunch (something a teenage boy hates to miss).

I got home in time to inhale some fruit and fibre then I had to arrange to meet my mother-in-law. Last week was March Break, a fact that was reinforced by the lack of traffic on major highways and an abundance of bored young people whose parents couldn't afford to go to Florida. On Sunday, the last possible day for procrastinators to put things off, Ben decided to work on his assignments. (Teachers can't tell me they don't know this will happen. If they don't, they either don't have kids of their own or they're delusional.) However, it was also my husband's birthday so we went to my mother-in-law's house in Toronto (about an hour south of my home) for a celebratory dinner. Ben took his backpack with his homework and a change of clothes (we picked him up from work).

A few hours later, when we arrived home, my husband mentioned that Ben's backpack wasn't in the car. After checking around, we realized he had left it, and all his schoolwork, in Toronto. Along with a pair of jeans with his wallet in them. So, after I dropped my husband off at his job, I booted down the highway to meet up with my MIL at a centrally located outlet mall. I mean, if you're going to be totally inconvenienced, you might as well shop. So much for the gym.

By the time I got home, it was 3:30 and, of course, Ben wasn't there. I managed to make and digest a salad before the inevitable phone call from my #2 son. He's at the library doing some research and can I come down and bring him his wallet? And then drop him off at St. John's (he's doing volunteer work as an Emergency First Responder)? What's a Mom to do? I mean, this is the reason I had children, isn't it?

Now, I'm waiting for him to call me for a ride home. I figure I have another 15 minutes of freedom. Oh, and that last-minute homework he was going to do in transit to/at my mother-in-law's house? He fell asleep. Teenage boys. Gotta love 'em.

Exercise me!

As part of my New Year's non-resolution, I've committed to sticking with my exercise routine. This means a minimum of 30 minutes of physical activity a day which can include housework (blah), dog walking, pole dancing and sex (those last two can go together).

Now that "Twing" has arrived in northern Ontario (you know, the twilight of Spring), I decided the day's 30 minutes would be exercise for me and the pooch. You would think this was only good for my legs but, the way my dog walks, it's pretty much a full-on routine.  Roxie is a poodle which means she still thinks she's a puppy even though she's almost 6 years old. So she still chases leaves, squirrels, buses, SUVs, joggers and other dogs. Which gives my arms a great workout.

We are in that season of the year when the snow melts and reveals all the beauty buried beneath -- the Tim Horton's coffee cups, discarded winter clothing (even found a pair of boots?!), dirt, sand and more -- mostly floating in puddles. So you can imagine how all this ends up in the wool of a overdue-to-be-groomed apricot poodle. Part two of our workout was a bath.

Unlike most dogs, Roxie does not like taking a bath. I have to trick her into staying with me long enough to wrap a towel around her and carry her upstairs to the cave of torture (also known as the "Boy's Bathroom"). This is generally done with treats and misleading comments (ie. "good dog" "where's the cat/squirrel", etc.). After showering off a pound or two of sand, wrestling with a wet dog to soap and towel her dry, then chasing her around the house, you'd think I've had enough of a workout. Except, as I am rinsing the dirt out of the tub, I realize that some of that dirt is of a more permanent variety.

I live with 4 grown men and one thing I have learned -- men will not clean a bathroom. At least not properly. Whether they don't notice the dirt or just don't care, I have no idea. One man told me that it was gross. I guess that makes it woman's work, although why it should be I don't know. We're not the ones who splash all around the toilet. We make our aim accurate but getting as close to the subject as possible. Men have this macho need to prove their aim is accurate. So, being the Mom that I am, I clean the bathroom for my teenage boys.

Enough with the exercise, right? Not quite. I get a call from a prospective employer (okay, Avon, but cash is cash) who is coming over. Of course, it is a woman so that means I have to clean the visible parts of the house (only women understand that when another woman is visiting, you have to clean so they don't get the impression you are a bad housekeeper). So I haul out the vacuum, clean up the powder room (she might need to use the toilet), scoop the cat litter, wash up some glass and mystery stuff on the floor (where that came from, I have no idea, and the kids aren't talking), move some furniture and dust a bit. You know, just a quick tidy-up.

Then my son arrives home from work and asks if I want to go to the gym with him. Uh, no. I think my 30 minutes is up.

Week of crazy

Almost over. The week of craziness is almost over. If I'm still blogging on Monday, I survived.

Part of the reason for this craziness is my kids. My advice to anyone thinking of having children is to do it. They make your life so much more challenging. I mean, working is certainly brain energizing, but it rarely puts you in the position of maintaining your sanity without alienating the ones you love (although I have had jobs that were very close). 

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have a phobia of doctors, hospitals and anything medical. I will do anything to avoid these situations, in fact, I always made my husband take the kids to the clinic. In the last 6 months, my children have made it virtually impossible to avoid medical institutions. So, spending a day at the hospital (sorry, health centre, call it what you want, it's still the same animal) waiting for my youngest son to have his second cardiac ablation was not my idea of fun. That was Tuesday.

My oldest son decided that I wasn't spending enough time worrying about him so he went snowblading and broke his wrist. This involved an afternoon in a waiting room with seriously ill, and most likely contagious, people hoping to see a doctor. With a grumpy teenager in pain. Seriously entertaining.

What's made this week really crazy was my birthday gift from Torstar Digital. I got a call telling me that I had won two wristbands for the Canadian Music Festival which meant that I got to see some truly talented up-and-coming artists. Of course, my oldest son immediately claimed them as his own then proceeded to take a week's vacation from his job and plan out his concert schedule. We did share the opening night concert which ended just before 1a.m. and proved to me that I couldn't do this every night/morning. That was Wednesday.

Thursday was a blur. Six hours of sleep leaves your brain cells seriously lacking, not to mention the fact that I had walked 3km in the cold, wet rain in shoes meant for a job interview. Shin splints hurt. I still managed to stay largely coherent through two phone interviews but I was ready to drop by 10. I'm just not a party animal any more.

By Friday, I was in a groove, so I kept my schedule going strong all day. And now it's Saturday. I'm just waiting for my son to finish working so we can take off for Toronto and another night of rocking at CMW. And springing ahead. 

I think I'm definitely going to need a day of rest.

So much for sticking to it...

So much for dedication. I promised myself that I would write something in this blog every couple of days. Apparently, I'm as much a procrastinator as an instigator. Although, in my defense, it's been one heck of a week.

I have two teenage sons who keep me busy most of the time. The oldest, Zac, decided it was time to add a first to the family history and broke his wrist. This has put a wrinkle into his apprenticeship for college since he is physically unable to do the job 100%. With all the knowledge that a 19-year-old has accrued, he decided (and he was determined) that he would be healed in a week. Imagine his surprise when they put a new cast on at the Fracture Clinic and told him to come back in 5 weeks. So, his 10-minute appointment turned into 2-1/2 hours and seriously screwed up my Wednesday. After that, I booted down to Toronto for a job interview. That's excuse #1.

Thursday, another job interview, this time in town. Since it was close to the gym, I took care of my New Year's Resolution (which wasn't really a resolution, since I already go to the gym -- it was "Keep going to the gym" -- lame I know but see my first blog for an explanation) and spent some time exercising. Then I treated myself to a half an hour in the massage chair. Those things are awesome. I came home with good intentions, then got caught up in the whole job search/Facebook internet thing. I'll call this excuse #2, although it's really not much of an excuse. Truly, I don't know what I did most of the day.

Friday was my birthday. And on your birthday, you shouldn't have to do anything that's not fun. It's my rule, I'm sticking with it. I had lunch with my oldest son, then we bought birthday cheese and went to the bank. We met up with my younger son and his girlfriend for dinner which was supposed to happen at this little Mexican place but ended up being eaten in the car. Honestly, an hour and a half is too long to wait for food. Then we dropped in to the high school coffee house where my younger son was performing. He was amazing (I'm his mother, what did you think I would write?). Got home, had a glass of wine and read my Facebook birthday messages. Excuse #3 but it's a good one.

I have no excuse for Saturday. I'd say it was just plain laziness. I'll try to do better. After all, I have 2 followers!  Thanks guys.