And so it begins ...

My Other Half left me this morning. For two weeks. He's off on the boat show circuit and will be away for the next two weeks and, more importantly, three weekends. Gulp. He'll be missing 4 or 5 ski races, the next round of hockey playoffs, the club championships and a trip to Toronto to see Billy Elliot. The boys are already worried about who will sharpen their skis. Me? I'm more worried about taking the three of them on the subway for the first time in four years and whether I/they will survive until the second week when I hightail it to Boston for three days to help S. out at the show.

So I will take it one day at a time. Today I'm dropping the boys off at the ski hill for training and then I am heading to the barn to see if my horse remembers who I am. I haven't ridden since before Christmas and I am persona non grata amongst my riding buddies. But the temperature is well above zero this morning despite the crazy wind blowing the next cold front in from the Arctic and I am going to enjoy every minute of it.

Stay tuned for more updates from Single Motherland.

Happy?

I've been reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin and it has really got me thinking about being happy. Right now, in the depths of a frigid Canadian winter I'm having a tough time feeling anything but a longing for spring. My boys are all having issues of their own and my Other Half heads off on the boat show circuit soon for three weeks. The petty annoyances of life are all contriving to bog me down. The bickering amongst my boys, the never-ending snow piling up outside the door, never having enough time to do all the things I know I should be doing, let alone the things I want to do. When people make lists of the things that make them happy they are usually the little things much like the list I made when I first started this blog which is still there somewhere down at the bottom of the page on the right. There is nothing wrong in taking pleasure from the little things it's just that right now I need to think about the big picture. Rubin quotes William Butler Yeats who said, "Happiness, is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that, but simply growth. We are happy when we are growing."

This is the problem for me at this point, smack dab in the middle of my life - I am not growing while everyone around me is. My sons are growing literally and will in a very short time all be taller than me but they are also growing in so many other ways. In their maturity and independence and as people. My Other Half and my sister are both growing businesses, shooting for the big leagues, creating what they hope will be their legacy. Friends around me are growing as athletes, pushing themselves physically and some are growing emotionally, leaving a relationship or a career after many years. As for me, I am the ultimate in stasus. I have been in the same relationship for over 25 years, I haven't had a career change since before the boys were born. I haven't trained to run a marathon or even entered the Club Championships. And after starting this blog two and a half years ago I haven't really done much with it. I haven't started writing the great Canadian novel or had anything published in the local paper. So all the little things that do make me happy aren't adding up to much and I am finding myself on autopilot. Telling myself that I am doing the best I can raising my kids and being a supportive wife. I make lists and I have even crossed a few things off them but I think Rubin is right, what I need now is growth because before I know it my children will be grown and S. and I will be empty nesters and I don't want us to wake up one morning and say, "Now what do we do with the rest of our lives?"

Wordless Wednesday

(taken by one of the cousins)

It's still snowing

Yes, we're still under a blanket of the white stuff up here. Not that it's really any surprise to anyone but by February I am starting to tire of the stuff or, most likely, the temperatures needed to sustain it. We have been in a deep freeze since New Years. Skiing, as you may have gathered from previous posts, is less of a pass time than a religion for our family so it begins to lose some of its luster after day 30 or so. This past Saturday I was coerced into a snow shoe with friends which I agreed to on the condition that it be a "social" outing rather than a competitive "who can run to the top and back down again first" sort of thing. It was the former, I am happy to report and I was even able to stop and take a few photos along the way. The quality isn't great as I didn't have my real camera with me but the iPhone at least gives you a sense of how gorgeous it was to be out in the woods catching up with friends and giving two happy dogs some exercise.

Sunday was a tough day for all three boys with disappointing finishes in all of their races but as I keep telling myself, learning to handle disappointment is going to help them throughout their lives. Hockey play offs continue for our goalie and (hopefully) after this round the team, like the Toronto Maple Leafs, can hang up their skates and dream about better luck next year.

Super Bowl Sunday was celebrated with family and my sister out did herself with the menu as requested by my boys. We dined on mini cocktail wieners in bbq sauce, an assortment of sushi including spicy tuna rolls and sashimi, New England Clam Chowder and then homemade pizza on a Pillsbury croissant crust followed by apple pie and ice cream for dessert. It was quite the party.

I've been hearing about quite a bit of drama in other people's lives lately and mine, in comparison, seems terribly mundane. No long lost loves reappearing on the scene, no family show downs, no marital implosions or offspring explosions. And as I watched, in morbid fascination, that "car wreck on the side of the road and I can't turn away" reality TV series, Toddlers in Tiaras with the overweight mothers and red neck fathers tarting their 10 year old daughters up like third rate Vegas showgirls, spending thousands of dollars they probably can ill afford on tacky sequinned costumes, I took some comfort in my little mundane world and crawled deeper under the blankets.

More Dispatches

I know that most of the northeastern and central portion of the continent is finally dealing with what we up have most days so forgive me if I have little sympathy for y'all down south (that includes you, Toronto) Yes, it is Snow Day # 7 or 8 by my count and while most of those did occur before Christmas, it's still another day with the boys at home. But "Snowmagedon" and "Snowpocalypse" Really? Has the world actually come to an end because for the first time in my adult life the Toronto District School Board declared it a Snow Day? I think not. I don't know if it's my age showing or that the world really does take itself way too seriously. In 1993 B.C. (Before Children) my Other Half and I lived in Kennebunkport, Maine for a couple of years and my favourite thing was the build up to a snow day. Those Mainers really know how to make it an event. It would start when the birth of a storm was being tracked either from the Midwest or, horror of all horrors, coming down from Canada. I was teaching so we'd all start making bets on whether school would be open the next day or not and then when our administrator actually made the call (usually when she told us to leave as soon as the last child had been picked up) we'd all smile and rush home to shut off our alarm clocks. My Other Half and I would hunker down with some wine, the dog and cat and lots of wood stacked by the fireplace to watch the local news. The 6 o'clock anchors would be wearing cozy sweaters instead of their usual jacket and ties as if they were going to be spending the night in the studio and the art department would have a field day with the STORM WATCH graphics. Then the cancellations would start rolling across the bottom of the screen - school closures, Weight Watchers meetings cancelled but the best of all was when the B&M Baked Bean factory in Portland would cancel the night or morning shift. Really, it was too dangerous for even those most essential of workers to risk going into work. It made us laugh every time.

Nowadays, everyone, including those bean makers, are far too vital to the economy to even consider staying home because of a little snow. That's why I like it up here, nothing is more important than the kids' safety, so the buses are cancelled at the drop of a snowflake but it's really more because of how important it is to our local economy that they get a few extra days on the slopes. As for me? I couldn't have hightailed it out of the house faster this morning when my Other Half realized that the roads going in the direction of the boat shop were closed and he wasn't going anywhere. I made the boys some Pillsbury Cinnamon buns, kicked them outside to play and left for work. In our town my place of employ, the Cheese Gallery, is considered an essential service and I braved an unplowed street and parking lot to make it in to put the coffee on and get the croissants in the oven. Now the only thing to do is update my facebook status, blog and decide what kind of grilled cheese to make for lunch. My friends who own the shop think I'm a saint for coming in to open the shop on time. Hell, even the bank is closed today. So I not only do I get brownie points at work, I get peace and quiet with no kids fighting over the computer, demanding food and leaving a trail of destruction in their wake throughout the house.

Yes, life isn't so bad up her in the Greater White North. Tomorrow? It's a PD Day but the sun is supposed to shine and the snow will be perfect so the boys and I will hit the slopes. Friday? The entire school will be at Blue Mountain for the Ski Cross event. It's a tough life we lead up here but somebody's got to do it.

Dispatches from a Parallel Universe

Racing Buddies

Sometimes it feels like we really do live in another world and not just because we have four foot snow drifts surrounding the house and people get around on snowmobiles in town. (I know that doesn't help to dispel any stereotypical images you south of the border may have of the Great White North but where I live it really is true for four months of the year) I feel this way because we inhabit this strange little planet of parents of ski racers. Most of you might be familiar with skiing the way normal people enjoy it where you take a holiday and go to a fabulous resort like Vail or Whistler or even somewhere closer like Killington or Sugar Loaf but we in southern Ontario only have what is geologically known as the Niagara Escarpment to conquer on boards. It is a ridge that runs from Niagara Falls to the top of the Bruce Peninsula between Lake Huron and Georgian Bay and due to the two bodies of water and cold air masses from the Arctic we get a lot of snow dumped on us with great regularity. The height of this ridge you ask? Well, at its peak it is about 900 feet. Yes, that's feet, not metres even though we in Canada converted to the metric system sometime in the 70's but because it sounds even punier in metres we still refer to our mountain in feet. Along the escarpment there is one public ski resort grandly called Blue Mountain and then there are five other places to ski but only if you are a member or guest. These ski hills are private clubs much like a golf or country club. It's great if you were lucky enough to be born into a family that were already members thanks to the foresight of your parents or grandparents and which makes you, as we like to call it, a member of the L.S.P. or Lucky Sperm Club. Otherwise if you want to bypass the long lift lines and various yahoos and yetis careening down the slopes at the public hills you have to pony up quite a swack of cash. My family, as you might have gathered is a member of the L.S.C. on both sides as my Other Half and I met as teenagers at our club. Our children are able to ski four out of seven days a week and as my cousin says, "the first run is really expensive and the rest are all free." We get our money'sworth out of our membership especially now that we live up here and can head over to the hills whenever the school is closed and the roads are open.

But back to the parallel universe. What do we do on these short little hills day after day, week after week, all winter long? Well, once you graduate from the snowplow to french fries and can get on and off the chairlifts by yourself (about age 4 for my boys) you start to race. At age 7 they become Nancy Greeners (named after a famous Canadian skier from the 60's) and they train all weekend and compete four or five times a season. As for the parents, if you aren't a weekend warrior and stuff your middle-aged body into a downhill suit to hurl yourself down a race course trying to recapture your youth then you drive from ski club to ski club with your little racers and stand at the bottom of the hill cheering them on for the 35 seconds or so that it takes to make it through the course. You might even strap on a pair of skis yourself and carry their coats because at these speeds the racers don't want any excess drag on their aerodynamically-designed bodies. They would rather freeze their little patooties off than wear a coat while racing. At age 11 they are allowed to put on downhill suits and subject themselves to the beginnings of low self esteem if they don't have the body of ... well ... of an 11 year old boy. Woe to the kids, boys and girls who have a few pounds of baby fat still clinging to their frames while their friends are all spindly arms and legs.

My Other Half - The Sherpa

The thing about ski racing, unlike hockey or soccer, is that it is all about you. Number One Son is a goalie on his hockey team and he is never as upset about losing a game six - nothing as he is about not placing in the top 10 in a ski race. He can slough off a losing streak because he knows it's not all his fault but when it is just him at the top of the hill and he doesn't beat his time in the second run (they get two chances on the course) he is inconsolable. So I tell myself that this is all character building and that doing both team and individual sports is going to help them later in life and I truly think it will but it doesn't make it any easier when you are trying to comfort a 10 year old who has just fallen halfway down the course and has bruised his ego more than anything else. Or managing the expectations of an 8 year old who is faster than most of the 9 and 19 years olds (his brother included) and is beginning to become one of those cocky kids who you swore yours would never be.

So in this parallel universe that we inhabit from December to March that no one in the world, other than a few hundred other crazy parents understand, where we spend thousands of dollars on equipment that the kids out grown every year and hours on homework trying to keep the kids caught up because of all the school they miss for training and hours consoling disappointed children who don't make it to the Provincial Championships because they had a bad fall in a critical race, it is sometimes hard to remember that outside this bubble other people ski for enjoyment, a few days a year. They go to resorts and enjoy the apres ski as much as the skiing itself and then don' spend their evenings sharpening and waxing six pairs of skis.

I love the fact that my sons are outside getting lots of fresh air and exercise but sometimes I wonder what we are doing this all for. I certainly don't think that ski racer is a viable career path. Most people can't name a single alpine racer except maybe during the Winter Olympics and any sponsorship deals they might get only pay for their equipment. Shaun White is the exception but he is a snowboarder not a ski racer. So why are we doing this again? Well, it is what my husband did as a kid (I, on the other hand, carried coats for the racers in the hopes of getting noticed so I guess that worked since he did marry me) and they will form life long friendships since the kids they hang out with every weekend will, for the most part, grow up and raise their children at the club. There really is a certain comfort and continuity in recognizing the last names of your children's friends. My boys are third and fourth generation members at our club and I know that if they get into trouble someone will recognize their names and tell me about it. This gives me that omnipotent parental power which freaks every kid out when we know what they have bee

n up to practically before they do it.

Number Two Son waiting for his turn

So despite the crazed mothers who let their kids miss far too much school so that they can get the edge over their competitors and the gear head fathers who buy their 8 year old the latest and greatest equipment and are found waxing skis at the top of the hill even though it won't make a hundredth of a second difference in a 50 pound kid's time, I will continue to support my boys as long as they want to do this, as long as they are having fun and making friends and learning those life lessons. I will be at the bottom of the hill to wipe away the tears and high five them after a great run and I will toast them with a very large glass of wine whether they make the podium or finish dead last 'cause in any universe, parallel or otherwise, that's what good parents do.

Does anyone know how to be in three places at once?

Here are a few of the reasons that I will neither be blogging or reading for the next few days. These aren't excuses, just a snapshot of my life right now which I know so many of you will understand and raise your glass of wine in solidarity with me as mothers of far too active, but not over-programmed boys. There is no such thing as over programming of boys since if you dare to let them sit around too long, much like over-ripe fruit, they start to stink and attract flies.

Friday - boys have already left for the ski hill with my Other Half. Numbers Two and Three are training and Number One has a race. Then we get home in time to tune skis for tomorrow's races while Number One is at the arena for hockey practice.

Saturday - Number Two and I go to one hill for a race while Numbers One & Three go to our club for training. All reconvene at the end of the day to tune skis (again), take Number One skating with his ski team, Number Three has a party and then we dump them all with my sister so my Other Half & I can enjoy a rare kid-free party at friends!

Sunday - Number Three goes to another club for a race, then all are back to our club for the afternoon and all race, on three different courses on three different hills which requires the two of us to be in three places at once. The upside of this is that the dog finally gets a decent walk from one hill to another. Then Number Three has another party and Number One has hockey practice and a relief map of Alberta showing the mountains and plains made out of dough to finish.

Love winter but can't wait to be able to sleep in past 7am sometime in April.

Have a great weekend everyone.