Party Game

The author of one of the few blogs I read on a regular basis (finslippy.com) recently described a situation I think many of us can relate to: telling a horribly awkward and embarrassing story at a party. You know the scene - you're trying to be all funny and self-deprecating but before you know it you've said too much and everyone is backing away saying "oh, I think left the microwave on, gotta run!"

You don't really need to read the story itself - it probably involves the word vagina much more than you're prepared for at this time of day (whatever time that may be) - but I wanted to mention it because her story ends with another party goer rescuing her with a great game:

1)What's the book you wish you had written?
2) What book do you read when you want something comforting and familiar?
3) What book do you think everyone should read?

Here are my answers. I apologize for not being able to pick just one.

1) The Harry Potter books - because then I'd be rich and all my problems would be solved (including the need for world peace).

2) Funny how I was just talking about this! Microserfs, followed closely by Heartburn.

3) 1984 (best ending in a book EVER) or Roots (trust me, those 700 pages go by fast).

What are yours?

Wait - I'M the Mommy?

I recently attended a parenting seminar.

There - I said it. I'm one of THOSE parents. Yes, the kind of parent for whom the crazy, off-the-cuff, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants nature of parenting doesn't sit well. I need structure. I need to know I'm doing an OK job. I need rules. So I read books and I seek out advice and I go to parenting lectures.

Last year, while on mat leave, I picked up the book Breaking the Good Mom Myth from the library and I liked it so much I bought the author's next book Honey I Wrecked The Kids. Then, a few weeks ago, when I found out the author was hosting a speaking engagement for one of her compatriots, I bought my $10 ticket and made a night of it.

It's a sad reflection on my social life to say that I had a great time and it was not only informative but entertaining, but there you have it.

The best part of the night, in fact, came during the Q&A section. One parent had asked about how to deal with your kid when they demand something and you say no - her example was when you're at the mall trying to run errands and the kid flips out because you deny them a much desired ice cream. After the speaker gave her answer - the usual spiel about standing your ground and not giving in, blah, blah, blah - a woman popped up from the middle of the room.

"But, sometimes I DO want to buy ice cream. How do I deal with that?" she asked.

I was so relieved there was someone out there like me. The parent who doesn't quite feel grown up. The parent who sometimes wants ice cream and who - despite needing them desperately, out of exhaustion and frustration and oh-your-God-just-be-quietness - sometimes flouts the rules.

When you're a kid your parents seem to have it so together - they pay the bills, they make the rules. And yet here I am paying the bills, making the rules and half the time I don't really feel like a grown up. You mean, I'M the mom? When did that happen?

I always assumed that because I saw them as adults my parents felt like adults. But maybe they didn't feel any differently than I do now - a grown up teenager somehow faking their way through adulthood. This coming from someone who is supposed to be guiding another human being through life. What an utterly terrifying thought.

What Did He Say?

I do my best to avoid TV commercials at all cost. They're loud, they're annoying and they're generally not very smart or interesting. Case in point, the new Miracle Whip commercial. What is up with this? Since when did Miracle Whip decide it needs to grab the youth market and make the whole mayo vs Miracle Whip debate be about being cool? The tone of the commercial, with the tag line "We are Miracle Whip and we will not tone it down!" makes you think they're advertising punk music or anti-government rebellion, not sandwich spread. I mean, you're an add on to tomatoes and bacon, not Che Guevara.

But just as the Miracle Whip commercial was making me curse all advertising, I caught this little gem. Thank goodness for the PVR because I had to rewind it and watch it a second time to actually catch what the guy was saying and get the full meaning. A sign of good advertising if I ever saw one.

A Plague Upon Your House

I'm not sure what I've done to upset the Gods, but life around here over the last few days can best be described as "mucousy."

It became clear to me late last week that something was up with the cat when, after bumping into her back end, she hissed at me. I had also noticed that grooming in that area seemed to be a bit lacking. A visit to the vet revealed she had an abscessed gland - poor thing - which is now being treated with antibiotics. In the end it turned out to be nothing serious and is easily treated, but at the time it really sucked. Why? Because it just rubbed the whole unemployment situation right in my face.

After trying to examine the cat, but being unable to do so because she was in so much pain, the vet proposed a series of tests that might reveal the problem. I asked for an estimate before we proceeded. The plan included sedatives to do the physical exam, x-rays and blood work. All told, the proposed bill went as high as $800. I couldn't believe my eyes . . . and unfortunately they let the vet know as much when I started crying.

I hate it when that happens - a flood of unexpected emotions in front of total strangers - but the situation hit my like a ton of bricks. I mean, here I am, worried about my cat, wanting to do what's best for her, but seriously concerned about the price of the bill because of my financial situation. Don't get me wrong, we could afford to pay it if necessary, but it's a BIG unexpected cost. Luckily, I pulled it together, explained my situation to the vet and asked if we could do all the tests she proposed, but one at a time - just in case the first revealed the problem and the rest turn out to be unnecessary.

She was very understanding and, as it turns out, that's exactly what happened. X-rays and blood work not necessary. Whew! What a great feeling to be out of the woods.

Until two days later, that is, when I started to suspect that the goop in the corner of my kid's eye wasn't just sleep. And I was right - it was THE PINK EYE! Gah! I much prefer the official name - conjunctivitis - as it sound so nice and clinical and medical and professional (all my favourites). Pink eye reminds me of the scene from Knocked Up where they give each other pink eye from farting on each other's pillows.

Trust me when I say giving a toddler eye drops looks a lot more like a scene from The Exorcist than a hilarious, Seth Rogen frat boy flick.

Old Friends

I'm finding myself in a bit of a funk lately.

On the job front, things are steady but SLOW. Some days I have great conversations with people and get great contacts and leads, other days it feels like nothing productive is ever going to come of all my searching.

Normally when I get into a funk, I turn to fiction to escape - either movies or books. But I've hit a bit of a funk with books too of late. The recent book club selection - Late Nights on Air - was a flop. I really disliked it and didn't even bother to finish it. To make up for that loss, I picked up Water-Method Man and lo and behold, I've finally found a John Irving book I don't like. Who knew? Garp and Owen Meany, where are you? This Fred Trumper guy is a loser.

So instead I look for comfort in the familiar. In times like these, when I've got nothing to read but desperately need something to occupy my mind, I go back to two tried and true books I've read again and again and AGAIN (at least twelve and counting) that are guaranteed to put me in a better mood: Microserfs by Douglas Coupland and Heartburn by Nora Ephron.

I acknowledge these are no Pulitzer Prize winners. But they're easy, they're light and they make me feel better. I've read them so often that I know the dialogue by heart and it's like coming back to old friends. And this time around, what I needed most was something to dull my senses. Vodka for the soul, if you will. Enter Nora Ephron.

Say what you will of so-called "chick lit" or of Nora Ephron, but this book does a great job of making me feel better each and every time I read it. I mean, compared to a woman whose husband cheats on her when she's seven months pregnant, unemployment's a walk in the park.


*Extra-special trivia sidenotes:

1. The movie version of Heartburn stars Meryl Streep (LOVE HER!) and Jack Nicholson. Need I say more? I mean, how have you NOT seen this movie?

2. Heartburn is Nora's "fictionalized" retelling of her divorce to Carl Bernstein. Yes, THAT Carl Bernstein. OK, honestly, how are you not at Blockbuster or the library RIGHT NOW?