What was once the pristine lawn that welcomed us to our new home in July is now quite a big mess. We wondered why bits of our lawn were all of a sudden being upturned, and a neighbour explained that the raccoons come out at night and pull up the top layer of the grass to get to their treats — grubs! Yuck!
We’ve never had grubs before. If I pretend I never saw them, will they freeze off and die over the winter and we can start fresh in spring? Or is this something that we need to take care of right away? Advice people!
When this whole crazy “Month of Me” concept started to solidify, I started to consider “what exactly would I want to do if there was no one else influencing the decision?”
At first, it was easy: I would accept an invitation to She’s Connected even though that would mean booking time off work that I wouldn’t be spending with my family and even though my only real reason for wanted to go was curiosity and a bit of “fun factor.” Same for the Blissdom Canada conference: sure, I love blogging, but how could I possibly justify two blogging conferences in one month, requiring time off work and time away from family? But then I remembered that I shouldn’t need to justify how I wanted to spend my time.
And the easiest part of all was New York City. I adore visiting New York — the buzz, the broadway, the shopping! Even before the wine-infused idea of “Month of Me” took form, Hubby had already suggested that I take a trip to NYC for my 40th. And without my knowledge, he had secretly squirreled away money from the family budget to help make it happen. Then, when Kerry mentioned she was heading to New York, it just all fell together.
But there was something big missing from all this excitement — my Hubby! It was possible that I could book off a day or two from work on my own, but it was impossible for us to take a trip as a family during October. So I set about trying to find a way for us to get some “couple” time. Camping, since it had been our first love, seemed like the perfect thing for us to do together. My mom and dad offered to take the kids overnight, so it was booked and put in pen (“Camping with my Honey!”) on the calendar for Saturday, October 22nd.
But on Friday, October 21st, we still didn’t have any plans for where we would go. We had been running like mad this autumn season. And frankly, the thought of packing and un-packing again after I’d already done so three times already in the last couple of weeks made me droop.
Then I remembered, it’s “Month of Me” — me! No guilt and no justification was part of the deal I had made with myself. So I told Hubby that we weren’t going to go camping. Instead, we’d have some adult time to ourselves, doing things we love and just plain enjoying each other’s company. With the decision out of his hands, his shoulders visibly lowered.
So instead of camping (which would have made a far more interesting blog post), this is what we did:
Hubby dropped the kids to my parents’ house in the morning
He then went out for a long mountain bike ride
I painted my toe nails
Stripped the bed and laundered the sheets
Popped a bag of popcorn and watched a movie on the couch in broad daylight
Then we both drove into Hintonburg and had a coffee
After that, we meandered around a collection of antique dealers’ wares
From there, we drove to the market and had dinner, courtesy of a birthday gift certificate (thanks B & J!)
On the way home, we stopped into the local movie rental place
Laid in bed with glasses of red wine and watched a silly movie
I’m turning 40 in October, but I sure didn’t get here alone … each of you gorgeous women has played a special part in my life and as a little thank-you, I hope you can join me for a fun get-together!
We’ll be literally be partying like it’s 1984 since we’ll be acting like big kids as we do a SPLATTER PAINT PARTY!
Details: You need to wear old clothes AND shoes! There is a refreshment room so if anyone is up for bring potluck snacks, go for it. Absolutely no gifts, please.
See you there my friends …
The Invitees:
In attendance at the party were women who have all played a special role in my life — from our daycare provider who has kissed countless boo-boos, my first boss (turned forever friend) in the field of marketing, my bloggy-mentor and good friend, and my current marketing colleague who puts up with me daily …. to my “baby” sister, my friend turned sister-in-law, my mom, my nine-year-old daughter Stella, and my faithful friends who in addition to sharing laughs over the years have propped me up and helped me get through some of my toughest times as a mother and woman.
But on Friday night, once the last of the scheduled children’s parties was complete and cleaned up, my gang of gals descended upon the place.
Located in an area of Ottawa (1107 Wellington Street) that I’d hadn’t been in for while, I loved the vibe of Hintonburg. To me, it felt like this neighbourhood was really coming together, with lots of groovy little boutiques on either side of the 4 Cats Arts Studio. Also, for future reference, if you’d like to do a party at 4 Cats, a gorgeous new restaurant called Burnt Butter has just opened right across the street from the studio — perfect for a pre-party dinner!
Thank you to the girlfriends who made it out, and love to the ones who couldn’t. Thank you to my fun twitter friends who followed along and cheered us on. And big, huge thank-you to Emaly Green, owner of the 4 Cats Arts Studio for inviting and hosting this party.
“Month of Me” is a little ol’ wild and crazy concept: In October, the month I celebrate my 40th birthday, I will do a whole slew of things that I love. Just because. You can read the kick-off post here.
Hubby: Sweetheart, it’s your 40th. You should have a party. How about I organize a party for you.
Me: Uh, remember, I don’t do fun.
Hubby: But, it’s your 40th.
Me: I’m having an entire “Month of Me,” so it’s not like I’m depriving myself or anything.
Hubby: Oh yeah. But are you sure?
Me: Yes.
Hubby: Okay, well, while I’m away camping this weekend, why don’t you think about it.
Me: But I said I was sure.
Hubby: If you gave me a list of names, we could have a cocktail party here.
Me: I don’t like adult parties.
Hubby: But it’s your 40th.
Me: I prefer kid’s parties. You book a place, you show up with a cake, there is an activity, a host to herd people around, and then after 2 hours, it’s all done and everyone goes home.
Hubby: *sigh* Okay, well, just think about it while I’m away, will you?
Me: Okay, I will.
******************
Hubby: So, did you think about the party thing?
Me: Yes.
Hubby: And?
Me: It’s all organized.
Hubby: What? I was supposed to organize it for you.
Me: Er, yeah. But it’s all organized — all done.
Hubby: Okay, what is it?
Me: You know that place I told you about for Stella’s 9th birthday party: The 4 Cats Art Studio?
Hubby: Yeah …
Me: Well, I talked to the owner Emaly and she said she’d be happy to host me and my girlfriends on a Friday night.
Hubby: Oh. Okay …
Me: It’s gonna be sooo cool! We’re all going to show up wearing sweat pants and old clothes on and have a splatter paint party!
He was practically sputtering, he was so frustrated. I looked at his tear-filled eyes with confusion. With stupid, naive confusion. He wasn’t talking to me, and I didn’t know him. We were a group of strangers exiting the warm, transcending world of the theatre before departing on our own separate ways.
But I heard him. And I thought he was wrong. That he was transposing his own experience as a young gay man in the 1980s to that of today’s teenagers. That today’s youth have it so much better. That the world is so much more aware, more accepting, and less closeted.
After all, when I grew up in the 1980s, you’d be forgiven for thinking that there was not a single gay person in the entire high school. (Which, of course there were. These young people were not just in the closet, they were forced there and kept behind doors with lock and key.) Whereas when my younger siblings were in high school a decade later, there were openly gay students and an LGBT group that regularly met at school.
And the theatre piece we’d just seen, the Tony-award winning play The Normal Heart, was about a time even before mine. It told of a tight-knit group of friends working to refuse to let doctors, politicians and the press bury the truth of the then unspoken AIDS epidemic, more than a quarter of a century ago.
This man was speaking to his friend, an older woman, and he was seething. He said, “Things haven’t changed. After all this, after everything we’ve been through, things still haven’t changed.”
I hadn’t really thought about this man since I saw that performance, many months ago. But today, I have. And I’ve been thinking that he’s right.
How else can we explain the death of Jamie Hubley, a 15-year-old Canadian boy who lived in my city, and who committed suicide after public taunting at school for being gay and unsuccessful treatment for depression? It seems that “difference” is still not considered “normal.”
Of course, even in my school days, difference was taunted. Whether it was the colour of your skin, the way you talked, the freckles on your face, or the clothes you wore, if you were different, you could get eaten alive at school. Conformity was everywhere. It protected you, kept you under the radar. I blended in. I got along okay. But I remember the others who didn’t. It wasn’t pretty. Like Rick Mercer says in this video, school was a prison for these kids.
But why are children in groups so vicious? And what makes us this way? It seems that bullying has existed in school since the beginning of time. Literature from all time periods notes this kind of behaviour among children.
How can we consider ourselves evolved as a species when our young people are tearing each other apart like animals? Think I’m exaggerating? Jamie Hubley had batteries stuffed down his throat by a gang of fellow students who didn’t like his choice to figure skate rather than play hockey. How does this make any sense? What does it matter to them what type of skating he wants to do.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I’m raising more questions than answers. When am I going to wrap this up with a nice closing and some calls for action that will make a difference?
But I can’t. I’m now that man outside the theatre, seething with frustration, with tears in my eyes. How can we make sure that there are no more families like the Hubleys, left only with questions rather than their much-loved child.
There’s no such things as normal hearts. Just hearts. And they all hurt just the same when they’re clawed at.
Here’s where I chat about whatever is percolating in my brain on a given day … silly family anecdotes, travel tips, a new movie or book, or just life in general.
since we’ll be acting like big kids as we do a 
