Archive - April 2014

1
Run Boys Run
2
Gymnastics — Inclusive, Fantastic and Elastic!
3
Can’t Think Of A Title For This One…
4
Funny But Not Funny
5
OMG PMS TMI

Run Boys Run

This weekend the Thornbury family laced up and headed for the starting line. Well, half of us. I was supposed to race too, but after an unfortunate mishap involving a curb, my clumsiness and a swollen cankle, I had to sit this one out. Disappointing (well kind of, I hate running). I was looking forward to being active with my boys. Avery and I were there at the finish line though. We cheered them on and couldn’t have been more proud.     

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Gymnastics — Inclusive, Fantastic and Elastic!

  My daughter’s genetic make-up is unusual in many ways and I suspect her DNA also includes a unique elastic gene. The girl lives to flip, jump, roll, climb—basically anything that results in her body leaving the ground for any length of time. Avery was first introduced to gymnastics by her cousin — it was love at first back bend and we knew we had to sign our little monkey up for a local program. By “happy-stance” I met Canadian Olympic Gymnast Jessica Tudos on Twitter and she recommended a gym for us. She said it would be a perfect fit. She was right. Though Avery has developmental and physical challenges, Schlegel’s Gymnastics Centre is fully inclusive. Avery is just another active kid in a leotard climbing a rope. Can I just say how thrilled this makes me?? Several years ago Avery attended a play gym and because of her special needs she was placed in a program with kids half her age. There was poor Avery out on the mat with toddlers. This didn’t do anything to develop her physical or social skills. We quickly pulled her out.  Schlegel’s focuses on each child’s individual strengths and needs. It’s non-competitive[…]

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Can’t Think Of A Title For This One…

  This post is about nothing and everything. So unless you’re Seinfeld, how can you title something like that? Today as the kids and I went through our morning ritual of listening to Top 100 tunes while dancing around the kitchen making breakfast, feeding the dogs and the guinea pig, chugging coffee (me, not the kids) and making lunches, “Summer” by Calvin Harris came on. (The video is below in case you haven’t heard it yet). After the first verse my son said, “How is that even allowed? Isn’t that name calling?” How was what name calling? The dude is singing about some chick he met in the summer. The only thing offensive is the video. Could those girls’ shorts BE any shorter? Either I’ve become a prude, or I’m just jealous that I used to be able to rock short shorts, but now without sturdy jeans to cradle my cheeks, I’d have to carry my saggy ass behind me in my handbag. But I digress. He thought Calvin was singing, “With a midget in the summer.” We laughed as I sang him the actual lyrics. (“I met cha in the summah…”) Clearly the kid got his mother’s lyric-challengedness. I’ve[…]

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Funny But Not Funny

  You know those moments when you’re half sobbing, half laughing, basically mortified but not enough to be blinded to the humour of the situation? Of course these ‘simulhumourous’ events are funnier when they happen to other people. But they seems they happen to me more than the average Joe. Like… It’s funny, but totally not funny when you drive over the edge of a snowbank, expecting it to be soft and squishy, when in fact it’s frozen solid like a block of cement. The deafening thunk and your hubcap flying off tips you off. They you have to reverse and slink out of your car to retrieve your hubcap, praying silently that your neighbours aren’t watching in astonishment at your idiotic driving. It’s funny, but totally not funny when you’re woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of one of your dogs—the one with the sensitive stomach—heaving. He pukes on the floor and then jumps onto your bed making a “more vomit is imminent sound” adjacent to your pillow. In a panic you sit up, grab the convulsing canine attempting to make a run for the tiled bathroom floor to spare your Nepalese area rug. In your haste[…]

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OMG PMS TMI

  When I declined my son’s invitation to go for a bike ride, he asked if I was sick. The fact that I was doubled over, holding my midriff probably gave him that idea. I wasn’t sick. I just wasn’t thrilled about mounting my bike. I also wasn’t interested in horseback riding, frolicking on the beach in my bathing suit, or doing gymnastics. I was a crampy, bloated nightmare. The only thing I was interested in was a heating pad and to be left alone. However, I felt I owed my son an explanation. He knows all about the birds and the bees. We had that talk ages ago. And though we discussed the whole “menses” topic and gave him a book to read, (It’s So amazing!: A Book about Eggs, Sperm, Birth, Babies, and Families) I suspected that my boy needed a little refresher. And so I explained, in my most mature and matter-of-fact sciencey voice about this monthly process. When I was done he said, “I’m SO glad that guys don’t have that.” No kidding. Dude, you have no idea. Then he asked, “Does this have to do with PMS? And what does PMS stand for?” So I explained[…]

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