The romance of Costco

It could have been the paper towel or the fragrance free laundry detergent.  Actually maybe it was the organic olive oil or the ketchup and mustard.  Or the bottles and bottles of Peligrino?  That lovely blood orange organic soda? Even just softest case of toilet paper?  

It's hard to pinpoint which item did it.  All I know is that your latest visit to Costco was one of your most romantic gestures to date. I'm seroiusl 

You didn't buy the fancy stuff. You knew better, and left that job for me. You didn't buy anything fresh or perishable. After all these years, you knew this would totally piss me off.   Thankfully you didn't buy huge vats of spices or mayonnaise. I would have gone crazy ape on you.  Big time.  You knew I had already spent hours sourcing the perfect vessels for our pantry, and how much I was looking forward to filling those said jars. By myself. 

What you did buy was the heavy stuff.  You dragged in all the things that I'd hate to schlep. And you did it without asking. You ran to Costco before it even opened and you loaded our car with it hundreds of dollars worth of stuff. The basics.  Things that bore me to tears, like soap for the dishwasher.  And the washing machine. And toilet cleaner.  Spare me...

The gesture was sweet and delicious. Better than any five carat ring or fancy car.  You were like an old world hunter, facing the wild and coming back to our home with the goods for our family. 

And together, for the first time since our new home was built, we filled our sparkling pantry with all of these items. Although I'll end up reorganizing everything, perhaps time and time again, at that moment your work was seriously perfect and romantic.  

Standing in our pantry together, planning out our shelf space and design, I could have cried.  Who knew how exciting this could be? Perhaps not as fun as a trip to Paris, but strangely a close second. (What has become of me))))

As we unpacked our car I realized that together, this life we have made. One day at a time. Meal by meal, child by child, moment by moment.  Lots of laughing. And even some crying.  But it's been many years of togetherness.  Countless trips to Costco to feed our seemingly always hungry kids. 

Twenty eight years of friendship and it hasn't always been easy.  There were months I wanted to run away. Months I wanted to be done. Weeks when I dreaded seeing you. And certainly days I wished us not to be so.  And then all the resentment that came with living in Canada.  I missed my family.  I missed old friends. I mostly missed me. 

But you've kept your word.  After all these years.  And now we are back in America. Four miles from my childhood home and a few more minutes into my favourite city. Though I miss the urban life, im happy. And I'm grateful. 

I'm thrilled our kids have adjusted so well to this crazy transition. I'm over the moon to be so close to my sister and our family again. And most of all, I'm happy for our new home together. 

This morning we will receive 20,000 pounds of stuff we do not need. Things we haven't seen since we packed that truck up this summer. Our belongings are en route from Toronto, and by noon they'll all be at our new door. 

 And like eating an elephant, we'll get through this one bite at a time. 

We'll make the move in fun. I know the kids will have a blast. I'll serve pizza and ice cream and we will celebrate our new life. And I'll be all smiles tonight,  grateful to have a pantry full of plastic recycling bags and all natural glass cleaner. 

Can't wait for this next adventure to begin.  Ps. Thank you also for my new car tires ;)

I'll need a scissor

The other night my husband needed scissors.  I guess a knife would have worked as well, though I shudder at the thought.  

I was lying in bed with my nine year old, helping her to fall asleep. Maybe that was my first problem...

Since it was 9pm, I was in my comfy clothes, a black tank top and black drawstring pants. We're staying with my parents and my girl is sleeping in a tiny twin bed. To save space, I cuddled her while on my side.  It was dark. 

Warm and cozy, we were chatting about the day and getting sleepy as my darling husband entered the room. He sat beside me and rubbed my shoulder.  Such a sweetie pie, I thought to myself. And then with no warning, he says, out loud, "if only we could just cut this off mommy, she'd be good".  I gasped. Audibly.  Cut what? 

My long hair? Nope. 

I'm afraid he was referring to my post two  kids overweight weight, non flat belly.  It was sad and shocking. And mostly completely egregious. I'm 41, I can mostly handle it. But my precious girl is only 9. And she can't. 

Instead of decapitating him, I kissed my baby doll goodnight and walked away. When I got downstairs I cried my eyes off.  The next day I ignored him entirely. How does one deal with those who are less bright?

My daughter never spoke of this night. I'm hoping she was so tired that it flew over her head. Maybe she didn't hear it at all as she fell into slumber?

I'm a mother who doesn't use the word fat or skinny.  At least not around my kids. Ever. I don't talk about diets or treadmills, carbs or protein. Yes, my kids know all about living healthy, but only in a positive way.  From butter chicken and naan to crepes and sushi too, they're good eaters and live to eat. They also love to be active. 

But just  last year I pulled my kid from both ballet and gymnastics. Too many other mothers kept praising her for being so skinny. "You're so skinny, you're a perfect ballerina". "You're so skinny you look great in that leotard". Really?  How about strong, graceful, fit?  Same thing happened at gymnastics. Yes, my kids are thin. Skinny even. But they eat everything. They eat nonstop. But both are also extremely sporty and most likely they have good genes. MY genes!

My entire life, I was the skinny one. The perfect ballerina. The girl who ate everything. I was the five foot 9 girl who could wear a size six or even a four. I was comfortable at 128 pounds.  Lord help me. 

But with both kids I gained an insane amount of weight and  I'm struggling to lose it. And when I say STRUGGLING, I mean that honestly.  It's a battle. Every. Single. Day. Pizza and cookies literally speak to me. And the thought of grilled chicken over romaine lettuce makes me want to hurl. Twice. 

While it's a battle I'm fighting each day, it's certainly one I didn't plan on sharing with my loving spouse.  And yes, would cutting off my gut make me skinnier, sexier and more attractive?  Seems he would believe this to be so. And perhaps he's right?  But then I'd have to hear about the nasty scars.  And believe me, those would run deep. Very deep. 

Actually, come to think of it, they already do. Namaste 

Different days

 You chided me.  "You and I have different days". 

What?? It was like a brick to my gut. I felt angry. Demeaned. Sad. Do you really notice nothing that I do? Is my contribution to our home and family worth so much less than yours. Or maybe nothing at all.  

So I turned away and clutched my iPhone and thought about my day

My Thursday started at 4:30am. That's the time our precious 5 year old decided it was time to wake up. And since he didn't want to be up alone, he found me. Sadly he didn't want to cozy in my bed and gorge on Netflix. He had a different plan. He wanted to plan his upcoming birthday.  In detail. Right down to the loot bags. And it is still September. His birthday is in December.  Once he and I agreed on a theme (he wants a hockey skating party) we went onto the menu, snacks and he even convinced me to let the boys sleep over.  

And suddenly it was five am. This felt like a more appropriate time to get up. So I did. Slowly I went upstairs to begin breakfast. My boy requested eggs, sunny side up. With toast. And the toast needed not to be too crispy. Loads of butter too. For sure at 7, my girl would come down with a completely different breakfast idea. 

And then for a little lunch magic.  I gathered all of our sustainable containers and began to create two perfect lunch kits. She prefers hot food like pasta or chicken and rice. He won't eat hot food at school because he doesn't believe it will stay warm enough for his gourmand self. 

Healthy snacks. Beautifully crafted carrots and cucumbers that will probably never be eaten. I always add in a fruit or two. This day was mango and berries. 

Then we'll go through our morning dance. Did you brush your teeth?  Brush your hair. "But i did". Brush it again. You need running shoes for gym. With socks. Why are you wear sweatpants? It's 95 degrees. 

And then inevitably as we are heading towards the door, there will be an assignment to sign.  Money needed for class pictures or a project. And so ill scramble. Surely they didn't know about this the night before?

In the car ride over to school I will blast music. Their music. I'll suffer through Beiber and Demi Lovato so I don't have to hear them fighting about nothing. 

I will kiss them goodbye and wish them wonderful days. And I always mean it. 

My first stop will be to take your clothes to the new dry cleaners. Apparently the old place isn't up to snuf. 

I'll drive over to our new house which isn't complete yet.  I'll check on the workers. Some days I bring them coffee and donuts. I'll deliver whatever i purchased the day before. Light fixtures, knobs. Whatever.  

I'll run to the grocery store to buy acceptable food for lunches.  When I come up with an interesting dinner menu, I'll purchase whatever's needed. 

This week, our girl has been invited to a bunch of birthday parties. I find a fun local store that wraps gifts and in the name of efficiency I buy all three presents at once. I'll have to remind our daughter at least four times to write a card. 

With the last hour and 1/2 I have before pick up, I'll zip over to the wallpaper store.  I'll pour through countless binders of papers to figure out what works for our new home. 

At 2:30, I'll race to pick up the kids.  I'll have their Swell bottles filled with fresh iced water. My head will be pounding and 

it's at that moment I'll realize I've forgotten to have lunch. Not even coffee. When I see my little ones running toward me, I'll forget about my aching head. And  I'll put away my iPhone to listen to their days' tales.  

My girl will chat it up about her new friend Charlie.  I'll giggle and call him her boyfriend. My son will remind me that all of his friends know about his imminent party. He'll beg me to charge a fee to his guests. I'll try in vain to explain how that's not acceptable. And I'll silently laugh about his budding business skills. 

We'll arrive home and tackle the evenings' routine. Dinner, showers, homework, books, bedtime. 

By the time they close their eyes I wil have been awake for 17 hours. 

On this particular day, I didn't get a manicure. Or a pedicure. Or a massage. I didn't meet a friend for lunch or coffee.  I didn't find anytime to write. I didn't watch tv. Or read a magazine. I'm sure I did talk on the phone while in transit. 

I had a wonderful day. One that started and ended with my family.

 I didn't sit in an office. I didn't use much of what was learned in MBA classes. I didn't get to laugh over a lunch meeting with colleagues.  

But what i did was valuable. What i do each day holds worth.

 Yes I'm grateful I don't have to slug it out in the rat race.  I'm glad I don't have suffer a sticky commute.  I'm glad you effortlessly handle all of the bills. And while somedays i long to wear a pencil skirt and heels, I know my current uniform is exactly as it should be. 

And I know the choice to manage my family was mine. And there's no job I'd rather have.  

Breathe. Drink water. Namaste

Dear husband

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

So actually, this didn't start as love at all. In fact that would have put you in jail. If you recall, I was 12 and you had just turned 18.  I was a fresh faced (brace faced) preteen with long hair and olive oil legs. I was tall, nearly 5 foot 9, but still yet to weigh 125 pounds. Shy, awkward around boys, yet utterly infatuated with you. 

After all you were a Canadian college kid. Or, as you people say "university" kid.   Tanned, toned and totally hot. That's my memory of you circa 1987.  You rarely smiled, you never wore shorts, and in your Benetton striped blue and white rugby I was smitten.  From that first canoe ride, I knew you were the man I would marry one day. 

And much to your chagrin, I made that no secret.  I told everyone.  When you were on canoe trips, I dragged my friends and raided your cabin.  I stole a robin's egg blue Beaver Canoe sweatshirt from your cubby.  And your pillow case.  I slept with both every night. 

I still have your sweatshirt.  And your pillowcase.  And they are both 28 years old today. 

Canoeing quickly became my favourite sport.  Going on an overnight with you was pure heaven. 

Your Canadian accent made the girls swoon and I cried as you dated 1/4 of the female staff. Including my cousin. 

And then I cried again when they chose to close our summer camp.  Cried for the friends I wouldn't see again. And mostly I bawled because I knew I'd miss you. 

But i was then close to 13 and an avid writer. You received nearly a letter a day. I think you wrote back twice...

So, who would have guessed that all this time later we would be married and the parents to two near perfect babes? 

Yup, I got you in the end. Persistence and mad good penpal skills made me the lucky winner. 

I even moved to Canada for 14 years. People around here say I sound Canadian. My kids were both born there...

And though there have been some tremendous ups, there have also been a few gut-wrenching downs.  Sometimes I bet you wished you never agreed to spend 8 weeks teaching Jewish kids from Nyc/nj how to canoe in the wilderness. 

I'm sure some days you dream that you just married some normal Canadian girl and not some wild and crazy American. 

And believe me, there are days I wish I never met you at all. 

But for the most part, I thank my lucky stars that I was a precocious and probably obnoxious kid with a crazy crush on the Canadian counsellor who taught canoeing. 

Here's how i count the ways I love you:

1)you are the most fantastic father. Loving yet stern.  Involved in everything.  You're the one who always takes them for Baskin Robbins. Even when it's snowing. They certainly think you're the fun one. 

2) I love that you taught both kids to ride bicycles. And they learned immediately. Before all their friends. So then you taught their friends...

3)because you love to cook.  And not just bbq.  You're a master in the kitchen.  This is where your creative side shines. Your presentation is always flawless.  I love your salmon ceviche on shrimp crackers the most. 

4) because after you cook (or while you are cooking) you clean up. You never leave the kitchen a mess. 

5) you never leave a mess anywhere. Ever.  In fact, one of your nicknames for me is pigpen, because mess follows me everywhere. You hate that about me. I'm sure. 

6) because after 14 years you moved me back to America. More specifically back into my parents' house!!! You took a huge job 6 months ago and left us to pursue this position. We joined you two weeks ago.  I'm still pinching myself. 

7)because you work tons but do it with grace. 

8) because you're my behind the scenes producer. You take care of the stuff no one sees. From dealing with the bills to checking on the electrical outlets, you take care details i would otherwise ignore. 

9) because you love to see the world with me. From Canada to India, Africa to Iceland,  travelling together is our happy place. And now our kids have the wanderlust bug too!!

10) and I'd be remiss if I didn't say you're also my guardian angel on earth. While I'm quite the catch myself, I'm not always the easiest person with whom to live. You have seen me at my worst and saved me from myself.  I know  you worry about my well-being  more than you worry about yourself.  

 

I'm forever grateful, even if i don't always show it. I cherish all our moments together and I'm excited about our new adventure.  This phase of our life is going to be the best part of the story!!

After all, we are team Mayer Sugarman and together we can take on the world. 

With love and respect,

Laurin 

And today's that day

Today is September 8. Aside from being the day before my birthday, it's also the first day of school for many of my friends' kids. We started last week, but in Toronto today is the day. 

And I can't help but feel sad. Homesick. Left out. By 9am I will see more back to school pictures than I ever cared to.  I'll see kids lined up in front of their perfect houses, holding chalk board signs in their ever growing hands. First day of grade one, two, three.  There will be close ups of backpacks and lunches.  By 9:15 I'll see lots of smiling faces.  Beaming about going back to school.  These faces will all belong to my girlfriends. Actually by now,  even the kids will be happy to get back to a routine.  

But first we will see the end of summer pics. A few last camp shots, barbecues, and definitely a s'more or two. There will be beach photos and bikinis too.  

I'll pour through tons of these memories in the making and I'll feel left out and empty. It's the first time since we've moved back to America that life here will feel real. 

We've truly left our home of 14 years and it seems the city is functioning without us. My kids' school bell in toronto will ring at its regular time. Kids will run down our old street. They'll pack into that overcrowded building and my two will be absent. Today and everyday. 

While I'm so grateful to technology for keeping us connected, I can't help but feel lonely. And upset that I won't be there at drop off.  I'll miss the walk over to our favourite coffee shop.  And then at 3:10 today I'll miss my favourite time to catch up with the mama drama. The playground politics.  

Don't get me wrong. I love my new town school.  I already adore a big bunch of the new parents. It's just that I had built those friendships for 7 plus years

So when I come home for a visit Toronto, please don't take me to the CN tower. I'm not interested in the latest restaurant. Or the coolest stores. 

But please let me back in the circle at the playground.  Let me catch up with you about quick dinner and lunch prep ideas. Tell me your new crockpot tricks.  Invite me to grocery shop with you again. I loved it and I'd take it over a fancy dinner out any day...

I only want to be part of your ordinary. Your everyday. Even though I'm so far away. Today and always. 

Miss you loads. 

Stay at home.

Dear family,

Since you're all still sleeping, I thought I'd use my free time to send you a thank you note. A love letter, if you will.  After all, the whites are washing and there must be at least 32 minutes left in the cycle. 

Speaking of which, I love to do your laundry.  Yes, I really do. Some days I remind myself how lucky I am to have a masters degree and a private school education. Surely all my knowledge of art history and psychology gives me a leg up with stain removal and the like.  

Not only do I love the act of doing your laundry, but I enjoy scanning the house searching for your dirty clothes.  This is most fun before a school day when you desperately need your black sparkly leggings. I search and search and then usually find said item in a ball. Crumbled. On your bedroom floor. 

I also love to wash towels. Especially the ones you use once to shower.  Or to swim. Don't even get me started on water preservation. Planet  Earth be damned. 

I also really enjoy packing your lunches. I love the high of running through various grocery stores to find the items you happen to love this week. A specific kind of Turkey for sandwiches? Nitrate free.  A Portuguese bun? Organic milk boxes? I'm on it.  

And because I'm so good I'll be sure to wrap everything in sustainable packaging   Mostly because i live to wash lunch containers after a long school day.  What I love even more is finding the containers at the bottom of your bag early the next morning. Cleaning out moldy peaches starts anyone's day with a smile. 

And your water bottles. I love that you're all so environmental. I love that you look down on plastic water vessels. I'm happy to buy you multiple new clean and green bottles. Sigg, swell, you name it, you have it. And don't worry if you lose my favourite bottle. I'm good with the old bpa ridden plastic ones. 

I also enjoy that you have so many hobbies. What with guitar and skiing and singing and tennis, you'll be the most well rounded kids in town. I enjoy shuttling you from place to place. Actually I do. Because while I loathe to drive, I love the time to hear you chat about your day. I honestly do. 

And then comes dinner.  Because I do virtually nothing all day while you're at school, I have plenty of time to meal prep. I'm happy to go to whole foods for your organic salmon and then run over to the Barns for that sauce you like so much. And then because I love you, I'll also stop at Shoprite for those mini ice creams you seem to adore.  Don't worry that they're three times the price of the normal stuff. 

  And I'll always have avocados on hand for a last minute guacamole.  I'll always stock your flour tortillas in case you fancy a cheese quesadilla or a fish taco.  One of you will only eat whole wheat bread and sadly the other only white. I vow to keep plenty of appropriate bread in the house at all times.  Because that's the kind of mom I am. 

And last but not least (i could go on all day) please be sure to always give me the stacks of school paper work as we are rushing to school in the morning. I don't mind filling out the contact information, emergency numbers, etc all while trying to scramble your eggs. Two ways.  

So my angels, I thank you for keeping me busy. Thank you for keeping me in yoga clothes.  I never liked dressing up anyway. And showering is for the weak. 

And most of all, Thank you for keeping me out of the workforce.  What would I do with a hefty pay check anyway?   Love you to the moon and back. 

Your mommy

Ps. My birthday is in 6 days and I want a Cartier watch and a vacation 

Lady of the house

I never aspired to be a wife. Certainly I wasn't one of those girls who had vivid dreams of a fancy wedding. I never contemplated a cathedral veil or a 12 piece orchestra. (Years later I'd be obsessed with these things)

 Never did I imagine a house with a white picket fence. Or any fence.  I wanted to live in an apartment in Nyc forever. 

 Kids weren't really on my radar. Sure, i found them cute. From afar. And babysitting certainly wasn't my bag. Hated it actually. Save for the homemade chocolate chip cookies the lady of the house made for me, I dreaded the job. I used to pray the kid would sleep. I died whenever I had to change a diaper. 

To avoid becoming a stay at home mom, I dated often. No way I was going to become a lame statistic. Friends were getting engaged and I dreaded each invite that arrived. A ruined Labor Day weekend. Another wedding over Fourth of July.  It was awful and I wasn't having any part of it. 

I lived and loved abroad.  A lot. I worked. I volunteered. And eventually I went back to school for my masters. I figured that when I did eventually have kids, at least if have a good degree. Perhaps that would make me more marketable post mat leave?

I worked my butt off all through mba and began to dream of my immenent six figure income. My mind was filled with holidays i would take.  Turkey, Morocco, India. Life would be glamourous.  Life would be grand. 

And then my boyfriend proposed. With an ice skating rink of a ring. I was shocked. I hardly knew what to say, so I went with "yes". And then for two years I questioned my decision. Who wanted to get married anyway. 

I graduated from school at the end of May and started my dream job right away.  A June 21 wedding followed.  

As I walked down that aisle in my cathedral length veil, I saw my dreams fade away.  And that 12 piece orchestra played on...

I felt the depression start to sink in and the ink hadn't yet dried

Now it's not that i didn't want to marry my husband. I just didn't want to marry him right then.   A few more years single would have worked for me. 

And as I predicted, my dreams started to evaporate.  Everyone around me was falling pregnant.  Talk of breast feeding, spoon feeding and diapers filled the air. With a bit of peer pressure and my quickly increasing age,  i decided a baby would be a welcome addition to my life as well. (I was 30)

Within 38 weeks I went from being "wife" to "mommy".  I was 31.  Gone was the girl who travelled everywhere. Gone was she who took courses whenever she could. Gone was the chick who ran to 6am hot yoga. Every. Single.  Day

And while I loved my daughter more than words could ever explain, I felt like I was losing me. I knew I was.  Gym classes. Swim classes. Music lessons. All for her. And she was 6 months old.  I shopped nonstop. For boots and skirts and dresses.  Again, only for her. 

As she grew more gorgeous i still looked pregnant. Or worse. 

My husband had began to workout feverishly.  He was addicted. To the gym. Certainly not to me. Or to what I'd become. Who had I become? More importantly, where did I go?

And his life carried on. All I carried was my baby and the groceries.  Every day. Every damn day. 

Actually his life did more than carry on. He flourished.  Each year or two he'd start a new job. Each job was better than the next.  He was climbing up the corporate ladder and I was ready to climb out the window.

From business meetings to work drinks and dinner, he was enjoying the good life. And I was living the housewife life...  Who would have thunk it?? 

 While I was and am so proud of his accomplishments it still saddens me not to have "work dinners" or drinks with friends from work. 

But today  my daughter is nearly ten. We've added an awesome animated boy to the mix.  He's loud and smart and handsome as hell.  These two kids rock my world. They also rule my world. And my days. And usually my nights too...

The youngest is 5 and I've yet to lose the baby weight. I cringe when someone asks if  I'm pregnant. 

 And we've recently moved countries and my husband started his biggest job yet. He's in charge of 400 people. 400 family's lives. Their well-being is in his hands. And he loves it. 

And me? I'm still left carrying groceries and often a kid. A very big kid. 

But I'm also buying  rain boots and sports bras.  Leggings and ice skates. Bike helmets and rollerblades. Uggs and umbrellas. 

Last week i was asked to buy deodorant.  And I cried.  But i digress. 

I've trolled the malls for back to school clothes. And backpacks.  And lunch bags.  That perfect first day outfit?!

But get this. Together with my girl, I've created a dinner menu for the month. We perused the food network and found tons of interesting meals she agreed to eat. I made a fabulous spread sheet. And to think I was kind of excited to use excel again?!  And a little shocked I still knew how. 

It's not all doom and gloom.  My biggest achievement lately is that my kids love to eat. Thai food, Indian, Mexican, sushi. They have wonderful palates and even better manners.  They make me proud at least 13 times a day. 

But I'd be lying if i said this is what I always wanted. My dream come true. A suburban housewife with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of education in my pocket.  And no full time job in sight. No tailored suits and designer heels.  No nanny to watch the kids and clean up their mess. 

No. It's not what I wanted at all. Never. Ever. Not on any planet. But it's the life I've chosen. My path for now.  And truthfully I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.  

Breathe and drink water. Namaste