Let me tell you 'bout the birds, and the bees, and the socks, and the...what?

It's funny, the things that come out of your mouth when you're under duress. The kind of duress that is experienced when you have to tell your best friend that the dye job and cut she just got makes her look like Angelina, when you really want to tell her she looks like Brad, or telling your husband that the 40 or so pounds he's put on look fine with that tight shirt, or, as I recently experienced, trying to explain the purpose of a prophylactic, to a 5 year old. You know, when it comes right down to it, I would take the Spanish Inquisition ANY day, over having to explain that last one, which brings me to today's topic.
In the March issue of Today's Parent, I have the unbelievable good luck of being quoted in a article about lying to your children. It was brilliantly written by the awesome Lisa Van De Geyn, and I think everyone should read it. Like, now. Well, maybe right after you've read my piece here, that is.
In the article, I'm quoted as saying that I told my 5 year old that the condoms he found in my husband's dresser were, in fact, socks. Which I did, mainly. The whole conversation was a little more convoluted than the magazine would have you think, and I would be remiss if I didn't set the record straight. I didn't just come out and say, 'Yes, son, those are little (well, OK, not THAT little - I do have standards), lubricated, rubber socks.' What follows is what I like to think of as a mature, responsible conversation, between a Mother, and a child who really doesn't need to know about those sort of things until he's at least 18...or 40, and finally starts to date. Nice girls. Who are saving themselves for marriage. At any rate, read on.

At this point, we are rearranging furniture after lots, (read: months) of renovating. I'm replacing the books that were in the nightstand, and Riley is "helping". He reaches in and grabs the first thing he sees. 

R: "Mom, what are these?"
Me: "Those are breathing strips for Daddy's nose."
R: "What do they do?"
Me: They help Daddy at night so he doesn't snore, and keep Mommy up all night." What I'm really thinking is, they're totally effing useless, because he winds up on his back anyway, and all the strips do is make the snoring sound less like a motor boat, and more like a large, 4-door sedan. You'll know if I'm ever arrested, what it was for. 
R: "Oh." Totally uninteresting, and he throws them back in the drawer. He then spots and grabs the large, economy sized box of condoms sitting next to the strips. (What? Tell me you don't buy your condoms in bulk at Costco, and I'll tell you you're paying too much for a couple minutes (well, it might be longer than that) of pleasure.)
R: "Mom, what are THESE?"
Me: "Those are Daddy's as well." You can see at this point how I'm cleverly trying to deflect the topic, in the hopes that he'll drop it. Yeah, I need to stop being so naive. 
R: "Are they for his nose too?" At this point, I'm thinking, no, his nose never ventures anywhere NEAR the vicinity for which condoms are required, and then I start thinking that maybe we should discuss that some time soon, and then I'm brought back to reality by my 5 year old, trying to open a wrapper.
Me: "Riley, don't open that. No, they're not for his nose. They're for further down his body."
R: "You mean like for his feet?"
Me: Seizing on a way to get out of this conversation, which, at this point, is right up there on a scale with making small talk to my doctor while he's shoving a speculum up my hoo-hah. DeLIGHTful! 
"Yeah bud, they're like socks." And after this point, they're not going to be left lying around, like the rest of the socks in our household. EVER. 
R: "Cool! Can I try them on?"
Me: "NO!" At which point, I grab them, toss them back in the drawer, and mumble something about getting to try them on when Daddy's around. 
Fortunately for me, my son has the attention span of a gnat, and I was able to lure him away with promises of Kinder Eggs and chocolate milk. What can I say? I'm prepared for emergencies.

And before you get on me for not being truthful to my son about such an important topic, let me assure you, he does know where babies come from, and how they're made. In fact, he laughed at me when I explained the whole process. "Storks... yeah right Mom! That's so silly!" All kidding aside, he does know. In fairly graphic detail. And, one day, probably sooner than later, he'll learn about how to prevent pregnancy as well, and the responsibilities that both adults have when it comes to doing so. I have it all written down, with all the different methods there are, and I'm sure my husband is going to do an AMAZING job of explaining it. Really.

Just Do It! No, seriously... go ahead!

Have you ever jumped off a diving board? I have. A few times. Most often, I end up in a spectacular belly-flop, writhing in pain for a few minutes, and then cursing myself and swearing that I'll never do it again. Until the next time, that is. There's always that one time though, where I make a perfect dive, and slice through the water, sharp as a blade, and surface, feeling like I've just won the freaking Olympics. Those dives are the best. I revel in those, perhaps because they happen so infrequently. It's sort of like going ahead, and trying something that you've never done before. Chances are, you're going to fail miserably, and feel like a major dork, but maybe, just maybe, that one time you do it, you'll come out on top, and feel like Leo DiCaprio did on that damned boat. You know, before it sank, and he along with it.

If you'll recall, my last post was about inspiration. I think. I might've been drinking when I wrote it, so I'm not too sure, to be honest. But, all that talk of things that blow my fur back got me to thinking. What if, this time, I take a giant leap off the diving board, and not worry if my bathing suit falls off? So, with that in mind, I'm going to do it. Not actually dive, but rather, I'm going to step out of my considerable comfort zone, and do something new. In this case, it's going to be starting a new career path, hopefully. In May of this year, I'm going to embark on a Visual Design program, with a specialization in Interior Design. I know. I'm just as shocked as you are. Like I said last time, I love messing around with colours, and fabrics, and art work, and paint, and everything that goes with, even if it is on a shoe-string budget most of the time. I love making things pretty AND functional. (which, sadly, my kitchen is only one of the two currently. Who designs a kitchen with only one and a half drawers, anyway?) I'm constantly going to friends homes, and itching to re-hang their photos and pictures to a proper height. Which, in case you're wondering, is about 58" from the centre of the piece to the floor. Usually. It depends on where it's hung. Doesn't it always depends on how it's hung? So, I thought I would make it official, and actually get an education in the process. Ultimately, I would love to be able to design interiors for people, but for now, I'm aspiring to staging homes for the real estate market. Well, that's in addition to actually passing the program. Baby steps, right?
I'm as nervous as hell, but so excited at the thought of making a dream a reality. At least a dream that doesn't involve standing in front of JLo, Steven Tyler and that other guy... Yeah, like THAT'S gonna happen.

I also thought, in keeping with actually having a blog, that I would track my progress. So, please expect to hear, in the coming months, plenty of commentary on my journey. You know it's going to make you laugh, even if it's only because I showed you some of my work. ;)

Inspired? Eh, maybe...

Well, the cold weather has hit with a vengeance, and along with it, my motivation for accomplishing, well, anything at this point. I think Mother Nature must've finally realized that it's supposed to be cold, and she's making up for the last two and a half months by giving it to us all in one shot. Minus 30 doesn't really inspire anyone to do anything, other than occasionally turn up the heat. I think I almost froze my tongue to the window glass this morning, and I didn't even think such a thing was possible. On the upshot, the power and gas companies must be loving this whole "Christmas in January" thing.

At any rate, seeing as I'm going to accomplish 2/5 of nothing today, I started thinking about what really does inspire me. At this point, I really can't think of anything. How sad is that? Does eating count? I'm trying to think if I've ever really been inspired by anything, other than a plate of bison tartare that I once had the delight of tucking into. I was inspired to order more. Which I did.

There really isn't a lot that I'm extremely passionate about, although I'm sure if you ask my husband, he'll tell you that yelling at speeders on our street ranks pretty high. Actually, I am pretty passionate about our little community, to the point where I now sit on three separate boards in the area. On the days where I think I can do anything (which, at this point, let's admit it, isn't bloody likely), I aspire to one day being a City Councillor. I've always wanted a job where people can criticize my every move, and lambaste me on a daily basis. I mean, I can do that now, being a Mother, but I just don't get paid for it.

The other thing that gets my blood pumping, to my husband's EXTREME chagrin, is home renovation and decor. I hope to one day find that hidden gem of a house, just crying out for my fabulous sense of design and vision. (at least I "think" that's what it's crying out for. It might just be that it sees me coming and doesn't have anywhere to run.) I'd like to think that I have a good sense of what works and what doesn't as far as home style is concerned. My wardrobe is another matter entirely.
We've now renovated two homes, and the second one still isn't done. There's a full-on kitchen reno coming in the next couple years, and I already find myself planning and scheming as to what mayhem I can come up with. My husband is already stocking the wine and Ativan. In a perfect world, I think I would do reno and design for a living. Sadly though, I'm currently stuck just playing with my own home. Still, you never know what can happen in a year.

So, that's what makes me tick, other than a good bottle of wine and some foie gras pate, of course. What inspires you? Anything? What really floats your boat these days? I'm genuinely curious. Go figure.