Chili Con Carne with Ground Turkey

This is just a quickie to share a new recipe I put up on the Kitchen Witch for Chili Con Carne with Ground Turkey.



As you all know, I've been working hard at making changes regarding diet and lifestyle.

And its been a lot of fun because I've had a chance to experiment with recipes, turning favourite dishes into versions containing higher fibre, lower cholesterol, and lower cal alternatives.

As I head into the mid digits of forty and beyond, I'm noticing how things I never paid any attention to when I was younger have suddenly become important - like fibre, sugar, sodium, fats, and additives.

Not that I have any illusions of living forever - it's just that, while I'm here, if there are things I can do now to avoid having open heart surgery or osteoperosis later, I want to do them.

Taking me back to my old mantra that life is what you make it, and there are things we can do now to improve the quality of our lives later.

To me, that's every bit as important as saving money for retirement.

Saving our bodies.

All that aside though, though, this recipe is still damn good!

Chili Con Carne with Ground Turkey

And that's the blog.

Although this isn't "regularly scheduled" fare - I may be popping by on weekends with recipes and other healthy nuggets as the spirit moves me.

Carry on...

And have a Fabulous Saturday!

I'm off to the gym.

H1N1 Paranoia Maven Style

After much back and forth debate and the ingestion of more oil of oregano than an Italian medicine woman, I made the decision yesterday to get vaccinated for the H1N1 virus - otherwise known as the swine flu.

Although I'm not completely convinced the whole thing isn't a big world order conspiracy, I am willing to risk becoming a pod person in order to remain healthy.

Normally I'm not a traditional medication kind of gal but I've got asthma and have been rushed to the hospital on enough occasions to give me pause about a flu that has respiratory implications.

I also do a lot of work in schools and in remote locations where the risk is higher.

Given that, I decided to go today and brave the lines where currently, the only people eligible for the vaccine are children under 3, health workers, and people with chronic illness.

Which qualifies me.

Asthma, who knew?

Finally I have a leg to stand on during bouts of hypochondria!

I can now pull my chronically ill card and have the Poolboy do my bidding.



Meanwhile, the shot.

I get to the place feeling all brave and wordly.

Working woman on a mission to look after her health, proud she's finally made the decision to protect herself not only from from the dread of influenza, but to protect the world at large who might other wise become infected.

***

As the line kept moving forward I stood in smug confidence; secure in my chronic illness as healthy people were asked to come back next week when immunizations open to the general public.

My fabulosity was surging - it was like being on the list at Studio 54!

And not only was I accepted for immunization, I was approved for not one, but two vaccines!!

People, I walked into that auditorium like Ivana Trump on her way into Spago.

But then I had to wait.

And while I waited, I perused the brochure one of the nice doormen handed me.

"It is important to stay in the clinic for 15 minutes after getting any vaccine because there is a rare possibility of a life-threatening allergic reaction called anaphylaxis. This may include hives, difficulty breathing, or swelling in the throat, tongue, or lips.

Guillain- Barre Syndrome, a form of paralysis which is usually temporary, may be associated with the vaccine. People with an allergy to eggs are recommended not to get it."

My upper lip began to sweat as I racked my brain for any evidence of egg related allergy.

True, I have a poached egg on toast for breakfast most mornings, but still - what if there was an unknown variety of egg I was allergic to?

And what if that exact strain was in the vaccine?

What if this was a government plot led by the same alien nation hell bent on abducting our asses at 3:33 am?

WHAT IF??????????

"Ma'am, you can go to the cubicle on the right."

Dammit!

Not only was I on my way to certain death by vaccine, I had been drive by "ma'amed" in the process.

This is why I always tell people not to believe everything they see.

To the casual observer I looked like a well dressed career woman on a routine trip to the clinic and am willing to lay bets that not one person had an inkling that the sane looking woman wearing fabulous genuine imitation Sergio Rossi boots was harbouring panicked visions of being hauled away on the mother ship in a vaccine induced stupor.

To the good, one of the nurses complimented me on my outfit.

Which goes to show...

Even in medical crisis I remain

Just.

That.

Fabulous.

And that's the blog!

***

So tell me, are you getting vaccinated?

Better still, what are you up to this weekend?

I'm looking forward to doing a whole lotta nothing!

Have a fabulous weekend everyone and I'll see you Monday morning.

Same bat time.

Same bat station.

Now dish!

Go Big or Go Home - The Spiritual Version

I'm sitting at my computer sipping an obnoxious looking concoction made from a blend of blueberries, pomegranite juice, ice cubes, and 3 tsps of a magical powder called Greens Plus - something I've been whirring up in the blender every morning to ward off the H1N1.















And I've never felt better in my life.

But murky green elixir notwithstanding, there are a whole host of reasons I'm feeling this well. Not the least of which being a chef's salad of change I've been making lately in support of my own happiness.



















We are often presented with the exact thing we need at particular moments in our lives and for me, that right thing, yet again, has been the book"Eat Pray Love."



















I read it a few years ago, but for some reason I decided to re-read it and it's speaking to me all over again.

The interesting thing about the book, though, is it seems to be one of those things around which there is no middle ground.

In other words, people either love it or hate it.

Don't believe me? You should have been at my bookclub dinner the night we discussed it.

All I can say is, middle aged woman can get nasty when they get their spirituality on.


***

On Sunday the PB and I spent the afternoon wandering around. Or, as I like to call it, doh dodey oh dohing.

For the unitiated, doh dodey oh dohing can occur in any kind of shopping venue. Whether it be a convenience store, home electronics mart, or a health food emporium, the pre-requisite for doh dodey oh dohing is that one must wander slowly down the aisles and look at every item available. In doing so, the dodey oh doher must find some kind of a treasure that (a) doesn't cost much and (b) he or she would never have considered purchasing prior to visiting the store.

At a local health food store, the Poolboy scored a box of Andrew Weil's instant oatmeal, something called Happy Tea, and our first ever real pomegranite.

At days end, ain't no one can dodey oh doh like my man.

Or eat.

So after our day of wandering, we decided to take ourselves out for lunch. I was craving a bowl of Wonton soup, but the PB felt like chicken. And since he was the one who scored the Happy Tea, I decided to give up my dreams of wonton and adopt my newly enlightened persona as "Giver."

We ended up at the Swiss Chalet.
















Where we each ordered the quarter chicken dinner as pictured above.

Except the service was slow. Our dinners didn't come with the adverstised special dipping sauce or side salad, we had to wait an extra ten minutes to flag down a waitress to get the situation rectified. And after all that, the dipping sauce wasn't even really that good.

But at no time did I as "Giver" feel inclined, to complain or make reference to the superior service at the Japanese restaurant where we usually get our wonton on.

Not me.

Instead, staring across the table at the Poolboy as he dabbed a little special sauce off his chin, I was filled with complete happiness.

Good old fashioned kick your heels up, hug a bunch of trees joy.

And I realized, that though I would relish the chance to seek out my soul in Italy, India, or Indonesia, my spiritual self can be found anywhere.

People, in that one fleeting moment of being

Just.

That.

Spiritually.

Fabulous.

I found my sacral centre, my divinity, and a definite aversion to special sauce!

Relax on that one Poolboy.

From Eat Pray Love:

"I keep remembering one of my Guru's teachings about happiness. She says that people universally tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that will maybe descend upon you like fine weather if you're fortunate enough. But that's not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it, you must make a mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it. If you don't, you will leak away your innate contentment. It's easy enough to pray when you're in distress but continuing to pray even when the crisis has passed is like a sealing process, helping your soul holds tight to its good attainments."

(All this has been written and transcribed while the Battle of Mordor rages in my living room on the big screen in surround sound. Like I said, we all have our paths to God, and for the ever faithful Pool Boy, the battle of light vs darkness in the Lord of the Rings, sustains his spirit as we march forward into another day )

In this household filled with warring men, it's a wonder I feel any peace at all.




















Om Na Mah Shi Va Ya

I honour the divinity that resides within me.

Despite the sounds of gunshot to my right, and Orks raging to my left, I am at peace.

But I'll bet you're wondering...

What's Mave been up to lately to attain all this happiness?

Are her pants too tight thus cutting off blood flow to the brain, or has she been hitting the vodka again?

While both are likely at any time in this, my search for the Good Life, the plain truth is that I seem to have found my balance.

After several years of stops and starts I am now officially a "regular" at both the gym and the pool and as a way of rewarding my efforts, I took myself shopping last weekend and bought a new bathing suit, swim goggles, two new trac suits, matching runners (white and black striped Adidas - very cute), and a gym bag.

Everything a reincarnated athlete needs to finally reclaim, "I'm back!"




















Proving to any and all that it is truly never too late to change, and that change begins, quite simply, with the first step.

My long time readers can attest, Rome in my case, has not been built in a day - but I've learned that as long as you keep trying, the possibilities are endless and you never know which time will be the one that sticks.

What I know for sure is that if you keep plucking away at it, eventually it will.

I'll leave today's blog with a final thought.

Because I'm in this place of overwhelming gratitude, I'd like to express gratitude today for "my people."

There are certain schools of spiritual thought that ascribe to the belief that we choose all of the relationships we will have in our lives, including our parents, prior to being born. With the idea being we choose the circumstances of our lives in order to learn and to grow from them - both the good and the bad, that it's really a matter of karma.

I've always resonated to the idea because, for me, it helps make sense of things. We choose in order to learn.

Of course, if that's all too Woo Woo for you, throw it away - you won't hurt my feelings, and continue on your own path.

But for me, I am so grateful I chose the parents, step parents, friends, and family that I did. Though all of us are decidedly human, and therefore imperfect, I have reached a point in my life where I can see the divine in all of the people around me.

More than that, I am proud of them.

I am proud of my friends as they continue to travel through life. You are people who have somehow managed to maintain a sense of integrity, kindness, and compassion in a world that moves quickly and tends not to pay as much attention to those things that are good.

For this reason and many others, I want to say thankyou to my friends. I am grateful to each one of you.

I am also proud and grateful for my family, and for all of the experiences, both happy and sad, we've shared throughout our lives. I want my family to know that all paths have led me here, and here is good.

This was always where we were going to end up. (I stole that line from Eat Pray Love - but only because it's something I would have said too)

Through a cosmic draw of genetics, and experience, my family have made me the empathetic, interesting, funny, deep thinking, kind, creative person I've become.

Go Big or Go Home.

That one I got from my dad, who I'm discovering more and more as I get older is just like me.

Or rather, I am just like him. And I can't think of a single thing better to say about myself than that.

So Happy Thursday everyone!

Who are you proud of? Who are you like in your family? What makes you happy? Are you feeling balanced? In other words, waddya think and what's up with you?

Dish It everyone! My enquiring mind wants to know...

Five Pieces of Good Advice

I've been kind of bumbling around in my head for the last few days trying to decide whether or not to share this particular blog.

But since I'm incredibly busy again this week - diligently trying to fend off the H1N1 flu virus through crazed hand washing, drinking oil of oregano like shots of tequila, and sweating my ass off at the gym, I haven't had time to write the masterpieces I have brewing about a Holly Hobby tent I wanted as a kid, internet stalking, and the night before halloween when the Poolboy got pulled over by the police while transporting a very drunk teenager back to his parents house.

In the meantime, I've always wondered what I would do if I could go back in time and talk to myself at age 16 or 20. What advice would I give based on the things I've learned this far?

Although this isn't my usual fare, you'll have to bear me because (a) I'm not feeling very well and (b) this blog just seems to want to be written.

So without further ado, the top five things I would share with myself if I could go back in time:

1. Never apologize for yourself or put yourself down.

Apologize for bad behaviour, apologize for being late, hell, even apologize for bad shoes, but never, under any circumstances should anyone ever apologize for who they are or how they feel.

Further, while it's one thing to be self deprecating or to see humour in your own actions, always do so in a loving way. Be aware of the thoughts you have about yourself. If they're negative do everything in your power to turn them around. You're the only you you've got.

That's why I enjoy celebrities like John Travolta or Reba McIntyre. Anytime I've seen them interviewed they are always positive about their lives, their choices, and themselves. I admire that in people.

2. Always wait before reacting to something that upsets you and listen to your intuition/follow your gut.

People live with the misconception that they have to react immediately to the things that make them mad or hurt their feelings. What I've learned, though, is that hurt feelings, anger, or dissapointment can be our best teachers and that everything in life is about perception - what you perceive to be a wrong doing is your take on the situation based on the unique way you experience the world.

It doesn't necessarly mean you're right.

By taking the time to process feelings and look at your own part in a situation you allow new information to filter in.

I always try to ask myself what it is about a particular situation that bothers me, what part I play in it, and if my ego has anything to do with my reaction. When I can get clear about where I'm at, it's easier to deal with.

Connected to that, I'm a true believer in following our intuitive impulses.

Or as Maya Angelou puts it: "When somebody shows you who they are, believe them the first time."

If I meet someone, either in person or in the virtual world and my gut tells me something is off, I'll reflect a bit, give the person a second chance, and then if things still don't feel right, I'm done.

Life is too short to have people in it who you don't feel completely comfortable with.

If there are people in your life who you HAVE to deal with, though, always remember that if you choose to walk the path of integrity it's very hard to go wrong.

From The Art of War:

"The general who advances without coveting fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do good service for his sovereign, is the jewel of the kingdom."

3. Try to be open and direct with communication, never gossip, and always tell the truth.

This one is grandmother wisdom, right up there with washing your hands and doing unto others - but truly, of all the advice I could ever offer up, this piece is not only the most simple, it is the one that will simplify your life the most.

Believe it or not, I never gossip.

Not ever.

And if people are gossiping around me or engaging in other unhealthy behaviours, I have one mantra: Do not engage.

I operate on the belief that it takes two to tango and if I'm not willing to dance the person talking will have to move onward and find a new partner.

I also try to tell the truth about myself and to be direct about how I'm feeling even when its difficult.

If there is a pink elephant in the room, it's always better to deal with it, because as much as we hope it will eventually dissapear, pink elephants never go away and they do a great job at hiding themselves in the meantime.



Where the heck did I put my elephant this time??

4. Look far and wide to find these three important people: An empathetic, non-judgemental doctor, a dentist you feel comfortable with, and a great hair dresser. Visit these three people often.

Especially the dentist.

Say ahhhhh.....

5. If you're like me and it's hard to stick to a regular routine, be prepared for health: I actually read the following in this month's Prevention magazine and agreed so much I had to include it: Keep several gym bags packed so that you're always ready to go to the gym and keep healthy food on hand. I literally never go anywhere without my lunch packed, water to drink, and fruit and nuts to munch on if I'm hungry between meals. Being prepared makes it that much easier not to succumb to a donut or chocolate bar in a hunger craze later

And that's it; Five pieces of advice that I wouldn't have followed anyway.

But that's the thing about life, right? We all tend to live and learn.

Honour me anyway....

What advice do you have to give?

As always, my enquring mind would like to know!

The Fourth Kind and Other Movies People Like Me Should NEVER Watch

Last night I was surfing around on the computer, reading blogs, and killing time before I headed to bed.

I finished posting my story about the Poolboy and his aversion to spending money, and then decided to submit it to Digg.com.

Except last night when I made my submission, the blog right above mine was devoted to a new movie called The Fourth Kind about documented accounts of alien abduction.

A movie that both the Poolboy and TH have decreed I am not to watch because there is an apparent concern I might take it a little too literally.

People please.

You know what a skeptic I am.

I mean, it took a long time to convince me I'd been abducted by aliens.

The first time.



With the end of the Mayan Calendar on the horizon, melting ice caps, and a slight tingling in my right toe - my doomsday plate is full.

Which is why I certainly wasn't going to let some silly movie upset me.

Even if there was something about it that rang true.

(And yes, I still kind of believe Elvis is alive)

But when it comes to movies, or any other forms of entertainment that claim to be based on actual events, my family knows better than to let me watch.

In particular if Nostradamus is mentioned in any way.

Don't get me wrong, I love a scary show - but it has to be one where I can sit back with full confidence that none of the mayhem appearing on screen could ever actually happen to me.

For example: 1408 starring John Cusack.

People, there is no circumstance under God where I would stay alone in a hotel room that was not only reputed to be haunted, but all the former occupants of the room died in horrific ways.

Knowing this could never happen to me, made it easy to sit back and enjoy the movie with no concerns for my eternal soul.

But not so much with The Fourth Kind.

In my innocence (read stupidity), I decided not only to click onto the website, but also to google a whole bunch of other stuff about alien abduction.

I can already see the old timers shaking their heads and rolling their eyes saying "Here we go again" - well aware the danger of someone like me visiting an alien abduction site so soon after "The Incident" last year when I googled Communion and convinced myself the grey's were coming to get me through a portal in my hallway window.

But last night's foray into the world of the extra-terrestrial gave me another layer of information that I, otherwise, had not been aware of: the significance of the numbers 3:33 - apparently that's the official time of abduction for those on their way to the mother ship.

Of course I couldn't keep this news to myself.

Being careful to leave some of the lights on as I made my way to the bedroom, I jumped into bed where the Poolboy was in a peaceful chocolate induced slumber and whispered "Are you awake?"

"Grrllhmph," said the man to my left.

"No really, are you AWAKE???!!???"

"Wha...?"

"Are you awake?"

At which point the Poolboy sat up and said "What?"

"Did you know that 3:33 am is the time when most people are abducted by aliens?"

(for readers who are new to the blog, never fear - while this conversation would be grounds for divorce in most marriages, it's just another Sunday night in my house)

"Go to sleep Maven, you're not going to be abducted, I won't let them."

"How are you supposed to stop them if they put you into some kind of brain freeze?"

"Because I'm strong minded, now go to sleep."

And so I did.

This morning, however, the PB was cracking himself up over some kind of private joke.

And why?

Because he apparently woke up yesterday morning at exactly 3:33 am and it took every ounce of strength he had not to pull out the flashlight, shine it in my face, and say "Take me to your leader."

And that's the blog.

Now tell me, what kind of movies scare you? What was the scariest movie you ever saw? And are there any movies you would now never watch on the grounds of paranoia and stress related anxiety?

As always, enquiring minds want to know!!

The Cheapness of the Poolboy - Halloween Edition

As you're all well aware, the man I married loves a bargain.

And this halloween his passion for saving extended into the realm of halloween candies.

Candies that we always purchase the day of because (a) there is nothing quite so enticing as a miniature Snickers or Caramilk bar and (b) halloween candy goes on sale in the afternoon of October 31st.

Being that I'm married to the ultimate consumer watchdog, it makes sense that we wouldn't pay full price for seasonal candy.

So we got our halloween shop on at 3:00 pm on Saturday the 31st.

I say "we" because there is no circumstance under which I would entrust the Poolboy with this task on his own.

In the past I've foolishly set him free only to have him come home with jumbo bags of cheap ass suckers, chicklets, or worse - these:



Thankfully, the candy companies have come to their senses and no longer seem to be manufacturing the halloween taffies pictured above - which are in my estimation among the worst candies EVER.

When I was a kid it was the people who handed those out that got their houses egged.

Because they were cheap.

So it should come as no surprise that the Poolboy in his hey day liked to buy a Value bag of these to hand out - one at a time - while keeping a hidden stash of the good stuff for himself.

Because of this, I've learned the importance of accompanying him on any and all candy finding missions and this year's shopping spree was no different.

When we got to the drugstore, we split up - he to doh dodey oh doh around the store, and me to buy a new concealer and waterproof eyeliner.

After I found what I was looking for I doubled back to find him, where else?

Comparative shopping in the toilet paper aisle.

But when he saw me, he switched gears.

"You're not going to like what I have to tell you," he says clutching a 24 pack of No Name two ply, "The prices on chocolate bars are OUTRAGEOUS! They haven't even been marked down yet!"

Trying to remain calm, I assured him that regardless the cost of Hershey bars this season, we could afford a bag or two and that he was to stay out of the candy buying altogether if he was going to get cheap about it.

So while the PB muttered and splutterd I picked up three boxes - a total of 200 assorted miniature chocolate bars.

When we took our bounty to the till the Poolboy was at the ready to make sure everything being scanned matched its ticketed price and discovered the candy had been marked down after all.

"Look at that!" he says, "Two dollars off each box, that's a saving of six dollars right there."

There was a long line up of people behind us at this point, and with each exclamation of "That's good value," and "We would have paid $7.99 for that at Shoppers Drug Mart," the man was getting on my last nerve.

"What are you, the official price check guy for the drug store?" I asked in an under the breath pantomime.

To which he replied, "Why don't you blog about it?"

I know.

To an outsider I'm certain the two of us looked completely insane.

But I also have a theory that the Poolboy so enjoys the spotlight that he amps up certain behaviours just to get into the blog.

And by the time we got home, he was on a roll.

Luckily for the children of our neighborhood, there was a hockey game on, which meant that TH and I handed out the bulk of the candies: Two bars each.

Three to kids in really cute costumes.

And never just one bar because, in TH's words, that would be chauncey.

But when we got down to our last 75 bars, the Poolboy's chocolate radar must have kicked in and he came to the kitchen to investigate.

"HOW MANY BARS ARE YOU TWO GIVING OUT?"

Imagining a night without chocolate for himself, he tried to take over.

Unfortunately, at one bar per child - worse yet, the bar he liked very least so he could save the the best for himself - an intervention was required.

"Stand down dad," said TH stepping from out of the shadows, "And back away from the candy bowl."

***

Later that evening I found 18 empty wrappers under my bed.

How they got there remains a halloween mystery.

***

And that's the blog.

Before you go, though, what was your very favourite halloween treat as a kid and what things did you like the least? If you have a favourite costume, I'd love to hear about that too!

Stay tuned tomorrow for an exposee on internet stalking Maven style, and a fabulous recipe for healthy, high fibre turkey chili on The Kitchen Witch later in the week.

Bridge Over Troubled Waters

What a week!

I don't know about you, but the past few days have been super busy in my little world.

Super stressful as well.

Without getting into the details because I like to keep my work life seperate from my blog life, there are big changes on the horizon for my organization.

And when I say big, I mean huge.

Ever the optimist, I believe all change will be to the greater good in the end, but until we get there, the journey remains untenable and scary.

But that's life.

Our most difficult moments, changes, and crises require that we draw strength from within ourselves that we perhaps weren't even aware existed. And though the pain and difficulty of a crisis situation may tap and deplete our resources so that we feel we can't move another inch, it's truly in our darkest moments that we are most strong.

What strength, after all, does it take on an average day to eat breakfast, get dressed, and carry on - as compared to the strength it must take for the mother who has just lost a child or the person who has just lost their partner to fulfill even the simplest tasks?

And still we survive.

The indomnitable spirit of our humanity kicks in and we find strength in unexpected ways and places.

We claw our way out of the ashes to discover that new life awaits us beyond the darkness of despair.

Dangerous Opportunity.

That's what the Japanese symbol for crisis means.

It implies that in every circumstance, no matter how tragic, there is always opportunity for growth and that if we truly believe this, it will bolster us as we navigate life's most treacherous waters.

I know it holds true for me.

When I look back at my life and pin point the most dark and difficult times, their outcome is always the same: a change in perspective that added new depth, character, and insight.

In most ways, pain has been a more powerful teacher than contentment.

And yet we're so afraid of pain in this quick fix society.

Got a headache? Pop an Advil.

Got a heartache? Get over it.

Need to talk? Keep it to yourself.

And at all costs, if somebody asks you how you're doing, tell them you're "fine" because, truly, that's the answer they're hoping for anyway.

As the years go by it becomes more and more apparent that people aren't comfortable sharing the truth about who they really are and how they feel.

Except sometimes in this medium of keyboard and modem where people are more willing to be honest, and vulnerable, and to let their guards down, the paradigm shifts and we truly find ourselves in a braver new world.

A world where we're actually stopping to listen to one another - just as you're doing for me now.

Think about it. If someone were spouting off about paradigms and soul connections on the street would you really stop to listen or would you walk by quickly, content in the knowledge that you were fine?

Me too.

But the past few weeks have caused me to suffer introspection.

As such, I'm having to dig deep and resurrect core beliefs I spoke of earlier, remembering that for every cross road, and every crisis, there is always opportunity, and that when something arises that seems unexpected, perhaps there are other things waiting in the wings getting ready to emerge that I just don't know about yet.

And that's the blog.

But before you go, talk to me...

Tell me about a crisis from your own life that has since been resolved. Did you end up learning and growing from the experience, and if so, what did you learn?

With all the changes going on in my life, I need your stories to remind me that for everything there is a purpose...

And then have a FABULOUS weekend.

I'll see you all bright and early Monday morning so make sure the coffee's brewing!

My Son the Stand Up Comic

In his almost eighteen years of life, my son TH has dreamt of several diferent career paths.

From age three to five, he was going to work with bugs, frogs, or dinosaurs.

From five to eleven, he was going to be a professional hockey player, soccer player, or golfer.

And from eleven to sixteen, he was going to be a rock star.

At no time during any of this career planning have vocations of a more tangible nature crossed his mind like engineering, accounting, or my secret dream: medicine.

Yes, I am one of those mothers.

From the time he was in utero I fantasized about introducing "my son the doctor" to the world; confident in my ability as a parent to turn out a nobel prize winner, or at the very least, a brain surgeon.



It all started so well.

I had him set up with his first set of encyclopedias by age two, and made certain he was counting and reciting the alphabet by the time he hit kindergarten where I knew he would be immediately identified as gifted.

So imagine my surprise at our very first parent teacher conference when his kindergarten teacher had to audacity to imply that TH occasionally tattled.

Bitch!

Obviously she knew nothing about gifted children.

But as is the case with the majority of us in this low paying profession known as parenthood, I've had to cool my jets and re-think my belief that TH is the second incarnation of Ghandi.

The fire he and his best friend "accidentally" started in a back field in grade five, and the near fatal case of influenza he came down with everytime he had a math test helped me come to the realization that as much as I love my son, he is his own person, and isn't perfect.

I accepted long ago that he will be who he is and that his father and I have given him all the tools we can for successful navigation of the adult world. Although we are here to support him every step of the way, the decisions to make about his life and his future belong to him and no one else.

That being said, the prospect of my son on the road with a band has never particularly thrilled me, and around this time last year, I found new hope when he met Paige.

Beautiful, vivacious, personable, intelligent Paige who dreamed of Europe, journalism school, and upward mobility.

Suddenly, my son who had raged against the machine for the bulk of his teenage life, got a hair cut, started shopping at Abercrombie and Fitch, and began tossing me breadcrumbs about the possibility of law school.

People, I don't know who loved this girl more - him or me - and it took my broken heart a long time to recover after they split up.

Truth be told, I still grieve.

Since then he's talked about film school, criminology, a business degree, and his latest: stand up comedy.

Apparently he cracks up all his friends with hilarious stories about his crazy mother.

(I wonder where he gets that from...)

And is planning on doing an open mike night soon.

Which gives me this sudden burst of empathy and understanding for Aurora.

Twenty five years ago, I informed her I was going to pursue my dream of becoming a Broadway actress, and ever since I've harboured hidden resentment that she tried to talk me into secretarial school instead.

Which is why, no matter how badly I wanted to tell TH "Don't do it!"

I didn't.

Just as I didn't discourage his rock star ambitions.

I think sometimes as parents we don't give our kids enough credit for figuring things out for themselves.

So I said nothing other than that I would love to hear his set and that any jokes about me were perfectly fine. After this many years riffing on Aurora, I figure I've got it coming.

In the meantime, and without any prodding from me or his dad, he filled out an application for university in the school of business. He goes for his admission interview next week.

When I asked him "Why business?" he said he figured it would be a good thing to fall back on if the comedy doesn't pan out.

And that's the blog.

Now dish it...

What did you want to do with your life when you graduated from highschool?

Are you doing it, or was John Lennon right when he said "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans?"

As always, my enquiring mind wants to know!