My husband took this week off work and it's been nice. We were up at my parents' place at the lake for a couple of days, which is always fun. The boys refer to it as Camp Grandma, where there is always lots of ice cream and popsicles, and not much in the way of rules. It was also - and this is unusual for this part of the world - quite warm, and so they went swimming in the chilly lake.
|"Smile!" "We ARE smiling."|
|Exploring the "shoreline".|
My husband also swam with them for a bit; I refrained, not wanting to get hypothermia. They went for an evening swim/ shoreline exploration while I sat on the deck chatting with my parents. Barkley came bounding across the grass with what I presumed was a flat stick of wood in his mouth. Something about the way he was holding it, and the little white protrusions sticking out of it made me look closer. Hmm, I thought, maybe it's a root from one of the plants on the shore...aieeeeeeeeeeeeee! It was a dead fish, a fish that had met its demise some time ago. I screamed and screamed while the dog dropped it in alarm at my distress and my dad scooped it away with a shovel, taking it to an unknown destination ("DON'T PUT IT IN THE GARBAGE!" my mother screamed.) That was a bit of gross drama that I didn't need in my life; however, it's not the first time Barkley has found and/or done something revolting, and I'm sure it won't be the last.
It hasn't all been lake time and hating my dog this week - my husband and I took the kids on an exciting family trip to Costco. I had been hoping that my last Costco trip would have lasted me the whole summer, and it would have, but my husband really "wanted" to go. It's fun, he proclaimed. Fun. To go to Costco. With the kids. I will tell you what was "fun" about it, and that is that I didn't have to push the million-pound cart around, nor unload the groceries by myself. I did have to play a bit of Tetris to fit all of the food into the cupboards, fridge, and pantry, but on the upside I probably am stocked up to last for the next three or four months. Currently I would be ashamed to show anyone my pantry, as it looks like an episode of Hoarders. But it was such a good deal.
Speaking of "good deals", did anyone read the Fraser Institute's report on the cost of raising children in Canada? I am no stranger to the Fraser Institute - I have a master's degree in economics - and so I read it with some interest. It's funny, because living in an urban centre, with children in sports, and attempting to buy quality food and other clothing items notwithstanding, $4000 sounded pretty skimpy to me. Interestingly enough, childcare was not included. Aha! Apparently the Fraser Institute doesn't include childcare as a cost of raising a child, nor the opportunity cost of lost income from having a stay at home parent. Well then, that explains that. Knowing the Fraser Institute, there is some kind of policy implication here that states that the poor can EASILY raise their children with no assistance of any kind. Well, thank you for that conclusion, Fraser Institute! This study addresses a couple of my pet peeves: misuse of statistics ("most" people don't require childcare) and being obstinate about the cycle of poverty. Speaking of which, my friend Hannah wrote about the costs of back-to-school and how they can be more oppressive in the long and short term for the impoverished.
On a much less serious note, did you know there's such a thing as naked yoga? Well, there is. I don't think I can adequately convey in a blog post how revolting I find it. Not as revolting as my dog chewing on a dead fish, but pretty damn revolting. Then again, possibly I'm prudish because I found it shocking - actually shocking - when we went into town at the lake and there were girls walking around in only their bathing suits. It's like I'm 80 years old. In my day we wore coverups when we left the beach. At least an oversized t-shirt. It's funny how many people have the perception that yoga is this very sexy thing to do. Most of the yogis I know go to bed super early and eat lots of mung beans and quinoa and whatnot. We also generally have strained, rather than sexily blissful, facial expressions during most of our yoga postures:
|Good god, do not perform this naked. Ew. Gross.|