Season-end Banquet: Do You Go?

At the end of every season at the rink comes the banquet. For those of you who are not hockey or ringette moms, the banquet is a meal with benefits. The venue is likely a hall, the kind where wedding receptions (of the country variety are held). The tickets will cost you roughly the cost of a top-end meal at a roadhous-style restaurant. The kid will likely get some kind of memento with his/her team logo emblazoned on it somewhere. This memento will like be lost and/or broken within a year. The food will likely be decent, and the company will be as it was all season. So, if you had a blast with the other parents all season, ride the wave and head to the banquet. If you think you may blow a gasket if you have to see that woman one more time, pass. If your kid desperately wants to go, you may want to reconsider. If you think your particular kid will be bored, won't eat the food, or will become a menace to society within 15 minutes of arrival, do everyone a favour and stay home.

To sum up:
- The season-end banquet is not an exciting event. The people sitting next to you will make or break it.
- If the tickets cost more than you want to spend, don't buy 'em. You are under no obligation (unless you are the coach).
- If at all possible, take only the kid involved. And, involve that kid in the to-go-or-not-to-go decision.

4 questions that can help you assess your space

Today I'm going to head into the kitchen and assess the space. We recently shifted our large kitchen table into the family room (voila: one fabulous dining room), shifted the family room to the living room (previously a more or less unused room) and created a breakfast bar in the kitchen. We turfed a couple of large, down-at-the-heel chairs. We feel like we moved into a new house.

My DH has suggested using the breakfast bar for storage with out of site access from our basement stairwell. I was charmed. There's a reason I like this guy so much.

Then I panicked. What would I put in there?

Stupid problem, I'll admit.

So, this leads me to today's little project. I'm going to take a good hard look at the contents of my kitchen cupboards. Everything gets asked the same questions:
1. Are you necessary or desirable? If I don't use it or like it, or (gasp) it's an expired food item, out it goes.
2. Do you belong in the kitchen? If this is an item that would be better placed in another room of the house, it is taking up valuable real estate for no reason. Gondee.
3. Are you as close as possible to your action zone? If I can move an item to a different location and save myself from steps during meal prep, baking, or dishwasher unloading, the change of address cards are in the mail, baby.
4. Are you easily accessible? If it is difficult to get to this item, find it, or retrieve it, it's time for a new solution.

Wish me luck!

This is Not a New Year's Post

It's a Half Year post.

See, I have school-age children, and am of the work-from-home segment of momhood. So my "year" begins in September, and seems to effectively end with the waning of June. Sort of like a politician. Call it a fiscal eight months.

The crux of it is that we are a one computer household. I do the vast majority of my work on said computer. Children of a certain age spend a lot of time at the computer, whether using it or simply distracting the person who is using it. Ergo, if I want to get work done on the computer, I must get it done when they aren't around, or when they are asleep. Assuming that I need sleep too (and I do, or my brain may as well be Jello with shredded carrots in it -- useless, tasteless, and disgusting), school days are golden.

I'll confess that I don't think I made the best use of those golden days these past three months. Now, to do better. Make a plan. Tuck in all the fluttering edges of stuff that must be done and forge ahead.