There’s the usual dust, toys, clothes and dishes. But what about these things that seem to proliferate around my home…
1. Blankets. I think this is from my daughter who is always tucking in her dollies, putting them to sleep. Or maybe I need to keep my house at a warmer temperature. But every morning my family room is littered with various blankets. So I gather them up, fold them in a pile and leave them sitting at the bottom of the stairs. This, as all females know, is the internationally accepted sign for “Please bring me upstairs.” But somehow men and children don’t seem to be versed in this international language. They will sidestep, overstep, take two steps at a time to avoid the thing and leave it at the bottom of the stairs.
2. Recycling. Are you the only one in your house who moves the recycling from the kitchen to the garage? Me too. When the recycling box under the sink gets full, that’s when the recycling starts to grow, like buildings in a downtown core, around my kitchen sink.
3. Lists. Well, you know how I am about lists. As I tidy my house I find my lists, my husband’s lists, and now even my kids’ Santa wish lists. Little scraps of paper littered around my house reminding me of stuff to do, stuff to buy, stuff to remember from weeks ago. I’ve seen a website dedicated to people’s discarded lists. I should send mine in. I could keep them going for years.
4. Hats. Ball caps, winter toques, cowboy hats, even princess tiaras, which I don’t think you can really categorize as a hat, but anyway, you get the idea. All these items appear one here, one there around my house until they’re everywhere. As I try and scurry around putting ball caps in closets, tiaras in the toy box, winter hats with the coats, I slip into an activity which my sister has affectionately termed “Moving Things Around.” This is when you spend an hour or more of your time moving things from one area of your house to another until you have lost sight of why this certain item has to move up your stairs until it rests in a different spot from the spot it was in before.
5. Artwork. This one is the worst. Which sounds terrible to say. What kind of a mother says her children’s artwork is the worst? Okay, here’s the thing: my children are 7 and 4 years of age. It is a special time. A magical time. A very … prolific time. And far be it for me to squelch this emerging artistry. I mean really, I love to see their fledgling stick figures, their first misspelled words, their attempts at illustrated stories. But it’s just hard to deal with all the … works of art that come at me from everywhere. They’re produced at the kitchen table, the toy room in the basement, their bedrooms; at school, daycare, camps; at Grandma & Grandpa’s house, parties and play dates. And it’s not that I don’t want them to create. I keep a cupboard full of markers, crayons, glue sticks, scissors, paper, cardboard, everything for crafting expressly because I’d much rather they create than stare passively at the TV. But what to do with everything afterwards??? Some people frame certain special pieces and decorate the toy room or child’s bedroom with their art. I should totally do that. But pretty soon it would be like wallpaper if I kept that up for any length of time. So what do I do? I let everything pile up for a few weeks – in case, heaven forbid, I throw out something only to be asked about that one certain picture the next day – and then I go on a throwing out rampage. I save a few choice pieces from each artist, in case I ever get to that framing thing, and then valiantly try to swallow up my guilt as I see their drawings, their crafts, their signs saying “I love you Mom, you’re the best” get filed in the big round file in the garage. Oh, the guilt! THE GUILT!
Monday, December 15, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
5 of my favourite Christmas songs
1. Blue Christmas, Elvis Presley
When my sister was little she entered a Christmas colouring contest at Shoppers Drug Mart and won an Elvis Christmas LP. In retrospect this seems an odd prize for a children’s contest but I think we were both just thrilled that she won. From that Christmas on, whenever we put up the Christmas tree, we had to play that album while we decorated. I particularly remember Blue Christmas. It just doesn’t seem like Christmas without Elvis warbling, “You’ll be doing alright, with your Christmas of white, but I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.”
2. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Barenaked Ladies with Sarah Maclaughlin
Steven Page’s current felony drug possession charges notwithstanding, this song is a relatively new favourite. The Ladies give this tune a little folksy, toe tapping lift, while Sarah’s haunting melody give it an almost wistful feel. I totally dig it!
3. The Prayer, Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli
This is not, strictly speaking, a Christmas song but they seem to play it every year around this time. I’m not a huge Bocelli fan, but I just love the pairing of him with Celine in this piece. It is so breathtakingly beautiful that, even though I have no idea what the Italian words mean, it moves me to tears every time I hear it. I know, I’m just a big sap.
4. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Judy Garland
And speaking of me being a sap, this is my very favourite Christmas song. Not just any old version though; it has to be the original Judy Garland version which is much more maudlin than the later, more recognizable one that has been covered by so many artists. The major difference is apparent towards the end of the song when Judy laments, “Some day soon we all will be together / If the fates allow / Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow.” I guess since my family is overseas, being the sappy masochist that I am, I like to listen to this version at Christmas and miss them. According to Wikipedia, in 1957 Frank Sinatra asked the writer to “jolly up that line for me” and so it became the innocuous, “Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.” Maybe it’s slightly more jolly, but bo-ring! Is it un-Christmassy to have a drink and miss people during the holidays? You should hear what the writer originally wanted the song to sound like: “Have yourself a merry little Christmas / It may be your last / Next year we may all be living in the past.” Now that’s depressing!
5. Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
I’ve always kinda liked this song but last year it took on an extra special meaning. Hubby was slated to go in for an … *ahem* … operation. You know, snip snip. The big V? Okay. So I’m driving him down there and guess what song comes on the radio? Yup. As if his chestnuts weren’t already feeling the heat, he had to have Michael Bublé singing about them roasting on an open fire. But it doesn’t end there. For about two weeks afterwards, every time we got in a vehicle together and switched on the radio it would be yet another version of Chestnuts, and never the same one. Nat King Cole, The Carpenters, Johnny Mathis, Bing Crosby, Linda Ronstadt. Who knew so many people had covered it??? But it was uncanny how that song followed him last year... and kinda funny. I’m evil! I know!
So what are your favourites? White Christmas? Rudolph? Something a little less mainstream? Tell me!
When my sister was little she entered a Christmas colouring contest at Shoppers Drug Mart and won an Elvis Christmas LP. In retrospect this seems an odd prize for a children’s contest but I think we were both just thrilled that she won. From that Christmas on, whenever we put up the Christmas tree, we had to play that album while we decorated. I particularly remember Blue Christmas. It just doesn’t seem like Christmas without Elvis warbling, “You’ll be doing alright, with your Christmas of white, but I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas.”
2. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Barenaked Ladies with Sarah Maclaughlin
Steven Page’s current felony drug possession charges notwithstanding, this song is a relatively new favourite. The Ladies give this tune a little folksy, toe tapping lift, while Sarah’s haunting melody give it an almost wistful feel. I totally dig it!
3. The Prayer, Celine Dion and Andrea Bocelli
This is not, strictly speaking, a Christmas song but they seem to play it every year around this time. I’m not a huge Bocelli fan, but I just love the pairing of him with Celine in this piece. It is so breathtakingly beautiful that, even though I have no idea what the Italian words mean, it moves me to tears every time I hear it. I know, I’m just a big sap.
4. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, Judy Garland
And speaking of me being a sap, this is my very favourite Christmas song. Not just any old version though; it has to be the original Judy Garland version which is much more maudlin than the later, more recognizable one that has been covered by so many artists. The major difference is apparent towards the end of the song when Judy laments, “Some day soon we all will be together / If the fates allow / Until then we’ll have to muddle through somehow.” I guess since my family is overseas, being the sappy masochist that I am, I like to listen to this version at Christmas and miss them. According to Wikipedia, in 1957 Frank Sinatra asked the writer to “jolly up that line for me” and so it became the innocuous, “Hang a shining star upon the highest bough.” Maybe it’s slightly more jolly, but bo-ring! Is it un-Christmassy to have a drink and miss people during the holidays? You should hear what the writer originally wanted the song to sound like: “Have yourself a merry little Christmas / It may be your last / Next year we may all be living in the past.” Now that’s depressing!
5. Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
I’ve always kinda liked this song but last year it took on an extra special meaning. Hubby was slated to go in for an … *ahem* … operation. You know, snip snip. The big V? Okay. So I’m driving him down there and guess what song comes on the radio? Yup. As if his chestnuts weren’t already feeling the heat, he had to have Michael Bublé singing about them roasting on an open fire. But it doesn’t end there. For about two weeks afterwards, every time we got in a vehicle together and switched on the radio it would be yet another version of Chestnuts, and never the same one. Nat King Cole, The Carpenters, Johnny Mathis, Bing Crosby, Linda Ronstadt. Who knew so many people had covered it??? But it was uncanny how that song followed him last year... and kinda funny. I’m evil! I know!
So what are your favourites? White Christmas? Rudolph? Something a little less mainstream? Tell me!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
5 of my favourite kids books
1. Red is Best by Kathy Stinson. This story is a classic that I’ve just recently discovered (thanks Dawn!). Three year old Kelly must have only the red cup, the red mittens, the red stockings. No other colour will do. As the mother of a three year old, the unwavering kid logic is immediately relatable to me. Little Kelly’s voice comes across loud, clear and with beautiful authenticity. For a mother who wants to encourage her daughter to embrace and defend her opinions, this one was an instant favourite.
2. If You Give a Moose a Muffin by Laura Joffe Numeroff. Follow step by step all the crazy occurrences when forced to appease the largest species in the deer family who runs out of baked goods. Whimsical, quirky and with great illustrations, this book shows kids what reading for pleasure is all about: fun, imagination, entertainment.
3. Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now by Dr. Seuss. What kind of children’s book list would this be without Dr. Seuss? But you were probably expecting something more mainstream like Cat in the Hat or Go, Dog. Go! And rightly so. Those are great books, maybe even better than Marvin K. But when I was two years old my parents read Marvin K. to me so often I had it memorized right down to when to turn the pages. I would try and trick people into thinking I was reading. Flash forward thirty-ish years to me reading this toddler favourite of mine to my kids. What can I say? It gives me the warm fuzzies.
4. Miss Nelson is Missing by Harry Allard and James Marshall. Permit me to go off on a tangent here that will not only enlighten you about a great book, if you haven’t heard of it already, but also tell you a lot about a big difference between my sister and me.
About this time last year my sister was visiting and we were reminiscing about a book we both loved when we were kids, a book whose title we could no longer remember. All that we could remember was that it was about a teacher, it was kinda creepy and we simultaneously loved it and were frightened by it. Cut to me, ordering a Christmas gift for my sister. This is always difficult for me because I’m a) crap at picking gifts for people and 2) never on time when it comes to shipping Christmas gifts overseas. This time I decided I would order something online. I found out from my sister she wanted kitchen gadgets: mini cheese grater, salt & pepper shaker, spoon rest, you get the picture. I found an online store in my family’s area so that they will ship for free to my mother, who had kindly agreed to wrap the presents for me and then pass them on to my sister. I finalized my online purchase thinking how clever I was, all without ever having to leave my house and brave the mall, which I avoid doing like a mammogram (which I know, I shouldn’t avoid those but geez, they don’t sound like fun, do they?). Anyway, a few weeks later I get a call from my mom: somehow I have shipped her 6 spoon rests, 6 salt and pepper shakers, 18 mini cheese graters!!! Turns out the store I was ordering from was a restaurant supplier for bulk purchases. ARGH!!
What, you may be wondering, does this have to do with the book? Well about a week later I get a Christmas package from my sister containing many wonderful, thoughtful and completely perfect gifts for my family. Among them is, you guessed it, Miss Nelson Is Missing. She somehow managed to locate the book from our childhood, a book we couldn’t even remember the title of, and send it to me. *Sigh* And now you know one of the many reasons my sister is so fabulous. She is one of those thoughtful people with the uncanny knack of selecting the absolute perfect gift.
Oh, you want to know about the book? Well, I’ll just say that this book was probably my first significant introduction to the “plot twist.” Done well, even at a children’s level, it is a thing of beauty. Get it. Read it. See what I mean.
5. The Bear Snores On by Karma Wilson. Often I’ll get children’s books from the library and think, who the heck wrote this? Do they even have children? Don’t they know that children’s books are usually read to them and therefore have to sound good out loud? Karma Wilson gets it. The Bear Snores On has all the elements of a great children’s book: funny little story, easy to follow, likeable characters, cute pictures, but best of all is the lyrical element of the words. They roll off your tongue. My children love to hear it and I love to read it to them.
Yay books! Do you have a favourite? Tell me!
2. If You Give a Moose a Muffin by Laura Joffe Numeroff. Follow step by step all the crazy occurrences when forced to appease the largest species in the deer family who runs out of baked goods. Whimsical, quirky and with great illustrations, this book shows kids what reading for pleasure is all about: fun, imagination, entertainment.
3. Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now by Dr. Seuss. What kind of children’s book list would this be without Dr. Seuss? But you were probably expecting something more mainstream like Cat in the Hat or Go, Dog. Go! And rightly so. Those are great books, maybe even better than Marvin K. But when I was two years old my parents read Marvin K. to me so often I had it memorized right down to when to turn the pages. I would try and trick people into thinking I was reading. Flash forward thirty-ish years to me reading this toddler favourite of mine to my kids. What can I say? It gives me the warm fuzzies.
4. Miss Nelson is Missing by Harry Allard and James Marshall. Permit me to go off on a tangent here that will not only enlighten you about a great book, if you haven’t heard of it already, but also tell you a lot about a big difference between my sister and me.
About this time last year my sister was visiting and we were reminiscing about a book we both loved when we were kids, a book whose title we could no longer remember. All that we could remember was that it was about a teacher, it was kinda creepy and we simultaneously loved it and were frightened by it. Cut to me, ordering a Christmas gift for my sister. This is always difficult for me because I’m a) crap at picking gifts for people and 2) never on time when it comes to shipping Christmas gifts overseas. This time I decided I would order something online. I found out from my sister she wanted kitchen gadgets: mini cheese grater, salt & pepper shaker, spoon rest, you get the picture. I found an online store in my family’s area so that they will ship for free to my mother, who had kindly agreed to wrap the presents for me and then pass them on to my sister. I finalized my online purchase thinking how clever I was, all without ever having to leave my house and brave the mall, which I avoid doing like a mammogram (which I know, I shouldn’t avoid those but geez, they don’t sound like fun, do they?). Anyway, a few weeks later I get a call from my mom: somehow I have shipped her 6 spoon rests, 6 salt and pepper shakers, 18 mini cheese graters!!! Turns out the store I was ordering from was a restaurant supplier for bulk purchases. ARGH!!
What, you may be wondering, does this have to do with the book? Well about a week later I get a Christmas package from my sister containing many wonderful, thoughtful and completely perfect gifts for my family. Among them is, you guessed it, Miss Nelson Is Missing. She somehow managed to locate the book from our childhood, a book we couldn’t even remember the title of, and send it to me. *Sigh* And now you know one of the many reasons my sister is so fabulous. She is one of those thoughtful people with the uncanny knack of selecting the absolute perfect gift.
Oh, you want to know about the book? Well, I’ll just say that this book was probably my first significant introduction to the “plot twist.” Done well, even at a children’s level, it is a thing of beauty. Get it. Read it. See what I mean.
5. The Bear Snores On by Karma Wilson. Often I’ll get children’s books from the library and think, who the heck wrote this? Do they even have children? Don’t they know that children’s books are usually read to them and therefore have to sound good out loud? Karma Wilson gets it. The Bear Snores On has all the elements of a great children’s book: funny little story, easy to follow, likeable characters, cute pictures, but best of all is the lyrical element of the words. They roll off your tongue. My children love to hear it and I love to read it to them.
Yay books! Do you have a favourite? Tell me!
Monday, November 10, 2008
5 reasons I’m jealous of American politics
1. American politicians are like rock stars. Whereas Canadian politicians are like the nerds who got beat up in high school. Come on. You know forty years ago some jock was roughing up Dion for his lunch money. I remember about nine years ago I was flying in to Philadelphia to visit a friend when the plane started circling the airport. The pilot came on and explained that we had to wait to land because President Clinton was flying in at the same time. I suddenly felt a little giddy. I was in the same place as the President of the United States. I was sharing airspace with Bill! Cool! Then I thought, what if it were Jean Chretien, Prime Minister at the time, who was the one flying in. Totally different. Then I would have just been annoyed that he was delaying my landing time.
2. The choices are clear. During our election (Yes, American friends, we did have one! I know, blink and you missed it.) I kept lamenting, if I were American I know who I’d vote for. But up here it was confusing to me. At least five different choices. And not different like Republican vs. Democrat different. The Green Party vs. NDP differences were more subtle. And then there was this notion of strategic voting: giving your vote to whichever party had the better chance of beating the Conservatives depending on what riding you were in. Huh? I know I am woefully under informed when it comes to politics in general and Canadian politics in particular but I just wanted to ask someone, if I would vote for Obama in the States then who does that translate to in Canadian??
3. The debates. Now my fellow Canadians, be honest. How many of you watched the American Vice Presidential Debate instead of the Canadian Leaders’ Debate on October 2nd? You are not alone. It was hard not to be sucked in by the guilty temptation of potentially seeing Sarah Palin humiliate herself on internationally broadcasted television … again. In the end she did alright and I felt guilty so I watched a recording of the Canadian round table discussion online. But holy Snoozeville, Batman!
4. The glamour. Whether it’s the controversy over Palin’s pricey wardrobe, the talk about the return to Camelot now that an attractive younger couple are heading to the White House or comparing Michelle Obama to Jackie Kennedy, there’s a glamour to American politics. One that is completely absent from Canadian politics. Look what we have to work with. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have anything against Elizabeth May. I thought she came across very well, intellectually, in the debate and in fact, I even voted Green. But it’s hard to imagine anyone referring to her as a MILF.
5. Barack Obama. I can’t be the only Canadian who, swept up in the excitement of the election and the emotion of the historical democratic win, felt a tinge of jealousy over the American’s shiny new president. I mean, it was such a long run, hard fought, emotionally charged race. To see the world celebrate as the U.S., with record numbers of voters flocking to the polls, voted in its first African American president. Then to see his acceptance speech, his beautiful family, grown men and women listening to him in tears. With images of Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. rising from the past, to imagine the country forging forth on a new path, looking to this man to lead them … it was all so moving. In Canada after our own, in the words of Jon Stewart, “adorable” election, with decidedly mediocre numbers of Canadians voting, we were left with… the same damn guy. Crickets chirping. Ho hum.
2. The choices are clear. During our election (Yes, American friends, we did have one! I know, blink and you missed it.) I kept lamenting, if I were American I know who I’d vote for. But up here it was confusing to me. At least five different choices. And not different like Republican vs. Democrat different. The Green Party vs. NDP differences were more subtle. And then there was this notion of strategic voting: giving your vote to whichever party had the better chance of beating the Conservatives depending on what riding you were in. Huh? I know I am woefully under informed when it comes to politics in general and Canadian politics in particular but I just wanted to ask someone, if I would vote for Obama in the States then who does that translate to in Canadian??
3. The debates. Now my fellow Canadians, be honest. How many of you watched the American Vice Presidential Debate instead of the Canadian Leaders’ Debate on October 2nd? You are not alone. It was hard not to be sucked in by the guilty temptation of potentially seeing Sarah Palin humiliate herself on internationally broadcasted television … again. In the end she did alright and I felt guilty so I watched a recording of the Canadian round table discussion online. But holy Snoozeville, Batman!
4. The glamour. Whether it’s the controversy over Palin’s pricey wardrobe, the talk about the return to Camelot now that an attractive younger couple are heading to the White House or comparing Michelle Obama to Jackie Kennedy, there’s a glamour to American politics. One that is completely absent from Canadian politics. Look what we have to work with. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have anything against Elizabeth May. I thought she came across very well, intellectually, in the debate and in fact, I even voted Green. But it’s hard to imagine anyone referring to her as a MILF.
5. Barack Obama. I can’t be the only Canadian who, swept up in the excitement of the election and the emotion of the historical democratic win, felt a tinge of jealousy over the American’s shiny new president. I mean, it was such a long run, hard fought, emotionally charged race. To see the world celebrate as the U.S., with record numbers of voters flocking to the polls, voted in its first African American president. Then to see his acceptance speech, his beautiful family, grown men and women listening to him in tears. With images of Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King Jr. rising from the past, to imagine the country forging forth on a new path, looking to this man to lead them … it was all so moving. In Canada after our own, in the words of Jon Stewart, “adorable” election, with decidedly mediocre numbers of Canadians voting, we were left with… the same damn guy. Crickets chirping. Ho hum.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
5 ways I can complete the sentence, “I’m an athiest but…”
1. I got married in a Catholic church. Hubby told me it was very important to him, even though he hasn’t set foot in a church, except for weddings, funerals and baptisms, since.
2. I love Little House on the Prairie. Come on! Pa, Half Pint, Nellie Olsen. Who doesn’t love it?? I’m so glad they’ve started showing reruns everyday at 5pm on CTS. I even tolerate the nauseating ads to watch it.
3. I love the saying, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” It’s such a poetically beautiful saying, don’t you think? When considering the plight of someone else enduring a hardship, I often find myself thinking “There but for the grace of …. something I believe in…. go I.” Somehow it just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
4. I am learning that I can be spiritual. When I was a kid I thought of God as some white haired guy hanging out in the clouds looking down and judging everything I did. As I got older and the implausibility of this notion grew in my mind I began rejecting all things religious. The pendulum swung past agnostic, over to atheist and stuck there for a while. But these days the pendulum is starting to swing back. Or maybe not back but over. Over to the idea that, just because I no longer identify with this notion of a bearded man in robes residing in the heavens, doesn’t mean I necessarily reject the idea of a guiding force or a oneness to humanity. If I sound very “New Earth” it’s because I love that book! In homage, one of these days I plan to write the list “5 reasons Eckhart Tolle could never have a Facebook page.”
5. I wish my kids said grace before a meal. Or maybe not grace. But showed appreciation in some way. In Japanese one says “itadakimasu” before a meal which literally means “I receive” but is generally meant to express gratitude for the food one is about to eat. Maybe I should start this tradition with my kids. To make up for the tradition I started in my family…
Okay, true story: Even though I didn’t have a particularly religious upbringing, we always said grace before a meal, followed by itadakimasu. When I was about 20 I began to feel a bit hypocritical about participating in the religious part of this practice. So I mentioned to my mother one day that I would no longer be saying grace with them and explained why. I meant to just quietly sit and respectfully wait while they said grace. To lighten the situation I joked with her that I was sorry her daughter was such a heathen. Well. The next time they went to say grace they looked at me somewhat awkwardly until my dad laughed, pointed at me and said, “Heathen!” So now, not only does my whole family no longer say grace, but after saying itadakimasu they follow it up with simply yelling, “Heathens!” I know, it’s unbelievable that lightening doesn’t strike me down.
2. I love Little House on the Prairie. Come on! Pa, Half Pint, Nellie Olsen. Who doesn’t love it?? I’m so glad they’ve started showing reruns everyday at 5pm on CTS. I even tolerate the nauseating ads to watch it.
3. I love the saying, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” It’s such a poetically beautiful saying, don’t you think? When considering the plight of someone else enduring a hardship, I often find myself thinking “There but for the grace of …. something I believe in…. go I.” Somehow it just doesn’t have the same ring to it.
4. I am learning that I can be spiritual. When I was a kid I thought of God as some white haired guy hanging out in the clouds looking down and judging everything I did. As I got older and the implausibility of this notion grew in my mind I began rejecting all things religious. The pendulum swung past agnostic, over to atheist and stuck there for a while. But these days the pendulum is starting to swing back. Or maybe not back but over. Over to the idea that, just because I no longer identify with this notion of a bearded man in robes residing in the heavens, doesn’t mean I necessarily reject the idea of a guiding force or a oneness to humanity. If I sound very “New Earth” it’s because I love that book! In homage, one of these days I plan to write the list “5 reasons Eckhart Tolle could never have a Facebook page.”
5. I wish my kids said grace before a meal. Or maybe not grace. But showed appreciation in some way. In Japanese one says “itadakimasu” before a meal which literally means “I receive” but is generally meant to express gratitude for the food one is about to eat. Maybe I should start this tradition with my kids. To make up for the tradition I started in my family…
Okay, true story: Even though I didn’t have a particularly religious upbringing, we always said grace before a meal, followed by itadakimasu. When I was about 20 I began to feel a bit hypocritical about participating in the religious part of this practice. So I mentioned to my mother one day that I would no longer be saying grace with them and explained why. I meant to just quietly sit and respectfully wait while they said grace. To lighten the situation I joked with her that I was sorry her daughter was such a heathen. Well. The next time they went to say grace they looked at me somewhat awkwardly until my dad laughed, pointed at me and said, “Heathen!” So now, not only does my whole family no longer say grace, but after saying itadakimasu they follow it up with simply yelling, “Heathens!” I know, it’s unbelievable that lightening doesn’t strike me down.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Another Canadian Parents article
I've had another article published at this online magazine. If you'd like, check it out here!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
5 things I didn’t know until I became a mom
(Don't hate me for continuing to use old Facebook posts. I'm taking a writing class right now and it's been taking up my writing time. Thank you to everyone who's continued to check back, regardless of the slowdown in updates. And thank you to those who have left comments - I'm sorry I haven't been replying these days. Don't lose faith! I will be back to brand new posts ASAP!)
1. That the Alphabet Song, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Baa Baa Black Sheep all have the same tune.
2. That someone could think that dipping sushi in ketchup or grapes in soy sauce is a reasonable culinary decision.
3. That sometimes diapering a toddler is more difficult than putting a tuxedo on a horse.
4. That the length of open-mouthed silence that follows the bang of a child falling down is directly proportional to the volume of the ensuing scream, once that child catches his breath.
5. That the first time a boy told you you’re beautiful has nothing on the first time it came out of the mouth of your two year old.
1. That the Alphabet Song, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Baa Baa Black Sheep all have the same tune.
2. That someone could think that dipping sushi in ketchup or grapes in soy sauce is a reasonable culinary decision.
3. That sometimes diapering a toddler is more difficult than putting a tuxedo on a horse.
4. That the length of open-mouthed silence that follows the bang of a child falling down is directly proportional to the volume of the ensuing scream, once that child catches his breath.
5. That the first time a boy told you you’re beautiful has nothing on the first time it came out of the mouth of your two year old.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Five kids’ shows I like more than my kids do
(Here's another oldie but hopefully goodie post from Facebook. Enjoy!)
1. Timothy Goes to School
I don’t really know why I like this one, I just do. There’s Yoko. Love Yoko. Especially how she lives in a temple and her mother is always wearing kimono (I don’t even know any Japanese mothers in Japan who always wear kimono). Then there are the brothers Frank and Frank. It always calls to mind those Newhart characters, “This is my brother Darryl … and this is my other brother Darryl.”
2. Elmo’s World
Sadly, my kids seem to have outgrown this show. Not even my little Sarah requests it anymore. There’s something so comforting about seeing those Jim Henson puppet faces that haven’t changed since we were kids. My favourite is still Grover. Or actually Super Grover. And every so often they’ll have a retro clip straight from the days before people started trying to out Bert and Ernie. Ah, the innocence.
3. Wonder Pets
I actually don’t really like this show but the theme song gets stuck in my head and I find myself walking around the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, singing, “Wonder Pets, Wonder Pets we’re on our way, to help the baby elephant and save the day…”
4. The one where the guy uses all kinds of different materials and when you see it from an aerial view it makes a picture
Do you know the one I mean? I tried to look up the title online but what do you search? No idea. Anyway, my kids are so bored with this one. Doug and I, however, are always totally enthralled as the guy moves this and that around, shifting sheets, shaking out coloured sand. When they move up to the aerial view and the picture is revealed we’re like, “Cooooool.”
5. Peep and the Big Wide World
I saved my favourite for last. I have actually watched this show by myself. That’s right, no kids, just me. First things first: Joan Cusak narrates. That’s cool right there. Then there’s the duck. Has anyone noticed that Quack sounds like Charlotte’s gay friend from Sex and the City?? I’ve checked it out, it isn’t him but man, I keep expecting him to take off his little white hat and say “Some of the best sex I’ve had is with people I can’t stand!” That aside, that duck’s got some great quotes himself. Like, "Of course I'm a duck! I have all the duck bits. The bill. The webbed feet. The cute tail. The sailor hat." That duck kills me.
1. Timothy Goes to School
I don’t really know why I like this one, I just do. There’s Yoko. Love Yoko. Especially how she lives in a temple and her mother is always wearing kimono (I don’t even know any Japanese mothers in Japan who always wear kimono). Then there are the brothers Frank and Frank. It always calls to mind those Newhart characters, “This is my brother Darryl … and this is my other brother Darryl.”
2. Elmo’s World
Sadly, my kids seem to have outgrown this show. Not even my little Sarah requests it anymore. There’s something so comforting about seeing those Jim Henson puppet faces that haven’t changed since we were kids. My favourite is still Grover. Or actually Super Grover. And every so often they’ll have a retro clip straight from the days before people started trying to out Bert and Ernie. Ah, the innocence.
3. Wonder Pets
I actually don’t really like this show but the theme song gets stuck in my head and I find myself walking around the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner, singing, “Wonder Pets, Wonder Pets we’re on our way, to help the baby elephant and save the day…”
4. The one where the guy uses all kinds of different materials and when you see it from an aerial view it makes a picture
Do you know the one I mean? I tried to look up the title online but what do you search? No idea. Anyway, my kids are so bored with this one. Doug and I, however, are always totally enthralled as the guy moves this and that around, shifting sheets, shaking out coloured sand. When they move up to the aerial view and the picture is revealed we’re like, “Cooooool.”
5. Peep and the Big Wide World
I saved my favourite for last. I have actually watched this show by myself. That’s right, no kids, just me. First things first: Joan Cusak narrates. That’s cool right there. Then there’s the duck. Has anyone noticed that Quack sounds like Charlotte’s gay friend from Sex and the City?? I’ve checked it out, it isn’t him but man, I keep expecting him to take off his little white hat and say “Some of the best sex I’ve had is with people I can’t stand!” That aside, that duck’s got some great quotes himself. Like, "Of course I'm a duck! I have all the duck bits. The bill. The webbed feet. The cute tail. The sailor hat." That duck kills me.
Monday, September 8, 2008
5 men I find strangely attractive
1. Ashley from Sin Cities. Do you watch this show? Ashley Hames is the lanky, nerdy, bespectacled Brit host who takes you to cities around the world in search of the most bizarre sexual fetishes. Does this seem like the recipe for a sex symbol to you? Me neither. Especially when you see him in such humiliating and painful looking situations as having his testicles nailed to a board or having huge, industrial-looking, metal hooks strung through the skin of his back or being lead around naked on a leash, to name but a meager few on a very long list. But he’s funny and amazingly game for anything. I don’t know. It works.
2. Dan Connor. Goofy, overweight, blue collar jokester is not my usual dream guy. But John Goodman makes Roseanne’s long suffering husband charming and loveable. On the opposite end of the bad boy’s mysterious allure, Dan is the quintessential good guy in his salt-of-the-earth, middle American, tough on the outside, soft on the inside way. Perhaps my favourite episode is when he finds out Jackie – the sister-in-law he only just barely tolerates hanging around his house annoying him everyday – is getting beat up by her boyfriend. He takes one look at Jackie huddled in tears and wordlessly grabs his jacket and slips out the back door. Dan Connor, avenger of abused women, to the rescue!
3. Tony Soprano. But speaking of bad boys, I find it completely inexplicable why a murdering, cheating, overweight, balding, selfish head of a crime family would be in any way attractive to me whatsoever, but for some reason, he kinda is. During the writers’ strike my husband and I survived the lack of original TV by purchasing all six seasons of the Sopranos on DVD. It was addictive. We watched two or three episodes a night and by the end of it, we were fighting the urge to talk to each other with an Italian-New Jersey accent complete with expletives and Paulie-type hand gestures. And I was sort of crushing on Tony. I think the combination of his unyielding power at work combined with the vulnerability he would show in his sessions with Dr. Melfi somehow melded this crime lord into something appealing.
4. George Stroumboulopoulos. I personally don’t think George should be on this list. I don’t find anything “strange” about being attracted to the cute, funny, witty, sexy host of a smart Canadian prime time talk show with great guests. But my husband insists it’s strange so I’ve added him. Plus it gives me an excuse to blog about him. I love how George starts off The Hour with, “I’m your boyfriend, George Stroumbouloupoulos.” How does he know?! I thought it was all in my head but there he is, announcing it. Love ya, George!
5. Anderson Cooper. The distinguished grey hair. The piercing blue eyes. Intelligent, well-spoken, knowledgeable, quirky, self-deprecating, well-dressed….Okay, I realize he’s totally gay, which is what puts him on this list. That doesn’t stop Erica Hill from shamelessly flirting with him on America’s number one cable news network. It’s not just me, right? She totally wants him. I’m with you Erica… even if Anderson ain’t with us.
So, who’s on your list of unlikely secret boyfriends?
2. Dan Connor. Goofy, overweight, blue collar jokester is not my usual dream guy. But John Goodman makes Roseanne’s long suffering husband charming and loveable. On the opposite end of the bad boy’s mysterious allure, Dan is the quintessential good guy in his salt-of-the-earth, middle American, tough on the outside, soft on the inside way. Perhaps my favourite episode is when he finds out Jackie – the sister-in-law he only just barely tolerates hanging around his house annoying him everyday – is getting beat up by her boyfriend. He takes one look at Jackie huddled in tears and wordlessly grabs his jacket and slips out the back door. Dan Connor, avenger of abused women, to the rescue!
3. Tony Soprano. But speaking of bad boys, I find it completely inexplicable why a murdering, cheating, overweight, balding, selfish head of a crime family would be in any way attractive to me whatsoever, but for some reason, he kinda is. During the writers’ strike my husband and I survived the lack of original TV by purchasing all six seasons of the Sopranos on DVD. It was addictive. We watched two or three episodes a night and by the end of it, we were fighting the urge to talk to each other with an Italian-New Jersey accent complete with expletives and Paulie-type hand gestures. And I was sort of crushing on Tony. I think the combination of his unyielding power at work combined with the vulnerability he would show in his sessions with Dr. Melfi somehow melded this crime lord into something appealing.
4. George Stroumboulopoulos. I personally don’t think George should be on this list. I don’t find anything “strange” about being attracted to the cute, funny, witty, sexy host of a smart Canadian prime time talk show with great guests. But my husband insists it’s strange so I’ve added him. Plus it gives me an excuse to blog about him. I love how George starts off The Hour with, “I’m your boyfriend, George Stroumbouloupoulos.” How does he know?! I thought it was all in my head but there he is, announcing it. Love ya, George!
5. Anderson Cooper. The distinguished grey hair. The piercing blue eyes. Intelligent, well-spoken, knowledgeable, quirky, self-deprecating, well-dressed….Okay, I realize he’s totally gay, which is what puts him on this list. That doesn’t stop Erica Hill from shamelessly flirting with him on America’s number one cable news network. It’s not just me, right? She totally wants him. I’m with you Erica… even if Anderson ain’t with us.
So, who’s on your list of unlikely secret boyfriends?
Friday, September 5, 2008
5 things that “drive” me crazy
(Caveat: My father always told me sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. Well, what can I say? Prepare to get down and dirty…)
1. Advanced green imbeciles. What about a green arrow pointing in the direction you wish to go is confusing to some people? I was the second car in line at an advanced green yesterday. The arrow lights up – nothing happens. No movement from the car ahead of me. I do a little tap on the horn. You know, a still-friendly-just-a-little-reminder tap. Still nothing. So now I lean a little more insistently on the horn. Not only does she still not move, now she’s making irritated hand gestures at me in the rearview mirror. Apparently my honking is really bothering her. The advanced turns yellow. Still nothing. Then she decides to whip out right as the yellow arrow fades so there’s just enough time for her car to get through but leaving me at a solid red light. Wonderful. Equally as annoying are drivers who approach an advanced green light with the same trepidation as one might approach say, a large, wild animal or Paris Hilton movie. They creep up slowly, stop, look both ways, contemplate, and finally turn just after the advanced ends and the oncoming traffic starts to go. Again, leaving the person behind making frustrated hand gestures and teaching their children inappropriate language.
2. Distracted drivers. Everybody hates the clueless driver chatting away on his cell phone, consumed in his conversation and totally oblivious to things apparently less important than his caller, like road safety. But I think a worse offender is the driver looking for a house or store. I live in a new development so it seems there are constantly people just driving around, looking at houses. Getting stuck behind such a driver is nails-on-a-chalkboard irritating. They creep along the road, stop for a second, craning their necks and just when you decide to pass them they start slowly driving again. Looking at houses is fine, but if you’re going to sit in front of a house admiring the brick work for five minutes, maybe you should signal and pull over instead of sitting in the street. I’m just saying.
3. No “thank you” wave. It makes the world a nicer place to be when people are considerate and polite. Don’t you think? I always wave when someone lets me in front of them. It’s about courtesy, people. Come on!
4. Drivers who stop to chat. Two drivers who happen to know each other are driving towards each other from opposite directions and stop to have a chat. On a residential street that isn’t very busy I guess this is okay. But wouldn’t you think when the chatters see another driver coming up behind one of them they would wrap it up and get going? Not always! This seems to happen a lot in my growing neighbourhood, particularly with construction workers. My favourite is when they not only continue their little conversation but wave you to go around them, like you’re interrupting them with your pesky intent to drive down the street. Does it say “boardroom” on this road anywhere??
5. Myself. Now that I’ve finished ranting about everybody else (thanks for letting me get that out, by the way, I feel much better – I’ll go easy on the sarcasm next time) I have to admit that the worst thing about driving these days is me. Apparently I need to start drinking ginseng tea or taking some gingko biloba. I’ll be driving and talking to the kids, or singing karaoke (shut up), or thinking about my next List of 5, when suddenly I’m sailing right past the exit I wanted. The worst is when it takes me a while to realize it. I’ve actually driven for upwards of five minutes in the wrong direction before I've noticed, hey, wait a second, why does everything look different from usual? Which is bad enough, but then you have to explain to the person expecting you why it took twice as long for you to get there. Try sounding intelligent while telling someone, uh, sorry I’m late, I missed my exit and drove 5 k in the wrong direction because I was thinking about my blog. So here’s my PSA: Don’t blog and drive.
1. Advanced green imbeciles. What about a green arrow pointing in the direction you wish to go is confusing to some people? I was the second car in line at an advanced green yesterday. The arrow lights up – nothing happens. No movement from the car ahead of me. I do a little tap on the horn. You know, a still-friendly-just-a-little-reminder tap. Still nothing. So now I lean a little more insistently on the horn. Not only does she still not move, now she’s making irritated hand gestures at me in the rearview mirror. Apparently my honking is really bothering her. The advanced turns yellow. Still nothing. Then she decides to whip out right as the yellow arrow fades so there’s just enough time for her car to get through but leaving me at a solid red light. Wonderful. Equally as annoying are drivers who approach an advanced green light with the same trepidation as one might approach say, a large, wild animal or Paris Hilton movie. They creep up slowly, stop, look both ways, contemplate, and finally turn just after the advanced ends and the oncoming traffic starts to go. Again, leaving the person behind making frustrated hand gestures and teaching their children inappropriate language.
2. Distracted drivers. Everybody hates the clueless driver chatting away on his cell phone, consumed in his conversation and totally oblivious to things apparently less important than his caller, like road safety. But I think a worse offender is the driver looking for a house or store. I live in a new development so it seems there are constantly people just driving around, looking at houses. Getting stuck behind such a driver is nails-on-a-chalkboard irritating. They creep along the road, stop for a second, craning their necks and just when you decide to pass them they start slowly driving again. Looking at houses is fine, but if you’re going to sit in front of a house admiring the brick work for five minutes, maybe you should signal and pull over instead of sitting in the street. I’m just saying.
3. No “thank you” wave. It makes the world a nicer place to be when people are considerate and polite. Don’t you think? I always wave when someone lets me in front of them. It’s about courtesy, people. Come on!
4. Drivers who stop to chat. Two drivers who happen to know each other are driving towards each other from opposite directions and stop to have a chat. On a residential street that isn’t very busy I guess this is okay. But wouldn’t you think when the chatters see another driver coming up behind one of them they would wrap it up and get going? Not always! This seems to happen a lot in my growing neighbourhood, particularly with construction workers. My favourite is when they not only continue their little conversation but wave you to go around them, like you’re interrupting them with your pesky intent to drive down the street. Does it say “boardroom” on this road anywhere??
5. Myself. Now that I’ve finished ranting about everybody else (thanks for letting me get that out, by the way, I feel much better – I’ll go easy on the sarcasm next time) I have to admit that the worst thing about driving these days is me. Apparently I need to start drinking ginseng tea or taking some gingko biloba. I’ll be driving and talking to the kids, or singing karaoke (shut up), or thinking about my next List of 5, when suddenly I’m sailing right past the exit I wanted. The worst is when it takes me a while to realize it. I’ve actually driven for upwards of five minutes in the wrong direction before I've noticed, hey, wait a second, why does everything look different from usual? Which is bad enough, but then you have to explain to the person expecting you why it took twice as long for you to get there. Try sounding intelligent while telling someone, uh, sorry I’m late, I missed my exit and drove 5 k in the wrong direction because I was thinking about my blog. So here’s my PSA: Don’t blog and drive.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
5 songs I’m too old to like … but I do anyway.
Here's a list I posted on Facebook last year. The references are a little dated but I hope you still like it...
1. Don’t Cha, The Pussycat Dolls. Okay, I don’t think I’m the only one that’s guilty of this offense. I know there must be others out there who are inexplicably seduced by the way Nicole says, “I know you DO!” But at least I didn’t watch the Search for the Next Doll. (Okay, I watched the finale. In my defense, I was trapped in the house and there was nothing else on.)
2. Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani. Now I’m not going to go the obvious route and point out that any song that spells out the word “bananas” isn’t meant for anybody who’s risen above grade four. Instead I’ll say that originally I thought that this song was about not engaging in immature name calling, kind of in the “sticks and stones” vein. But then I actually listened to the words. “I’m gonna fight. Gonna sock it to you.” Wow. Was I wrong. But you gotta love those marching band drums!!
3. London Bridge, Fergie. With this one, maybe it’s not that I’m too old, just (hopefully) not skanky enough. But like with Nicole from the Dolls, there’s something about the way Fergie rhymes “floor” with “ho.” Doesn’t seem possible, but Fergie pulls it off!
4. U + Ur Hand, Pink. This song rocks! I know it’s been more years than I care to admit since I actually went out to clubs but still, doesn’t it bring you right back to those clubbing days? “At the door we don’t wait ‘cause we know them.” I am at Mac floating past the line at the John. Good times. Brain hemorrhage anyone??
5. Girlfriend, Avril Lavigne. Hmphfff … That’s my transcription of the sound of me hiding my head in shame. Because I am most embarrassed about this one. I just can’t believe I like a song that states, “She’s like, so whatever.” But I think what really brought it home to me was when this song was featured by almost every troop in my six-year old niece’s cheerleading competition. That’s right. I have the musical taste of a six year old. That’s why I’m singing away to this song in the Pathfinder whenever it comes on the radio. Thank God there isn’t one of those hidden cameras in my truck like on that VH1 show. I’d be screwed.
********
I had this ready to post yesterday when I realized I had to make a special addition:
I don’t live in a trailer park, but I like this song
Before He Cheats, Carrie Underwood. There’s something about a song that promotes vengefulness and taking the law into your own hands, isn’t there? Boyfriend’s cheating? Forget about taking the high road. Never mind the best revenge is living well. Get him where it hurts. His “suped up pretty little four wheel drive.” Good song, but I can’t help but imagine what Judge Judy would have to say to Carrie about her unlady-like behaviour…
2. Hollaback Girl, Gwen Stefani. Now I’m not going to go the obvious route and point out that any song that spells out the word “bananas” isn’t meant for anybody who’s risen above grade four. Instead I’ll say that originally I thought that this song was about not engaging in immature name calling, kind of in the “sticks and stones” vein. But then I actually listened to the words. “I’m gonna fight. Gonna sock it to you.” Wow. Was I wrong. But you gotta love those marching band drums!!
3. London Bridge, Fergie. With this one, maybe it’s not that I’m too old, just (hopefully) not skanky enough. But like with Nicole from the Dolls, there’s something about the way Fergie rhymes “floor” with “ho.” Doesn’t seem possible, but Fergie pulls it off!
4. U + Ur Hand, Pink. This song rocks! I know it’s been more years than I care to admit since I actually went out to clubs but still, doesn’t it bring you right back to those clubbing days? “At the door we don’t wait ‘cause we know them.” I am at Mac floating past the line at the John. Good times. Brain hemorrhage anyone??
5. Girlfriend, Avril Lavigne. Hmphfff … That’s my transcription of the sound of me hiding my head in shame. Because I am most embarrassed about this one. I just can’t believe I like a song that states, “She’s like, so whatever.” But I think what really brought it home to me was when this song was featured by almost every troop in my six-year old niece’s cheerleading competition. That’s right. I have the musical taste of a six year old. That’s why I’m singing away to this song in the Pathfinder whenever it comes on the radio. Thank God there isn’t one of those hidden cameras in my truck like on that VH1 show. I’d be screwed.
********
I had this ready to post yesterday when I realized I had to make a special addition:
I don’t live in a trailer park, but I like this song
Before He Cheats, Carrie Underwood. There’s something about a song that promotes vengefulness and taking the law into your own hands, isn’t there? Boyfriend’s cheating? Forget about taking the high road. Never mind the best revenge is living well. Get him where it hurts. His “suped up pretty little four wheel drive.” Good song, but I can’t help but imagine what Judge Judy would have to say to Carrie about her unlady-like behaviour…
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
5 people on TV who really bug me
1. Russell, “The Cashman,” Oliver. Just when you thought his commercials couldn’t get any cheesier or more embarrassing, what does the Cashman do? He makes a dance video! OMG, could it get any worse? That song! That song that amounts to taking what Oliver says ad nausea in his ads and, horror of horrors, setting it to music. “I’m the Cashman. I’ll give you money for your go-old, yeah.” My ears! And what about those poor women? It’s bad enough to be a dance video ho to begin with; we’ve heard how poorly they’re treated. But if it’s 50 cent or P Diddy you’re humping up against, at least they’re famous. That’s gotta look better on a video ho resume than “I gyrated next to a grey haired Jewish guy flapping around handfuls of Canadian twenties.” Are these girls heading back to standing on the street corner after taping? “Oh-oh yeah!”
2. Rachel Ray. I kinda feel bad saying this one because I never really watch her show, I don’t know anything about her, I really have no basis for feeling this way. I shouldn’t be annoyed by her: she’s got a real person’s figure, she’s pleasant looking, not ugly but not beautiful. She’s girl-next-door, down-to-earth … and she’s annoying. I don’t know why. She just seems a little too cheery and happy. It comes off as fake.
3. Gayle King. I know what you’re thinking. I’m just jealous because she’s Oprah’s best friend when, clearly, I should be Oprah’s best friend. I mean, I wouldn’t make the big O want to reach in and manually tear out her ear drums so she would no longer have to suffer through my screeching along to the radio on an entire cross-country road trip, would I? But it’s more than that. It’s the Dr. Phil’s wife, Robin, factor. (Damn, there’s somebody else I should have included.) What I mean is, the show is called “Dr. Phil.” Why do we care what Robin has to say? (Recently I find it’s questionable whether or not we should care what Dr. Phil has to say.) Likewise, just because your best friend is famous does not necessarily mean you also need to take up air time on the highest rated talk show in American television history. Is it just me? Do we really care about Gayle’s favourite places to eat?
4. Carlo Rota. Maitre d’ turned actor, you may not know his name off the top of your head but trust me, he’s annoying. I was first annoyed by him on The Great Canadian Food Show. Hubby loves foodie type shows and the promise of seeing local places seems appealing. But I just can’t stomache Rota’s pretentious accent and self-important mug. Even the way he chews his food makes me want to smack him. It’s almost like a mathematical equation: take the degree of pompous, know-it-all-ness and multiply by how actually ignorant and lame a person is. Equals: Super annoying. I must confess, I haven’t watched Little Mosque on the Prairie, largely due to the fact that he’s in it. It may be that he’s not as annoying when he’s playing a character as when he’s being, you know, his annoying self. I started watching his interview on the Hour to see from the clips of the show if this is actually the case. But even the joy of watching my boyfriend, George Stroumboulopoulos, could not overcome my irritation with Rota so I couldn’t get through it. Maybe you will and you’ll let me know.
5. John Melendez. Fans of Stern will remember how Howard harped and harped about Stuttering John leaving his show to do Leno. He needn’t have given it so much thought. Other than announcing the lineup, what the heck does this guy do?? At least on Stern you heard him do his silly, stuttering red carpet bits every now and again. Apparently now all his comic writing skills can come up with is holding up a mug when his name is called. I read somewhere he’s getting $500K for that gig. Hey NBC, I’ll read some names and hold up a mug for half that. Hell, I’ll even throw in a list of 5!
I don’t watch those shows like The Bachelor and ANTM etc. So I know there are many more annoying TV faces out there that I haven’t even begun to touch upon. It’s a subject rife with possibilities, really. Tell me, who makes you want to tear off body parts and hurl them at the screen??
2. Rachel Ray. I kinda feel bad saying this one because I never really watch her show, I don’t know anything about her, I really have no basis for feeling this way. I shouldn’t be annoyed by her: she’s got a real person’s figure, she’s pleasant looking, not ugly but not beautiful. She’s girl-next-door, down-to-earth … and she’s annoying. I don’t know why. She just seems a little too cheery and happy. It comes off as fake.
3. Gayle King. I know what you’re thinking. I’m just jealous because she’s Oprah’s best friend when, clearly, I should be Oprah’s best friend. I mean, I wouldn’t make the big O want to reach in and manually tear out her ear drums so she would no longer have to suffer through my screeching along to the radio on an entire cross-country road trip, would I? But it’s more than that. It’s the Dr. Phil’s wife, Robin, factor. (Damn, there’s somebody else I should have included.) What I mean is, the show is called “Dr. Phil.” Why do we care what Robin has to say? (Recently I find it’s questionable whether or not we should care what Dr. Phil has to say.) Likewise, just because your best friend is famous does not necessarily mean you also need to take up air time on the highest rated talk show in American television history. Is it just me? Do we really care about Gayle’s favourite places to eat?
4. Carlo Rota. Maitre d’ turned actor, you may not know his name off the top of your head but trust me, he’s annoying. I was first annoyed by him on The Great Canadian Food Show. Hubby loves foodie type shows and the promise of seeing local places seems appealing. But I just can’t stomache Rota’s pretentious accent and self-important mug. Even the way he chews his food makes me want to smack him. It’s almost like a mathematical equation: take the degree of pompous, know-it-all-ness and multiply by how actually ignorant and lame a person is. Equals: Super annoying. I must confess, I haven’t watched Little Mosque on the Prairie, largely due to the fact that he’s in it. It may be that he’s not as annoying when he’s playing a character as when he’s being, you know, his annoying self. I started watching his interview on the Hour to see from the clips of the show if this is actually the case. But even the joy of watching my boyfriend, George Stroumboulopoulos, could not overcome my irritation with Rota so I couldn’t get through it. Maybe you will and you’ll let me know.
5. John Melendez. Fans of Stern will remember how Howard harped and harped about Stuttering John leaving his show to do Leno. He needn’t have given it so much thought. Other than announcing the lineup, what the heck does this guy do?? At least on Stern you heard him do his silly, stuttering red carpet bits every now and again. Apparently now all his comic writing skills can come up with is holding up a mug when his name is called. I read somewhere he’s getting $500K for that gig. Hey NBC, I’ll read some names and hold up a mug for half that. Hell, I’ll even throw in a list of 5!
I don’t watch those shows like The Bachelor and ANTM etc. So I know there are many more annoying TV faces out there that I haven’t even begun to touch upon. It’s a subject rife with possibilities, really. Tell me, who makes you want to tear off body parts and hurl them at the screen??
Sunday, August 24, 2008
5 reasons I don’t want summer to end
1. No packing lunches. It’s been so nice not to deal with the mad scramble to plan a packed lunch in the morning. Yes, sometimes I still have to throw together a picnic, but since I’m a lucky mom whose kids don’t have food allergies, it’s a lot less stress. PB&J? No problem! This granola bar has nuts in it. All the better! I don’t have his name on this. Who cares! But come September I’ll be back to those mad dash mornings and reading labels on the lookout for “May contain.” And speaking of mad mornings…
2. Sleeping in. I’ve written before about how my children are not sleepers. They take after their father. I LOVE to sleep. And my logic is, it’s the person who’s genetically responsible for their early rising tendencies who should have to get up with them in the morning. Doesn’t that seem logical to you? During the summer my husband is not as busy with work so there are some mornings when he doesn’t have to dash off at his usual pre-sunrise time. And on those blissful mornings I get to sleep in. Sometimes even past 8 a.m.! No backpacks to arrange, no bus to catch, no mad dash mornings. Ahhh, illusive sleep.
3. Sunscreen over snowsuits. In the winter, when my kids yell, “Mom, we want to go outside and play in the snow,” I almost cringe. Don’t get me wrong. I’m as worried as the next mom about my kids getting enough fresh air, vitamin D and time away from the evil TV. But it’s the whole daunting process of gathering up all the boots, hats, mitts and snowsuits that causes the cringe factor. Inevitably a boot is missing, these mitts are wet, she doesn’t like that hat, she wants the other one. You have to try and get them to pee before you put everything on and then they always come back five minutes later, take everything off and then want to go out again five minutes after that. Painful. In the summer I hand them their hats and Crocs – which they can put on themselves, BTW – and off they go! Okay, maybe in this day and age we also have to deal with sunscreen. But there’s no on and off with lotion. I’ll take sunscreen over snowsuits any day of the week.
4. The sun. Towards the end of the summer I think we start taking for granted that we wake up to the sun and generally still have its wonderful, warm presence with us until around 9 p.m. I was on our usual evening walk with my neighbour when, at 8:30 p.m., we found ourselves losing light and I realized those days are fast coming to an end. It won’t be long before we wake up in darkness and come home in darkness. The only upside of this is that I’ll no longer have to convince my kids that, yes it’s still light out but it’s still time for bed.
5. The cottage. No, I’m not one of those lucky people who own one. Although, I still maintain that I have enough to keep me busy with the one house I own. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a whole other house that not only takes up as much time, money and effort to maintain, but also takes me hours to get to in order to expend said time, money and effort. But I digress. We rented a cottage this year, the first time we’ve done so on our own, just our little four person family. And so we experienced the long standing Canadian tradition of summer family time at a cottage. It was wonderful. Or I thought so. Hubby, who isn’t as used to spending 24-7 with two children who alternately love each other passionately and two minutes later fight equally passionately, thought it was slightly less wonderful. But, in my opinion, it’s a little harder to be stressed when you’re surrounded by sun, sand, gently l
apping waves and fresh air. The kids loved it when their dad buried them in the sand. Here’s a photo. Tell me, do I need to be worried that she wanted us to make her some boobies?
Stay tuned next week for 5 reasons I want these children to get back to school already!
2. Sleeping in. I’ve written before about how my children are not sleepers. They take after their father. I LOVE to sleep. And my logic is, it’s the person who’s genetically responsible for their early rising tendencies who should have to get up with them in the morning. Doesn’t that seem logical to you? During the summer my husband is not as busy with work so there are some mornings when he doesn’t have to dash off at his usual pre-sunrise time. And on those blissful mornings I get to sleep in. Sometimes even past 8 a.m.! No backpacks to arrange, no bus to catch, no mad dash mornings. Ahhh, illusive sleep.
3. Sunscreen over snowsuits. In the winter, when my kids yell, “Mom, we want to go outside and play in the snow,” I almost cringe. Don’t get me wrong. I’m as worried as the next mom about my kids getting enough fresh air, vitamin D and time away from the evil TV. But it’s the whole daunting process of gathering up all the boots, hats, mitts and snowsuits that causes the cringe factor. Inevitably a boot is missing, these mitts are wet, she doesn’t like that hat, she wants the other one. You have to try and get them to pee before you put everything on and then they always come back five minutes later, take everything off and then want to go out again five minutes after that. Painful. In the summer I hand them their hats and Crocs – which they can put on themselves, BTW – and off they go! Okay, maybe in this day and age we also have to deal with sunscreen. But there’s no on and off with lotion. I’ll take sunscreen over snowsuits any day of the week.
4. The sun. Towards the end of the summer I think we start taking for granted that we wake up to the sun and generally still have its wonderful, warm presence with us until around 9 p.m. I was on our usual evening walk with my neighbour when, at 8:30 p.m., we found ourselves losing light and I realized those days are fast coming to an end. It won’t be long before we wake up in darkness and come home in darkness. The only upside of this is that I’ll no longer have to convince my kids that, yes it’s still light out but it’s still time for bed.
5. The cottage. No, I’m not one of those lucky people who own one. Although, I still maintain that I have enough to keep me busy with the one house I own. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have a whole other house that not only takes up as much time, money and effort to maintain, but also takes me hours to get to in order to expend said time, money and effort. But I digress. We rented a cottage this year, the first time we’ve done so on our own, just our little four person family. And so we experienced the long standing Canadian tradition of summer family time at a cottage. It was wonderful. Or I thought so. Hubby, who isn’t as used to spending 24-7 with two children who alternately love each other passionately and two minutes later fight equally passionately, thought it was slightly less wonderful. But, in my opinion, it’s a little harder to be stressed when you’re surrounded by sun, sand, gently l
apping waves and fresh air. The kids loved it when their dad buried them in the sand. Here’s a photo. Tell me, do I need to be worried that she wanted us to make her some boobies?Stay tuned next week for 5 reasons I want these children to get back to school already!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
5 reasons staying home with your kids is hard...
...but not for the reasons you thought.
1. Your new "occupation." I’ve heard moms who are at home full time hate getting the question “So, what do you do?” at dinner parties. To that I say … They let you out for dinner parties? Okay, kidding. For me, the issue is more about what to write on paperwork under “occupation.” I know Roseanne said ‘domestic goddess,’ (makes me think I should be riding in a chariot, not an SUV) or you sometimes hear “homemaker” (who am I, June Cleaver?). I usually opt for ‘stay-at-home mom’. But still, I don’t know. As a title it kind of sounds made up. Something about all the dashes.
2. Lack of alone time. I’ve mentioned before about the entourage following me into the bathroom. I SO wish I was kidding about that one. Especially at um, that time of the month… (“Mom, what’s that? A special bandaid?” I just know they’ll be asking for the special bandaid next time there’s an accident.). I never thought I was the kind of girl who needed a lot of alone time. I love being around people! But once you’re a mom you realize there are times when hearing that dreaded singsong-toned “Mo-om!” will have you fantasizing about the nearest Buddhist monastery.
3. The need for self-discipline. When you are in the work force, you get work done because they pay you, because you don’t want to get fired, because your boss says you have to. When you stay at home there’s no pay, you can’t get fired (some days you’re like, Please! Fire me!), and the boss is busy playing Lego. The prospect of being at home full-time sounded great to me before. Yeah, there’s laundry to do and bills to pay. But who’s going to bug me if I don’t do it right now. So maybe I spend two hours on Facebook or browsing blogs. (You know, hypothetically. Yeah, I would never actually do that. He he. Nervous laughter.) Then your husband gets home, regales you with stories of the big deals he’s nailed down today and asks you how your day went. Um, I discussed Eighties music trivia with someone from Alberta…?
4. Forced down time. Before I became a mom I understood that Being a Mom is the Hardest Job in the World. But I always thought it was because you are so busy. Busy taking little Jimmy to baseball practice and little Susie to ballet. And there are times like that (and not just in the Fifties when people actually had kids named Jimmy and Susie). But what I didn’t know about was the other time. The time when you have six people coming for dinner in fifteen minutes and you still need to vacuum, make a salad and have a shower. But you can’t do any of it because there’s a baby attached to your boob. Or when you really have to get out to the grocery store, the bank and the dry cleaners before it closes but you can’t because someone’s having a nap. So you just have to sit. Sit and stew about all the things you should be doing but can’t.
5. Nobody cares if you’re sick. Do you remember what getting a bad cold was like before you had kids? I almost kind of looked forward to it. You call in sick to work, make yourself a hot cup of tea, grab the Kleenex box and your blankets and hunker down on the couch for eight hours of watching daytime TV and generally feeling sorry for yourself. And now? Now, you’re lucky if someone says, “Bless you” when you sneeze. Lunches still need to be made, buses need to be caught, diapers need to be changed. You take some Tylenol Cold and you suck it up. (Ewww, not literally. You know what I mean.)
1. Your new "occupation." I’ve heard moms who are at home full time hate getting the question “So, what do you do?” at dinner parties. To that I say … They let you out for dinner parties? Okay, kidding. For me, the issue is more about what to write on paperwork under “occupation.” I know Roseanne said ‘domestic goddess,’ (makes me think I should be riding in a chariot, not an SUV) or you sometimes hear “homemaker” (who am I, June Cleaver?). I usually opt for ‘stay-at-home mom’. But still, I don’t know. As a title it kind of sounds made up. Something about all the dashes.
2. Lack of alone time. I’ve mentioned before about the entourage following me into the bathroom. I SO wish I was kidding about that one. Especially at um, that time of the month… (“Mom, what’s that? A special bandaid?” I just know they’ll be asking for the special bandaid next time there’s an accident.). I never thought I was the kind of girl who needed a lot of alone time. I love being around people! But once you’re a mom you realize there are times when hearing that dreaded singsong-toned “Mo-om!” will have you fantasizing about the nearest Buddhist monastery.
3. The need for self-discipline. When you are in the work force, you get work done because they pay you, because you don’t want to get fired, because your boss says you have to. When you stay at home there’s no pay, you can’t get fired (some days you’re like, Please! Fire me!), and the boss is busy playing Lego. The prospect of being at home full-time sounded great to me before. Yeah, there’s laundry to do and bills to pay. But who’s going to bug me if I don’t do it right now. So maybe I spend two hours on Facebook or browsing blogs. (You know, hypothetically. Yeah, I would never actually do that. He he. Nervous laughter.) Then your husband gets home, regales you with stories of the big deals he’s nailed down today and asks you how your day went. Um, I discussed Eighties music trivia with someone from Alberta…?
4. Forced down time. Before I became a mom I understood that Being a Mom is the Hardest Job in the World. But I always thought it was because you are so busy. Busy taking little Jimmy to baseball practice and little Susie to ballet. And there are times like that (and not just in the Fifties when people actually had kids named Jimmy and Susie). But what I didn’t know about was the other time. The time when you have six people coming for dinner in fifteen minutes and you still need to vacuum, make a salad and have a shower. But you can’t do any of it because there’s a baby attached to your boob. Or when you really have to get out to the grocery store, the bank and the dry cleaners before it closes but you can’t because someone’s having a nap. So you just have to sit. Sit and stew about all the things you should be doing but can’t.
5. Nobody cares if you’re sick. Do you remember what getting a bad cold was like before you had kids? I almost kind of looked forward to it. You call in sick to work, make yourself a hot cup of tea, grab the Kleenex box and your blankets and hunker down on the couch for eight hours of watching daytime TV and generally feeling sorry for yourself. And now? Now, you’re lucky if someone says, “Bless you” when you sneeze. Lunches still need to be made, buses need to be caught, diapers need to be changed. You take some Tylenol Cold and you suck it up. (Ewww, not literally. You know what I mean.)
Thursday, August 7, 2008
5 fishy celebrity coincidences
Does anyone else ever feel manipulated by the press when it comes to salacious celebrity headlines? “Pop icon Britney Spears was spotted yesterday dealing crack to toddlers. Pause. Watch Britney on CBS’s How I Met Your Mother, Mondays, 8:30 eastern.”
Now obviously I use Brit Brit in jest, since her media whoring past means she can now garner press for such riveting activities as going to the dentist or buying jeans. Not to mention that she has less and less to promote these days. But how do you feel about these five celebrity viral stories that seem to conveniently coincide with upcoming promotions?
1. Christian Bale
On July 18, 2008, Warner Brothers released The Dark Knight in North America. Not to say there wasn’t enough “dark” hype already surrounding the movie after Heath Ledger’s untimely passing in January. But four days later on July 22, 2008, Christian Bale’s arrest for assault was all over the news. It was later reported the arrest happened in Britain where you can apparently be arrested for “verbal assault.” Against your mother and sister. Really? Some guy yells at his mother and this is what makes headlines? They’d wanna be at my house when I’m tired and renege on a bedtime story promise to my son. Anyway. “See Christian as Batman’s alter ego, Bruce Wayne, in The Dark Knight. In theatres now.”
2. Kanye West
I know that I’m a suburban, stay-at-home mom whose iPod is filled mainly with George Michael and Billy Joel so that it can’t be a shock that prior to September 2, 2005 I had never heard the name Kanye West. But I sure as heck knew who he was after he stood there next to Mike Meyers on the Katrina telethon and made his “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” comment. All I had to do was turn on CNN. Suddenly even a white, middle-class, soccer mom would be familiar with this rapper if she came across his album, Late Registration, which just happened to drop two days before on August 30, 2005.
3. Tom Cruise
You knew I’d have to include this one. Who could forget Tom Cruise waxing romantic about his new relationship with Katie Holmes on Oprah? Even spiritual guru Eckhart Tolle knew he was “the one who jumped on the couch.” Yes, Tom was a busy boy during May and June of 2005. Promoting War of the Worlds for its release on June 29th, you ask? If by promoting a movie you mean professing his (questionable) love, jumping on couches and spewing venom at Matt Lauer and Brooke Shields, then yes. Mission accomplished.
4. Alec Baldwin
There was a while in the early 2000s when I felt like I heard Alec Baldwin’s voice everywhere. From movies to SNL to guest spots on Friends and Will and Grace, it seemed like I couldn’t get away from him. That was when I had a two year old son who was really into Thomas the Tank Engine. Max would be engrossed in the adventures on the island of Sodor and I’d be thinking, Oh my god, I even hear that Schweaty ball voice on Treehouse. Now I’ve really lost it. But none of this prepared me for April 19, 2007, after TMZ posted “Alec Baldwin’s threatening message to daughter” complete with the recorded tirade. I had become accustomed to Baldwin’s voice talking to children about Percy, Henry and Sir Topham Hat. Not screaming “thoughtless little pig” and vowing to “straighten your ass out.” Baldwin was more ubiquitous than ever. Just in time for the April 26th season one finale of 30 Rock.
5. David Hasselhoff
As someone who’s had the experience of partaking in a Mojito or five and then having someone take out a camera (you did delete those, right Jenn?) I kind of sympathize with David Hasselhoff. Maybe a snapshot of someone on a Girls Only Weekend seemingly slumped inanimate on a kitchen table yet still conscious enough to hold one arm up heroically in the air (again, deleted, right?) is not the same as a video of someone lying drunk and minimally clothed on a floor eating a cheeseburger in front of his daughter, but still. After this video was released to the media on May 3, 2007, I made a mental note never to buy my children a video camera. Then I tuned in on June 5, 2007 for the season two premiere of America’s Got Talent. I had to see if the Hoff managed to stay sober during the obligatory sappy back story and subsequent singing/dancing/fire eating/burlesque number. I know I find it hard.
They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity. You tell me – am I too cynical and jaded? Is it wrong that as soon as I heard Stephen Page was busted for cocaine possession that I wondered when the new BNL album was being released?
Now obviously I use Brit Brit in jest, since her media whoring past means she can now garner press for such riveting activities as going to the dentist or buying jeans. Not to mention that she has less and less to promote these days. But how do you feel about these five celebrity viral stories that seem to conveniently coincide with upcoming promotions?
1. Christian Bale
On July 18, 2008, Warner Brothers released The Dark Knight in North America. Not to say there wasn’t enough “dark” hype already surrounding the movie after Heath Ledger’s untimely passing in January. But four days later on July 22, 2008, Christian Bale’s arrest for assault was all over the news. It was later reported the arrest happened in Britain where you can apparently be arrested for “verbal assault.” Against your mother and sister. Really? Some guy yells at his mother and this is what makes headlines? They’d wanna be at my house when I’m tired and renege on a bedtime story promise to my son. Anyway. “See Christian as Batman’s alter ego, Bruce Wayne, in The Dark Knight. In theatres now.”
2. Kanye West
I know that I’m a suburban, stay-at-home mom whose iPod is filled mainly with George Michael and Billy Joel so that it can’t be a shock that prior to September 2, 2005 I had never heard the name Kanye West. But I sure as heck knew who he was after he stood there next to Mike Meyers on the Katrina telethon and made his “George Bush doesn’t care about black people” comment. All I had to do was turn on CNN. Suddenly even a white, middle-class, soccer mom would be familiar with this rapper if she came across his album, Late Registration, which just happened to drop two days before on August 30, 2005.
3. Tom Cruise
You knew I’d have to include this one. Who could forget Tom Cruise waxing romantic about his new relationship with Katie Holmes on Oprah? Even spiritual guru Eckhart Tolle knew he was “the one who jumped on the couch.” Yes, Tom was a busy boy during May and June of 2005. Promoting War of the Worlds for its release on June 29th, you ask? If by promoting a movie you mean professing his (questionable) love, jumping on couches and spewing venom at Matt Lauer and Brooke Shields, then yes. Mission accomplished.
4. Alec Baldwin
There was a while in the early 2000s when I felt like I heard Alec Baldwin’s voice everywhere. From movies to SNL to guest spots on Friends and Will and Grace, it seemed like I couldn’t get away from him. That was when I had a two year old son who was really into Thomas the Tank Engine. Max would be engrossed in the adventures on the island of Sodor and I’d be thinking, Oh my god, I even hear that Schweaty ball voice on Treehouse. Now I’ve really lost it. But none of this prepared me for April 19, 2007, after TMZ posted “Alec Baldwin’s threatening message to daughter” complete with the recorded tirade. I had become accustomed to Baldwin’s voice talking to children about Percy, Henry and Sir Topham Hat. Not screaming “thoughtless little pig” and vowing to “straighten your ass out.” Baldwin was more ubiquitous than ever. Just in time for the April 26th season one finale of 30 Rock.
5. David Hasselhoff
As someone who’s had the experience of partaking in a Mojito or five and then having someone take out a camera (you did delete those, right Jenn?) I kind of sympathize with David Hasselhoff. Maybe a snapshot of someone on a Girls Only Weekend seemingly slumped inanimate on a kitchen table yet still conscious enough to hold one arm up heroically in the air (again, deleted, right?) is not the same as a video of someone lying drunk and minimally clothed on a floor eating a cheeseburger in front of his daughter, but still. After this video was released to the media on May 3, 2007, I made a mental note never to buy my children a video camera. Then I tuned in on June 5, 2007 for the season two premiere of America’s Got Talent. I had to see if the Hoff managed to stay sober during the obligatory sappy back story and subsequent singing/dancing/fire eating/burlesque number. I know I find it hard.
They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity. You tell me – am I too cynical and jaded? Is it wrong that as soon as I heard Stephen Page was busted for cocaine possession that I wondered when the new BNL album was being released?
Monday, July 28, 2008
5 reasons I hate cooking dinner
1. Deciding what to make. It’s just pure laziness on my part but if someone would just tell me what to make everyday it wouldn’t be half as bad. Trying to find something that’s: healthy, tasty, quick, easy, low-fat, appealing to children, appealing to a man who doesn’t eat fish, can be difficult. Once I tried to make a monthly meal plan with coordinating weekly grocery lists. Then I had children.
2. Grocery shopping. Some of my friends say they like grocery shopping. They say they find it calming. I don’t know where they’re shopping or where they’ve stashed their children while they’re doing it but there are many things I find more calming than grocery shopping. Like a Tarantino movie, for example. My daughter sounds something like this at the grocery store: "I don’t want a cart!" (if we’re getting a cart) "I want a cart!" (if we’re not getting a cart) "I want to sit in the cart." "No, I want baby to sit in the cart." "No, I want to stand on the end of the cart." "No, I want to walk beside the cart like a big girl." Two seconds later she tears off down the aisle causing other patrons to abruptly stop their carts lest they run over a small girl whose mother should obviously know better and put her in a cart. All this while I’m pleading, “Mama just has to find one more thing Sarah! Just one more thing!” Now where do they keep the water chestnuts? With the canned vegetables? Is a water chestnut a vegetable? Canned fruit perhaps? I finally find them… with the Asian food. Go figure!
3. Nobody likes it/eats it. Here’s the dinner scenario at our house: I’ve chosen some crazy recipe off the net they’ve claimed is fast, easy and “sure to please.” I’ve braved the grocery store. I’ve managed to find all the esoteric ingredients. I’ve washed, sliced, diced, steamed, pan fried, broiled my little heart out, trying to time everything to come together so we can all sit down as a family and enjoy a nice, home cooked meal. I place their dishes in front of my darlings to a chorus of “What’s this?” “I don’t like that.” “This smells weird.” To be fair, my beloved husband (who is a very good chef and actually likes cooking) is always encouraging and the most negative thing he says is, “Um, I wouldn’t say this one is a do-over, babe.” Much better than what my father would say when we were kids. After my mother would try some new recipe she found in the newspaper, Big Al would push his chair back and pronounce, “If that’s dinner, I’ve had it.”
4. Everyone would rather be eating Sponge Bob Alphaghetti anyway. Right? I mean, who am I kidding. Nobody but me is worried about four food groups.
5. You have to do it all over again the next day. Oh joy. Somebody pass me the can opener.
2. Grocery shopping. Some of my friends say they like grocery shopping. They say they find it calming. I don’t know where they’re shopping or where they’ve stashed their children while they’re doing it but there are many things I find more calming than grocery shopping. Like a Tarantino movie, for example. My daughter sounds something like this at the grocery store: "I don’t want a cart!" (if we’re getting a cart) "I want a cart!" (if we’re not getting a cart) "I want to sit in the cart." "No, I want baby to sit in the cart." "No, I want to stand on the end of the cart." "No, I want to walk beside the cart like a big girl." Two seconds later she tears off down the aisle causing other patrons to abruptly stop their carts lest they run over a small girl whose mother should obviously know better and put her in a cart. All this while I’m pleading, “Mama just has to find one more thing Sarah! Just one more thing!” Now where do they keep the water chestnuts? With the canned vegetables? Is a water chestnut a vegetable? Canned fruit perhaps? I finally find them… with the Asian food. Go figure!
3. Nobody likes it/eats it. Here’s the dinner scenario at our house: I’ve chosen some crazy recipe off the net they’ve claimed is fast, easy and “sure to please.” I’ve braved the grocery store. I’ve managed to find all the esoteric ingredients. I’ve washed, sliced, diced, steamed, pan fried, broiled my little heart out, trying to time everything to come together so we can all sit down as a family and enjoy a nice, home cooked meal. I place their dishes in front of my darlings to a chorus of “What’s this?” “I don’t like that.” “This smells weird.” To be fair, my beloved husband (who is a very good chef and actually likes cooking) is always encouraging and the most negative thing he says is, “Um, I wouldn’t say this one is a do-over, babe.” Much better than what my father would say when we were kids. After my mother would try some new recipe she found in the newspaper, Big Al would push his chair back and pronounce, “If that’s dinner, I’ve had it.”
4. Everyone would rather be eating Sponge Bob Alphaghetti anyway. Right? I mean, who am I kidding. Nobody but me is worried about four food groups.
5. You have to do it all over again the next day. Oh joy. Somebody pass me the can opener.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
5 strange and inappropriate songs my kids love
Like so many, I love my iPod and I love that I can play it in my vehicle. One side effect though, is that my children are introduced to songs to which they wouldn’t otherwise be exposed. But thanks to my beloved iPod they continually request songs like:
London Bridge. I mean the one by Fergie. You know, with questionable lyrics like “How come every time you come around my London London Bridge wanna go down.” Not what you want to hear out of the mouth of your three-year-old daughter. Or six-year-old son, for that matter.
Hey Big Spender. Okay, at the risk of being mocked relentlessly and revealing myself as the total nerd that I am, I’m going to go way out on a limb here and admit something totally embarrassing. I like to download karaoke versions of songs and then sing them as I drive. I know! Never bring this up to me in conversation. I will deny it and pretend I made it up purely for your amusement. Anyway. This song is one of my favourites and the kids have the singing cred to prove it. Imagine one little miss Sarah suddenly belting out, “Hey big spender! Spe-eend … a little time with me” in the middle of Zellers. Freaking hilarious.
I’m Just a Kid. Simple Plan’s homage to teen angst seems to be harmless enough, if maybe a little depressing. Although, one could question my parenting skills when Max’s favourite song laments, “I’m just a kid and life is a nightmare.” The biggest problem with this song, however, is that I accidentally downloaded the explicit version. Instead of the radio version that asks “What the hell is wrong with me?” the version I have spits out, “What the f&$* is wrong with me?” Whoops! I have to have my fingers poised on the volume button each time that part comes up. Why not just download the radio edit, you ask? That would be way too easy!
Kung Fu Fighting. My sister introduced my kids to the original Carl Douglas version of this song. Shortly after Kung Fu Panda was released there was no going back. My kids just love to shout out “Hu!” and “Ha!” while making karate chop motions along to this song. But it is a lot more politically incorrect than I remember it. Aside from including the tacky oriental riff through the whole song, the line “They were funky China Men from funky China Town” sorta makes my PI radar go up.
If it Wasnae for your Wellies. Here’s one the non-Scottish contingent may not be familiar with. It’s a little ditty from Scottish comedian Billy Connolly that I downloaded for my father about “the importance of Wellington boots in Scottish culture.” Normally Billy has quite the “blue” sense of humour (Check him out if you don’t believe me). Luckily, in this version, the worst thing he says is “Jesus Christ.” But because of his Scottish accent my children sing along with lyrics like “… you’d be in the hospital or in family” instead of “infirmary.” I couldn’t figure out what Max was talking about when he asked me what “gai-ya-bun-dun” meant until I heard Billy suggest you sing the song by “leaping into it in a mood of gay abandon.”
London Bridge. I mean the one by Fergie. You know, with questionable lyrics like “How come every time you come around my London London Bridge wanna go down.” Not what you want to hear out of the mouth of your three-year-old daughter. Or six-year-old son, for that matter.
Hey Big Spender. Okay, at the risk of being mocked relentlessly and revealing myself as the total nerd that I am, I’m going to go way out on a limb here and admit something totally embarrassing. I like to download karaoke versions of songs and then sing them as I drive. I know! Never bring this up to me in conversation. I will deny it and pretend I made it up purely for your amusement. Anyway. This song is one of my favourites and the kids have the singing cred to prove it. Imagine one little miss Sarah suddenly belting out, “Hey big spender! Spe-eend … a little time with me” in the middle of Zellers. Freaking hilarious.
I’m Just a Kid. Simple Plan’s homage to teen angst seems to be harmless enough, if maybe a little depressing. Although, one could question my parenting skills when Max’s favourite song laments, “I’m just a kid and life is a nightmare.” The biggest problem with this song, however, is that I accidentally downloaded the explicit version. Instead of the radio version that asks “What the hell is wrong with me?” the version I have spits out, “What the f&$* is wrong with me?” Whoops! I have to have my fingers poised on the volume button each time that part comes up. Why not just download the radio edit, you ask? That would be way too easy!
Kung Fu Fighting. My sister introduced my kids to the original Carl Douglas version of this song. Shortly after Kung Fu Panda was released there was no going back. My kids just love to shout out “Hu!” and “Ha!” while making karate chop motions along to this song. But it is a lot more politically incorrect than I remember it. Aside from including the tacky oriental riff through the whole song, the line “They were funky China Men from funky China Town” sorta makes my PI radar go up.
If it Wasnae for your Wellies. Here’s one the non-Scottish contingent may not be familiar with. It’s a little ditty from Scottish comedian Billy Connolly that I downloaded for my father about “the importance of Wellington boots in Scottish culture.” Normally Billy has quite the “blue” sense of humour (Check him out if you don’t believe me). Luckily, in this version, the worst thing he says is “Jesus Christ.” But because of his Scottish accent my children sing along with lyrics like “… you’d be in the hospital or in family” instead of “infirmary.” I couldn’t figure out what Max was talking about when he asked me what “gai-ya-bun-dun” meant until I heard Billy suggest you sing the song by “leaping into it in a mood of gay abandon.”
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
5 challenges of getting out the door with children
Choosing toys to bring. What is going to keep them occupied while I’m meeting with the financial planner / naked under the gown at the doctor’s office / visiting friends who have no children and whose house is therefore devoid of toddler appropriate items but rife with breakables and cupboards containing poisonous cleaners? Toys! When I ask them what toys they’d like to bring they inevitably make suggestions like: My dollhouse! (too big) My paints! (too messy) My whoopy cushion! (you can imagine…)
Remembering snacks. Every mom knows that ensuring you leave the house equipped with appropriate snacks can be the key to surviving an extended car trip. I have a cupboard full of granola bars, fruit bars, drink boxes and similar grab-and-go treats to aid in my quick getaway. But sometimes I just don’t think to bring them. Like the mornings when we’re not rushed and I just have to give them breakfast and make a quick trip over to Walmart. I ask my darlings, “What would you like for breakfast?” They tell me. I make it. They don’t eat it. Then we’re hurtling along the 403 at 110km/hr and they announce, “We’re hungry! We want snacks! What do you mean you can’t magically produce food in the truck??”
Others are not on the same page. As I’m running around the house like the proverbial chicken sans head trying to round up the above-mentioned items, the others in my home are likely to be doing something like: Husband: calmly shaving and showering; Six year old son: making a “really cool fort, Mom!” by pulling every cushion and pillow off every couch, propping them against each other and then yelling at me when the cushions don’t stay; Three year old daughter: dressed like a princess (despite me having spent fifteen minutes cajoling her into her beach clothes ten minutes previous), is also donning her bike helmet since she has caught a glimpse of her bike in the garage, while I was in and out packing the truck, and has decided she needs to go for a bike ride, “…RIGHT NOW, Mama!”
The Potty. What is it about the final “potty call” before heading out the door that some kids find so off-putting? My son was never like this. I’m certain, though, that my daughter could be busting at the seams, but if we’re heading out the door and I hopefully ask, “Sarah, do you have to go pee pee before we go?” she invariably says, “NO! I don’t have to go pee!” I’ve tried everything from imploring pitifully – “Please, Sarah, please go pee pee for Mama…” – to trying a tougher stance – “Sarah, the rule is everyone has to go pee pee before we leave the house. Mama went. Max went. You have to try. At least try!” It doesn’t matter. All tactics end in a huge crying fit and the inevitable outcome of being out on the highway, nowhere near a bathroom, and hearing, “Mama, I have to go pee.” And that’s the good outcome. The other is a puddle.
The illusive item no one can find. We’re going swimming, everyone’s finally ready to go, everything’s packed. On top of toys and snacks I’ve managed to remember sunscreen, towels, bathing suits, bug spray, sunglasses, cameras, everything! Except. I just bought the kids goggles recently so the chlorine won’t hurt their eyes. They were delighted; for two days they wore them everywhere. But now that we’re actually going to a pool the goggles are nowhere to be found. I’m raving like a madwoman and have everyone in the house (finally on the same page!) looking for them. While I'm hunting my internal dialogue goes something like this: No one in this house puts anything back where they’ve found it! Everyone just leaves everything lying everywhere. Nobody ever knows where anything is. Everyone expects ME to find everything! If it were up to ME I would have put them where we could find them the next time we were going swimming - with the water wings! Oh, hold on… I go to the cupboard with the water wings. Voilà. Goggles. And I almost forgot the water wings.
Remembering snacks. Every mom knows that ensuring you leave the house equipped with appropriate snacks can be the key to surviving an extended car trip. I have a cupboard full of granola bars, fruit bars, drink boxes and similar grab-and-go treats to aid in my quick getaway. But sometimes I just don’t think to bring them. Like the mornings when we’re not rushed and I just have to give them breakfast and make a quick trip over to Walmart. I ask my darlings, “What would you like for breakfast?” They tell me. I make it. They don’t eat it. Then we’re hurtling along the 403 at 110km/hr and they announce, “We’re hungry! We want snacks! What do you mean you can’t magically produce food in the truck??”
Others are not on the same page. As I’m running around the house like the proverbial chicken sans head trying to round up the above-mentioned items, the others in my home are likely to be doing something like: Husband: calmly shaving and showering; Six year old son: making a “really cool fort, Mom!” by pulling every cushion and pillow off every couch, propping them against each other and then yelling at me when the cushions don’t stay; Three year old daughter: dressed like a princess (despite me having spent fifteen minutes cajoling her into her beach clothes ten minutes previous), is also donning her bike helmet since she has caught a glimpse of her bike in the garage, while I was in and out packing the truck, and has decided she needs to go for a bike ride, “…RIGHT NOW, Mama!”
The Potty. What is it about the final “potty call” before heading out the door that some kids find so off-putting? My son was never like this. I’m certain, though, that my daughter could be busting at the seams, but if we’re heading out the door and I hopefully ask, “Sarah, do you have to go pee pee before we go?” she invariably says, “NO! I don’t have to go pee!” I’ve tried everything from imploring pitifully – “Please, Sarah, please go pee pee for Mama…” – to trying a tougher stance – “Sarah, the rule is everyone has to go pee pee before we leave the house. Mama went. Max went. You have to try. At least try!” It doesn’t matter. All tactics end in a huge crying fit and the inevitable outcome of being out on the highway, nowhere near a bathroom, and hearing, “Mama, I have to go pee.” And that’s the good outcome. The other is a puddle.
The illusive item no one can find. We’re going swimming, everyone’s finally ready to go, everything’s packed. On top of toys and snacks I’ve managed to remember sunscreen, towels, bathing suits, bug spray, sunglasses, cameras, everything! Except. I just bought the kids goggles recently so the chlorine won’t hurt their eyes. They were delighted; for two days they wore them everywhere. But now that we’re actually going to a pool the goggles are nowhere to be found. I’m raving like a madwoman and have everyone in the house (finally on the same page!) looking for them. While I'm hunting my internal dialogue goes something like this: No one in this house puts anything back where they’ve found it! Everyone just leaves everything lying everywhere. Nobody ever knows where anything is. Everyone expects ME to find everything! If it were up to ME I would have put them where we could find them the next time we were going swimming - with the water wings! Oh, hold on… I go to the cupboard with the water wings. Voilà. Goggles. And I almost forgot the water wings.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
5 reasons I hate shopping with my kids
Getting there. Do you have kids who are automatically lulled to sleep by the motions of a moving vehicle? Wait, no. Don’t tell me. If the answer’s yes I’ll have to hate you. My son, Max, would sleep peacefully in the truck until he was four months old. That was in 2002. Going anywhere has been a screaming nightmare ever since. We were hoping our second child, Sarah, would be the opposite. We’d paid our dues with the first one, right? Ha, ha! I laugh cynically at our naïve optimism! On the bright side, I’m now completely adept at driving while doing things like a) passing back snacks, b) retrieving sippy cups and c) refereeing arguments. All while listening to Elmo’s rendition of John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt for the 327th time.
Comments on fellow shoppers. Once at the mall, my kids never fail to notice the people around them and produce distinguishing commentary. Like when Sarah indicates the scary looking bald man and proclaims, “Mommy, that man have no hair!” Or when Max, pointing, wide-eyed and perfectly genuine asks, “Mom, is that person a man or a lady?”
The food court. We just sit down with a tray full of food when Max announces, “Mom, I have to go pee.” Option 1: Send Max into restroom on his own where possible child molester awaits. Um, no. Option 2: Take Sarah and Max and go into restroom, leaving untouched food on table to be either thrown away by food court employee believing it to be abandoned or poisoned by evil mall dweller. Also not appealing. Option 3: Continue mulling over options and Max pees his pants. Hm. Option 2 it is!
The change room. First, I have to find one that fits a stroller, an adult and two kids. Not so common in the smaller boutique stores, but almost always available at Old Navy. Hence my wardrobe. I go in the wheelchair change room to start trying something on when Max says something really loud (Everything he says is really loud. There is no other volume. There is either really loud or sleeping) and embarrassing. The other day he said, “Look Mom, this balloon is long just like your boobies!” Ah. They do say the benefits of breastfeeding last a lifetime.
The disappearing act. Picture this: I’m at the food court Tim Hortons getting my bagels, juice and coffee. I’m juggling the stroller, my purse, wallet and Sarah, who’s decided she doesn’t want to sit in the stroller anymore. I’m trying to push my tray along (difficult with the aforementioned juggling act) and then pay. Max is earnestly explaining to me why he prefers Batman to Sponge Bob. (“Batman is a hero guy, Mom. Sponge Bob is a silly guy. I like hero guys.”) I take my eye off him for a second to give the lady my money and when I turn around… he’s gone. “Max?” I frantically look around for him while trying to gather my things so the long line of people, now all staring at me, can progress with their orders. He was just here. Where could he have gone in two seconds? No longer caring about people staring, I’m yelling “Max! Max!” My voice is on the edge of panic. Finally, a group of older ladies, seeing my distress, point out that he’s seated at a table – behind a pole. “I found us a seat, Mom!”
I remember when the mall was relaxing. Sigh. So much for retail therapy.
Comments on fellow shoppers. Once at the mall, my kids never fail to notice the people around them and produce distinguishing commentary. Like when Sarah indicates the scary looking bald man and proclaims, “Mommy, that man have no hair!” Or when Max, pointing, wide-eyed and perfectly genuine asks, “Mom, is that person a man or a lady?”
The food court. We just sit down with a tray full of food when Max announces, “Mom, I have to go pee.” Option 1: Send Max into restroom on his own where possible child molester awaits. Um, no. Option 2: Take Sarah and Max and go into restroom, leaving untouched food on table to be either thrown away by food court employee believing it to be abandoned or poisoned by evil mall dweller. Also not appealing. Option 3: Continue mulling over options and Max pees his pants. Hm. Option 2 it is!
The change room. First, I have to find one that fits a stroller, an adult and two kids. Not so common in the smaller boutique stores, but almost always available at Old Navy. Hence my wardrobe. I go in the wheelchair change room to start trying something on when Max says something really loud (Everything he says is really loud. There is no other volume. There is either really loud or sleeping) and embarrassing. The other day he said, “Look Mom, this balloon is long just like your boobies!” Ah. They do say the benefits of breastfeeding last a lifetime.
The disappearing act. Picture this: I’m at the food court Tim Hortons getting my bagels, juice and coffee. I’m juggling the stroller, my purse, wallet and Sarah, who’s decided she doesn’t want to sit in the stroller anymore. I’m trying to push my tray along (difficult with the aforementioned juggling act) and then pay. Max is earnestly explaining to me why he prefers Batman to Sponge Bob. (“Batman is a hero guy, Mom. Sponge Bob is a silly guy. I like hero guys.”) I take my eye off him for a second to give the lady my money and when I turn around… he’s gone. “Max?” I frantically look around for him while trying to gather my things so the long line of people, now all staring at me, can progress with their orders. He was just here. Where could he have gone in two seconds? No longer caring about people staring, I’m yelling “Max! Max!” My voice is on the edge of panic. Finally, a group of older ladies, seeing my distress, point out that he’s seated at a table – behind a pole. “I found us a seat, Mom!”
I remember when the mall was relaxing. Sigh. So much for retail therapy.
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