The only thing I have in common with Stevie Nicks at this stage of my life, beyond an artistic appreciation for scarved tambourines, is the gradual facial Landslide we’ve both been on since Rumours came out in ‘77. But having procrastinated over finding a costume to wear to a Halloween party last Saturday night, I did a last minute rifling through our closet, past the Earth Wind and Fire selection of tie-dyed apparel (Andrew’s side … natch), and found this feathered hat, bell-sleeved top and black velvet cape that confirmed the fact that our closet really should belong to the wardrobe mistress of a glam-rock reunion tour. Read more
No Rain, No Gain
Every August Toronto plays host to the CNE, the Canadian National Exhibition, and ever since my kids could form sentences, they’ve h-o-u-n-d-e-d me to go. Oddly enough, just as the gates open on the EX each year I always manage to contract a little known form of Malaria often associated with parental distain for midway lineups, the ever-convenient Malarkia. Oh it’s nothing serious really, just Read more
Winnie The Poo (and poo and …)
Since I’m about to be as shameless as a new mother on Facebook, let’s just get right to it.
This … is Winnie:
Now if you’re unable to “aww!” at that little face, you may be suffering from an MCI, or Mild Cuddle-Impairment. If so, please stop reading and go directly to the nearest hug.
I lost my mind three weeks ago and agreed to let the kids adopt a pet rabbit. Oh, I’ve ridden the “I’ve got allergies” bandwagon for years, a genuine condition that thankfully spared me not only the hassle of dog/cat maintenance but also the inevitable arguments around it. Why fight over rank litter boxes and overdue walkies when there are already filthy bedrooms and cheeky attitudes to conquer? Read more
Slippery Slope
In our family, the last day of school not only marks the beginning of that parental oxymoron, summer holidays, but it’s also the eve of our annual road trip to the magnificent, cascading waters of Niagara Falls. Of course, I’d be referring to the six-story indoor waterpark at the Skyline hotel.
What was originally a one-off end of school celebration in 2008 has since become a seasonal tradition for my kids. Yet from their perspective, the splendor of Canada’s Horseshoe Falls is but a soggy second compared to Fallsview’s manmade rapids shooting down winding fiberglass slides with such fitting names as Kamikaze, Sky Screamer and Canyon Drop. Read more
iMessage Loud and Clear
I’ll admit it; I caved. My eleven-year old son Bodie has been angling for an iPhone for the better part of two years. He repeatedly recites the list of friends who, by the age of nine, had been given cell phones of their own, then caps off his performance with a soulful rendition of that tearful ballad “I’m The ONLY One Who Doesn’t Have One”. While I don’t want to hold my son back, I never enrolled him in the Junior Executive Program, so I didn’t see the point in giving him a phone back then.
But last month he started walking to and from school on his own, exposing a little known philosophy I held deep within me: Offspring cannot be out of eyeshot, even for the twelve-minute walk to school, without access to parental supervision. Ok, I’ll OWN it! I feel better knowing I can reach him, or moreover, he can reach me, if needs be. After all, it’s not the same world we grew up in (yup, I just officially became my mother.) Read more
Dearly Beta-loved …
I’m always amazed at what people keep in their freezers. From hemorrhoid cream to stool samples to placentas, the list is disgustingly endless. I’ll admit, even my own freezer is a subzero burial ground for both my kids’ deceased pet fish, Kevin and Cookie.
I stumbled upon their bug-eyed remains recently while digging through our chest freezer for fish sticks (ironically enough.) Andrew calls our cavernous arctic box ‘the way station’, the isle of culinary misfits where leftovers go to die. Now, since the betas have passed, it also doubles as a morgue. Read more