Nasty, Brute-ish & Short

2012-02-15T06:32:00.000-08:00

Do you think this is one of those deep insight things where you have to be stoned or otherwise mentally-altered to truly understand it's profound and life-changing meaning?

Ya, I'm leaning towards thinking it's total bullshit too. Fucking hippies.

2012-02-13T06:16:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up grumpy as hell.

My alarm clock had the audacity to go off on time, my head hurt, my hair hurt (?!), my skin felt dry and scraped, I found a nice new zit (I'm 33! When the hell will indignity this stop!?). You're getting the picture I'm sure.

Thankfully on my walk to work I discovered quite possibly the best cure for one of these days: pet a Basset Hound. Also be sure to tell him very seriously that he's terribly handsome.

If you cannot find a local Basset Hound to love-on, there's plenty of pictures here that may help. A Basset with nerd glasses? Yes please.

2012-02-10T06:28:00.000-08:00

Some Friday linkies for your clicking pleasure:

Kate Christensen's blog kills me with it's amazingness. I want to eat and do everything that she describes. Via Orangette.
My brother sent me the link to this article. The first line won me over completely: "Without wishing to overstate my case, everything in the observable universe definitely has its origins in Northamptonshire, and the adoption of the V for Vendetta mask as a multipurpose icon by the emerging global protest movements is no exception."
These so-sweet casual family pics are inspiring me to hit someone up to take some of us. I'm also making it a delayed resolution to stop acting like a total goober anytime someone does try to take a picture of me.
As criminal and tragic as this sounds, I'm going to make a vegan-paleo version of this apple crisp on Saturday for a friend's (challenging? ill-conceived? misguided?) concept potluck dinner party. Do you think it would make me a terrible person if I brought a small shaker of homemade bacon bits to surreptitiously add to my own portion?

2012-02-07T05:44:00.000-08:00

Reflections on a forth (and final) week without processed food, booze, dairy or sugar:

The only time I really, really missed booze was when we had people over for dinner on Sunday. There's nothing like a nice glass of red wine to take the edge off of the worry that you might accidentally kill a friend with your cooking. Happily, no one died.
It was amusing to see the look on people's faces when they ask about your "cleanse" (we were stumped for what else to call it when people asked) and you tell them that you're mostly just eating meat and veggies. People seemed very confused about the meat part. Poor meat, still getting a bad rap.
I think me and sugar might really have broken up for good. I'm not opposed to using a bit now and again (and I certainly won't be one of those parents preaching the evils of sugar like it's a deadly sin) but it's really started to creep me out how it's added to everything. I'd like sugar to stay where it's wanted. You know, places like fudge instead of salad dressing.
Last night we ended our 30 days with beer and wings. The beer tasted as amazing as anticipated but I cut myself off after just one pint because I could really feel it. Apparently "Sub-Operation Cheap Date" is a rousing success.
I would definitely recommend this sort of thing to anyone who's looking for re-set their taste buds/metabolism and do some mindful eating. It gave me a ton of insight into my own food-related habits and triggers. A big thing for me to realize was that I often use food rewards for myself (e.g., I went for a run so I deserve some almond M&Ms as a treat). While that's not always a terrible thing (e.g., if/when you ever hike the West Coast Trail, plan to make your first post-trail meal a burger, yam fries and beer, it'll help keep you motivated through all the ladders, mud and outhouses), I do want to try to use it less to justify unnecessary mindless consumption.

2012-01-31T09:24:00.000-08:00

Lately, the kid has been all about the bedtime sing-a-long.

And I've been forced to realize that I know the lyrics to far too few songs.

We spent some serious time on the classics: the Alphabet Song, Old McDonald (according to my child, Cookie Monster lives on the farm), Twinkle Twinkle, Happy Birthday, Baa Baa Black Sheep and Itsy Bitsy Spider. And then I ran out of ideas.

My brain can seriously not recall the lyrics to any other kid's songs at will.

So I started singing the only other two songs that I can apparently remember in their entirety: "So Happy Together" (Who the fuck are The Turtles?! How do I even know this song?) and "Blister in the Sun" (Yup, a song about masturbation. She's taken to calling it the "Check Out Song". I win at parenting.)

2012-01-30T05:55:00.000-08:00

Reflections on a third week without processed food, booze, dairy or sugar:

Wow, only one week left? That went pretty quick.
HOLY CRAP - I haven't had a single drink in 21 days!!!??? My liver must be so bored.
I made sugar-free pumpkin muffins and actually enjoyed eating them. I cut the honey from this recipe and added some raisins - I said "sugar-free", not "devoid-of-sweetness".
Sugar-free coconut tapioca on the other hand: meh. Tastes like nothing and has the consistency of chunky mucus. Good thing buying the pearls gave me a giggle (see pic).
Yes, apparently no sugar or booze for 3 weeks turns me into an 8 year-old. Let's hope my liver has received the same rejuvenating treatment as my brain. Next week is tequila shots and Cinnabon!! I'm kidding. Mostly.

2012-01-24T10:48:00.000-08:00

Two unrelated but equally brilliant things to read:

"Epidemics seldom end with miracle cures. Most of the time in the history of medicine, the best way to end disease was to build a better sewer and get people to wash their hands. “Merely chipping away at the problem around the edges” is usually the very best thing to do with a problem; keep chipping away patiently and, eventually, you get to its heart. To read the literature on crime before it dropped is to see the same kind of dystopian despair we find in the new literature of punishment: we’d have to end poverty, or eradicate the ghettos, or declare war on the broken family, or the like, in order to end the crime wave. The truth is, a series of small actions and events ended up eliminating a problem that seemed to hang over everything. There was no miracle cure, just the intercession of a thousand smaller sanities." ~ Adam Gopnik for the New Yorker

"Lo, in the twilight days of the second year of the second decade of the third millennium did a great darkness descend over the wireless internet connectivity of the people of 276 Ferndale Street in the North-Central lands of Iowa. For many years, the gentlefolk of these lands basked in a wireless network overflowing with speed and ample internet, flowing like a river into their Compaq Presario. Many happy days did the people spend checking Hotmail and reading USAToday.com.

But then one gray morning did Internet Explorer 6 no longer load The Google. Refresh was clicked, again and again, but still did Internet Explorer 6 not load The Google. Perhaps The Google was broken, the people thought, but then The Yahoo too did not load. Nor did Hotmail. Nor USAToday.com. The land was thrown into panic. Internet Explorer 6 was minimized then maximized. The Compaq Presario was unplugged then plugged back in. The old mouse was brought out and plugged in beside the new mouse. Still, The Google did not load." ~ Mike Lacher for McSweeney's

2012-01-23T07:17:00.000-08:00

Reflections on a second week without processed food, booze, dairy or sugar:

30 days is a hell of a long time. Stupidly long really.
Pork rinds (unflavoured, lightly salted, I admit that we're stretching the definition of "unprocessed" a tad here) are either the best or the worst snack food on the planet. I'm pretty sure it's completely impossible to eat more than 5 in a single sitting. I'm thinking that marketing them as "the anti-Lays" could be a genius maneuver. Or perhaps I shouldn't quit my day job to pursue a career as an ad exec quite yet.
Standing in the middle of a gas station snack bar and realizing that there isn't a single thing they sell that you can eat is a far more disturbing/depressing experience than you might think it would be. They didn't have any pork rinds.
I'm a little bummed-out that my sugar withdrawal wasn't as bad as I thought it might be. I'm also not missing booze as much as I thought I would. I miss cheese/cream/butter/yogurt more than I would have guessed since I really don't eat that much. I think I miss processed meat like salami and pepperoni more than anything. Which is just creepy really.

2012-01-19T06:51:00.000-08:00

Do anyone really know anything about how to create and maintain a strong marriage?

Recently several bloggers I've been reading for years have announced their separations. I won't claim to have any personal relationship or connection with these people other than reading their blogs. I'm also not one who thinks that because you write about some aspects of your life means that you're not being honest or authentic if you don't blog about every aspect of your life. Even people who share their lives publicly have rights to privacy.

But still, I was shocked. In each case.

I am the child of divorced parents. Sure my parents didn't separate/divorce until I was in my late teens, but I was my mother's confidante far too young to have any illusions about the stability of their marriage for the many years leading up to it's inevitable demise. So I guess I figured that I was a bit of an expert on what bad, failing marriages look like: the extremely limited communication; the years of uncorrected miscommunication; the lack of honesty - at times straight-up dishonesty; the constant inappropriate disparaging comments made to children about the other parent; the utter absence of affection; the hostile silences shared far more often than laughter; the walls of emotional distance erected and wielded as weapons of offense and defence, etc.

Basically, my parents did their best to avoid confronting and addressing their issues for the entire 18 years they were married. So I think I'd just assumed that people who made concerted efforts to identify and fix the weaknesses in their relationship were the ones that succeeded in having a solid, healthy marriage. That the secret to marital stability was to embrace the opposite path to the one that my parents took. To ask the serious questions. To truly listen to the answers. To seek professional assistance if/when necessary. In essence, to act like the emotionally-mature adult examples we want to set for our kids.

But perhaps there really are no "As" for effort. And that is really, really scary to me.

Edited to add: I'd read this piece before and was remind of it recently. Though I'm thankfully not having any marital issues (that I know of), it does give you something to think about in terms of what may often really be behind a divorce.

2012-01-18T10:13:00.001-08:00

2012-01-18T06:44:00.000-08:00

If you're pregnant or have ever been pregnant, this is your (safe for work) porn. You're welcome.

via Marvelous Kiddo

2012-01-16T08:42:00.000-08:00

Reflections on a week without processed food, booze, dairy or sugar:

Herbal tea sucks. People who claim to truly enjoy it are either dangerously insane or extremely adept at deluding themselves.
It is possible to have dirty dreams about fudge that do not involve sex in any way.
Pancakes without syrup are a waste of good ingredients. They will make you grumpier than you were before you tried to convince yourself that they'd still taste good.
Avoiding booze and sugar makes me very productive apparently. After I've finished off the long list of household chores I've been studiously cultivating for the last 5 years of home-ownership via disciplined avoidance and procrastination, I'm going to have to learn to knit or write a novel or something because any time I'm not busy I instantly want a stiff drink and a giant-fuck bowl of fudge-covered popcorn. What I would do with that popcorn is definitely X rated.

2012-01-11T06:06:00.000-08:00

Nuts are ok on this cleanse but I think I'll stick to almonds.

2012-01-10T10:27:00.001-08:00

While I love camping and strongly identify with the rationale, this soup version of the Occupy movement is much more up my alley than living downtown in a tent city.

This song would be a good start to a soundtrack for protest soup-making. And a couple of these on the walls would also be inspirational. Beef soup anyone?

Sometimes even the little, simple things can matter.

via A Slim Winter

2012-01-05T12:01:00.000-08:00

We start this next week.

Plus, no caffeine. Because I'm sick like that.

It's going to hurt. In a good way I hope.

I also hope that I have enough self-control to not rip the strawberry Greek Yogurt cup out of my child's hands in a moment of dairy-and-sugar-driven weakness.

We'll definitely be avoiding all known Starbucks (and LCBO) locations like the plague. I hear that being aware of your triggers is a key step for recovering addicts of all types.

Man, that first glass of wine going to taste a-fucking-mazing after 30 days.

2012-01-03T06:20:00.000-08:00

I found the inspiration for my New Years resolution in the words and wisdom of others:

"Baby boy. You know when you're mad or sad or frustrated? When you rip things up or yell at somebody or slam a door or cry? Are you listening to me, Evan? Listen. Look at me. When you feel that way, there's a ball of red energy right there in your chest, under your skin, inside your ribs, on top of your lungs and all stuck up in your throat. It's red, a bad red. It grows and grows and makes you sick and sad. You need to learn how to let all that red go, love. Want to know how? You breathe it out. Breathe it out and see it all start to seep out of your mouth and your nose and your ears and your toes, and it goes up like a cloud and the breeze takes it away. You can see it, if you look the right way. And then here's what you do next. You think, as quick as you can, about the best things. Lego and hockey and macaroni and cheese with hot biscuits and Santa Claus and the skate park quick like 1-2-3-4-5. And then you'll feel something different filling up all that new space. A ball of blue energy. Blueish-green...

Evan interrupted. Turquoise?

Yes. That's the energy ball that cools you down and makes you calm, and it helps things to grow healthy and good. You can make that blue energy ball whenever you like, Evan, as long as you know the trick to it. There are lots of people who don't know the trick to it and they walk around all day long with their red energy ball getting bigger and bigger and then it'll be in there so deep it'll never get out and they won't ever be able to feel that nice cool blue, not ever. They'll just sadder and sadder and sadder until they forget what it feels like to be turquoise on the inside." ~ Sweet Salty

"begin now.
take a deep breath, see who is sitting here today- and ask what it is that you can offer her, what you can do to give her what she needs. what you can do to fully love her.

and then, i want you to start clearing away the negative energy you store within. while driving in traffic, let go of impatience, let go of frustration. while being inconvenienced, stop. relax. breathe. and let it go, what really is the rush? look into the eyes of those that serve you, at restaurants, at the store – and thank them. when someone pays you a compliment, don’t brush it off – embrace it and say ‘thank you’

when thinking of those that have hurt you- light a candle and send them light, surround them, wrap them up in beautiful healing light, and then let them go, they have their own hurts- and you have no room left in your beautiful body for negative energy." ~ Starving Artist Ink

2011-12-21T11:56:00.000-08:00

It turns out that "night terrors" has two different meanings for toddlers. Or at least my toddler.

Normally, I'm calling her a little "night terror" when she's fighting going to sleep as though bedtime is a techinque I'm using to torture state secrets out of her.

Last night though the poor kid was up, about two hours after going to sleep, screaming inconsolably. At first I thought it might be the cold she's been fighting but I don't think it was. She's had an episode like this before: hysterical scream-crying, can't seem to wake up, doesn't seem to recognize us or be comforted, takes a long time to calm down, etc.

I remembered my brothers both going through similar things as kids. My one brother in particular used to have these terrible awful waking-dreams where he'd be sleepwalking, crying hysterically, eyes wide open, talking about people trying to hurt or even kill him.

As a parent you feel so horribly powerless and sad for them. Apparently there's nothing much you can do except turn some lights on, offer comfort and wait for it to pass. According to good old Dr. Sears, only about 2% of kids have these "night terrors". Thankfully it seems that most kids grow out of them by age 12, if not earlier. I'm hoping for earlier.

Sometimes you want your kid to be unique. Other times not so much.

The developing brain is an amazing and scary thing.

2011-12-15T12:10:00.000-08:00

I've got a case of the randoms:

I want to eat things with chopsticks. Nothing specific. Just things. Soy sauce would be good too.
I want this poster, in pink (via here). It makes me sad that shipping costs more than the item.
I would like this guy to do this to my bedroom wall.
I would like to have a potluck dinner party where everyone prepares and brings something from this menu.
I would also like to host an outdoor winter picnic like this one. Of course, it would be better with snow rather than all the rain we've been getting. But you never heard me say that.
I wish these books would stop tempting me with their total awesomeness. Really, they are almost depressingly awesome (see poster). Damn you Ron Hawkins. Damn you husband for pointing them out.
I'm dying to spray paint a bunch of things gold. I keep thinking of things. It's becoming a bit obsessive.
I need to listen to her songs at least once a day. Freakishly addictive. I will be buying her album.
I'm saddened and horrified at the quality of music available for children. Especially on DVD. The vast majority of it is crap quality, utterly twee and completely condescending. Basically, I'm really hoping that Flight of the Concords get back together and put out a kid's music DVD. Is that too much to ask? I'd rather my kid sing along to Sugar Lumps than anything The Wiggles have puked up. Surely hipster parents would be a profitable demographic. I can't be alone in this. (edited to add: this is a great link for kid's music, though sadly few DVDs)

2011-12-14T06:26:00.000-08:00

2011-12-13T12:44:00.000-08:00

"In my opinion this whole world's going to shit, and shit rolls downhill, so I might as well just jump in, hold my breath, and pray to God that there's a nice big soft puddle of diarrhea for me to land in once everything hits the fan." ~ Kevin Campbell, tattoo artist (via Vice)

That's eloquence. I think I want this guy to tattoo me sometime. Just not on my forehead.

2011-12-12T10:27:00.000-08:00

If you have 17 minutes (and you should make time), this video is the best thing you will ever hear/watch/read/be told about how humans should eat.

And not just because she's a doctor who essentially cured herself of multiple sclerosis by changing her diet. That's just the bonus part.

2011-12-09T07:15:00.000-08:00

Since the kid turned 2 a couple of months ago I've noticed a steady increase in the degree of friendly interest regarding our plans for the next occupant of my uterus.

Mostly I find it flattering since the nature of the interest would seem to indicate that people must not think we've screwed the first one up too badly. So far.

But I don't have a really good answer to the questions. Well, other than: not yet.

I was reading the archives of this beautiful blog the other day and came across a post where she talks about second children being more of an actual decision than first. Her description really struck a cord with me. First children, even the most planned-for and desired are to some extent always an accident. A leap of faith. You can never really appreciate what it's like to be someone's parent until you suddenly are.

With the second child, you're making much more of an informed choice. Even if you don't necessarily "plan" to get pregnant again, there's no doubt that you know where babies come from and how easy (or hard) it is to make them. You now truly understand what pregnancy, childbirth and parenthood entail. You've survived the trial-by-fire hazing rituals of initiation. The sleep-deprived baptism in the various bodily fluids of another person. You're no longer bubble-wrapped in blissful ignorance. You're officially a member of the club. Welcome, here's a stiff cocktail.

Sure to some extent human evolution has ensured the survival of the species by repressing or dulling our memories of the less savory moments of infanthood. Adorable photos of drooly, fat-cheeked smiles showcasing those first little teeth do wonders to belie the seemingly-endless days and nights of mutual suffering that marked their emergence. Rather than dwell on the utter hideousness of first trimester hormones, the cringing pain of nursing with beaver-chewed nipples and those days where all either you or babe wanted to do was cry - we're inclined to find it easier to remember the sweet addictive smell of the tops of their heads, the softness of their perfect skin, the ovulation-triggering sight of naked chubby thigh rolls and elastic band-dented joints.

But, with child-the-second, you also need to factor in your own sibling experiences. Of shared jokes, games and secrets. Of pitched battles, merciless teasing and button-pushing. Of the security of knowing that there's always someone you can turn to for confirmation that your parents are indeed nuts. Or of feelings of deprivation thereof. Or of wishes that perhaps your childhood had been less crowded with competition for parental attention and other resources.

Other issues would seem to be relevant too. Should the first child be: weaned? potty-trained? in school? driving? Is it easier to get all the "baby stuff" over with sooner rather than later? Is there an ideal spacing which ensures that siblings will tend to be friends rather than foes? How will this being your second go-round effect the way you'll handle issues like infertility, miscarriage and abnormal ultrasounds? How well will your marriage withstand the inevitable impact of another baby-bomb? Have you had sufficient time to reclaim your body and it's various child-growing parts? More importantly: will we need to get a fucking minivan?

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

2011-12-08T11:18:00.000-08:00

I've seen a few great lists of Christmas/winter activities lately so I've been working on compiling one of my own.

I think it would be fun to eventually come up with 24 so you could do an activity advent calender. Much more fun than the crappy chocolate ones I think. Which likely means that my kids will be begging me for cardboard calendars in the future.

So far I've got:

Go to Parliament Hill to see the lights. Perhaps also partake of a beaver tail and hot chocolate (it's hard work staring at twinkly lights)
Acknowledge Sinterklaas on December 5th (Dutch. Do checkout info on his sidekick the awesomely un-PC "Black Peter")
Make this eggnog (maybe with less rum for the kid. Toddlers never appreciate the expensive stuff anyway)
Bake speculaas (very Dutch)
Bake lebkuchen (I'm mostly Scottish but all my Christmas traditions are German, long story)
Watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" (the original. Obviously.)
Watch "Elf" (I might be the only person who considers this a classic. From 2003.)
Go to ByWard Market for the Christmas Market (try not to whine too much about the lack of glühwein)
Make mulled wine and/or hot cider (stop whining about inability to drink it while shopping in public)
Get and decorate a tree
Make ornaments with the kid for her to give as Christmas presents (look forward to watching mixed emotions on the faces of family members: "That's so sweet!", "Do I really have to keep this and put it on my tree?")
Read "The Night Before Christmas" (be all badass and do this before Christmas Eve)
Listen to Christmas music (resist buying the soundtrack to "A Chipmunk Christmas". There will be regrets.)
Make toddler-appropriate Christmas decorations (Imma gonna get all crafty with paper chains and snowflakes. Note: need to purchase toddler-proof scissors.)
Go sledding (weather permitting/cooperating)
Go snowshoeing (ditto above)
Go skating (yup, ditto)

Anyone have other good ideas?

2011-12-08T10:38:00.001-08:00

I was introduced to this site the other day (via Pancakes and French Fries) and it made my tiny heart very, very, very happy: Smart Bitches, Trashy Books.

I want to share the joy.

You're welcome.

2011-12-06T10:42:00.000-08:00

Although I love the hippy mother-earth-patcholi-homebirthschooling stuff too, wise and witty people like these are the real reason why I will never waste good money for crappy parenting books:

MetroDad
Whoopee
Mimi Smartypants
Looky Daddy(who sadly stopped posting but thankfully kept the site up so I can re-read the brilliance when I have need of it)

2011-12-05T09:15:00.000-08:00

I'd forgotten how much I hate to do things that I'm bad at.

I'm sure I'm not alone in this. Does anyone enjoy being crappy at something?

I know it's ok to be bad at things. Success requires a willingness to potentially not be successful. It's character-building to try and fail and try again. Get back on that horse if at first you don't succeed.

But really I just mean that it's ok for other people to suck. I won't judge you. I'll call you brave. I'll wholeheartedly cheer for you, from my safe inconspicuous corner where I'm studiously avoiding exposing myself to a need to possess any quantity of optimistic determination.

I don't think it's a lack of courage though I am a big chicken in many ways. Mainly I just get so frustrated being confronted by a display of my own limitations that it undermines my drive to continue to strive towards success. Especially the physical limitations. Self-directed frustration resulting in overwhelming urge to punch myself in the face over my own spasticity. An effort that would likely be thwarted by the aforementioned poorly-coordinated patheticness. Especially if I was trying to do something as complex as breathing while punching myself.

How the hell did I ever learn to walk?

I get that it takes time and practice to improve. And that not trying is really just another way to fail. These are my mantras.

And hopefully, eventually, with some effort, I'll be able to avoid getting distracted by my self-encouragement inner ticker tape monologue long enough to remember which limb I'm supposed to be moving next.

2011-12-02T09:18:00.000-08:00

"When your parents believe in you and when you believe in yourself and you believe in your neighborhood and you believe you can do things, that’s giving you the kind of self-esteem and self-confidence and self-reliance that we’ve noticed are missing from our kids and we try to give back to them artificial ways through gold stars and trophies for showing up and good jobs for when they draw a scribble on a piece of paper." ~ interview with Lenore Skenazy at My Little Nomads (a great site worth checking out)

I cringe every time I hear myself say "good job". Actually, we've said it enough already that the kid now "good jobs" herself.

She's only two and I'm officially redundant. Well, except that she hasn't mastered the potty yet. Or grocery shopping.

But seriously, where did that expression even come from? What the hell did our parents say to praise us? Did they even bother?

2011-11-29T12:50:00.000-08:00

Like any single child-rearing approach or philosophy, there's some aspects of Montessori that I don't really agree with. However, reading through these articles, I liked seeing many of the things I feel are important for kids reflected.

For example, these "General Environment Principles":

"Here are some things to keep in mind when organizing a child's environment.

(1) Participation in Family Life: Even from the very first days invite the child into the life of the family. In each room—the bedroom, kitchen, dining room, living room, front hall, and so forth have a mobile for the infant, or a basket or shelves for the young child, to store the few carefully chosen belongings, and a special mat or rug for him to "work" on developing abilities.

(2) Independence: The child's message to us at any age is "Help me to do it myself." Supporting this need shows respect for and faith in the child. Think carefully about family activities in all areas of the home, and arrange each space to support independence. A twin mattress for the child's bed; clothing cubby, coat tree, or low clothing rod or hook wherever the child dresses or undresses (front hall, bathroom, bedroom, etc.); a stool or bench for removing shoes and boots; inviting shelves for books, dishes, toys.

(3) Belongings: This brings up a very important point. It is too much for anyone to care for or enjoy belongings when there are too many out at one time. In preparing the home environment for a child, have a place to keep clothing, toys, and books that are not being used. Rotate these when you see the child tiring of what is out on the shelf, in the book display, or toy basket. Have just a few pieces of clothing available to the child to choose what to wear each day, just a few toys that are enjoyed, and only a few favorite or new books to look at.

(4) Putting Away & The Sense of Order: "Discipline" comes from the same word as "disciple" and our children become disciplined only by imitating us; just as we teach manners such as saying "thank you" by modeling this for our children instead of reminding, we can teach them to put away their books and toys only by gracefully and cheerfully doing it over and over in their presence."

This reflects some of my personal philosophy of parenting pretty well. Plus, I've also found that my kid seems to be more content and less likely to act like a tiny toddler turd when I try to incorporate this kinda stuff.

There's nothing better than some hands-on evidence to support your beliefs.

2011-11-24T10:32:00.000-08:00

Ok. I may be a little hardcore.

I tried running in my old sneakers (expensive hightech fancy ones that were a birthday gift 2 years ago) the other day and HATED it. I will never go back.

So, now my winter running options seem to be either to try to stick it out with the FiveFingers by adding toe socks or trying to find another minimalist shoe I can wear with my normal wool socks.

It's a tough call. Minimalist running shoes are not as cheap as you'd like to hope given that you're literally getting less shoe for your money. And that makes me grumpy. But I'm just not convinced that toe socks alone are going to cut it at -20C.

Right now I'm considering these but they're still not cheap and something about buying fancy aqua socks just seems wrong.

2011-11-22T10:04:00.000-08:00

My brain is once again loving the lists it seems.

Some things that have made me happy lately:

Watching the trailer for The Hunger Games. Goosebumps. This series had better not pull a "Twilight" on me.
Having a friend stop by for a spontaneous Sunday visit just after I'd cleaned the house and baked cookies. Yes, I have officially earned my Martha Stewart patch.
Going for a run and really enjoying the path culture that has people smiling and nodding to each other when they pass.
Inventing and playing: "Movember, Hipster or Pervert?"
Kale sauteed in bacon fat. So incredibly delicious.
Witnessing a spontaneous Skype-based cooking class (see pic).
Watching a three-legged dog chase a squirrel. That had to have been the happiest dog I have ever seen.
Booking a grandparent for child-wrangling so I can have a date with my husband.
Discovering that I have fun learning how to properly kick someone in the groin and stomp on their head.

Anyone else want to chime in?

2011-11-18T08:20:00.000-08:00

Answers to some recent daily FAQs:

Yes, I'm still biking to and from work. Every day.
Yes, it's getting cold.
No, I'm not brave or hardcore. Just lazy.
It's only a ten minute ride each way. No, it doesn't really give me time to warm up.
I'll stop biking when it starts snowing.

2011-11-17T05:19:00.000-08:00

How much lying should you do in order to be a good parent?

To be clear, I'm talking about the "good" lies: Santa Claus, the Toothfairy, the Easter Bunny, the Great Pumpkin, a benevolent God. Well, maybe not that last one.

This year will be the kid's third Christmas but the first one where she's likely to "get" what's going on. Which means that if I'm going to start the Claus-washing, I'm going to have to start soon.

I know I'm over-thinking this issue (unlike say, everything else about parenting...) but for some reason I'm having difficulty making the decision to just go for it. And it's not because I didn't grow up loving all of the imaginary holiday mascots. Mainly I just don't know if I can keep my adult skepticism and cynicism out of it enough to decently fake it through all of the pre-Christmas hype and mythology-building.

And don't get me wrong. I'm not a total Scrooge. I'm looking forward to picking out stocking stuffers, baking cookies, putting up twinkly lights, snuggling up on the couch to watch "Elf" and the "Grinch Who Stole Christmas", seeing her face when she opens a couple of gifts I know she'll love, etc.

But is it possible to just do a half-assed version of the Santa thing and not deprive your children of a fundamental component of a good North American childhood?

For example, I don't think I'd ever really be comfortable with casting Santa as an almighty, all-seeing, areligious behavioral judge-and-jury. There's just something creepy about that. But I can see it being handy to put him in the role of jolly gift-giving pen pal to get the kid to write down what she wants for Christmas eventually.

I could also probably get into doing the milk and cookies (even if Santa clearly has Type 2 diabetes and could use a break from the dairy, wheat and sugar) but I don't think I can be bothered to run around the house leaving fake reindeer poop (raisins) to mark their passing. Yes, I have over-achiever friends who do that.

As I've noted before, I'm sure my kids will find reasons to criticize my parenting eventually. However, I'd like to hope that it's not because I didn't lie to them enough. I'm sure they'll have plenty to complain about when they find out that it wasn't a decline in the global market demand for baby teeth that resulted in the Toothfairy only leaving them a shiny nickle.

2011-11-10T06:07:00.000-08:00

"It may seem onerous to prepare yourself and your family to respond to violence, but not doing so is also a form of preparation. Failing to prepare is, generally speaking, preparing very well to do the wrong thing. Although most of us are good at recognizing danger, our instincts often lead us to behave in ways that increase our chances of being injured or killed once a threat emerges." ~ Sam Harris, "The Truth about Violence"

This piece is a incredibly eye-opening read. Both scary and (potentially) empowering.

I loath the cult of false fear-mongering that is worshipped in North America. The evidence shows clearly that violent crime rates in Canada are going down (despite the media bias and what certain governments would like voters to believe) and Ottawa is a very safe city. Fear is used far too often to con and control us.

I don't think anyone should live their lives in perpetual anticipation of a violent attack they're (thankfully) unlikely to ever experience. However, I also believe as a general life-philosophy that being prepared is never a bad thing. Somehow though I've always subconsciously allowed myself to accept that I will willingly play the role of victim should I ever be confronted with violence. And that's really scary.

I've been dithering about starting some sort of martial arts training for a while. This article was the final boot in the butt I needed.

2011-11-09T09:40:00.000-08:00

It's official: the powers that be have destroyed all that was good and fun about Sesame Street.

It started with turning everything into the Cult of Elmo. Rude little douchebag.

Now they've got Cookie Monster shilling fat-phobic lies in the name of fighting childhood obesity. Drink up your nutritionally-bankrupt, chalk-flavoured, hormone-filled cow juice kids!

If they make him vegan I'm going to organize a boycott. Perhaps even grab a tent and join Occupy Sesame Street.

I hear that's what all the cool kids are doing these days.

2011-11-08T09:11:00.000-08:00

How awesome would our world be if all restaurant reviews were half so entertaining:

"He forked another helping of seared Muscovy duck breast with foraged chanterelle succotash into his mouth and chewed it mechanically and without joy. On his tongue the rusty tang of revenge sought and achieved. His eyes fixed beyond the warm glow of the restaurant to a middle distance known only to him, to a home on a wasted prairie and those men and the outrage he’d born witness to and his promise to them on that day and the years that followed hunting and waiting and one by one he delivered his promise to each of them and with their money he bought this food and this wine and he could taste none of it." ~ Yelping with Cormac

2011-11-04T09:44:00.000-07:00

In case it isn't obvious, what you are looking at here is the fulfilment of a lifelong dream.

Some of my earliest memories of childish yearnings involve me staring wistfully at fountains filled with wishing coins, wishing fervently that I could climb in and grab them.

A barely-suppressible desire to gleefully splash about clutching fistfuls of the wet, metallically-incarnated dreams of strangers.

I'd like to pretend that as an adult this compulsion has at least somewhat dissipated. But I'd be lying. I still want to jump in every fountain I see.

Which leads us to today. In the midst of walking-off some hill sprints and trying not to puke on my shoes (a grim design flaw to be noted with Vibram KSOs: I don't think they'd keep the vomit out), I happened to notice that the city had recently drained a fountain in the park I run through. At first glance (because I always do) it looked like the fountain-drainers had efficiently removed all the donated hopes and prayers of passers-by along with the water.

But then my well-trained eye spotted a single rusty penny. And then another. Even before I spotted the dime, I'd hopped over the edge.

Admittedly it's a small handful but damn was it satisfying.

2011-11-03T11:23:00.000-07:00

"Welch calls this the overdiagnosis paradox. “The more overdiagnosis the test causes, the more popular it is because there are more survivors,” he says. “The person who had a breast cancer diagnosed by mammography is tempted to view herself as being helped, but there are two other possibilities that are more likely,” he says. The first is that the person would have fared exactly the same without the mammogram, and the second is that the cancer the mammogram diagnosed was indolent and did not require treatment. “I always hope that the person who found cancer via mammography was helped,” says Welch, but on an individual level it’s impossible to say which category an individual person falls into. Statistically, the vast majority fall into the overdiagnosed category." ~ Christie Aschwanden, "Breast Cancer's False Narrative"

I personally know several women who've died as a result of having breast cancer so I don't take this issue lightly but it's incredibly scary to think that "screening causes 10 times as many women to become cancer patients unnecessarily as it prevents from dying from breast cancer."

2011-11-03T06:51:00.000-07:00

Tragically, the light changed before I was able to get a picture.

This morning on my ride into work, I was stopped at a red light behind a guy on a bike who had naked lady stickers on his fenders. Front and back.

This level of awesome will only be topped if I ever see someone on a bike with a set of Car Nutz (TM) installed under the seat.

2011-11-02T10:40:00.000-07:00

Watching this video made me very happy today (though, I can't guarantee that witnessing our dear PM makeout with Marg won't give you nightmares for life) and led me to watching just about everything on Rick's channel.

So good. So proud to be Canadian.

2011-10-31T11:36:00.000-07:00

This story in Slate about forcing kids to share had a link to some really interesting Power Point presentations (yes, that's the first and last time I will likely use to words "interesting" and "Power Point" in the same sentence) from anthropologist David F. Lancy.

Plus, you really have to love a guy who's blog is called "Benign Neglect". He also validates my observation that my mother never played with me and I'm ok.

Do yourself a favour though, if you're already dreading sending your child to school, skip the one entitled "The Chore Curriculum". So depressing. If I don't stop reading stuff like that I may have to quit my job so I can be a stay-at-home unschooler.

2011-10-31T05:06:00.000-07:00

Do you think it's a universal human thing to watch the play of children and try to make predictions about their grownup futures?

A baby can't seem to resist putting her hands in people's mouths: maybe someday she'll be an orthodontist. A toddler loves pushing shopping carts: maybe someday he'll be a homeless man (or a dude in a band living in Halifax going to gigs with his gear). A kid adores Lego: maybe someday she'll be an architect. A child is obsessed with play money: maybe he'll be a stock broker and we'll get to blame him for the next Great Recession.

Adults just seem drawn to speculating in this way. I'm no exception.

My kid can become utterly absorbed with stuffing people (and chickens) into a bus for a solid 15 minutes. Very methodically: always through the front door, never through the top or exit door. Until the bus achieves an apparently acceptable capacity. At which point she abandons the game and moves on to the next project. Leaving all those plastic people stranded in some sort of horrible public transportation purgatory. Never moving any closer to whichever highly compelling destinations motivated them to submit themselves to such inhumane conveyance conditions in the first place.

I'm not one for praying, but I do find myself hoping fervently that she doesn't end up working for OC Transpo (or Air Canada). I don't know that public transit needs more of her kind of genius.

2011-10-28T12:10:00.000-07:00

Fall is making me want to crawl into my crock pot and sleep these days.

Good thing other people are busy posting stuff to keep me inspired:

Odessa May Society
in scientia veritas, in arte honestas
so kinfolk
Silvia Song
i art u
babycakes and boo

P.S. I just noticed that my last post was number 333. This blog is officially now more than half way to the Dcvil.

2011-10-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

"The mothers and fathers of terminally ill children are something else entirely. Our goals are simple and terrible: to help our children live with minimal discomfort and maximum dignity. We will not launch our children into a bright and promising future, but see them into early graves. We will prepare to lose them and then, impossibly, to live on after that gutting loss. This requires a new ferocity, a new way of thinking, a new animal. We are dragon parents: fierce and loyal and loving as hell. Our experiences have taught us how to parent for the here and now, for the sake of parenting, for the humanity implicit in the act itself, though this runs counter to traditional wisdom and advice." ~ Emily Rapp, "Notes from a Dragon Mom" @ NYTimes

Brilliantly written and incredibly hard to read.

2011-10-18T05:43:00.000-07:00

"I made out better in some ways than most women writers of my generation, because I wasn’t competing for the big time awards and glittering prizes (still reserved for male writers at a fairly standard rate of from ten to one to four to one.) My work got shunted off into the slums of genre, where I won lots of awards, and made friends, too. The poor are always more generous than the rich.

Now that genre seems to be eating mainstream, and men seem to be less afraid of being eaten by women, things could get even better. If only they can figure out how to make writing e-books pay writers, before stupid Amazon and the stupid pirates destroy the system, and all the writers starve, and THEN what’ll you read? Huh? Aspirin labels?" ~ Ursula Le Guin @ Ace Hotel/Everything Will Be Okay

Love her. I want to sound all feisty and smart like that when I'm 81. Hell, I'd like to sound half that articulate right now.

2011-10-18T05:33:00.000-07:00

This helped.

2011-10-17T05:25:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning with a tiny thundercloud over my head.

It followed me into the shower and all the way to work.

I'm currently trying to get it to dispate using liberal doses of lemon green tea and girly music. Later I'm going to go for a run and try to soak up some good fall smells.

Any other legal/work-safe ideas for cheering oneself up are most definitely welcome.

2011-10-14T11:16:00.000-07:00

Not sure when or how I first came across Chris Jordan but I really appreciate her writing style and well-earned wisdom as the mother of 7 kids:

"What our kids remember is how we made them feel. Did we delight in them as individual people? Did we pay them attention? Did we stop, look them in the eye and really listen when they spoke? Did we acknowledge what was important to them, even if it was something we didn’t quite understand? In they end our children will remember how it was we made them feel during their years growing up, not the stuff they got or didn’t get." ~ Chris Jordon @ Alphamom

2011-10-11T11:33:00.000-07:00

An apple and some linkie love for a rainy fall day:

Jenna Rose
Moon to Moon
One Two Few
petits papiers

2011-10-11T08:00:00.000-07:00

Can we talk for a moment about how great age 2 is?

I'm massively in love with 2.

2 is starting to put words together in strings that offer amazing insights into a developing personality.

2 sings the Alphabet song, with a particular zest reserved for the letter "W".

2 changes stuffed animal diapers, tucks them into bed and kisses them goodnight.

2 is a big fan of her gummy multivitamin. 2 is unimpressed that she only gets one a day. 2 would like to negotiate with you for another one.

2 would like to tell you about her friends and call them on the phone.

2 constantly surprises you: asking "please" to go to bed at 8pm; having a babysitter for the first time with no issues; going to bed for the babysitter; sleeping 6 hours at a stretch; asking for more food at dinner and eating it; etc.

2 no longer walks. She runs and jumps and climbs and dances.

2 enjoys a good morning cuddle. The kind of slow sleepy puppy-snuggle wake-up that reminds you of why you wanted kids in the first place.

2011-10-11T06:04:00.000-07:00

That's right, once again all those prayers, lucky horseshoes, bribes and threats paid off and we had amazing weather for our Thanksgiving camping trip.

Much laughter, turkey, gourmet smores, boxed wine, good music, roaring fires and skinny dipping was enjoyed by all.

2011-10-07T10:53:00.000-07:00

This is shirt I wore for a team relay-race charity event I was guilted into doing today.

Which tells you three things about me:

1) I am a major team player,

2) I can be convinced to do almost anything if you use guilt and

3) I enjoy rhinestones more than I generally like to admit.

2011-10-06T12:30:00.000-07:00

Totally inspiring: Meaty Bohemian.

Her idea of going around the dinner table and asking everyone what made them happy today feels like exactly what I didn't know I was looking for in a family ritual.

If that makes any sense at all.

Her recipes look pretty good too.

2011-10-04T05:38:00.000-07:00

Have you ever found a gift for someone, an amazing gift that's totally perfect for them... the kind of gift you're excited to give because the look on their face is going to be incredible...

... and then realized that you're going to have a very hard time parting with it?

2011-09-30T07:36:00.000-07:00

Trust me, as with lunch, there's no such thing as a free baby.

Ottawa people have likely seen these ads already.

As a promotion, a local radio station is giving away in vitro fertilization treatments totaling $35, 000 in winnings.

Cue the irrational screams of "won't somebody please think of the children!" Oh wait, here's the National Post chiming in already.

Personally, I think this is hands down the most brilliant marketing gimmick I've seen in years, if not ever (although, in my childhood brain, it still doesn't beat the Toys R' Us shopping spree contest for shear envy/excitement value).

But I'm even more impressed that a DJ for the radio station also mentioned the political side of things in an interview with the Globe and Mail: "Yes, it’ll grab people’s attention, but hopefully what it would do is get people talking about fertility issues and have our government – who, by the way, are in an election [campaign] right now, as you know – bring this to the forefront,” Mr. Mauler says."

Now, I still wouldn't listen to this station if you paid me and I'm a tad disturbed by the fact that they claim this contest is aimed at their target demographic of women age 25 to 54, but they deserve all the attention this is getting. Even if the people who win end up regretting that the $35, 000 wasn't spent on a dream vacation and getting 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep a night for life.

2011-09-28T11:37:00.000-07:00

And now for something completely different, this has to be one of the funniest articles I've ever read. And not just because of the repeated mentions of anal-cavity searches. Whatever else you can say about Conrad Black, dude has a way with words.

"Black was manacled, then followed the guard—“a large, black, bald man,” he notes—through a series of interior rooms, where he was stripped and searched. “I removed all my clothes and satisfied my captor that nothing was concealed in my mouth, underarms, behind my scrotum or in the approaches to my rectum,” he writes. “I would receive a great many medical and security anal inspections over the next couple of weeks, and was slightly mystified at the extent of official curiosity about that generally unremitting aperture.”

He was issued his prison uniform, a pair of “safety shoes,” sheets, and a pillow. The only personal item he was allowed was his eyeglasses. After being processed, Black was led through the large open-air recreation area—leave the designated path, an escort warned, and he would be shot—and into the dormitory where he would live, B-1, an open room where the living spaces were divided by six-foot partitions. Because he was over 60, Black was given a single bed, with a desk. On an adjacent bunk bed he found his two “roommates,” a Guatemalan man and a Cuban who said he had paddled to Florida on the detached roof of an ice-cream truck. Neither spoke much English, and both gave the sense that Coleman compared favorably to their native countries. “I believe the Cuban gentleman thought he was in the Ritz-Carlton,” Black says." ~ Bryan Burrough, "The Convictions of Conrad Black"

2011-09-27T06:02:00.000-07:00

"When I breastfed in the park, grandmothers would regale me with tales of the dozen children they had fed. When I breastfed in the back of taxis, drivers would give me the thumbs-up in the rearview mirror and assure me that Calum would grow up to be a great wrestler. When I walked through the market cradling my feeding son in my arms, vendors would make a space for me at their stalls and tell him to drink up. Instead of looking away, people would lean right in and kiss Calum on the cheek. If he popped off in response to the attention and left my streaming breast completely exposed, not a beat was missed. No one stared, no one looked away—they just laughed and wiped the milk off their noses.

From the time Calum was four months old until he was three years old, wherever I went, I heard the same thing over and over again: “Breastfeeding is the best thing for your baby, the best thing for you.” The constant approval made me feel that I was doing something important that mattered to everyone—exactly the kind of public applause every new mother needs."
~ Ruth Kamnitzer, "Breastfeeding in the Land of Genghis Khan" (via Aux Petits Oiseaux)

I really enjoyed this article, and not just as a welcome break from all the "babies in Africa never cry" BS that is typically floating around the whitey attachment parenting sites. I found it particularily interesting that in such a pro-boob culture, the author never met anyone doing tandem nursing.

I also got a kick out of her description of the men having "breast envy". Which of course made me think of this "Family Guy" clip.

2011-09-22T05:18:00.000-07:00

This is awesome. I will be envious of Movember no longer.

Unshaven Mavens via Apt 613

2011-09-19T12:06:00.000-07:00

Here's a another deeply serious parenting issue for y'all to consider: to what extent do you let toddlers dress themselves?

I hate to crush her creativity or stymie the development of autonomy but I also don't want her to look back on her childhood photos and accuse me neglect by allowing her to traipse about dressed like an escaped bi-polar circus midget.

So far my only real limits have been insisting that she have pants on when we leave the house. After all, we may be known in the 'hood as the freaky hippies that insist on composting, voting Green and only mowing their lawn once a month but dammit, we will wear pants in public.

On that note, if you ever want to pop over for a visit, please call in advance to ensure that our family pants-status is set to "On".

2011-09-16T09:53:00.000-07:00

"Oh, you mean my little mule, Pepe?"

I got "Romancing the Stone" on DVD as a gift for my birthday.

For better (or worse) it was one of my favourite childhood movies. Thankfully it turns out that it's just as good as I remembered.

2011-09-13T12:20:00.000-07:00

Do you remember your mother playing with you?

My mother was a stay-at-home-mom until I was in high school. I remember her cleaning. I remember her paying bills, making doctors appointments, buying groceries, driving us to-and-from school, cooking meals, doing laundry, washing dishes and helping us with homework.

I have no memories of her playing with me. No crafting. No homemade playdough. No fort-building. No hide-and-go-seek.

It doesn't/didn't bother me. I think/thought I had a pretty great childhood.

I've talked to several friends who similarly have few, if any, memories of their mothers playing with them. They all feel they had good childhoods.

So I'm fascinated by the seeming shift in our culture which has taken place in the last 20-30 years. As far as I can tell, sometime around the heyday of divorce-guilt in the 80s, the term "quality time" joined the lexicon. Parents, both employed and non, felt compelled to spend more one-on-one, meaningful, facetime with their children. For the most part doing whatever it was that the kids wanted to do. I feel the Lego company was delighted.

It's not as though before the 80s parents never hung out with their kids but it just seems that it was less of an obligation and more of a "all the house work is done, let's relax and enjoy each other" type of thing. Stay-at-home-mothers before that time were homemakers/managers first and playmates last. They didn't seem to feel guilty about this at all. We had friends and siblings to fulfil that role. Parents were our caregivers and not our buddies.

But that's changed hasn't it? It can't be just my observation or experience that many (most?) parents now feel a genuine duty to fulfil the role of peer for their kids. That we should and do feel borderline abusive for telling a child to go and amuse themselves for a while so we can make dinner or clean the house. Or for not loving every minute of yet another inane round of dress-up-and-make-believe.

It feels intuitive to me that there's also a link between this guilt and the fear of letting children play without adult supervision. No responsible parent kicks their kid out of the house to go terrorize the neighbourhood for the hours after school/before dinner without feeling a nagging sense of negligence and tension anymore. So we keep them safe, inside, socially-isolated and bored.

And we feel guilty because they're bored. We feel guilty because we resent feeling obligated to entertain them. We feel guilty because sometimes the games they want to play are so mindfuckingly boring for us that we'd rather be scrubbing a toilet. We feel guilty because we buy them endless toys and distractions just to be able to buy ourselves some childfree time.

Which all makes me wonder whether my kids and their friends will remember playing with their mothers. And I wonder whether their memories will reflect an enjoyable, carefree childhood or one tainted by the sense that, for their parents, spending time playing with them was often more about guilt than desire.

2011-09-09T11:01:00.000-07:00

"Whatever else may be wrong with our world, it remains a fact that some of the most terrifying instances of human conflict and stupidity would be unthinkable without religion. And the other ideologies that inspire people to behave like monsters—Stalinism, fascism, etc.—are dangerous precisely because they so resemble religions. Sacrifice for the Dear Leader, however secular, is an act of cultic conformity and worship. Whenever human obsession is channeled in these ways, we can see the ancient framework upon which every religion was built. In our ignorance, fear, and craving for order, we created the gods. And ignorance, fear, and craving keep them with us."
~ Sam Harris

Another great bit of writing from Harris.

One of these days I may have to read one of his books.

2011-09-08T12:07:00.000-07:00

Although I can't stand most of the Beatles' music, especially their later experimental drug-induced crap, it does somehow make me happy to know that a couple of good old freedom-loving hippies approved of the use of a child-leash.

I blame Yoko for the bottle.

via Zan

2011-09-06T12:40:00.000-07:00

"Being nice to your little sister is great, but pushing her over is also pretty cool when you’re three and a control freak. Eating dinner nicely is fine, but throwing the plate across the room when you’re bored is also hilariously funny. Similarly staying in bed at night is perfectly reasonable, but nowhere near as enticing as the thought of running down the hall shrieking at the top of your lungs. You can poop in the toilet if you want the pat on the head, but dropping a big log on the living room floor is far more entertaining." ~ Nigel Latta, "The Real Golden Rule"

Some brilliant insight into kid's brains and guidance on how to ensure that punishment is effective.

I'm filing away his post about punishing teenagers for future reference.

Though, I don't think he mentions my personal favourite technique I heard somewhere for when kids are fighting in a car: pulling over and starting to make out with your spouse in the front seat until the kids get grossed out enough to stop fighting.

2011-09-06T07:57:00.000-07:00

Theme for the kid's second birthday party: "Lord of the Flies".

Oddly enough, my efforts at googling inspiration for said party turned up very little. I think people take this whole parenting gig far too seriously sometimes.

I was going to try to pull off a pig roast but it turns out that those things are stupid-expensive. So we went with a Southern BBQ menu and I made a couple of salads and several batches of pulled pork in ye olde crockpot. The husband whipped-up a layered devil's food cake that we topped with a couple of conch shells from Dollarama. Add some crepe streamers, a handmade pig head pinata, a few balloons, a couple of inflatable palm trees and the mise-en-scene was complete.

I dressed the kid up in a frilly pink party dress, dropped a Halloween necklace made of plastic skulls around her neck, slapped some war paint on her face and let her lose in the backyard with a pack of stray children. She had a blast.

By the way, if anyone needs a couple of free, semi-abused, 3 foot and 6 foot inflatable palm trees for any reason, please let me know.

I'm also available for all your future quasi-sarcastic, budget-friendly, themed party and custom pinata needs.

2011-08-23T08:32:00.000-07:00

I think I can officially say that my child is not a good sleeper.

She used to be. At first. We were delighted and not a tad secretly smug when we had a new baby and still got plenty of sleep. Co-sleeping and on-demand breastfeeding made us feel like we'd cracked the code to avoiding the cliched zombie-like visage of new parenthood.

That said, we always knew deep down that somewhere, somehow, the other shoe would drop. We just always figured that it would be the next kid that would slap us in our calm, rested faces with long nights of screaming wakefulness. But no, this one is a changeling it seems. Or rather, more accurately, it's that she hasn't changed. She still sleeps like a newborn.

She still wakes up at least 2-3 times a night. Every night. And insists on nursing back to sleep each and every time she wakes. She'll be two (yes, years) next week.

And woe is the mother that lacks the patience to lie still being a human soother for 30-45-60 minutes waiting for her child to re-embrace slumber. A loving father, a creaking floor board, a poorly-stifled cough, a move away too quickly. These will be greeted with much rage, sobbing, yelling and, worst of all, enhanced wakefulness.

I always mocked people who so arbitrarily pinpoint the time when your child is capable of "asking for it" as when breastfeeding becomes unnecessary or even inappropriate. I bet they'd be really scandalized to hear about how my kid now shouts for "boob!!!!" in her sleep. Like a somnambulant dissatisfied restaurant customer yelling at a tardy waiter.

I want to slap people who blather on stupidly about cherishing the moments when children are little. I want to fast-forward to her surly teen years where she spends an entire day cocooned behind a closed door. I would gladly trade the constant demand for maternal attention of toddlers for the thinly-veiled parental loathing of adolescents.

In fact, as I lie awake (multiple times) each night, I console myself by looking forward to savouring the future times I'll have to forcibly decant an unconscious pubescent from her warm comfy bed into the cold unwelcoming winter air to face another cruelly-early day of high school.

Well that and being a grandparent, of course. Payback is going to be so sweet.

2011-08-22T12:29:00.000-07:00

Today, I love the internet.

Laws of Parenting (with crappy pictures).

via Cup of Jo

2011-08-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

Cookie Monster Meets Tom Waits:

I cannot stop watching this. This is easily the best thing I have ever or will ever post.

Though, this is pretty funny too:

"And no wife in the world will ever let you spring for a cheap car seat. What’s that? You want the $30 Target generic car seat? NOT FOR MY BABY. No, no. We’re gonna get the Britax Marathon Series 7 with diamond-encrusted sippy cup holder and Kevlar belt. IT CAN WITHSTAND FORCES OF UP TO 12 G’S. Fucking $300 down the toilet, right then and there. And if you lack the foresight to space out your fuck trophies enough? You’re buying two, bitch. Or three.

That’s just the expense part. That’s not even the shittiest part of the whole deal. The worst part is installation. When we had our first kid, we had a car that was a 1997. It didn’t come equipped with the now mandatory child car seat latches in all new cars. So you had to install the car seat base by threading the seat belt through the base (horrible), then jumping on top of the base and pushing down on it like a suitcase with a dead body inside. Only the seat belt ALWAYS kept giving you slack, unlike all the other times the seat belt decides to ruin your day by fucking locking in when you don’t want it to. And you have to do all this in the back of your car when it’s 99 degrees out and your body is DYING." ~ This Week in F--K You: Child Car Seats

(both via Daddy Types)

2011-08-19T06:56:00.000-07:00

"Gay men, like anyone, are well aware that we ought to use condoms. Just as the more than five million smokers in this country realize that the benefits of nicotine are limited to momentary gratification. Just as the more than two million Canadian diabetics know that chocolate cake is a transitory pleasure with real consequences. We, none of us, live rational lives. We rely on concerted efforts by health agencies to counter the haplessness of our lived experience. And this is doubly so when it comes to HIV; having never known a world without the virus makes it hard to even notice the thing. How long, really, can a small segment of the population be suspended in catastrophe?" ~ Michael Harris, "Life After Death"

Articles like this are why I asked for a subscription to The Walrus for my birthday this year (thanks Mom!).

2011-08-17T06:23:00.000-07:00

"What I say in this column is that monogamy is like vegetarianism. All the evidence points to the fact that we've evolved as omnivores, but that doesn't mean that living as an omnivore in today's world is inherently superior than choosing to be a vegetarian. Being a vegetarian can make perfect sense, it can be ethical, healthy and smart -- but it's not going to come naturally, right? Just because you've decided to become vegetarian doesn't make you an herbivore. You're an omnivore who's chosen to live as a vegetarian, but bacon is still gonna smell good and you shouldn't feel guilty about that. I think it's offensive when social institutions like religions and governments and even some scientists say, "Hey, this should come naturally to you. This is human nature. If you get hungry when you smell bacon, there's something wrong with you."" ~ Christopher Ryan (interview)

Using bacon to discuss human sexuality = awesome.

2011-08-10T11:26:00.000-07:00

"Wapner immediately called a meeting with his staff. Every one of them — the sonographer, the genetic counselors, the schedulers — supported abortion rights, but all confessed their growing unease with reductions to a singleton. “There’s no medical justification in a normal twin pregnancy to reduce to one,” Wapner said. “So we decided to allocate our resources to those who would get the most benefit. We were in the business to improve pregnancy outcomes, and those reductions didn’t fit the criteria.” He hasn’t done an elective two-to-one reduction since."~ Ruth Padawer, "The Two-Minus-One Pregnancy"

I'd definitely consider myself pro-choice but damn this article was upsetting.

My brothers are (identical) twins and, though for various reasons I hope I dodge that particular bullet with my future child-bearing, I cannot imagine someone choosing to kill a healthy twin fetus for any reason other than the evidence-based reduction of serious medical risk.

Yet, I also feel that people who choose to continue high-risk multiple IVF pregnancies without fetal reduction are insane. "God" didn't get you pregnant with 8 babies, some malpracticing, turkey-baster-happy doctor did.

I don't know if it's really possible to reconcil those perspectives adequately.

And here everyone thought the most difficult ethical baby-related decisions of the future would involve "Gattaca"-style genetic selection of embryos for health, beauty and smarts.

2011-08-10T06:04:00.000-07:00

Some thoughts on toddlers:

Who is this PERSON and what the fuck did they do with my baby?!
Really?You still want to nurse to sleep every night? You can put on your own shoes, talk on the telephone, kiss your stuffed monkey good night, sing part of the alphabet song, name most of the characters from Sesame Street, tell me how old you'll be soon (2!) and climb the big kid section of the playground. Can I get my boobs back soon please?
That noise you make when you're bored or frustrated. Yup, that noise. That noise makes me want to drink heavily and punch myself in the face. More words, less noise.
Where the hell did you learn all these words?! How did you know that the plastic letter you just handed me is a "W"? When did you memorize the last line of your favourite book?
It's 11PM. Still not tired eh?
It's 5AM, why/how are you so happy and awake?
Despite what you may be convinced, the refrigerator is not really an entertainment device.
So, when you said "orange" for 2 minutes straight, you didn't mean you actually wanted an orange.
When you walked past and made your monkey wave "bye-bye" to us as you went around the corner, I was pretty sure my heart would actually explode with the cute overload.
Is it normal/healthy for a kid to love being hung upside down and swung around by the ankles that much? Perhaps you'll have a successful career in the circus.
Watching you walk up and down the stairs by yourself is the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced.
The potty: not just a cool place to hang out with your pants off.
Shit, I'm really going to have to start cleaning up my language if you keep repeating what I say like that.
Yes, yes I would like a hug and a chat about the eating antics of very hungry caterpillars.

2011-08-09T12:21:00.000-07:00

Recently my little brothers teamed up with a couple of friends to relay-run the "Canadian Death Race".

They managed to finish 16th out of 256 teams. And lose a few toenails.

It sounded completely insane (i.e., no water stations, very limited medical or emergency support, etc.). Apparently the legal waiver was biblical.

And, so help me, though it goes against all of my lazy, self-preservation, intact-toenail-loving instincts, I'm kinda envious and considering trying to con some friends into doing it next year.

Anyone interested?

2011-08-08T09:35:00.000-07:00

I'm giving myself a gold star for my efforts to do fun stuff this summer.

Of course, it's been at the expense of my blogging. And, I also have to give thanks to the weather which has been largely very cooperative this summer. For once.

Despite not being organized enough to plan ahead properly, or even make a summer "bucket list" (other than this post), so far we've managed to:

spend lots of time hanging out on the deck and letting the kid run around the yard naked
go camping in New York (reasonable prices, ok sites, nice beach for kids, watch the sand/gravel fleas thought: those f*&kers really bite)
bike along the Ottawa River to Westboro Beach (nice ride, very meh swimming: we had to hit the kid's pool after we got home to get properly refreshed)
try Pascal's Ice Cream (expensive but very very good with awesome flavours)
bike along the Rideau River to Hog's Back (it was raining but it was still a really nice ride)
hike in Gatineau Park and then swim at Meech Lake twice (damn but I love that lake)
have a walk, dinner, drinks and dessert in Wakefield
spend two weekends at friend's cottages (cottage-crashing = the best of both worlds)
make and eat: fresh strawberry pie, cherry cake, chocolate-chip zucchini cake, pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream, and basically a million other things to take advantage of all the fresh food
make the rounds of our local parks, wading pools and splash pads
hit the Vanier Market (sadly, I think I was more impressed by the goats! and cow! than the kid. Silly jaded babies)
bit the fear-of-entertaining-large-groups bullet and hosted a Canada Day BBQ. Now I'm in the process of planning (read: panicking about) a pig roast for the end of August "Birthday Week"?

I'm sure there's some other stuff I'm forgetting but now I'm really starting to panic about that pig roast. Off to do some googling...

2011-08-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

I'm pretty sure that in the 6 or so years since I made my final escape from the pricey clutches of post-secondary education, my IQ has dropped 60 points.

Not that I'm claiming I was ever Mensa material. I'm very fond of telling people that the biggest predictor of success in university is the ability to sit your ass in a chair for hours on end. I am a Master of the Art and Science of sitting still, memorizing and regurgitating.

Mensa status aside, I used to love reading just about anything and everything. However, despite what my resume says about my apparent ability to focus on the written word, these days I have the attention span of a gnat for anything substantially beyond the length of an average magazine article. Most especially, nonfiction.

When I first graduated, I thought my complete aversion to all things lengthy and nonfiction was merely a sign of burnout. I figured it would just take me a while to get back into reading "real" books. I'm starting to think that I need to end the denial.

I've often tried to place the blame on how poorly-written most nonfiction is. So many nonfiction writers focus on facts at the expense of developing the story and engaging the reader. Others spend 500-1000 pages beating a thesis to death (Jared Diamond, I'm looking at you).

Alas, with the current book I'm attempting to read, I cannot make the author or the subject my scapegoat. As an writer, Simon Winchester is one of those disgustingly brilliant, witty and eloquent intellectual storytellers who could make a tale about the history of the invention of the cure for jock-itch interesting. And reading about earthquakes is way more appealing than jock-itch.

So now I'm starting to entertain suspicions that I have some sort of academically-induced brain damage. The principle symptom being that apparently all my mind is good for anymore is absorbing every sordid plot point of serial pulp vampire novels.

Perhaps, just like the emerging research on football players, in the future scientists will find out that university education causes brain trauma. Maybe someone will even write a book about it. And, if they turn that book into a movie involving sexy young vampires, I just may be able to sit through it.

2011-07-29T05:45:00.000-07:00

It's quite likely that I'm the last one to this party but I'm officially an enormous fan of 8-tracks.

I'm listening to this one right now:"sway to the beat"

2011-07-28T06:27:00.000-07:00

My next grocery list.

dompteuses via in scientia veritas

2011-07-26T11:07:00.000-07:00

Every few months we manage to psych ourselves up to leave the house and go to the mall.

To use the photo booth.

Because it's awesome to have a bunch of family pictures where my kid doesn't look at the camera once.

Next time we're bringing hats.

Because pictures like these are why therapy, and the Internet, were invented.

[Also, in that last pic, does my kid not look a little like Kim Jong-Il?]

2011-07-20T10:11:00.000-07:00

This is likely the only time I will ever post something about a sport:

"Indeed, the history of the sport doubles as a history of illegal performance enhancement. From cocaine to poppers to steroids to erythropoietin; as medical science delivered wonder drug after miracle cure, cyclists jacked them into their bodies to gain even the slightest advantage. Barry Bonds juices, and he hits a baseball farther, with greater ease. A cyclist dopes, and it allows him to race faster, which means harder, which means a few extra slices of agony on his already unpalatable pain sandwich. He suffers more, and he suffers better. Doping is a porthole into greater pain, which is both the sport’s essence and its undoing. Most tragic of all, cycling’s dopers weren’t the weak-kneed wannabes and under-talented hopefuls. They were the toughest men in sport, and the best athletes in the world."
~ Richard Poplack, "The Pain Principle"

A facinating, very well-written read about professional cycling (it's not only about doping, that was just a good quote). And, as a bonus, Ryder Hesjedal is an Island homeboy.

2011-07-20T05:49:00.000-07:00

I hope everyone else is as busy enjoying the summer as I am.

2011-07-15T11:58:00.000-07:00

I frequently make fun of hipsters (a scarf? in the middle of summer? seriously?) but sometimes the really earnest ones do amazing things.

Please do check out Kinfolk Magazine.

Stunning. Beautiful. Perfect. I'm in love.

2011-07-12T12:04:00.000-07:00

And so it begins:

"I think it’s important to say that. We obsess in this country about how to eat and dress and drink, about finding a job and a mate. About having sex and children. About how to live. But we don’t talk about how to die. We act as if facing death weren’t one of life’s greatest, most absorbing thrills and challenges. Believe me, it is. This is not dull. But we have to be able to see doctors and machines, medical and insurance systems, family and friends and religions as informative — not governing — in order to be free." ~ Dudley Clendinen "The Short Good Life"

Not to put too fine a point on it but I really do think that (heartbreakingly beautifully written) articles like this are just the beginning of a bigger and much-needed discussion.

via Kottke.

2011-07-12T10:50:00.000-07:00

"What is moderation? Let’s just say that I’ve never met a person who smokes marijuana every day who I thought wouldn’t benefit from smoking less (and I’ve never met someone who has never tried it who I thought wouldn’t benefit from smoking more)." ~ Sam Harris, "Drugs and the Meaning of Life"

A funny (and true) footnote from an interesting article arguing in favour of the use of drugs.

I'm too much of a personal control freak to be a fan of drugs other than my good old pal booze but I'm strongly in favour of decriminalization/legalization (+ regulation and taxation of course). And, though I'm not sure I fully buy his love for LSD (having never taken it I can't really judge if he's right or not) the author definitely makes some good points in favour of his perspective, not the least of which is the fact the criminal justice system frequently paroles child molesters to make room for potheads in jails.

2011-07-11T05:10:00.001-07:00

I spent a long weekend camping near Utica, NY and this is the only photo I took:

I guess I can rule out "travel and photography blogger" as a future career.

Though, I think we can all agree that it was better that I decided not to share any photos of my bug-chewed legs. You're welcome.

2011-07-07T07:42:00.000-07:00

I've decided to establish and franchise a chain of schools modelled on a (trademarked/patented/copy written) mix of key educational philosophies plus some bonus ideas I like.

The "curriculum" will be influenced by a range of existing educational theories including: unschooling (irony, we has it), self-directed learning (a.k.a. "guided anarchy with lots of hugs" TM), integrative/naturalistic/exploratory learning (there will be rocks, dirt and water but no gnome-worship) and second language immersion (schools will be located near diverse gathering places such as the Tim Horton's by my house where a collection of local colour enjoys drinking coffee sitting in their cars in the parking lot yelling at each other over the sound of their stereos in caffeine-fueled Franglais at all times of the day).

Additional educational elements will be borrowed from the free-range/cage-free farming movement (breathe fresh air! play in the sun! eat bugs!), hormesis (yes, it's -20C, let's go play outside!), the hygiene hypothesis (dirt, not just for poor kids anymore!), interaction with animals (learn compassion and boost your immune system by picking up your dog's poop!) and parkour (why walk when you can throw yourself?).

Tuition will be free. To reduce overhead and administrative costs, instruction will take place after-hours in public venues such as the grossly underfunded Catholic elementary school by my house or the other park nearby that my husband refers to by the quaint name of "The Park for UnWed Mothers". All (limited) adult supervision and guidance will be provided by hideously under-qualified, un-remunerated individuals known as "parents".

If it's any indication of the massive success that this venture will have, my first enrollee seems pretty content:

2011-07-04T12:28:00.000-07:00

Hope everyone had a good Canada Day!

2011-06-30T11:16:00.001-07:00

The interwebs are just throwing out all sorts of good stuff this week.

From an old Slate article on co-sleeping:

"According to Ferber, the trouble with letting a child who fears sleeping alone into your bed is that "you are not really solving the problem. There must be a reason why he is so fearful." Yes, there must. Here's one candidate. Maybe your child's brain was designed by natural selection over millions of years during which mothers slept with their babies. Maybe back then if babies found themselves completely alone at night it often meant something horrific had happened--the mother had been eaten by a beast, say. Maybe the young brain is designed to respond to this situation by screaming frantically so that any relatives within earshot will discover the child. Maybe, in short, the reason that kids left alone sound terrified is that kids left alone naturally get terrified. Just a theory."

via Hunter-Gatherer

2011-06-30T10:38:00.000-07:00

From great article about Dan Savage, my favourite family advice guru:

"The point is: priests and rabbis don’t tell couples they might need to involve cake play in their marriages; moms and dads don’t; even best friends can be shy about saying what they like. Savage wants to make sure that no strong marriage ever fails because an ashamed husband or wife is desperately seeking cake play — or bondage, urine play or any of the other unspeakable activities that Savage has helped make speakable. If cake play is what a man needs, his G.G.G. wife should give it to him; if she can’t bring herself to, then maybe she should allow him a chocolate-frosted excursion with another woman. But for God’s sake, keep it together for the kids."~ Mark Oppenheimer for NY Times

Who knew "cake play" was even an option?

Man, those damned mandatory sex education classes taught me nothing useful.

2011-06-30T06:40:00.000-07:00

Want to weigh-in on the latest debate raging amongst my family and friends?

The new-to-us vintage orange sectional: fab or fug?

Note: In making your decision, please attempt to ignore the photobombing, clashingly-apparelled, Sesame Street-engrossed toddler.

2011-06-29T10:10:00.000-07:00

In other news, I will never complain about childbirth again.

"Astonishingly, the femal spotted hyena urinates, copulates and gives birth through her pseudopenis. When she gives birth to her first litter, the posterior surface of the female's pseudopenis tears and leaves a long patch of bright pink scar tissue. Although we hyena-watchers find this very handy for determining whether a female has ever borne a litter, the tearing must hurt like the devil." ~ Kay E. Holekamp for NY Times

2011-06-29T06:35:00.000-07:00

Not sure how I came across this blog but the author does an eloquent job of articulating some of the best arguments in favour of decriminalizing/legalizing assisted suicide (a topic about which I happen to have some strong opinions):

"We don’t allow our legal system to punish people with the “cruel and unusual”. We don’t let tax-cheats be whipped, we don’t chop off a thief’s hands, we don’t lobotomize blasphemers, and we don’t castrate perverts, yet we expect those with medical afflictions to bravely tolerate far, far worse for much longer… until they die from it in fact. We also accept that it’s unacceptable to torture people even if “good” might come of it (let’s skip the debate on its efficacy) like stopping a terrorist attack or finding a kidnapped kid. Yet somehow not only do we force those with certain illnesses to spend the rest of their lives being tortured, we ensure that this torture be as effective as possible by putting up legal blockades to ensure they can’t get proper treatment for the pain under the false and irrelevant premise that narcotics might fall into the hands of addicts. Things that everyday parlance calls “a fate worse than death” is not deserved by those we brand as “evil” yet no one blinks at the idea that those who the dice-throw of life handed the right disease be gifted with said unacceptable fate. It’s perverse and sickening and inhumane… Inhuman." ~ Zentastic

2011-06-28T19:01:00.000-07:00

Making the best of a rainy summer evening.

2011-06-24T07:58:00.000-07:00

Happy Friday!

This means I can go home early right?

2011-06-23T10:00:00.000-07:00

Yet another reason to love the iPhones.

During the day when I'm at work, my husband texts me sweet pictures (and occasionally some not-so-sweet screaming videos) of the kid. These glimpses into their days makes being away from them a bit less difficult.

Or, in the case of the screaming videos, makes me very grateful I married someone with more patience (and less sensitive hearing) than myself.

2011-06-22T04:50:00.000-07:00

This post is going to launch me into blogging fame and fortune.

Because, who doesn't love even a mediocre before-and-after post?

I know I'm excited since I need a good reminder of how much I've actually accomplished since the fucking to-do list never seems to get any shorter. Home ownership: as fast as you fix things, more shit falls apart. Good times. But enough of my bitterness.

Are you ready for the big reveal?

This was the front door when I bought the place almost 5 years ago:

And this is the front door now:

I know you can almost make out my address. Please refrain from stalking me. I have an aged 30 pound dog and a perpetually-teething toddler I can throw at you in self-defense.

Ok. Ready for more Moderate Ghetto Home Makeover (TM) excitement? Let's move on to the backyard.

This was my backyard 5 years ago:

Let your eyes feast on that beauty for a bit. Linger on the shipping pallet deck, the bounty of natural dust/dirt and the toothpick/particle board melange of a "fence". I feel that the original landscaper had been inspired heavily by the Sydney Tar Ponds. Exquisite.

And, this is the back yard in it's much-less-likely-to-give-you-cancer-but-not-quite-done-yet state (we still need to: paint, get a new back door, finish the deck on the side, grow vines up the lattice/over the pergola, put in a paver path, fix the dead spots on the lawn where the dog insists on peeing each and every fucking time she goes out even if she's been walked 5 minutes before and, install a hammock):

And yes, the toddler gnawing on her fist and screaming at the cameraperson is now an integral part of the landscaping and will be included with the household appliances when we eventually sell. I took real estate law, once something becomes a "fixture" it legally comes with the house. Suckers.

2011-06-16T10:49:00.000-07:00

Apropos of something:

"“We’re confusing our own needs with our kids’ needs and calling it good parenting,” Blume said, letting out a sigh. I asked him why he sighed. (This is what happens when two therapists have a conversation.) “It’s sad to watch,” he explained. “I can’t tell you how often I have to say to parents that they’re putting too much emphasis on their kids’ feelings because of their own issues. If a therapist is telling you to pay less attention to your kid’s feelings, you know something has gotten way of out of whack.”"
~ How to Land Your Kid in Therapy

"Similarly, my 12 year old son could not seem to remember to go to his first period class prepared. The teacher actually suggested that it was my responsibility to make sure he brought his pencil to class each day. When I told her that I disagreed, that my responsibility was making sure he went to school with all the supplies he needed but something as simple as bringing a pencil to class was my son’s job, she suggested I go to school with him and make sure he got to class with his pencil. I had laughed, but she wasn’t joking."
~ Chris Jordan at Alphamom

"He recalls attending a psychoanalytic conference in Honolulu in the early 1970s where an analyst from Taiwan reported on a case of a man who had slept with his grandmother until the age of twelve. The fact that the man was a general in the Taiwanese army suggested to the Asian analysts that such a sleeping pattern was incidental. The American analysts insisted it was pathological, despite his successful military career."
~ Ann Winger at momfilter

2011-06-16T06:42:00.000-07:00

Until I was in my early 20s I had no idea that my mother was terrified of snakes.

When my brothers and I were kids growing up in the wilds of BC, we regularly brought home impressively large garter snake specimens for my mom to admire. One time my brother found a real beauty about 3 feet long. When we dragged my mother out of the house and down the driveway with our excited screams, she was duly impressed both by the size of the snake and the size of the poop it took on my brother's arm. [Fun fact: snake poop is incredibly hard to clean off (it has a tacky, tar-like quality) and has a nasty smell that lingers for days.]

Only in hindsight do I now realize what an amazing actor my mother is. And how badly she didn't want to pass her own phobia of snakes on to her children.

I guess at some point we were old enough that she (subconsciously) decided she could let down her guard. I found out about her fear rather abruptly when we were out jogging together. A small snake that had been sunning itself on the path moved quickly off the trail to avoid being trampled, passing directly in front of us. My, normally quite stoic, mother screamed, jumped several feet straight up into the air and then attempted to climb up me to get away from the long-gone snake. It was an impressive display.

After she climbed down and caught her breath, I had a chance to contemplate the trivial but nonetheless stunning realization that my mother was afraid of snakes. Really, really afraid of snakes. And I had never even had the slightest inkling. I was impressed at the time but even more so now that I'm a parent.

Although I totally reject the propaganda that every tiny thing a parent does is critical to their child's development, knowing that someone is modelling their future life behaviour at least in part on mine has definitely given me a few self-conscious, self-critical moments. What are the things about myself that I would deem unhealthy or undesirable? Do I even possess the self-control or discipline to be able to repress or hide these things? (Hell, is my lack of self-discipline something I can avoid passing on to my children?)

Obviously I'm biased and very likely blind to the worst of my own faults but the two main things I wish to avoid passing on to my kids are: my total inability to be disciplined with money (I'm not a gambling addict or anything but sticking to a budget is beyond me thus far) and my frequent tendency to make bitchy, grumbling comments about people in daily life (e.g., the lady ahead of me in line at the grocery store having the long conversation with the cashier about whether they carry garlic butter, not garlic spread mind you, butter). I know these aren't exactly confessions of extreme evil but they are things that I really don't like about myself. Things that as a parent I want to be able to make a conscious effort to not seemingly endorse as "good" behaviors to my kids.

Perhaps my mother's fear of snakes wouldn't have transferred to us regardless of her behaviour. Certainly, other undesirable things she didn't worry about did make the generation-leap (e.g. nail biting). But, by repressing her snake phobia, she taught me something I do think is key about being a parent: any attempt at self-improvement in the name of being a better parent is laudable.

That said, it'll be a dark day before I give up the drinking, borderline-obsessive need to rearrange furniture and entirely-justified phobias of lint traps and putting my hands in cold dishwater. After all, it's important to teach children to be human too.

2011-06-13T10:58:00.000-07:00

On Friday I experienced a momentous event: I went out, at night, without the kid or the husband.

I think it's been almost two years.

Which hasn't bothered me as much I would have thought it might if you'd told me ahead of time that it would be that long.

An old friend from high school was in town playing with a band at the Elmdale Tavern (love it) so I dragged another agoraphobic mom-friend out to try Hintonburger (review = meh), drink Strongbow and stay out until almost midnight! I'm still recovering.

I had a really good time but I have to say that my favourite part of the evening was having a gander at the gentrification process in Hintonburg. I lived there about 5 years ago before I bought my house and things were just starting to get cleaned up. Now there's all sorts of cool places to eat, interesting shops and pretty sidewalks. The best indication of a neighbourhood in transition: a boutique baby store located next door to a head shop. Awesome.

I do have to question the artistic value of the fire hydrants though. Really? I normally support art, even art that I don't particularly like, but I'm just not getting these at all. I get the vibe that I'm not alone in this.

2011-06-10T05:26:00.000-07:00

These photos of New York in the 70s are amazing.

As is picked-up in the comment section, several things really jump out: 1) the number of kids playing all sorts of sports/games in the streets without an adult in sight and 2) no fat kids.

Though I'm very likely guilty of viewing these scenes through a lens of nostalgia, I can't help thinking that we as a species lost something important when we cleaned up the crime/garbage and hid the children indoors.

Via Kottke

2011-06-08T05:26:00.000-07:00

We've been crazy-busy with home projects lately.

As a result, the "before & after" blog-fodder is coming along nicely but I don't have proper photos or time to do witty write-ups yet.

In place of real blog content, please enjoy this picture of my kid hanging out in her bike seat on one of our innumerable trips to my beloved Canadian Tire.

2011-06-02T07:52:00.000-07:00

On Monday (hereinafter referred to as: The Most Beautiful Fucking Day Of The Whole Fucking Year), I took a day off from work.

We spent the morning sleeping in and noodling about the house/backyard. We had bacon and pancakes for brunch. In the afternoon we went for a long beautiful bike ride along the river to a tiny park where the kid got to break in her new flip flops wading in the water and poking things with a stick. Came home and hung out in the yard while the kid played in more water. Made a tasty dinner from leftovers that we ate on the deck while the kid ran around enjoying some naked freedom. Ice cream for dessert and reasonably early bedtimes for all.

I would not be exaggerating at all when I say that it may have been the best vacation I've ever had.

Which got me thinking about makes a good vacation. Because lord knows that I've had many, many bad ones. You know, the ones that involve: lots of travel; tons of travel-related stress; too much time rushing from place to place; spending way more money than you wanted to spend on things you don't want to spend money on; far too little time doing/buying/eating/drinking what you actually want; crappy weather; etc.

In contrast, my ideal vacation would include:

Low cost.
Good friends and/or family.
Minimal travel.
Decent weather.
A noted absence of biting bugs (or any other aggressive wildlife/locals for that matter).
Spending most of the time outdoors.
Lots of good food and leisurely cocktails.
Spontaneous afternoon naps.
Interesting things to do or explore at a leisurely pace between cocktails and naps.
Casual exercise in the form of long, slow bike rides, walks and/or swims.
Relaxed communally-prepared meals.
After-dinner boardgames and/or music around a fire.

We have no plans to go anywhere this summer so I'm making it my goal to incorporate as much of the above as possible on a daily basis for the next few months.

However, it should be carefully noted that at no time will the words "stay" and "vacation" be combined into one word. Do. Not. Do. It.