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Wednesday, 21 December 2011

Wednesday December 21: Early Christmas

Since we are away for the holidays, we had Christmas early with me contacting Santa to let him know that we needed him to come by last night (so already I'm teaching the kids about circumventing the system to suit their needs!)  Anyway picture to come but in the meantime, here's my post published in the Huffington Post today on Why I Hate Santa - click for the link or check the full text below.

Why I Hate Santa...


At five and two my kids are still young enough to truly believe in Santa and so, I'm currently doing my best to hide my hatred for the fat man in the bad suit.

There are of course many reasons to hate Santa, who (against his will I'll acknowledge) has effectively become our patron saint of personal debt, entitled commercialism, over consumption and our enslavement to the China supply chain.

And I'm happy to add the above to my list.
2011-12-21-Santamad.jpgBut my reason is that as a parent, I believe that in the clever guise of jolliness and reindeer, it's good ol' St. Nick that lays the first foundation for the idea that: You are fully responsible for your own misfortunes (e.g. any lack of presents under the tree). Goodness gets its reward with material success and so, those who are less fortunate are really just getting what they deserve.

So yes, I see him as a right wing tool or is it a tool of the right wing?

Anyway, I'll confess that I use the Santa bribe almost daily. When I'm late for work, nothing gets my five-year-old brushing those teeth and putting on his shoes like a discussion on how his behavior will play out, "in Santa's eyes."

But I feel guilty, since what I'm implicitly telling him is all those boys and girls who won't wake up to a tree surrounded by gifts deserve their fate, after all, they could have done things differently now couldn't they?

And already, my five-year-old seems to be headed down the slippery of slope of Santa self-righteousness.

It was after a minor playground dispute last week that the concept of Santa as a force of reckoning and retribution really set in for him. There was an argument over a scooter at playtime and while the teacher had given the other little boy a time out, my son relished the thought that more was in store for his classmate come Christmas.

For two days after the incident, he eagerly wondered how many presents the transgression would end up costing his little colleague.

For me, my doubts about Santa set in when I was around seven or eight. It was in the throes of the Ethiopian famine, when the Band Aid song "Do They Know Its Christmas?" was constantly on the radio.

Looking at the pictures of all these starving children, it hit me that of course there isn't a Santa, otherwise how could this happen? (Fast forward ten years and replace Santa with God and we have a whole different post).

But reluctant to let go of the myth, I decided to test it.

In the weeks before Christmas I deliberately did things that I knew were wrong but that I wouldn't necessarily get caught doing. It was between me and Santa -- if he was out there, he would know. I pushed my little brother, I stole my classmate's strawberry scented pencil eraser, I threw out my lunch and lied to my mom. I figured the way I was going, Santa had to take some action.

But no, come Christmas our tree was awash in gifts. Everything on my Christmas list was there. The gig was up. I realized that I could be "bad" and still get toys and that some other kid who was probably much better than me might get little to nothing.

It was actually a watershed political moment for me.

Since then I've linked the Santa concept to the fundamental question of how personally responsible do you think you are for your good fortune?

Take the Occupy movement (particularly in the U.S.). Even if you critique the lack of set demands, message, or leadership, it's hard to overlook the reality that too often, no matter how "good" you are (whether it's getting that college degree or trying to save for your first house), getting gifts under the proverbial tree of life is becoming increasingly difficult for more and more of us.

When you truly believe that your own success or good fortune is all or even primarily the result of your own actions, you not only overlook the many nuanced factors that actually led to your success but you also place the blame more fully on the other 99 per cent who weren't so lucky.

So this season, I'm attempting to navigate the tricky boundary between indulging my own children and their fantasy and somehow pointing out that lots of good kids don't get presents, so maybe we can try helping Santa out and stepping in for him.  /rs

Sunday, 11 December 2011

Sunday December 11: A Mormon Shoutout

Since I started sharing my posts, I've had several questions about how I got the idea or what prompted me to do this blog: it was the Mormons.

What with Mitt Romney, Sister Wives and Big Love, Mormons are having a kind of cultural moment (even if the last two play on complete stereotypes).

For the record, let me say I have nothing for or against the faith (although calling yourself Latter Day Saints does seem just bit hubristic) but still, I'm equal opportunity on this one.

I'll also confess that my personal experience with Mormons has been limited. The closest was a non-fling with Mormon Surfer Man one summer, a very long time ago.  It ended after just 10 days when it became clear that my idea of a summer fling (drinks on patios and um, the actual fling part) sadly did not mesh with his tamer interests.

But the Mormons get marketing (does anyone else remember those commercials from Saturday morning cartoons?) and as I dicovered they apparently also get blogging.

I'm a Salon subscriber and one day this article pops up in my Inbox with the blurb: "I'm a young, feminist, atheist, who can't bake a cupcake. Why am I addicted to the shiny happy lives of these women?"  Curious, I start reading.

Until then, I've never heard of the apparently flourishing world of "Mormon hipster mommy blogs", so I click on a couple of the links.  The blogs are mostly about the wonders of being a mother, their amazing husbands and a sort of hyper rosy perspective on daily domestic and family life.  But with amazing layouts and fantastic pictures.

I hate crafts and am not that interested in babies I don't know, but like the author Emily Matchar, I become strangely if mildly hooked.  After reading gruesome headlines and violent stories in the paper (I know, I need to stop looking at the Daily Mail) I find I'm drawn back to the soothing vibes of blogs like Nat the Fat Rat, Nie Nie Dialogues   Rockstar Diaries and CJane,EnjoyIt. 

Regardless of the religious angle (and the right wing politics!), the Salon article nails the appeal, which is  "...the basic message expressed in these blogs - that family is wonderful, life is meant to be enjoyed, [and that we should] celebrate the small things..."

And so, it inspired me to try and blog about the little things in my own life, which I tend to rush over or quickly forget.

Except that to be honest, I'm not sure how successful I've actually been.  As I've discovered, I'm still me just on a blog and so I write about an assortment of other stuff, which may or may not involve my kids or things I'm grateful for.  And I'm pretty sure I lack a rosy glow of optimism in my writing. Plus, I remain fairly hopeless about pictures.  Maybe next time the missionaries ring my doorbell, I can ask for some tips..../rs

Monday, 5 December 2011

Monday December 4th: The Anniversary Post Script

Expectation and lived reality usually differ, but this is especially true when kids, particularly your own kids are involved.

And so it was, with the long awaited "Anniversary Weekend."

The hotel was booked, complete with a couples massage, a bottle of champagne and a late dinner reservation.  I had even vaguely floated the idea of buying something suitably cliche and lacy - I didn't get around to it of course, but anyway... it turns out it was just as well.

By Friday at 1am both boys have hacking coughs which soon morph into vomit.  Ugh.  Cue R and I spending the rest of the night changing sheets, getting water, dispensing cough medicine and bitching about who did the last round and who is doing more (me clearly).

Saturday morning dawns and we're both cranky.  It's also clear that no one, not even (or especially) family should be asked to cope with a second night like that. Plus, the boys would go crazy if we left them overnight somewhere when they're sick.  Only the dinner reservations can be changed without a fee - so we're stuck with a hotel room (literally around corner from our house) and the spa appointment. 

All is not lost however.  My sister in law comes to stay with the kids while we have our massage (R falls asleep in exhaustion, I think about making soup for their coughs).  We go home, we take the kids with us to the hotel - I optimistically bill it as a holiday family sleepover, yeah!

So instead of champagne, we take turns swigging a half bottle of average red wine from the hotel mini bar (the boys are putting animals in the glasses), the dinner plan becomes eating the kids leftover pizza with a McDonald's sundaes.  The kids are loving it though: the tv is bigger! The bed is bigger! You can see into other people's rooms!

We all pile into the bed.  Twenty minutes later, Avery is sick everywhere.

All the towels get used up as we try and mop up the mess.  I open the window and crack a couple of mini bottles, we take more sips in between cleaning up the bed, the children and ourselves. I hope I have enough cash on me for a serious tip.

We do a second round of baths.              Everyone collapses in exhaustion.


There is no glamour in this I think.

The morning brings room service and with it a slightly happier family.

So it was not at all what I'd planned.

But it was a reminder for me that relationships are not actually about the big planned events, but somehow finding fun in the tedium of the everyday, with someone that you can hopefully look across a pile of rancid towels at 2 am and think, I'm glad its him.

Even if it takes the help of a few small bottles to source that kind of zen. /rs

Friday, 2 December 2011

Friday December 2: 8 Years Ago Today

Already married 2 yrs we have a wedding
Memory is a funny thing.   When I think back about the days that ended up changing the course of my life, I get incredibly anxious.  Even though at the time, when events were happening I felt fine....

Which is a slightly odd way of introducing this story.

Eight years ago today, I agreed to meet R for a quick coffee at the Tate Modern.  At this point, we'd met seven times in person (two of these were random run ins at parties).  I was in town for my mother's 50th, and so far, in the manner of every Richard Curtis holiday rom com ever made,  we had only crossed signals, backstories involving friends who were exes's, exe's who were friends and so on.

The grudging coffee became champagne (pink! vintage!) at his house (day time drinks figure largely in pivotal moments in my life, coincidence? or cause? something to figure out later).

The first bottle turned into the second and somewhere along the line we decided instead of dating, we would get engaged.  So out we went out to quickly get a ring before stores closed (which led R's banker to call him and ask what was happening because the transaction was deemed "out of the ordinary").  The next step?  Telling my parents. They had never heard of Rana before, thought I was dating someone else (details) and so were predictably stunned (understatement).

Memory is also funny because in the re-telling of our stories, details and narratives naturally shift, and then change how we perceived the events.

In my case, our personal story became one of the hooks used to promote my last book.

I didn't always like or agree with the hows and angles, but I went with it - since if you publish a relationship book at 32 with no real relationship credentials, your own story becomes fair game.

The first question was always: since I had written about arranged marriages, had I had one?

So, as advised by my publicist, I would diligently launch into explaining that no, although we got engaged after seven meetings, our parents were in no way involved and in fact, our families didn't meet for months after.

The getting engaged after seven dates is a media grabber particularly since many of journalists I was speaking with were single women who loved the idea that in a day, your whole life could completely change like this.

And although the decision sounds astonishingly impulsive, lost in the "public" story is that we had been exchanging emails for months.

London Engagement Party 
These weren't explicably "romantic" but they did set up the scene....

For instance,  after a night out, I once sent R several revisions of the same email (each one slightly edited to improve the casual but i hoped flirty tone and voice).

Also lost in my public telling of the story, was that although we didn't "date" we did meet for one weekend in Ottawa for the 80th birthday party of John Meisel, a wonderful man - (but still an odd first date, no?) R's idea, not mine.

 Three months later I moved to London. Four months later we got legally married.

In the months that followed, I would often experience the onset of a horrible delayed anxiety: I could have missed this, that it all could have so easily gone some other way, with someone else, in some other place.

My brother would say that our lives have all been written, I'm not sure about that... but, today, I'm glad it worked the way it did and deep thoughts aside, I'm just looking forward to a spa day tomorrow, with some chilled champagne and courtesy of my wonderful sister-in-law - a child free night.../rs

Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Tuesday November 29th: In Which I Seek Help....

Most anyone who has or does know me can make a fairly credibly case for me needing help on any number of fronts.

And while I readily acknowledge this, I've never actually had any sort of therapy or coaching.  Not even a fitness trainer.

No deep reason really.  Just the realization that most of my problems and issues are fairly banal (which I now appreciate is a huge blessing) and can be dealt with my journal, Bikram or a chat & bottle with friends.  I'm also cheap and listening to Anthony Robbins downloads usually seemed sufficient.

But I've also always been hesitant about committing to paying someone to listen me - the pressure to come up with something good to talk about seems stressful.  Sort of like people who tidy before the cleaning lady comes.

And while I confess to hugely enjoying the narcissism of first and second dates, I always tended to flag by the third - which is always what I thought would happen with therapy.

But, today I had a first date with my new career coach.

Why now?  Well in retrospect 2011 on the career front it was a bit of meh year.

And since I have much higher hopes for 2012 I figure some professional coaching might help me get the results I want.

But lets see, I'll keep you posted on whether I make it to the third date. /rs

Saturday, 26 November 2011

Saturday November 26: Whatever Happened To My So Called Career?



Well, yes this is a question I sometimes especially when I struggle (usually drink in hand) to explain my current portfolio career to some person I just met.  It's the only time I miss the simple answer of "I'm a lawyer."

Really, though its the title of fantastic lecture that R has given at the LSE, at the Cass Business School and yesterday, at the Munk School of Global Affairs. 

A fully unbiased review (of course) R was fantastic, funny, informative and inspiring.  I can say that I wasn't married to meet him, after hearing him yesterday, I would be looking to meet him...

After they intro'd him and his accomplishments, he opened by sharing his own ballsy story of graduating from Queens into the brutal Canadian recession of the 1990's, working temp jobs that he was serially fired from (for giving them advice on how to improve - classic, no?), to going to LSE with only enough money for his first semester and then starting a consulting boot camp for students, getting his job offer from Roland Berger and then taking that letter to the bank to borrow the rest of the years tuition.

 I've heard the story before, but each time I do, I get filled with a wave of straight up respect for the man. 

He also shared career insights that apply whether you're just starting out like the audience of graduate students in the room, thinking about a career shift or switch or something that's somewhere in between.   

Below are my top 5 lessons from his talk.  

Funny side note: at one point he mentioned that his wife was in the audience (and I sort half waved because really what's the right response to that?) and I heard the boy next to me whisper to his friend: "Why is his wife taking notes?"  

Because I learned or (re-learned) so much listening to him, including: 

1. Your Career Is Happening Right Now For years I suffered from this - the idea that "my real" career would happen sometime in the future and the rest of this was just temporary.  Whether you're a student, or mat leave or in a job where you are just killing time or paying the bills.  This right now is your career, you are in it.  

2. Beware of the Myth of The Perfect Career:  R used the Churchill description of how most people, even the most successful among us are actually operating on a day to day basis in dense fog.  You don't really know what's ahead so all you can do is  make the best decision possible with what's in front of you.  It's only after, in retrospect that dots are connected to create a narrative.  And then, when we read or hear about someone's career story, we're led to believe that they had this perfect plan which is what led to these impressive outcomes.  Yes, of course you need an idea of where you want to go, but don't worry about having the great plan or be intimidated by someone else's seemingly flawless career story or path.  You just don't hear all the messy parts that get skipped over when the story is being re-written. 

3. Remember The Newspaper Test:  We buy lots of papers in our house, the Times, The FT, The Globe and each weekend, it re-affirms the newspaper test which is: what sections do you always reach for first?  And why?  Odds are it hasn't changed for the past decade. The idea of the newspaper test is not to say that if you always go for the sports section, you should now drop it all and become a sports agent.  The Newspaper Test  is a reminder to remain aware of your true interests.  The further your career falls from them the harder it will be to sustain the passion. 

4. Don't Become a Victim of Your Lesser Talents:  Ten years ago, I walked away from Bay Street law job at a national firm. I'd worked hard.  And for a 25 year old, there was a seemingly large amount of money at stake, a career I had professed to want (and spent 3 years studying for), along with status and certainty that came with the job. Deciding to leave was both the hardest and easiest thing I've ever done.  It was hard for all the reasons above.  It was easy because after a year and half spent summering and articling I realized that I would never actually be a very good lawyer.   I  could stay, keep working on it but as Peter Drucker first pointed out, I would spending 90% of my efforts trying to get 10% better at something I wasn't great at (or interested in).

Alternatively, I could leave and finding the area where 10% of my efforts would make me excellent. And happy.  

5.  Who You Marry Matters:  A key point in from my last book, that who you marry matters since it impacts every part of your life - including your career.  Why? Because it shapes where you live, your networks, how your interests and values evolve and from that the career decisions you make.

It's nice to have an affirmation on mine. /rs  


Sunday, 20 November 2011

Friday November 19: Tea For Three



I'm really a coffee (well Redbull) person but last Thursday I took my Mom and one of her oldest and closest friend (the first she made when she moved to Canada) to tea at the Windsor Arms.  It was a bit of an early birthday celebration since they also share the same birthday (November 29th).

There was a fireplace, scones, mini sandwiches, very puffy couches and petit fours (there was also some oddly menacing music playing), but only for the last half hour.  It was nice and made me wish that Mad Men could successfully and fully bring back gloves and hats for everyone.

My mother is 58 this month.  I'm 35.

I think about at this often, not our ages (well that's not true since I constantly think about mine - a whole separate post).  But what I marvel at is that she had me at 23, exactly a year after having an arranged marriage (a topic I often write about) and moving to Canada. In January.

The age of motherhood debate is hot topic.  What's too old, too young, and the eternal question of: is there a perfect time?  I've considered this topic from a professional angle at the MomShift and my own anxieties at becoming a mother at the in-between age of 29 is what prompted my second book.  I'll also freely admit that as tough as it probably was for her at 23, I selfishly like having a mother that is still on the young side.

The average age of mothers is going up - this is not new and I anecdotally know 5 women who are having their first babies and are over 40.   I personally think the entire "debate" on the age of motherhood is pointless, each person's life is different, there is no "right" way to do things (though reading some mommy blogs would have you think otherwise) and in the end, its all just about a series of different choices.

And as awe struck as I am at my Mother's story, I know its not unique. I know lots of friends with mothers who had them at 21, 22 or 23 and sort of fit them into everything else that was happening from immigrating to new countries, returning to school or starting businesses.

But in an age when everything to do parenthood and motherhood seems so overwhelming, when every little decision is completely overanalyzed (I'm not saying I don't do it but I realize how privileged and naval gazing it is) - I constantly wonder what she and her friends, (all women who cheerfully coped and got with having families as just something you did, along with everything else),  really think of all our earnest (and probably futile) efforts.

My guess?  Is that they're having a justified laugh, behind our backs.  /rs

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

Wednesday November 15: When R Is Away...

R is away in India - at the first annual Canada-India Business Forum.  It lasts two days,  but he's gone for over two weeks.

Normally, I don't mind when he travels, which is good because he always seems to be heading somewhere.

Yes, the kids slowly become more and more fractious as the time passes (R seems to have a calming influence on them) but I like having the house to myself (well, as much as possible with a 5 and 2 year old with me), I dig out sweatpants (versus their better looking cousin the yoga pant), I eat cereal for dinner (Just Right with a touch of Froot Loops). And generally just go back to a more essential Me.

But even better than having the house to myself is having my Mom with me.  Which is my current set up.

This means: not much work gets done (she has that effect) but, both of us with the kids also means: lots of laughing, lots of walking, lots of talking and gossip (old and new), and lots of delicious food.

And no, she's not the only one cooking, Saturday night I went here for amazing jumbo wild scallops (so fresh you wanted to eat them raw) which I served with an avocado and warm vinegrette salad).

It also means my house looks clean, I had a Friday night dinner out with the ladies on my street (can I just say Korean food gets beef?) and I discovered the wonder of Soju infused drinks - a must try, especially with ginger which makes it taste healthy and yummy.

We also plan special treats for the kids: this week a day off for Seth from school and instead, some real learning at the Science Center where i saw what I'd look like in 30 years (terrifying) and learned that I was made up of 30 litres of water....



Sunday, 13 November 2011

Saturday November 12: Flashback to the Babymoon







On Thursday night my closest cousin (closest in everything from age, life experience and geography) came over for dinner and to tell me that she is 4 months pregnant.  Which I kind of suspected as soon as I opened the door, since she was wearing oddly demure looking clothes with a wrap. Which is not her. Or me to be honest.  


Anyway, so we talked pregnancy over wine (me) and water (her).  I told her how I hated the feeling of being pregnant (because I did and I think more women need to be ok sharing that).  Not only did I not feel like me, struggle with identity issues (i found it stressful that pregnancy shifts how everyone from your mother to your husband relates to you) - I also hated the feeling that I was never ever alone. It was creepy that this baby was always with me. 

Coincidentally, right after she left, I noticed an email with the cryptic message, " Do you remember?" It was a close friend from London. She's now pregnant with her third and six years ago we'd both been pregnant with our first.  The month before we were both due, we'd all spent the Easter weekend together with our husbands in Paris.  It was our,  "Babymoon".  


According to USA today, 60% of parents now take the annoyingly named "babymoon" (which is really just a vacation before the baby comes, but of course everything to do with modern parenting now requires the clever marketing  moniker).  

Anyway, six years ago, it was Paris, at Easter and we stayed here (not quite as luxurious as trashy romance books or the little movie on their site had led me to believe);  we ate our way through several Michelin star meals (involving foamed bits) and we walked and talked.  I hadn't seen the pictures in since then, and my first thought was: my pink coat looks terrible (I find that pictures often reveal the truth to me that outfits or items that I thought looked ok or maybe even great, really just didn't).  
Right after, I dropped my cousin a note to see if she was going to do the Babymoon thing her response: "How is it a vacation if M (her husband) is relaxing and drinking while I'm stuck just watching him? So no." 

Like I said there's a reason she's my closest cousin.  /x.r















Thursday, 10 November 2011

Wed Nov 9: The School Walk



When I was pregnant with Seth, one of the images that stressed me out was the idea of being one of those Moms, always stuck in car, ferrying my kids around.  The "school run" is a new phenomenon (as is all the attendant modern day anxiety that goes with it) but leaving aside the ever pressing issue of what to wear, the tension and traffic that I've seen at our school, would make you learn ride a bike, that day, just to skip it. I've seen yelling and this is Rosedale.

We're lucky that we've always lived close enough to walk the kids to school (well a deliberate decision) since I don't drive in the city and we actually don't own a car but use this.  It works for me (though not always for R).  Or increasingly Seth.

But I've always loved walking around the city, and being downtown with the kids means there's always something to see, do, eat or talk about.
Plus, there's the bonus of an added workout.

The kids don't always walk though. Since I'm always running late, they travel in style in our red wagon, complete with a blanket, snacks, drinks and even leg room.  So really more then they would get on most flights today....

Friday, 4 November 2011

Friday November 5: The Rude Word Collection

Silly head. 
Fossil brain. 
Noodle puss. 
Bum. 
Dumb. 
Toilet. 
Diaper Area. 


Since Seth was three he's had an ongoing and ever-growing "Rude Word Collection" that he recites with glee and updates with an earnest dedication - most recently when we were reading this Berenstain Bear book (sidenote: my brother and I collected these when we were little and I only just discovered that they now have their own online world which is a terrifying yellow).

Anyway, experts tell us that when kids swear, they are imitating us (in which case, I'm glad that the most x rated of the rude words is just stupid) and that the way to stop it is to offer alternatives) - which we do.  But there is something to seeing the sheer pleasure of a little person saying what to them is a rude word.
It's pure joy and the discovery of the power of words, just not in the way you might have hoped.

Tuesday, 1 November 2011

November 1: Halloween

First, how cool is the painting that Seth is in front of - it's a Hussain in Rana's office which i love and want to bring home..as my trick or treat.

Since all holidays are overdone these days (in my view and as these numbers show) the kids had a Saturday party (where the enthusiasm of the other parents, all dressed up I might add, was a bit too overwhelming for them, leaving them under the table with a pile of cookies), then a daycare party, a school party and then finally trick or treating.

This was the first year the boys went out - Seth was cautious at first, worried about the prospect of tricks versus treats.  Avery got right into it, grabbing the kindly offered candy bowls and trying to get as much in as possible.

Speaking of which, a neighbour told me that up the hill from where we are, one house is legendary for its Halloween loot: the first 100 kids get stocks.  Last year, it was a $100 RESPs (and you thought full size chocolate was a score!) I googled around but didn't find anything on this so I'm posting it on twitter.  I believe it though - one: my neighbour has lived here for like 30 years and is in the know and two, most of the houses on the way to school had professional Halloween decorators doing up their houses (yes really) so this is not a stretch.

What you can't see in these pictures is that Seth's costume had also become too small since we bought it, but despite our attempts to lure him into another outfit, he refused, so he was the lion prepared for the flood.  It was that bad.




Thursday, 27 October 2011

Thursday October 27: Hungry

This is week three of my attempt at the one day fast. 

Although strictly speaking, what I'm doing is probably not considered fasting. 

I'm not eating food but I am drinking smoothies and fresh juices like these. 

And of course I'm still having coffee, and yes a Red Bull and you know what - its still so hard. 

Every time I've done it, I end up like this, anxiously waiting until 12 when I can finally eat something. 

And daydreaming about what it will be - a bowl of Just Right with Golden Grahams? A grilled cheese sand-which? A couple of pancakes? 

So why am I doing it?  Partly, because giving your body a break from food for a at least 24 hours seems like a good thing, but also, for a selfish reason.  Anthony Robbins talks about how people need to start from a place of abundance - this can be hard to do when you're surrounded by the more you feel you need to get or earn.  One day of denying yourself some food and you realize just how abundant you really are. 

20 more minutes to go....

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

October 22: The Weekend



Over the weekend we had my 10 year nephew and 8 year niece sleep over.

The goal was to carve pumpkins, 4 were bought, one was carved.

Tacos were eaten along with my favourite retro desert - "mud" (Oreos, pudding and whipped cream) with candy body parts for season effect.  I couldn't find the usual gummy worms so I used "body part sushi" which tasted horrible (big surprise) but looked cool.

Then the TV and ipad both stopped working (I know what are the odds?) which made everything that much more exhausting, at least for me and R. 



Saturday, 22 October 2011

Friday October 21: Panda Ball


Last night we were lucky enough to be at the first ever WWF Toronto Panda Ball - and at the head table no less!  I rarely say this, but it was glam night

And even better, I was seated to my close friend J and so didn't have to do the cocktail conversation but instead, could just chat and sip wine.

And relax.  Which I did.

The Canadian Tenors sang the Cohen classic Hallelujah and behind them was this amazing footage of water, whales, people crossing the desert on foot.  It worked.

I wore my favourite necklace last night, technically on loan since it is intended (by my 95 year old grandmother) for my brother's wife, but since he's single, its mine for now!

Of course I didn't take any pictures, but there were so many photographers there, that I'm counting on finding some of them, and hopefully I'm in them.  I think I need an iphone...

PS I knew I could count on someone else to take pictures in this case The Grid  & The Hollywood Minute 

Friday, 21 October 2011

Thursday October 20: Old Friends

In the past 10 days, I've had two old friends visit.  One from my summer job at my old law firm and the second, from the high school years I spent in Madison, New Jersey.  One just got married, the other has a baby Avery's age.

Bear, now almost 30 years old. So really an old friend.

For me, the best kind of old friends are the ones where only a small part of the conversation is about the remember whens and most of it is about today and tomorrows, and both of these were like that.

Wednesday, 19 October 2011

Wed October 19: Sick



This is the second time I've been sick this week.

Horrible, horrible.  And I am a bad sick person, whiny, in need of painkillers, endless hot baths, being left alone (while needing things brought to me).  I actually called R on bb (he was a floor away) to request coke and painkillers.

It does make you think though.  Growing up, my mother would always tell us how amazing the human body was, how we take it for granted until something, even something small goes wrong and then we struggle.

And most of us, most of the time are blessed by the fact that it just keeps working.  

Monday, 17 October 2011

Sunday October 17: Do I Click Three Times?

kobel
Sundays, especially rainy cold Sundays are meant (in my view anyway) to be sent in sweatpants or pjs (or yoga clothes if you must), sort of preparing for the week ahead. 


Often this doesn't mean actually doing anything practical but mentally getting ready for the week ahead - usually with the New York Times, and carbs and coffee. 


But this Sunday saw us heading out to another Diwali Gala - this time at the Royal York for this


And on Saturday, realizing I had no shoes that matched my dress, so I went out (in a windstorm) with Avery (who is possibly my favourite shopping companion next to R) and bought these - interested, you can find them here.


A little Dorothy?


I know I thought so too.  


But they matched, not that you can tell from the shot below.  And if nothing else, my 8 y/o niece will be impressed, so much glitter!


Note to self: this is not best angle

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

Tuesday October 11: Escape





Thanksgiving was about escape for me.

From what you might ask?

Just from the every day, from  my always messy house, from having to take care of the boys, from trying to eat healthy and be productive.

All of this was made possible by the fact that we went to Sarnia, a little town outside of Ontario and stayed at my Mom's house.

Going home to Mom is like an emotional spa for me.

So what does escape involve?  Time in the park with the kids, reading books that I can't admit to, eating, Indian food, turkey, cookies, crumbles, chips (dipped in cream cheese no less!) seeing movies with R (we saw this which made me want to join a campaign now).

We also saw Country Strong, yes really.  And I liked it way more than I wanted to - thank you cowboy who's name I don't remember.  Also have to grudgingly acknowledge that while GOOP is well goopy (which means something like drippy) Gwenyth Patrow is a good actress.  There I said it.

The thing about a weekend of escaping is that you feel like you should come back all charged up to Get Things Done, and be super productive.  But maybe it's the three hour drive home but that's not how I'm feeling right now.... ugh.

Thursday, 6 October 2011

Thursday October 6th: Early Diwali





Reva Seth and Rana Sarkar




I admit I'm playing catch up - a dead laptop (but thank you Andrew at Apple who saved me and all my unbacked up data!)  Plus our escape weekend away in an internet free zone (Mom's house). 


But back to Wednesday night - R's annual Diwali Gala, seen here in the weekend Globe and Mail. A comment - this picture was taken when I had just arrived, so the reason my eye is closed is from my giant giant smile and not from too much white wine.  That comes later.  The dress?  From ebay by MaxMara.  The sort of art deco jewellery from India. 


Can I also share that he is in this months Canadian Business?  Read his article on why Canada needs to be build a relationship of usefulness to India here



Wednesday October 6th: Gaps



Yesterday my little Seth lost his first tooth.  We don't actually know where it went (and I prefer not to think about it) but when he walked past me in morning mania, I noticed it was gone. 

Honestly, I never used to be an emotional person, but I felt like crying.  And then yesterday evening, when I was putting him to sleep, I was sitting (well laying really) next to him, and I read this, and then I did cry. 

I promise soon, this blog will get less sappy, and more happy. 

In the meantime, here's what really hit me from it:

Please live. I don't mind if you dye your hair kool-aid blue. I don't mind if everything you believe turns out to be different from what I believe. I don't care who you love or how you love, as long as find some and give some. I don't mind what you're into, as long as you're safe. I just want to support you. I want to witness you. I want to see the things that make you smile. I want you to have the chance to be. To be happy.


Please live.

This quote is from a speech by Kate Inglis from her speech at A Walk To Remember - which draws attention to losing a child.

The website is both heartbreaking, thought provoking and also somehow inspiring.




Tuesday, 4 October 2011

Thursday September 29: Addictive

A cold fall morning and both R and I are snuggled in bed with the boys.  

A moment of peace.  And worth missing my treadmill time and spending the rest of the day trying to catch up.  Maybe this is what its all about?

Sunday, 25 September 2011

Sunday September 24: Turtles

zsps.jpg
 Sunday used to my favourite day when I was little.


Usually it still is. I like the feel of the day... an indulgent breakfast, the FT, the NYT, coffee, the sense that its ok not to do that much.

But recently, I've had two Sundays where I felt anxious.  Not about anything specific just generally.

I went to the park with the boys and didn't help.  I worked on a power point, it made it worse. I hit the treadmill, menh.

I made these muffins.  And then, walking I saw R, sitting on the front steps, helping Seth make origami sea turtles, and it was a good good moment.

Saturday September23: Sunglasses

Eight years ago, when R and I were first in Paris together, I bought a pair of D&G sunglasses.

I loved these sunglasses and wore them all the time, everywhere.

Here.

These were the perfect sunglasses, the kind that make you feel glamourous and together even when you haven't washed your hair in two days, are wearing tatty yoga clothes and dropping groceries as you lug two kids around.

They had that kind of power.

And then this summer, on our vacation in BC, we took a friends Beaver plane to his lake tucked away in the mountains.  And went for a swim.  And yes, I was advised that I should take off my sunglasses but laughed and said they were part of my look.  So of course, shortly after, I leaned my head back and down they went, to the bottom of a lake that is actually much deeper than it seems.



So I bought a new pair.

But I wasn't sure how I felt about them.

Until yesterday, when R& I went out to dinner and a house party, (all of which happened to be  in part of town that reminded me of being an undergrad at UBC) and just as we were racing back to the babysitter,  I realised that the sunglasses that I thought were in my purse were gone....

But despite R skepticism, when we went back to the dive we'd had some pre-party drinks at, they were there.  So I think's its a good sign...

Saturday, 24 September 2011

Thursday September 29: Addictive

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Thursday, 22 September 2011

Friday September 23: First & Last Day



Yesterday was the last day of summer.

So today is the first Friday of Fall.  Even though I work from home three days a week and have the kind of work (writing, consulting and starting a business) that is always with me, regardless of days of the week or time of month (the challenge of the new career model) -

I still always feel like Friday calls for some kind of celebration.  Drinks, steak, treats are in order.

Someone I dated way back once told me I wasn't very good at celebrating the big moments or occasions in my life (I'm a bride that hated my wedding even though it was objectively stunning, skipped both my undergrad and law school graduations and view most birthdays as a time for critical self assessment: where is my life going and what am I doing) - all of which say, years later, hey, I think "short story man" might have been right.

But I think I am good at celebrating the small moments: Fridays, when the kids go to sleep (a bubble bath), a new book to read and anything to do with my kids achievements or things that make them happy (for a while this translated into candles in everything from noodles to pancakes, because hey, why not)

And so this Friday I am:
  • Making a bbqed steak salad, but am adding grilled anise, peppers and baby spinach that I am looking forward to eating on the deck with R and a bottle of red; 
  • Looking forward to hot yoga on Saturday and 
  • Hoping for a big family walk. 

Thursday September 22: Less Sleep, More Zen?


For the past two months, or maybe more, I have trying to make myself get up at 5:30 am.

The extra oh, two hours a day of child free work time, would have a huge impact on what I can get done, and when. Plus, an early start apparently means a more productive rest of your day.

But so far, I haven't managed more than two days in a row at all.

What's strange is that in the past, I used to do this.  For writing my first book, to make sure I went to hot yoga before work so what's wrong now??

Anyway, I just discovered this site, so maybe I'll try some of the tips....

Today I:

  • Loved my jivamukti class, live music, chanting, I think its the best part of my week. I also discovered a 6:30 am class not far from the house, can I do it?
  • Was oddly excited by the spur of the moment $65.00 H&M outfit I bought this afternoon and wore to curriculum night at the school today (see below for the picture); 
  • Enjoyed some post yoga birchermusli from Movinpick - I love this stuff. 
I was devastated to read this story about the death of this poor little boy.  Sometimes it seems like every cliche about the cruelty of the world, the potential heartbreak of being a parent or just being here on earth seems so true its overwhelming. And calls into question, why we do most of what we do in the wake of it all, if that makes any sense. 

Ps. just as I typed that sentence my 5 y/o (who isn't yet asleep) came to give me a hug. Which somehow makes it all more emotional.