August 13: Summer Catch Up

Unlike most blogs about family and daily life - I somehow have pictures that make things seem worse than they really were - like food photography in the old days.

An amazing week in Mt. Tremblant - at Blueberry Lake - we had friends and family come to stay, hung out in the hot tub, yoga on the deck (for me), lots of swimming (indoor pool) for the boys, a failed bonfire, long walks, lots of berries and the feeling in the best way that we were gone for more than a week.

      

We go to a lake and then hang in the indoor pool. Because: warm! waterfall! shallow water! 

Cousin fun with crazy birthday glasses. 

Tuesday January 8:

 A flashback to the Christmas vacation: 

This year Seth watched Home Alone for the first time - so this house took on a new meaning.

Sledding on our local hill. 

December 25th: Christmas

Christmas was: Sarnia, non stop pj's, R doing complicated lego. Snow. 

Lots of presents but no tree at Nonny's 

Avery Shovelling 

The boys try bowling 

November 2

This was the first year that the boys (well the older two) got really into the Halloween thing, specifically trick or treating.

The weather was horrible (of course!) but despite the cold freezing rain, we met a bunch of Seth's friends and joined the shrieking frenzy, with Avery doing his best to keep up.

Although sleeping in the bunk beds remains optional, decorating them is a must. 

Some blogs stage shots like this. Not us. Note dustpan behind R. 

A shark.

Some thought he was Nixon or Bush. Both scary.

There is nothing as nostalgic as the smell of a plastic bag filled with the mix of Halloween candy.

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.
But 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

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

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.

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.