Browsing Posts published in June, 2010

It pains me to have to take the precious few moments I have to write, to bother with this but I was sick and tired of the media coverage, money spent and sheer insanity of the recent G-20 and G-8 meetings in Toronto and Huntsville respectively.

Here are the facts as I know them to be:

1. Millions of non-recoverable dollars were spent on hosting the combined meetings

2. Businesses, schools and public transportation were shut down for days leading up to the events

3. Residents in downtown Toronto were asked to lock themselves in their buildings for the weekend or leave town and only return when the dust had settled

4. Over 700 arrests were made

5. A bunch of world leaders met

Here are my suggestions on how to solve the nonsensical violence, the unnecessary vandalism and the absurdity of protestors traveling en masse whose group effort destroyed a Starbucks in downtown Toronto. Were they protesting the inconsistency of the tazo chai latte with soy? A strongly worded letter would probably score you a $10 gift card.

1. Teleconference the leaders in. Modern technology has created such sophisticated phone systems, it is as if you are in the same room with the people you are speaking to, sitting at the same boardroom table and it can be done for a fraction of the price as meeting in person.

2. Don’t announce to anyone in the world, other than your leaders where the meetings will be held. If the protestors and angry mobs don’t know where or when you are meeting, how can they show up?

3. Host the events outside of major centres. I may be out of line but if you host your elite in an obscure, off-site location, there might be an argument that the protestors (lovely though they may be) aside from a bicycle and their tattered shoes, have no means of transportation and therefore will not smash any buildings in their quest for a good cup of coffee.

I decided after picking Hanna up from school today that I was not going to write a best seller, instead today was the day…she was off to great places and well on her way.

She was going to ride her two-wheeler around the circle, twice, without “incident” and then move onto her choice, drawing with chalk on the driveway.  In a way, we were on the same page as we would need the chalk to outline the body for the CSI’s. I wasn’t sure if it was going to be hers from injury or mine from throwing my body to the Gods in complete and utter failure to do with me whatever they saw fit. Preferably, teach me how to train a child to ride a two-wheeler. Help me, help you… Continue reading “Shifting Gears…..” »

I realized in my thirties, the idea of dragging myself to a gym, a facility that is open to the public, is not my favourite outing but a necessary evil if I want to continue to indulge in my caramel, cashew, toffee, crunch bowls from time to time.

A friend and I decided to join together which was a fabulous idea because there was no way I would go unless she physically pulled me by my dark roots, from my couch and drove me to the classes.

Thankfully, our opinions on gym etiquette were in sync and it paid to travel with a fellow prude. We agreed to wear our work-out clothes to the gym, return home to shower thus avoiding the parade of young, nude girls who seem impervious to burns while blow-drying their hair naked and prancing around the change room. Continue reading “Cardi-old…..” »

Ellie asked me when driving past a cemetery, “Why doesn’t God have beds for everyone, wherever he is, so we don’t have to lie down in a cemetery?”

Usually when we go as a family to the grocery store, I am the only family member who makes it into the store while everyone else waits in the car. This group strategy affords me the chance to zip up and down the aisles alone and actually be able to see what I am buying, without having to worry about driving over tiny toes.

Even before we had children, Greg sat sipping his coffee in the store parking lot alongside the other 80 plus year old husbands while their wives trickled out the doors one by one as though a human pez dispenser had magically presented them with their favourite treat when it was their spouse’s turn to pop out the sliders. Continue reading “Sugarsize me…..” »

I knew Hanna had been collecting buttons and I even went so far as to encourage a healthy interest in organizing, grouping and compartmentalizing them. Not unlike, her grade one stresses.

It wasn’t until I excitedly went to the closet to put on my new capris that I was disappointed I couldn’t fasten them. Not because of the extra poundage of baby weight I have yet to shed, not because I fumbled and tore the clasp when trying to do them up.

It was because Hanna had stolen the button, ripped it right off. Not only had she ripped the button off my new capris, I had buttons missing from shirts, shorts and my favourite dress pants. I have no doubt she’s using them as playground currency, for what, I have yet to find out.

I would now like to press a button that could take me back in time so I could choose a different shirt to wear out of the house yesterday… appears to have gone missing.

I hadn’t planned to mention my first visit to the car dealership to order a part for repair on the NEW champagne van but after my second trip, I thought it was worth noting.

I quickly noticed after my first visit that the waiting room at the dealership is simply not equipped for anyone traveling with a stroller. The two doors you are required to walk through are staggered, adjacent to each other and incredibly awkward. Also, the wheel-chair accessible button is broken on both doors so I’m on my own to hold the door open, pull a portion of the baby’s stroller through, do the bunny-hop on two toes, wedge myself in, turn the stroller on an impossible angle, hoping she doesn’t tip out and do it all over again.

The waiting room itself is a men’s sanctuary. Again, I had not planned to gripe and complain about this but upon first glance around the room, the display cases were filled with various baseball caps, the magazine selection was a pile of the following (in no particular order and I mean that in every sense); Bait & Tackle, Golf Digest, Better Farming, Sports Illustrated, Smart Money and Men’s Health.

Hath not a girl wheels? If you stone chip us, do we not crack? Continue reading “Female drivers?” »

A few years ago, I made a piece of art that Hanna has saved in her “over-stuffed bag of questionable colouring projects” bag. The girls were reviewing the treasures last night and Ellie discovered a page entitled; “Hannasaurus rex” in crayola washables, by Mommy.

Ellie was outraged there was no Elliesaurus rex and I had to explain the Hannasaurus was made in a land before her time. She does not handle the idea of a world that existed before her. Mostly because it reminds her that Hanna was the first to do everything and also, she missed out on ever seeing a real dinosaur. The only way to make things right was to get drawing.

“You can use my DORA markers but dinosaurs were “stinct” before there were DORA markers.” We reviewed our options and agreed the Dora markers would be better suited to the task than me etching the Elliesaurus in stone. Continue reading “Hannasaurus rex……” »

Writing a book can become complicated when your children assign other jobs to you.

This morning, Ellie wanted to be a news “recorder.” I didn’t have the heart to correct her as she’s still recovering from whether a patron visits a Doctor’s office and a patient eats at a restaurant, or the other way around.

With her four coloured pen and spiral pad with the three dimensional dog optically illuding me from the front cover, she was recording the number of people she saw wearing flip-flops and needed my undivided attention to either alert her of a spotting of the open-toed shoes or help with documenting when the numbers grew higher than eleven.

She also wanted to journal her “moves.” I quickly learned a “move” is any movement she makes that differs from walking. They can be subtle actions like a pointed toe, a pinky finger in the air, a furled brow. It required focus, energy and skill to quickly and efficiently capture each and every nuance. We made it to 200 in no time and thankfully, her attention drifted to the next project. Continue reading “Today’s Breaking News….” »

Father’s Day began as promised. A bowl of warm-ish oatmeal, blueberries, slivered almonds, cinnamon and a dollop of yogurt.

Daddy reviewed his selection of home-made crafts from the girls and fussed for just the right amount of time over each one, keeping the competition to a minimum and boosting each girl’s proud-cicle to the appropriate level.

We spent most of the day touring south western Ontario for various Father’s Day commitments and smiled when two of the three children finally fell asleep on the car ride home while car-seat baby, on a sleep-strike, perhaps for being left in her car-seat for so long today, gurgled and cooed out the window.

I would say the disastrous part of the day started when we rolled into our driveway and were forced to make the decision to wake the girls and bring them inside. It wasn’t so much forced as, is the law, but you really should listen when people tell you not to wake sleeping children.

We heard nothing but sobbing, complaining through tears about anything from a dolly’s shoe that wasn’t tied properly to, “I’m so tired I just want to lie on the kitchen floor and go to sleep.”

Our second mistake was making two sleep-walking girls have a bath. Again, it’s the law to clean your children on Father’s Day but the crying is only amplified over the running water.

I tried to calmly discuss the day with the girls while Daddy was booted out of the room for not being Mommy.

Hanna jumped out the minute her cleaning was complete and while I coaxed Ellie to come toward me to dry off, I dropped her towel in the tub. Shrieks of horror bellowed from the suds and she screeched, “Are you going to dry me with that towel?” How could I dry her with it? It was fully submerged in the water. “Are you going to dry me with Hanna’s towel?” as if she would immediately fall to the ground and crumble into tiny pieces if I did. Continue reading “Daddy’s Girls…..” »

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