We've all been there. Sitting in front of the computer screen, waiting anxiously for the clock to strike the hour. It's like the wild, wild west...only the quickest draws will survive. Who knew that registering for poxy swimming lessons could be so effing stressful? Mark your calendars, Vancouver: online registration begins Nov. 26th at 9 a.m.
Having a child can be overwhelming, in every possible way. Especially if the child is your first born. You see, kids don't come with a manual. You have to mostly trust your gut, take some advice when needed and sometimes rely on the Internet for a huge chunk of information. I used the internet to Google "How to bathe a three-day-old" because I didn't have much help after my child was born.
Just in case you missed the first trillion times I mentioned it: giving birth was really hard. Now I am about to give birth again. This time, to a book. In some ways, giving birth to a book is harder than giving birth to a baby. Everyone loves your human baby because it's an innocent party in all of this. But many will hate your paper baby, because you made it, and you suck.
Sometimes I think I must be a really nasty, boring, bee-otch to be around. They're growing up fast, I just want my kids to want to spend time with me. I want them to be excited when they know we have an entire day together. I want them to think I'm the best thing since sliced bread, but I think those times are starting to disappear.
There we were, enjoying our salty fries and other deep fried goodness, when I noticed a family sitting close by. Mom on her iPhone, kid one on an iTouch (with headphones on) and kid two on an iTouch (also with headphones on). There they were, eating their food, playing their games and uttering not a single word to one another. I'd never seen anything like it. And I could feel a little judgement of my own rising within.
While 58 per cent of us walked to school when we were kids, only 28 per cent of our kids are doing the same today across Canada. But I believe walking to school gives kids a sense of community. They get to know their route. Their neighbourhood, literally, becomes their stomping ground. It also teaches them to not be lazy and just jump in the car whenever they need to go somewhere.
My daughter keeps asking for a little sister. At first it was cute...then it started to evolve into a daily request, which became harder and harder to address. I can relate. I also wanted a sister growing up. But now, I can't deny the fact that after 4.5 years postpartum, I finally feeling like I have my body "back." I am quite certain that I don't want to go down the pregnancy path again.
Dear Andrea, circa 2007: You decided to wait until your 30s to have children. Good for you! You don't understand it yet, but one day you will be "that mom." The one who lets her kids watch TV for hours so she can get the house ready for a party. The one who gives up on wiping a snotty nose while out in public.
We cannot anticipate such senseless slaughter. But we can make the next one more difficult. America does not have any more mentally handicapped, disturbed, or mad people than any other country. What it does have is more guns. We cannot make sense of what happened in Newtown. We can only try to give this senseless massacre some purpose other than a cathartic outpouring of grief.
I for one would schedule a C-section. Before all you mothers out there gasp and accuse me of being too posh to push, hear me out. My vagina has always been there for me, through thick and thin. Some of the best times of my life have involved my vagina. We have a very close bond. So don't I owe my vagina the decency of avoiding such brazen butchery?
Why is it always women who have to explain their choice not to have children? Are men prodded with the same line of questioning and expected to explain this choice like women are, or is it perfectly natural for men to feel unsure about fatherhood? As a newlywed (like, really newly wed) I find it odd that most people direct that question at me. As if to say it's solely up to me or my husband has no say in the matter? Going forward, I'm going to suggest that all inquiries involving the utility of my uterus go directly to my husband. I'm tired of crafting clever responses.
I've been using the power of Santa Claus for a few weeks now, and things are looking good. For maximum effectiveness, the use of Santa and his omnipresence is good for the window directly following Halloween until December 25. During this time, I enjoy the increased attentiveness, dearth of meltdowns and general calm that precedes Christmas day.
Buy your kids only the toys that you were deprived of as a child. For me, that was Star Wars. My childhood lightsaber was a cardboard wrapping paper tube. Two whacks and it went flaccid. My kids on the other hand have every lightsaber imaginable, from the telescopic cheapies, to official lightsaber replicas with authentic LucasFilm® sound effects. Sure they cry when I wallop them too hard, but painful is the path of the Jedi.
Jim Power, school principal of the elite all-male Upper Canada College (UCC), recently wrote that boys need to know they can't have it all either. The fathers Power meets talk about the pressure they're under -- how they badly want to find time to watch their child "master a new acrobatic trick," that they often experience a "tug at their hearts that they keep to themselves." What about the other 99.99 per cent of parenting responsibilities?
Not only are we enamored with the ability to send and receive information in a digital format, but our children are equally smitten. I hear more and more parents bemoaning the fact that they're not able to retrieve their iPad or laptop from their young child who is busy surfing the web, watching videos or playing games on the device. Here are the top seven ways that digital technology has affected our children -- the good and the bad.
The thing is, most of the time teens are fine with not being listened to by their parents. But here's the problem: What happens when you really need them to? You see, all your training in getting them to ignore you isn't going to come in handy. You're, like, the kid who yelled woof! Or barked, or something.
I'm sometimes known as the Queen of Quinoa for my healthy eating habits. So you can imagine the shock on a patient's face when I bumped into them at Costco's snack bar where I was face deep in the most delicious beef hot dog, bun oozing with Heinz ketchup, French's mustard and Bick's green relish. Oh, and I was also inhaling a side of fries.
I often compare starting a business with motherhood. It is almost as if there is a code of secrecy. No one wants to tell you what it is really like. No one wants to spell out the down times. The sleep deprivation. The sense of rejection when no one calls you. And no one wants to admit that it was less than perfect for her.