As I sit here, almost seven months pregnant, I'm faced with thinking about what the future holds for generations to come. I want to teach my children to do the right thing -- always. But with the layers of social media, experimentation with sex and drugs earlier than ever before, and the apparent lack of support from our justice system, how can I make sure they are safe?

I'm starting to accept that all the research in the world can't prepare you for the day-to-day realities of parenting, and that the parent you hope to be isn't necessarily the parent you will be when you are faced with the child you end up with -- who is, after all, an individual in his or her own right. What matters is that I am the right mother for him, and he is the perfect child for me.

I'm grateful that you see art in everything. I'm grateful that you go to a school with the time to teach art that allows you to be expressive even if I can't put it in the recycle bin because you will just take it out again.

Max James Murphy, you sneaky rascal. How are you growing up so darn fast? You are four years old today. I am in awe. When people asked how old you...

Oh! how easy it would be to just hide under the covers and ignore the bad guys. Pretending it would all go away it we just make a simple wish. But life is far better lived in 3-D. Lived in colour. Lived out loud, and very, very large.

The thought of entering a public bathroom with your kid is more than you can bear. Have no fear the next time this scenario presents itself. There are, thankfully, some very simple tips and strategies that parents can use. Following are the top five ways to deal with public bathrooms when out with the kids.

Being the first-born-generation as a Filipino-Canadian and growing-up in the 80s conjured the kind of awkwardness that kids today will never know. I had to turn to art to escape and find my voice. And even since a very early age, it was one thing, one simple idea, I seemed to always turn to... Art.

Moms at the park playing with their kids are a common sight in most neighborhoods. Not surprisingly then, is it any wonder that there are as many different types of moms at the park as there are days of the week? Read on and you'll find that you'll likely recognize at least a few of these parents at your local playground.

Some families have a chore board or a swear jar -- we have a yelling chart. Some days I have the most blocks on the yelling chart but some days I win the best mommy ribbon. I know my mothering isn't prefect but I'm not failing either. I'm trying.

There is a picture of a mama and her kids at the park. The kids are happily playing on the playground equipment while the mom checks a message on her phone. What could she be doing? Could a very important phone call just have come in? And who are we to judge?

You never really know what kind of youngster you've got until you test him out in the real world. Our recent trip to Orlando confirmed that our little junior is quite the joiner. We shouldn't be surprised by his courage, I suppose. His nickname is Turbo Ginger for god sakes.

Many different organizations and health experts have purposed various solutions to solve the western world's obesity epidemic. But the underlying problem to the obesity epidemic is the current population's lack of connectivity to the soil, the environment and the food supply. If we can reconnect our current population with the food supply and the community, we will create a healthier and brighter future for generations to come.

While it's undoubtedly true that one of the best gifts we can give our children is a happy and loving marriage, it's difficult to wrap one's head around the notion of placing children second. Especially young ones. One would hope that parents could be mature enough to realize that once they have a child, that child should be the first priority.

Sometimes a body just needs to know. To feel a mother's love. To know that she is there. That she's within arm's length, when story lines grow dark. Becoming ominous, sinister. That she is only a whisper away. When the plot thickens to a portentous climax. When the theatrics prove a bit too much to take.