Category Archives: Women in the Workforce

Jul 31

Keeping Them in the Dark?

I’m a worrier by nature.  Can’t help it.  Always have been.  So deal with it… I know I have to and so does everyone around me.  As a kid growing up, I remember every time Peter Jennings broke into Happy Days with a “Special News Bulletin” I was sure it was due to imminent Armageddon.  The Soviets were surely pointing nukes our way or maybe Aliens had just blown up Tokyo, London and New York.

When the Shorties came along, I didn’t want them to experience the shroud of worry that hung around my youth.  So I thought it was better to just keep the bad news from them.  No need to have CNN on in the background, lets just keep things light and airy.  Now they are venturing into the world and there are more and more people around them, introducing, sharing and growing their circle of influence.  Not to mention the fact that they are wildly unprepared for the millions of scary things that could befall them on any given day.  It never occurred to me that I would one day need to warn them of the dangers that could befall us at any moment.

I remember the day #1 came home from Kindergarten and told me about all the various drills they learned at school.  The usual – fire drill (“We all line up and go outside.  We DON’T run!”), earthquake (“We make turtles and cover our heads with our hands” and finally the Code Red.  “What’s that?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s when we close all the blinds and the teacher locks the door and turns off the lights and we have to be quiet.”

I nearly fainted from the grave reality of what a Code Red actually was.  This is what it is to be a kid in 2014.

That was the day that I realized that I had done a shitty job of preparing my kid for just how scary and messed up this world really is.  Now what do I do?

We had a friend over for dinner the other night and he was recounting the story of having the news on and his son hearing about a rather horrific murder/ suicide involving a dad and his two kids.  Our friend M was so upset asking how do you help a kid un-hear something like that?  You can’t erase that kind of information.  It imbeds into kids and becomes part of their psyche.  Or it rolls in one ear and out the other leaving no impression at all?  Tough to know what will stick but you never know and who wants to play Russian Roulette with which scary stories will live with them forever.

Its a fine line of keeping their optimism alive in hopes they can carry the future out of the constant brink of calamity that we seem to live in.  But at the same time teaching them street smarts so they can stay safe.  I don’t know what the answer is, other than to just do our best.  Its all we can do really.

PS – I realize that this topic is a departure from all the travel, fashion and nonsense I usually write about.  But its my blog, so I can do whatever I want, right?

 

 

Jul 29

D-BAD: An Introduction

I’ve decided to create a weekly post called D-BAD aka DON’T BE A DOUCHE.  Each week I get to call out someone/ someplace or something for being a total DOUCHEBAG.  Its when I get to vent and take out my frustration on whatever makes me nuts each week, are you in?  Feel free to share your D-BAD’S anytime!

THIS WEEK – The BC Liberals

Dear BC Liberals:

Its almost August.  The teachers are still on strike.  We haven’t heard a peep from you for weeks.  The first day of school is almost a month away.  What gives?  Are you all on summer vacation?  Are you meeting with the BCTF in secret?  C’mon, throw us a bone.  Let us know what’s going on.  If there is NO chance we’re going back to school on September 2, can you give us a clue?  I don’t want my kid to experience any more disappointment or disruption because you can’t get your shit together.  DON’T BE A DOUCHE.

Love,

The R&R Mom

Jul 16

The Guilty Mama

I’m on the road.  Again.  Writing today from the very glamorous Newark Liberty Airport.  I’m on a week long, two-city trip.  Its day 1 and I’m feeling some relief as the guilt shopping is complete… already!  Wahoo.

You see, the business traveling mama must relieve her guilt in being away from her brood by returning with a vast array of gifts.  The gifts are used as rewards for good behaviour with Dad, to help soften the blow for the next inevitable journey and/ or because they have become expected.

It sucks that this Mama needs to be away from home for stretches of time, so its become a habit that I bring home souvenirs from my travels.  Sometimes its Legos, sometimes its books, sometimes a Barbie (I actually found Flight Attendant Barbie in an airport somewhere, which was great because of my rule that Barbies should always have a job.)  Since the great purge and move, I’ve been reluctant to buy the Shorties more STUFF, but I do like to surprise them with something.

Enter the NBC Experience Store.  Lately my trips have taken me to NYC with meetings clustered in and around Rockefeller Centre.  With 5 minutes to spare on a crazy day, the candy department at the NBC Experience Store saved my ass!  GIANT CANDY NECKLACES were the saving grace.  The Shorties loved them and they were cheap.  I think I need to invest in this company and order these by the case load.  They are a great novelty, sort of consumable and keep everyone happy.  Until of course, my trip is to anywhere but NYC and I come home empty handed.

I submit the aforementioned Giant Candy Necklaces as evidence of my guilt.

I submit the aforementioned Giant Candy Necklaces as evidence of my guilt.

Its tough.  I would like the Shorties to feel connected to my travel in that they know where I am going and where I have been.  We could load up on those “My Mom Went to (INSERT RANDOM CITY NAME) and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt” things.  Or maybe they could start collecting spoons?  WTF, are they 80?  No, they’re kids and they don’t want crappy t-shirts and I’m not wasting money on lame souvenirs from the airport gift shop.

So Giant Candy Necklaces it is.

Jul 1

Going Diaperless

Woohoo!  #2 is on the potty training kick FOR REALS!  I am so freaking excited.  Can you tell?  No more diapers, no more wipes and for the LOVE of GOD – NO MORE STANKY DIAPER CHAMP.  That thing was a blessing when we were dealing with tiny little baby poops but it is no match for what a toddler can throw at it.

I’m a big believer in letting the kid decide when its time to go diaperless and #2 is finally there this week.  After 6 months, she’s keen to wear the Minnie Mouse panties and be free.  She’s just 3, but she’s pretty good at knowing when she needs to “go”.  Last night she kinda forgot and we had a major accident.  Lovely, charming, delightful – poop everywhere!  Yet, we shall persevere.  We will endure and stand up to these messy incidents looking ever to the future and a diaperless lifestyle.  One where there’s no need to carry a diaper bag.  One where a cute clutch purse is all I need to carry on an outing with the whole family.  How exciting!!!

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Don’t get me wrong.  I loved the baby times.  I remember those days of breast feeding and high chairs, baby gates and bottles fondly.  But the day that I was able to pack up all the gear – necessary and TOTALLY unnecessary and share it with a friend expecting her first little bundle, was a day I will never forget.  We cleared out half of our storeroom in under 10 minutes.  Yippee!

I know, I know.  It goes fast.  I shouldn’t wish for time to move forward and live in the now.  I do.  I am.  But man, the clutter of baby gear is one aspect of parenthood that I am happy to bid a fond farewell.

Jun 5

Wanna Hang Out?

We’re back on the dating scene.  Playdating that is.

Kids hanging out in this day and age is a totally different ballgame from when I was a kid.  We used to run around from neighbor to neighbor ringing doorbells to see who was home and wanted to play.  We played without adult supervision until the street lights came on and we knew it was time to go home.  Simple.  Easy.

Today, its a whole other thing.  Playdates are prebooked and marked into the calendar.  Parents are often present for the duration – at least for the under 6 set.  These things are SCHEDULED.  You text back and forth with the other parents, booking the event around swimming lessons and art classes, soccer practices and violin lessons.  They are capped at 2-3 hour window of time and recur only once a month or so.  Its like casual dating.

Shorty #2 just turned 3 but she’s already all about booking the playdate.  This morning she asked me to set up a play with a new neighborhood friend.  I promised I would reach out to the kid’s parents and # 2 says “Just text her Mom.” then shoots me the double guns.  When did my kid become a CAA agent asking me to arrange meetings for her.  I’m surprised she didn’t ask for the playdate to happen over lunch at the Four Seasons.

The other element to the playdate is the parent hang.  With really little Shorties, you have to stick around and make sure they are well behaved.  This means you’re on a double date with the parents of said kid.  Sometimes this is cool, but sometimes its a bit awkward.  Now you’re spending the next 2+ hours of your Saturday wrangling kids with another adult you don’t really know and may only have in common a toddler kid.  Sometimes its awkward.  Do you offer them tea?  Wine?  What?  And God forbid the Shorty wreaks havoc (Hello little biter – I’m looking at you), now you’re really on the spot.  Discipline with an audience.  Fearing judgement you need to find the right level of admonishment so you appear just firm enough according to the other parent’s standards.

Seriously, dating in my 20’s was easier than this.

Maybe that’s the answer.  We need Tinder for playdates.  “40-something mom and 3-year-old seeking same for fun times and laughs in the East Van neighborhood.  Our likes are finger-painting, applesauce and finger-painting with applesauce.”  Here’s our profile picture:

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I miss the days of ringing doorbells and asking “Marky’s Mom” if Marky could come out to play.  It was easier.  If the parents were around it was because they were ordering pizza together and there was usually beer involved.  What’s happened to us that playing is such a production?

 

May 29

I Am The Baker. Kookookachoo.

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It’s the annual spring carnival at Shorty #1’s school. We’re new to the school so we (this of course means I) would like to try and make a good impression by helping as much as we (I) can. So we’ve donated items for the silent auction, have volunteered for a shift in a booth and tonight made cupcakes for the bake sale.

It’s probably more accurate to say “attempted to make” as the results are somewhat lacking. I’m not 100% sure where it all went wrong. Was it because I hoped to make the cupcake baking an activity by enlisting the Shorties to help? Was it because we began the whole process at 7pm on a school night when J was out at a late business meeting so I was flying solo in the parenting department? Was it because I let les petites sample the chocolate before we started? Or was it because I tried to get fancy and try something new?

Ah yes, I created the perfect storm.

It all started ok. The batter was mixing nicely. #1 in charge if the cupcake cups going into the tray, #2 at the controls of the stand mixer. Everyone suitably satisfied with their role. But soon enough it was time to spoon the batter into the cups. #1 – the sole beneficiary of said bake sale in the household was taking the responsibility of ladling the batter. I was preoccupied with #1’s progress and completely missed #2 with the beater from the mixer in her mouth. When, I took it away she was clearly pissed. Cries of “No fair” rang out across the kitchen.

Finally the cupcakes made it into the oven. And this my friends is where the real folly took place. Personally I blame Martha Stewart, Nigella Lawson and all those other Food Network domestic goddess-types that get all fancy with things like cupcakes and make non-baking, non-culinarily inclined types like me feel pressured to try something fancy. Oh yes! Why not create a hybrid of two recipes – roasted marshmallows instead of icing! A revelation!!! These revolutionary cupcakes would be easy, charming and the hit. Until we actually tried to execute on my brilliant plan for bake sale domination.

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Now we are left with 18 (okay 17 – we HAD to try one) crappy looking hockey pucks of melted goo and drippy butterscotch sauce (the latter a last minute attempt at a save) and nothing remotely presentable for human consumption least of all to sell to strangers! Shorty #2’s reaction was to wipe out her mouth with a paper towel after she tried hers. Me – I’m battling a little nausea.

I think I need to accept my inner undomestic self. Baking is not my thing, least of all with 2 Shorties assisting. Next time I’ll know better and offer to do the selling instead of the baking. Or will I????

May 15

Hipster Hood

Moving Day

Moving Day

You’ll recall the old real estate adage – when looking for property to buy its all about location, location, location.  What are the factors that determine whether a location is good?  Proximity to public transport, walkability perhaps the potential of increase in property value in the foreseeable future.  When looking at property for the investment potential – ie; how much will it appreciate over the next several years – you need not look at the long term mass transit plans or city development strategy.  Just look for the hipsters.  Hipsters mean you are on the cusp of being the next hot neighborhood in town.  I give you THE prime example – Williamsburg, Brooklyn.  This should be your real estate strategy.

All you followers of The Rock and Roll Mom know we just moved into a new house.  We moved a little closer to the heart of Vancouver’s eastside – more affectionately known as East Van.  A rapidly gentrifying part of the city, its a colourful area filled with an eclectic mix of old and new houses and lots of people on the same game plan as us (ie: professionals with young kids).  More importantly, I think we have stumbled upon a little Hipster hotspot.  Could we be on to something here?  I’m not sure but here are some of the signs that your neighborhood might be moving into Hipster territory:

1. Your neighbor likes to play banjo/ mandolin/ harp on the front porch.

2. Your other new neighbor has an experimental art project synth band that rehearses daily at 4pm.

3. The local coffee shop only plays vinyl and the decor theme is Crow.

4. Part 2 of the local coffee shop – you can bet that those are ethical crop beans and that the coffee is brewed in those fancy single serving glass carafe-y thingys.

5. Gluten free everything, everywhere.

6. Vintage store is picked clean of anything worth buying or anything plaid.

7. Tacos tacos tacos.

8. Most of the local girls where their hair in big donut buns on the top of their heads.  The donut hair buns are not to be confused with the maple bacon gluten free donuts available at the aforementioned coffee shop.

9. The local drug store always seems to have a surplus of shaving cream, razors etc.

10. More and more neighbors are dressing in skinny jeans, hats and ironic (but is it then unironic??) t-shirts.

All of these signs are excellent news for the neighborhood.  It means you’re about to get more and more great restaurants that serve organic vegan thin crust Neopolitan pizza.  It also means that you are bound to get several Urban Outfitters inspired shops where you can buy kitschy patio lights, and the aforementioned ironic/ unironic t-shirts.  Once you’re overun with the retail haunts of Hipster-hood, you are well on your way to increased property values.  Congratulations!  The question then becomes, will you sell or start a neighborhood bluegrass band?

 

 

 

Mar 21

Get A Move On

Who needs toys when you have BOXES!

Who needs toys when you have BOXES!

I am sure you have been losing sleep, wondering what happened with our house.  You can tell I’ve been kinda busy with this whole moving thing that I haven’t even had a chance to post an update.  Well, the good news is that we sold our house on the first showings.  The fact that we didn’t have to clean the house for multiple showings was a Godsend and I could kiss those buyers for simply saving me from the complete nightmare it would have been to forensically clean the house one more time.  I mean, come on.

So we’re sold, we’re messy and we’re now waiting for the next horror show – the actual move.  Luckily, the purging and storing plan we were on helped a ton so we only have to pack up the remaining half of our belongings.  J has quite aptly pointed out that the Storage Pod we used could now effectively be tossed into the ocean as we have clearly not missed one thing in there.  (Well, I have missed my red jeans.  Those are in there and I wanted to wear them the other day.)  Don’t worry, we won’t actually throw it in the ocean, we’ll just pile it all into the new basement and look at it the next time we move.

All this aside, the nightmare of packing is still upon us.  It absolutely amazes me how many boxes it takes to pack it all up.  Linens and pantry items, clothing and dishes.  Its a lot of stuff that we need to live everyday (ok almost everyday) and when you start pulling it out of the closets and cupboards and putting into boxes its a crap-load.

The actual move begins a week from today.  Will we be ready?  Will everything make it to the new house relatively unscathed?  Will I make it through the process relatively unscathed?  Will our kids make it through the process and not want to kill us at the end?  Ugh.  What were we thinking.  The old house was great, wasn’t it?  Damn you society for making us want to go bigger and better!

Wish us luck.  We’ll probably need it…

 

Feb 6

Roll On Sweet Baby Roll On

vectorstock_940365I think my family believe in house elves.  Seriously, I’m sure of it.  How else would we perennially have toilet paper on the roll?

I would be a very rich woman if someone paid me every time I changed an empty toilet paper roll or worse restocked the bathroom with spare rolls.  The moment when you sit down and see the roll, empty perhaps with a simple lone square hanging there, taunting you with its sheer futility.  Thanks people in my house.  That’s fantastic.  The real joy is when you go to replace it and there are no spare rolls left.  Not on the back of the toilet, not under the sink, not hiding under the tub.  “J!!!!!!!” I bellow.  “Sweeeeeeeeeetie!!!!   Help!!!!”  as I sit and wait for one of them to come rescue me with a spare roll.

Really, we buy this stuff by the tonnage from Costco, yet getting it to the right place when it needs to be is always a nightmare.  The same principle applies to the hand soap dispenser.  We’re trying to be green, so we buy refills for the pumps.  Some might think that these are miraculous soap bottles, pouring out their clean little hearts ad infinitum.  Sadly, no.  Perhaps then the aforementioned elves are constantly refilling them?  No again.  Its me.  Its me, its me, its me.  I do it.  Just like I put my OCD behavior to good work refilling the coffee maker and Brita jugs every night before bed, I restock the bathrooms.

Maybe I need to really mess with them.  I wish I knew how to short sheet a bed.  Trouble is, its my bed too.  Swap the sugar for salt?  Again, I’m a mess before I have my coffee so how can I remember the sabotage?   Tonight I’ll lie awake thinking of ways to get even with them… if I don’t fall asleep.

The truth is, I only really care in that exact moment when you need to think the unthinkable (ie: drip dry… euw).  So I’ll just happily carry on, planning ahead for each bathroom visit, never leaving anything to chance.

Dec 16

Blurred Lines

I’m home!  I’m home, I’m home, I’m home.  I am so f#%@ing happy to be home, I can’t even tell you.  This last trip was 10 days, not too bad.  But the break between trips was just a week, so it felt waaaay longer than normal.

Its strange to come home after such a long and intense roadtrip.  Life on the road is a little manic.  You spend all your time with a bunch of people that become your family in a way.  This little unit of people traversing across the country (or the world!) experiencing all kinds of madness and chaos along the way in the hyper microcosm that is entertainment business.  People catering to your every need.  Successes earned.   Surreal moments experienced.  Calls home are tough, brief and don’t cover the half of the stuff that’s gone on…

Shorty #2 is happy I'm home...

Shorty #2 is happy I’m home…

The next thing you know you’re walking in your front door, to the family waiting within.  All smiles and kisses and hugs. This is where you experience The Blurred Lines of your life – the reality of life on the road and life at home.  The difference between room service and the empty fridge, feather beds and snotty sheets, car service and the gas station.  Life on the road can be plush.  Life at home can be tough.  Maybe the lines aren’t so blurred after all.  What time is our dinner reservation becomes do we have any cans of soup in the cupboard?  Can housekeeping collect the laundry becomes holy sh&%, how can two kids create so much laundry?  Oh, there’s George Clooney at the bar becomes there’s my neighbor taking up 2 parking spots again.

If you’ve been following the R&R Mom, you’ve heard me prattle on about this before.  I love coming back to the reality that is home.  But it always takes a couple of days to get back into the swing and not expect the maid to make my bed.  Some other road warriors I know call it their grumpy time.  It really is a readjustment.  For me, its trying to slow down to the pace of everyday life rather than the protracted 18 hour work day that the road can be.  The first day I’m home, people expect me to be tired; “You don’t want to meet for lunch when you’re just getting home!”  Quite the contrary, just try and stop me.  Poor J – I’m like ” Lets go here and here and here and HERE and then when we get home lets do this and this and THIS.”  Day 2 on the other hand and I’m crashing.  Can’t stay up past 8pm.  That is NOT a very rock and roll bedtime.

So here I am back in the land of poopy diapers and grocery lists, happy for a little reality check.  Counting the days until the next trip (5) but this time for vacation with the shorties!