Apr 23

All the News That’s Fit to… Wait. What?

Don’t get weird, but I’m about to pull out the soapbox.  Are you ready for it?

What the hell is happening to the news?  I know this is not a new complaint as the past few weeks have been a perfect example of the stupidity that the 24 hour news cycle breeds. CNN has been on a loop about this lost plane, positing theories from terrorism to aliens as explanations to the unexplainable.  Oscillating blame from the pilots to real bad guys to simple mechanical failure.  No one really knows what happened, so lets create hours and hours of television and let everyone just guess.  Who cares if they contradict one another or even themselves.  Just keep guessing – that’s what news has become.

When was it that journalism got so sloppy?  Gone are the days of the hardcore editor sitting behind his desk, cigar stub hanging from his lips, yelling at the junior reporter; “But its not news kid!”  “Can you PROVE it?”  That guy must be rolling in his grave when he reads the headlines these days.  News is no longer based in just the facts, editorial has seeped into the mainstream news and opinion seems to be the default proof when the hard facts prove to be too elusive.

I know, I know.  Its not a recent problem – its been going on for a long time now.  And to be honest its bothered me for a long time.  But today just seemed to be the day that it broke me.  Scrolling through my news pages and twitter feed today I was struck by the posts by Christiane Amanpour reporting on the state of play in Crimea when right in the middle of all this REAL news there’s a post about a fight between Russia and the Ukraine being about who invented the recipe for Chicken Kiev.  I kid you not.  WTF is that all about?  Christiane?  Is that you?  Did you hire US Airways social media department to run your Twitter account?  Come on!  Of all the real true journalists left in this world, how can you mention the expulsion of the Crimean leader in one post and then a f%^&ing recipe in the next???

Christiane Amanpour tweets about Chicken Kiev and the crisis in the Ukraine.

Christiane Amanpour tweets about Chicken Kiev and the crisis in the Ukraine.

The next thing that got me today was an article in The Globe & Mail.  For decades, the Globe has been a pillar of Canadian print media.  This has been a credible national daily newspaper.  But lately they seem to be fixated on a potential real estate bubble happening in the Canadian housing market.  Weekly and sometimes daily for the past few months they have been the harbinger of doom for the Canadian real estate market and who knows – they could be right – but today’s article absolutely took the cake.  Today they published an article about a possible exploding bubble that could see a reduction in home prices of as much as 25% within a year.  Included in the article was a calculator so you could see just how much money you would lose if your house was to lose 25% of its value.  Filled with disclaimers, they included this calculator on their iPhone app.  To be fair it also allowed you to slide the scale of the percentage from the potential 25% loss to a possible 25% gain.   But still – HOW IS THIS NEWS?  By offering the quick click through to a calculator which defaults to the doom and gloom of a 25% loss in value seems to only perpetuate fear on something based in speculation and not fact.  Furthermore, isn’t the housing market based on speculation so if you continue to propose that there is a housing bubble about to burst and spoon feed this to the masses will this not become a self-fulfilling prophecy?

I work with the media so much and while some writers are great and actually check their facts, most rely on Wikipedia to check for accuracy.  Wikipedia?  Are you kidding me?  Granted, I work in entertainment and getting someone’s first album title correct is not a matter of life or death.  But these are the simple things that should be done right. Perhaps this is a symptom of our voracious need for news and information.  We crave it.  We breathe it.  We literally hold it in the palms of hands all the time.  We need news and we need it faster than ever.  There isn’t time to make sure that the news that’s coming out of our “trusted” sources is accurate or even good information.  Its just information that we are clambering after at an alarming pace.  I guess I have to blame myself for needing to read 20 news apps every morning and expect new and different information with each one.  Can I really complain when Christiane Amanpour has to fill column space with recipes?

Apr 14

I’m Leaving on a Jet Plane

The Empty Gate.

The Empty Gate.

What is it with people when they travel.  Its like a switch goes off the minute they hit the security line-up.  They freak out and lose all sense of decorum and civility.  The guy who just rationally stood behind me in the Starbucks line-up is now at security pushing me through.  As I unpack every liquid, gel, electronic, shoe, jacket, sweater, piece of metal on my person – he’s filling the bins before I can finish.  Its no different all the way until we’re out of baggage claim on the other side.  What is it about air travel that causes people to completely lose their manners?

Maybe I’m a little grumpy but as I am just waking up with my first coffee following a completely packed red-eye on a 777, I think I have identified some of the main characters you encounter on when flying these days.  Here’s who to look out for:

1. The Premature Boarder – This is the lady who has camped out at the door to the gate in the hopes of being first on the plane.  Does she think there is a prize for being the first?  Like a nice chocolate waiting at her seat?  A bravo from the flight attendant perhaps?  Complimentary upgrade?  Um, no.  The Premature Boarder is flying economy, has no airline status, is not flying with small children nor is handicapped.  The Premature Boarder seems to be deluded into thinking that where you position yourself at the boarding gate matters.  First off – get out of the way.  Secondly, you are checked in and at the gate – the plane is NOT going to leave without you.  Find some patience and relax.

2. The Overpacker – Ok.  This Overpacker is not to be confused with my overpacking tendency.  This is not the person checking several large pieces.  This is the person with the oversized rollerboard, the massive duffelbag and some crazy souvenir piece of shit wrapped in bubble wrap.  The other variation on the Overpacker is the business traveller with the massive rollerboard and garment bag who refuses to pay checked bag fees and stows their luggage in the first overhead bins even though they are sitting in row 38.  Both of these people suck.  A lot.

3. The Seat-Grabber – This is the guy sitting in the row behind you that seems to forget that the seat back he insists on violently grabbing contains an actual human being that is nearly whiplashed every time he needs to check the overhead or take a pee.

Headed to 37,000 feet with some of your new best friends.

Headed to 37,000 feet with some of your new best friends.

4. The Recliner – The Recliner is just a dick.  You know what I’m talking about.  They’re the ones that push the seat all the way back the minute the landing gear comes up.  Thanks pal.  I love that your seat back is now in my face and that I need to contort my 5’5″ frame just to get to my bag under your seat.  Don’t even get me started about when the meal service starts.  Put it up you idiot.

5. The Under-Seat Stower – Dude.  Don’t try and shove stuff under your own seat. It goes under the seat in front of you.  Enough said.

6. The Anxious De-Planer – This is the guy from Row 38, on his feet and in the aisle as soon as you hear that little bing when the seat belt sign goes off.  He doesn’t have a tight connection but what ever he’s up to upon arrival is way more important than whatever you’re doing.

7. The Jetway Sloth – The Jetway Sloth is usually traveling with the Anxious De-Planer.  As they enter the Jetway, the apparent compulsion to GET OFF THAT PLANE ceases and they are now in no hurry at all.  Along with their friends they walk abreast and the minute you try to make a break for it and go around them they veer straight into your path oblivious to everyone else around them.  This happens several times in the span of 10 metres.

The Beloved Baggage Belt

The Beloved Baggage Belt

8. Baggage Claim Blocker – The BCB as I like to call them are often also traveling with the Anxious De-Planer.  Using trolleys and carry-ons, they take up valuable real estate at the baggage belt, usually located right at the junction where the bags come out.  They pick up every bag, inspecting carefully to see if its theirs.  They don’t discriminate, even though their bag is green they check the black and navy and floral printed ones too JUST IN CASE they packed a bag they forgot.  When their bag does finally come out, it has several colourful pieces of ribbon and yarn tied to the handle to help distinguish it in situations just as this.

Beware of these traveling characters and the havoc they wreak on your already taxing travel day.  When you do encounter them, know you are not alone in the pain of managing their abhorrent behaviour.  Keep your fingers crossed for an upgrade!

 

 

Apr 9

Come on Baby Light My Fire

Are you sitting down?  I am.  I need to when I tell this story.  All you R&R Mom regulars know that we just moved into our new house.  Brand new house.  Got that?  Good.  Well, on night 5 in said BRAND NEW HOUSE we were hit by a random arson attack.  Yep.  You heard me right.  ARSON.  Middle of the night some punks in our alley decide to set a car ablaze right next to our BRAND NEW GARAGE.  Our poor neighbors lost their BRAND NEW SUV.  Lucky for us the quick arriving Fire Department saved the BRAND NEW GARAGE from nothing more than some cosmetic damage.  Nothing like a little charring on the cedar siding and the BRAND NEW GARAGE DOOR.

Just a police incident, that's all.

Just a police incident, that’s all.

We were lucky, very lucky as things could have been much worse of course.  No one was hurt, the arsonists were dumb and seemed to leave plenty of evidence for the police and the damage was minimal (besides the obvious written-off aforementioned SUV).  The drag now is that we’re in the Insurance Vortex of claims adjusters and contractors and fire investigators and case numbers.  For example, our neighbour is working now with the car insurance to replace the vehicle.  She is fascinated by the statement “Can you drive the car?”  Ummm, yeah if its being pulled by a tow truck.  It was torched stupid!  The engine melted into our driveway and the front seat is just a metal frame.  I myself had a delightful (she says sarcastically) conversation with the Insurance Adjuster who basically accused us of having enemies out to get us.  Why thank you most professional smarty pants for suggesting what the POLICE have called a random attack as being something more nefarious and shaking my sense of security to sleep peacefully IN MY OWN BED!  I’m sure this is the case as the Arsonists also had it out for our BRAND NEW neighbor down the lane who lost his fence.

I can’t blame the poor insurance man.  He’s just doing his job (poorly).  The real bad guys are the actual bad guys.  The dickhead in my alley with the can of lighter fluid, up to no good.  We speculate what motivated this little scumbag to do so much damage for no reason.  Fortunately, they weren’t motivated by hurting people as the fires were far from where we were all asleep in our beds.  But still, if the fire department had arrived just a few minutes later things could have gotten much much worse.  What was the point aside from the thrill of watching someone else’s hard earned property burn?  The fact is that its just stuff, stuff that can all be replaced.  Its just the senselessness of it all that baffles me.  My hope for that deranged bugger is that they get the help they need to deal with whatever demons cause them to behave this way.

Regardless, lets not take the whole house “warming” thing so literally.  A nice banana bread would be a better welcome to the neighborhood gift.

 

 

Apr 7

Block Rockin’ Beats

I’m blocked.  I wish I wasn’t, but clearly I am.  I love to write and when I’m inspired I can write a blog post in 10 minutes flat.  But sometimes, its like pulling teeth.  I’d rather not write crap, but lately I’ve been in a writing rut and its been really hard to sit down and type like the wind.

What do I do?  Its everyday life that inspires me for topics.  But I guess lately I’ve just been too busy and stressed to see the comedy that everyday life provides.  So now what?  How do I reignite the passion?

Maybe I’m thinking about you too much.  It was easier to write when I didn’t think anyone would read what I had written.  But now those stats loom and the number of very nice people like you that actually read this thing is going up.  It was one thing when I thought I was simply entertaining my Mom (Hi Mom!).  But now that strangers are reading this, I feel a little exposed and self-conscious.  Well, then why did I start posting a blog anyways?  Right?  Geez.  I’m like Kim Kardashian complaining about paparazzi.  C’mon lady, get over yourself.

Maybe that is the answer.  Stop Kardashian-ing.  Stop thinking about anyone else.  Keep looking for the funny in the monotony of daily life and remember why I like to write rather than trying to write what people want to read?  Well, then I’m off to go find a good fart joke to inspire me…

 

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…

 

Mar 17

A Free (Wo)Man in Paris

Me and J beneath Charlamagne by Shorty #1

Me and J beneath Charlamagne by Shorty #1

We went to Paris last week.  Me, J and the Shorties.  I was excited by the prospect of showing them the City of Light and for a chance to be in Paris with plenty of free time to explore. It was an adventure.

We had been warned that perhaps a European sojourn was not exactly THE holiday for a young family, but an opportunity arose and the airmiles were cashed in and we decided to take a chance, win a prize (in the words of my poetic husband).   You know what, we totally won.  It wasn’t awful, it wasn’t boring and we were not in the least bit disappointed.  But we did learn a few things along the way…

1. International Air Travel in the days of personal screens, iPads etc can actually be pretty manageable.  Just don’t expect Les Petites to like the airplane food, even if it is the children’s meal.

2. Jetlag is a nightmare.  No way around that.  So just accept that for the first few days you may be sleeping the day away, so embrace the night.

3. Sort out your local transportation.  Paris is best explored on foot, except when you’re rolling with a 2 and 7 year old.  Various transport devices for the Shorties was the only way to go.  Stroller, carrier and scooter gave us options for them to move around and still be able to walk for miles.

4. Bribery is awesome.  Nothing like a macaron at the end of a long trip to convince La Petite to carry on.

Shorty #2 enjoys a proper chocolate eclair and wonders if she's found poo inside... Tres charmant!

Shorty #2 enjoys a proper chocolate eclair and wonders if she’s found poo inside… Tres charmant!

5. Don’t expect them to be fascinated by all the incredible art and history around you.  Rather let them be fascinated by the things that they find amazing.  Case in point, we took a trip to Versailles.  Shorty #2 was fast asleep on my back (NOTE: they do NOT allow strollers in the Palace – that was an AWESOME discovery as we reached the front of the line) and #1 was walking along the tour with us.  I gave her the task of counting all the suns she could see (good on Louis XIV for picking an emblem that’s easy to spot and placing it everywhere in the palace, thanks for that dude) but by the time we reached the Hall of Mirrors she was done.  “I’m bored” followed quickly by “I’m tired”  and then followed by “Can we GOOOOOO”.  It was the moment we had been waiting for on the tour and she decided now was the time to fall to pieces.  Luckily the Hall is filled with statues in various states of undress.  The Sun count very quickly became the Weiner count.  She laughed through the whole thing counting penises on the statues and every little naked cherub in the room.  I was pretty grateful for that revelation!

So the moral of this story – be brave, go with the flow and enjoy the moment.  By embracing the simple things on our trip we were able to experience Paris and actually have a great time as a family.

The Shorties at Place des Voges

The Shorties at Place des Voges

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.

Jan 18

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

It’s Friday night, Daddy’s away and it’s been a hell of a week. Lets go out for a girls dinner. Sounds like a great idea, right? Me, the two Shorties, a nice meal, no dishes. What could be bad about this? Rather than explain, I’ll just share the riveting dinner conversation…

Me: Okay – what do you guys want to order? Pizza, pasta. Great. Done. And juice to drink. Cool.

A moment of calm after the order is placed. Hmm, this could be quite nice.

Three seconds elapse.

Shorty #2 begins to blow bubbles in her drink

Shorty #1 takes away her straw.

#2: Ahhhhhhhhh. My stwaw.

She then pinches #1.

#1: Waaaaahhhhh (crying)!!!!! That hurt. MOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!

#2: Waaaahhhhhhh (also crying)!!!!

Me: Keep your hands on your own body, we don’t hurt each other. #2!! No blowing bubbles, that’s rude. #1 don’t boss your little sister around so much.

By now, the hipsters two tables over are eye-rolling so hard, I can hear their corneas scraping along their eyelids.

#2 burps loudly.

#1: That’s not ok, you shouldn’t burp at the table.

A moment of calm, so we pull out toys to pass the time. #1 has a pile of Barbies that were in some dramatic play where people were falling off cliffs and miraculously rising from the dead. Note to self to monitor her Netflix watching even more closely. #2 has a couple of cars, one of which is now hovering over her juice. Crisis averted the car is now back on the table. Just then #2 inadvertently leans on #1 and she FREAKS out.

#1: Arggghh – quit touching me!!!!

Now #2 is sliding off the banquet.

Me: Where are you going:

She grunts.

#2: I poo.

Stand up diaper change takes place in the change table-less bathroom while #1 holds the fort. Luckily the food is on the table when we get back and there’s a moment of serenity and we actually start to each talk about our day…. For about 35 seconds.

#2: Mo pizza.

#1: I want some of that pizza.

#2 (or maybe #1, I think I’ve blocked it out): What’s for dessert?

#1: I just farted.

Me: Um, cheque please.

Maybe we’ll stay home next time….

Jan 17

Our House

So…we are about to put our house on the market.  Can you imagine the fun and hilarity that is ensuing in our household right now?  Right?  You can see it – boxes piled up, clutter being de-cluttered, windows and walls being scrubbed.  This is SUPER fun.  Now we add 2 kids in the equation and the need to be doing all this in the evenings after work.  We are talking an incredible time had by all.  This is amazing.  I could cry.

Channeling my inner '50's housewife. Polishing the silver in my CoH velvet jeans, not so bright....

Channeling my inner ’50’s housewife. Polishing the silver in my CoH velvet jeans, not so bright….

It all started with the stager.  Perfectly coiffed lady arrives at the door.  She is PAID to tell me what’s wrong with my house.  You can imagine how much I enjoyed that.  I wouldn’t let her in without a clear acknowledgement of the fact that we had only moved in to this space 3 months before and in that time I was on the road for about 2.5 months, so the house wasn’t exactly in top form.  She began to make the rounds… TV has to go, that mirror is too small, your art is hung too low, oh and this playroom is confusing – it needs to be a bedroom.  Excellent.  That was a great experience.  The short story is that in order to sell your house, you basically need to move out and hire Queen Hairdo to completely refurnish and redecorate the place, all for a very small fortune (ie: far more than it would cost to actually purchase the stuff she says we need to make the place passable).  Oh!  To make this even more fun, Her Highness doesn’t even do any of the heavy lifting.  We’re on the hook for the packing, cleaning, light fixture replacing anyways.

So I said “Screw you” to the Duchess of Decor.  I got this!  And you know what, I think I kind of do… Its starting to look pretty good as we pack up the storage pod outside the front door and give the windows a wipe.  A couple new mirrors and lamp here and there, a bouquet of fresh flowers, we can do this.  We’ll let you know if it actually works when its time to actually start showing the place.

The real trouble now is how do we live in this place with the Shorties for the next who knows how long.  That’s the part that’s got me.  Shorty #2 is a walking mess these days.  She’s like PigPen from the Peanuts cartoons only the swirling dust storm around her also includes yogurt and lipgloss.  Have you ever tried to clean dried yogurt off the wall?  And NO, I’m not a savage, I do not neglect the mess so it dries – these are the hidden messes those little fingers create completely unbeknownst to you!  Plus Shorty #1 is like a 3 outfits a day kind of girl.  Not to mention her deep emotional attachment to every single piece of paper on which she’s written, drawn, scribbled or even tested a pen – we NEED to keep them all.  I swear to God this kid has hoarding tendencies.  We’ll be buried soon.  If I don’t post for a while, send a search party.  I’m serious.

My experience though has lead me to build my top tips for Staging Your House with Young Children:

1. Get a hotel room and stay there until the subjects are lifted from the offer.

2. Repeat if necessary.

3. Pray, hope, meditate – whatever it takes that this whole thing is done quick.

Wish us luck!

 

 

Dec 24

Dreaming of a Sleepy Christmas

Sleep regression. Why? It’s really kinda cruel and unusual punishment. Kid hits the 2 year mark and has been sleeping through the night for months and you’re finally starting to think and act like a normal human who gets a solid nights sleep. Then WHAM! (Not the George Michael version) sleep regression hits you smack in the face.

Shorty #2 is 2 1/2. She’s all about sleep regression. Bed time can be a nightmare. Not only do we have to lay with her for the 30-60 minutes it takes for her to fall asleep, we have to be prepared for every single delay tactic she hurls at us.

“I’m not tired.”

“Wanna watch a movie.”

“My tummy hurts.”

And the all time favorite;

“Water.”

#2 has perfected the “water ask” better than any kid I’ve ever met. She croaks it out in a weakened whisper, like Lawrence of Arabia stranded in the desert, she spies the oasis in the distance and begins her plea. “Water” she breathes, when we don’t immediately respond, she becomes a little more insistent “waaater”. If we’re not returning with the glass in hand at this point, she becomes a little more unglued until finally;

“WAAAAATEEEEEEERRRR”

When finally sufficiently watered and AT LAST asleep, usually after us, we’re now able to settle in for a solid 2-3 hours before the next wake up. This can happen any time between midnight and 4am. And it totally SUCKS. No matter what wakes the little bean, she’s up for minimum another 30-60 minutes. Tossing, turning, kicking, elbowing. Finally she remembers her favorite tool, “WATER” she whispers.

Eventually she’ll doze off again, and I’m up. iPhone blazing, email checking, Facebook nosing – I can’t decide if technology helps or hinders insomnia. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch another hour before the house wakes up to start the day.

And here we are again, back to that sleep deprived state of early motherhood. Living for caffeine and relying on that 3rd cup of coffee. I’m sure the light is at the end of the tunnel, lets hope it’s a nightlight.

…and to all a good and sleepy night.

Xo