The Playpen Pundit

Yeah, Alright, Okay.

2008-07-07T12:25:00.001-04:00

I could put it off no longer. Signing up for Facebook, that is.

I’m naturally suspicious of anything that allows my personal information to be shared with the world. Yeah, I know I share personal information every time I write a blog entry, but I don’t give out too much that could allow some nutter to come kidnap my child or some crook to steal my identity (Hey, having worked in politics and banking makes you very ~~paranoid~~ wary. The crazies I’ve encountered…I can’t even begin to tell you.)

However, through feeling completely out of the loop and being assured that I could “hide” my Facebook information so only friends could see it, I’ve relented.

I already see the how this becomes addictive for people. And, so far, the security of Facebook has proven itself adequate, if not humorous.

For example, when I went to add my husband (an avid Facebooker) under the “spouse” category, I got the message that he would have to confirm that we were in a relationship before his name would appear next to “spouse” on my profile. Damn rights, he’d better confirm it!

And of course he did but when it happened Facebook sent me a message telling me that he had “approved your relationship request.” Umm, technically, (as well as legally and religiously) he kinda “approved” that almost three years ago when we said our marriage vows. Anyhow, whatever. I wanted security, after all.

But on the flip side, things are already starting to annoy me. Less than 12 hours after I signed up, I got a request to be a “Facebook friend” with some dude that I don’t even know. “Good luck, buddy,” I thought before I hit the “Ignore” button.

We have mutual friends so I’m pretty sure he means no harm, but I have no interest in enabling him as he builds his vast Facebook Empire of hundreds of his so-called friends. (This makes me think there is a blog post in the offing to do with the insecure people who need to look popular on their profile by amassing scads of contacts.) Not that I even know hundreds of people, but even if I did, the vast majority of them need not read about my latest comings and goings (again, with the paranoia…)

I suspect that despite the small annoyances that will creep up, I will grow to love Facebook. I’ll let you know.

Apparently We’ve Somehow Pissed Off The Tire Gods

2008-07-02T10:20:00.002-04:00

So, yeah, we had all the drama last week with the flat tires.

Yesterday, we discovered this in another tire.

What. The. Hell????

(Oh, and in case anyone was wondering…no, you cannot find a single car/tire repair centre open in the city of Ottawa on Canada Day.)

So whatever we did to piss off the tire gods, we’re sorry. Stop messin’ with us – PLEASE!

It Really Is All In The Timing

2008-06-19T20:36:00.000-04:00

Anything to do with the mechanics of cars stresses me out beyond belief. I can put together IKEA furniture in my sleep (I’ve had so much practice), wield a screwdriver or hammer like it is nobody’s business, and am not the least bit intimidated walking into Home Depot. But besides driving them, which I love to do, cars are an unknown area that can really freak me out.

I think it all started when I was a teenager and my grandfather had given my mom his 1969 Plymouth Valiant. Lest anyone think I’m older than I am, the car was almost 20 years old by the time my mom got it, and I started driving it.

I’ll never forget it stalling at one of Calgary’s busiest intersections during one of the busiest times of day. I was by myself and figured I’d be stranded forever in that ~~piece of shit~~ vintage vehicle but I finally got it going again. However, that wouldn’t be the last time something like that would happen. I’d hold my breath every time I got into that car.

So my heart started to race when I was out shopping with The Wee Man today and saw that I had a flat tire.

“Don’t worry. Call CAA,” Hubby the Great reassured me when I called him in distress.

CAA showed up quickly, changed the flat, and had me on my way. I still had other errands to run but felt I needed to come home, shut the blinds, and crawl under the duvet after my “harrowing” experience.

By late this afternoon I’d mostly “recovered” from it all until Hubby the Great returned from work. He walked past the Jeep on the driveway and noticed that the replacement tire was now flat.

Aaaarrghhh!!!!!

We’ll now need CAA to tow our vehicle to the dealership to get this fixed.

Aaaarrghhh!!!!!

Oddly enough, the CAA membership renewal arrived in the mail yesterday.

Needless to say, I’ll be doing that immediately. I wonder if they have a lifetime membership.

I Heart The Internetz

2008-06-17T20:59:00.000-04:00

What is it with me and hairdressers in this city? Finding (and more importantly keeping) a good stylist here has been nothing short of epic.

It certainly doesn’t help that it has been months since my last cut. But when you’re a stay-at-home-mom, you can always think of a million child and household-related things to spend that single income on. Unfortunately, that means personal maintenance and upkeep comes in somewhere after buying diapers and fixing the roof.

However, as infrequent as my trips are to the salon, it doesn’t mean I will settle for just anyone cutting my hair. I won’t bore anyone with the tales of woe involving my hair but when I can find someone to make it cooperate, and actually look decent, I want to hang on to them.

So needless to say, I was nothing short of mortified when I went to make an appointment with my works-wonders-stylist to find that she no longer works at the salon I was going to.

Knowing full well the salon would not give me her new contact information, I decided to use her unique first name and try to hunt her down on Google.

It was then that I discovered this blog. The author of the blog, Wendy, wrote a couple of posts about our mutual hairdresser so I decided to do what any woman in desperate need of a haircut would do: I emailed her asking for contact information for our stylist.

So a big “thank you” goes out to Wendy who got back to me very quickly with the all-important contact information. After my appointment next Saturday, I will look decidedly less yeti-like.

Happy Father’s Day To Hubby the Great

2008-06-13T12:39:00.000-04:00

The Wee Man is gaga for his father. At the moment, it is all daddy ("dah-DEEE!"), all the time.

But who can blame him – Hubby the Great isn’t just a great husband he is an amazing father (sorry, "dah-DEEE!").

I am so lucky to have such a selfless and loving husband and The Wee Man couldn’t have a better role model, buddy, and chief storybook reader.

So while it is Father’s Day on Sunday, you should know that in our son’s eyes, everyday is Father’s Day. There is no better man, no better father. We love you so much.

How About This – Keep The Theme Song, Dump The Canadian Broadcasting Corporation

2008-06-06T15:58:00.001-04:00

This is one post where I proudly wear my national colours (see, I even spell it with a “u”!) and talk about the most sacred of Canadian pastimes - hockey.

In particular, I’m talking about the iconic theme song that has been used for Hockey Night in Canada broadcasts since 1968 and how the boobs at CBC are thinking of discontinuing its use.

Canadians, whether they like hockey or not, know this tune and it is probably only second to our national anthem in terms of recognizability. In a country so vast, where our regions are so diverse that not much is common to all areas, it unites us as the hockey-crazed nation that we are.

When I was teaching in Japan, one of my students wanted a suggestion for a “Canadian” song to play on the piano for a group of fellow Canadians being hosted at the Rotary Club in Tokyo. I was set to launch into an explanation that we don’t really have any traditional Canadiana songs common to the whole country when it dawned on me that she should play the theme from Hockey Night in Canada. Every one in that delegation, whether they were from British Columbia, Yukon, or Nova Scotia, would know it.

Not surprisingly, since this story broke, there has been an uproar from the public at large. But, hey, CBC has plans to placate us. They have plans to hold A CONTEST to find a new theme song.

Well – YIPPEE – that makes it so much better. Thanks CBC!

I’ll get right to work composing a replacement for something that is irreplaceable.

Nicole, Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda

2008-06-04T16:11:00.001-04:00

So I loved the Sex and the City movie. I loved spending 20 minutes picking out which shoes to wear with my outfit (I can’t even remember the last time THAT happened), I loved pre-show dinner and drinks with my girlfriends (ditto on not remembering the last time that happened – welcome to motherhood), and I loved the movie (with the exception of one - albeit major - plot line. Umm, Carrie, isn’t it clear that you really can’t trust Big? But will I go see a sequel? Hell ya!).

It was a little depressing too. The plot itself wasn’t sad but I was halfway through the film when I realized that when it ended I’d be going into SATC withdrawal again.

It is just a movie though, right? Yeah, but, it also is the ultimate in escapism and every once in a while a mommy needs a big dose of that.

The Answer Is Two

2008-05-29T21:00:00.000-04:00

In case you were wondering, two is the number of sleeps left until I go see the Sex and the City movie.

Bring on the martinis, designer bag, and high heels (and I’m not even talking about the characters in the movie. Ditching the diaper bag for an evening merits a celebration).

Squeeeee!!!!

By the way, Hubby the Great and The Wee Man will be having boys time while Mommy is out enjoying herself with her girlfriends. Needless to say, I could never drag Hubby the Great to see this show – EVER!

Early Diagnosis Is The Key

2008-05-22T16:07:00.001-04:00

Hubby the Great and I have a delightful but oh so strong-willed toddler on our hands. We realize that we need to be firm but fair with him and establish that he can’t always get his own way because we are just a few temper tantrums away from strong-willed turning into bratty.

When our resilience starts to falter, we remind ourselves that this won’t last forever. The “Terrible Twos” are fast approaching but once we get past that, things should start to get easier, right? We’ve been comforted in the thought that The Wee Man was really no more of a challenge than most other toddlers his age. Well, today may be the day to stop kidding ourselves.

We just got home from his 18-month check-up with his pediatrician. The Wee Man did his usual thing of not wanting to sit still and swatted away the doctor’s stethoscope when she went to listen to his breathing. I told her that he is very determined and wants to assert his independence ALL THE TIME.

When the check-up was over and I went to dress him, he threw himself back (a hallmark move) and wouldn’t let me put his clothes on. The howls of displeasure could be heard in the parking lot.

“He certainly has a big personality,” his doctor said.

You don’t say.

Then she said that she had a recommended reading list. I wish I could say with absolute certainty that she gives out this list to every parent of an 18-month old toddler but the time it took her to locate it in her office told me otherwise.

So, here, my friends are the names of the books she suggested (keeping in mind that no recommendations were sought. I’m not sayin’ they aren’t needed – they just weren’t sought…)

No More Misbehavin’: 38 Difficult Behaviors and How to Stop Them
Kids are Worth It!: Giving Your Child the Gift of Inner Discipline
How to Behave So Your Children Will, Too!
The Difficult Child
Your Defiant Child: 8 Steps To Better Behavior

Alrighty then.

So the bottom line of today’s appointment was, The Wee Man is happy and healthy but can display jerk-like tendencies.

An Open Letter to the Mystery Wedding Guest…

2008-05-09T10:44:00.008-04:00

…who decided to purchase the sandwich maker off of our registry in 2005 BUT NEVER GAVE IT TO US.

I mean, if you liked it so much and wanted one for yourself, you didn’t have to take it from our registry and in doing so not giving other guests the chance to buy it for us.

We’ve waited and waited for it to show up, but it never has. So after one hell of a waffle craving a few weeks ago, we decided to give up hope that the missing sandwich maker would materialize with some funny explanation as to its whereabouts for the past three years.

In case this letter has caused you to feel shame every time you go to make grilled cheese, please know that Hubby the Great and I have now moved on and last week bought a terrific waffle/griddle/sandwich maker that, ironically, is far superior to the one we actually registered for. And those yummy waffles we made the first night were worth the wait.

We've got a lot of sandwiches to make up for!

Mommy Chemistry a.k.a. She’s Just Not That Into You

2008-04-28T12:32:00.000-04:00

When you are a new mom and finally work up enough energy (and sometimes courage, depending on how much of a handful your little one is) to take your baby to events and classes in the community, you hope to meet other moms to expand your network of support.

You may quickly realize, though, that apart from being a mommy, you might not have much in common with some of the women you meet through your children’s activities. But the overpowering need to get out of the house and interact with other adults trumps the lack of mutual interests.

I met a woman like this (let’s call her Jane) when I took The Wee Man to Parent and Tot swimming. She had a son just a few months younger than The Wee Man and was also on maternity leave. We seemed to hit it off during swimming and even went out for coffee after the lesson. I really wanted to expand my “mommy network” so decided to invite her and her son over for a play date one afternoon last fall.

It was immediately apparent that taking our “friendship” outside of the swimming pool was probably not a very good idea. Conversation never got off the ground. I hate to admit that I kept stealing glances at my watch and wondering how much longer I could force small talk. I was a little disappointed that we didn’t seem to really click because she was nice enough, but I also knew that you just happen to win some and lose some when meeting other mommies.

I was sure that she felt the awkwardness too and I assumed that I wouldn’t be hearing from her again. The timing was good to let this die a natural death because swimming was over for the season and we wouldn’t be seeing each other twice a week at the pool.

So I was a bit surprised to get an email from her back in March telling me she was re-enrolling in Parent and Tot swimming in April and she was checking to see if I had done the same. Then, she wanted to know if The Wee Man and I would like to come over for a play date.

I was torn. I didn’t want to spend another afternoon trying to make conversation, yet I didn’t want to be a jerk by ignoring her invitation. Had it come to that? Would I be forced to hang out with someone I probably wouldn’t become friends with just because I couldn’t say “no thanks”? What is the protocol when it comes to this type of thing anyway?

I decided to reply. I told her that I wasn’t going to be re-enrolling in swimming at that location this time round but, yes, I’d “love to” come over for a visit (what a wuss). And then the funniest thing happened – I never heard back from her. She dropped me like a bad habit. She must have thought that since she wouldn’t be running into me at swimming she didn’t need to keep up the forced friendship.

I’m rather impressed, actually, that she did what I couldn’t do and had the backbone to end it. If she didn’t, we’d probably continue to torture ourselves with uncomfortable play dates and get-togethers. So thanks Jane, wherever you are.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night (With Apologies to The Bay City Rollers)

2008-04-14T20:22:00.001-04:00

This past Saturday some girlfriends and I went out to celebrate the upcoming marriage of one of our friends. The occasion just on its own would have been fun enough but, for a mommy of a toddler, it meant so much more.

I have become quite domesticated and love spending weekend evenings at home with Hubby the Great and The Wee Man. It’s nice to open a bottle of wine and watch a movie after we’ve put the baby to bed. But, sometimes, a girl needs to get glammed up and go out without husband and child.

I get to put on clothes that haven’t been out of my closet in ages (think silk blouse and high heels) and I get really excited when I can take a purse that doesn’t need to be filled with diapers, wipes, and an emergency supply of Cheerios.

So I made my way downtown to a restaurant that I would never have taken a child to and got ready to enjoy this rare experience.

This particular establishment is unique in that it transforms from restaurant into a nightclub around 10:30 p.m. Just as well that we had no intention of sticking around after it morphed into Ottawa’s hot nightspot because we got a good look at the clubgoers pouring in just as we were finishing our meal and suddenly felt Oh. So. Old. (I suppose I am old when I’m referencing The Bay City Rollers in the post title, but still…)

We had a lot of fun but I think we left at just exactly the right time. No one needs to be reminded that 20 years old was a long, long time ago.

Is It Spring Yet?

2008-03-11T15:01:00.017-04:00

7:15 a.m. Wake up, or more accurately, get woken up by The Wee Man chatting in his crib down the hall (according to his internal baby body clock, it is his usual wake up time of 6:15 a.m., but I still consider it a small victory when I squint at the clock – thank you Daylight Savings Time).

7:16 a.m. Hubby the Great takes a look outside the bedroom window to see if the snow storm has stopped (for the love of all that is good and holy, let it have stopped!). He groans when he sees the aftermath. He knows when has been beaten.

7:18 a.m. Head downstairs to get The Wee Man’s milk. I open the blinds to the backyard and wonder what the hell happened to our barbeque, our patio set, our shrubbery, our fence…Oh, yes, that’s right, THEY ARE ALL BURIED UNDER PILES AND PILES OF SNOW. Grrr…

7:20 a.m. Go to front door and see the huge snow drift blocking access to our house. Do quick mental calculation of how much food and supplies we have on hand and wonder if, in the very likely event, we are snowed in until April, we can survive.

8:00 a.m. Hubby the Great starts to repeat: “There is nowhere to put all the snow. Where am I going to put all the snow?”

8:15 a.m. Instead of shoveling the driveway for the 100th time this winter, Hubby the Great decides ignoring the Antarctic-like conditions outside is the way to go.

9:00 a.m. Hear strange noise outside and go investigate. Next-door neighbour is using his snow blower on OUR driveway!!! God bless ‘ye Jack. Suddenly guilt-ridden for never shoveling his driveway (hey, guy has a snow blower, we have a shovel).

9:45 a.m. Jack finishes removing massive amounts of snow from our driveway. Hubby the Great realizes that if he’d tried to remove all that snow on his own he’d be there until Thursday. Thanks again, Jack!

10:30 a.m. Make the decision to venture out of doors to buy a few items needed for dinner.

11:00 a.m. On the road.

11:01 a.m. Hubby the Great and I are full of smugness that we ignored Al Gore et al. and bought a big-ass 4X4 SUV with a V8 motor. Good luck trying to get around Ottawa today in anything less - heh.

11:10 a.m. Reach Costco and dread the inevitable crowds.

11:11 a.m. Unreal, Costco, on a SUNDAY, is empty. This should be the lead story on the 6 o’clock news.

11:30 a.m. Finish enjoying our solitude and head off for lunch to our favourite Vietnamese place. Pass city bus stuck in the snow. Congratulate ourselves again on the big-ass SUV.

1:00 p.m. Lunch over. Time to head to indoor playground (hey, if we were one of the few to get out of their homes today, we’d better make the most of it).

2:00 p.m. Leave indoor playground and head to supermarket.

2:10 p.m. Supermarket, like Costco, virtually empty. Huzzah!

2:30 p.m. Reach home in time for The Wee Man’s nap. Decide that all the snow we didn’t shovel has made us sleepy and we need a nap too.

Fast-forward to 10:00 p.m. Hubby the Great and I turn on the weather before we go to bed. More snow forecasted for Tuesday. Wonder why we don’t live in the Bahamas. Cry ourselves to sleep.

The day before. Never a good sign when city crews remove snow to make way for what was to come.

Seriously, let's just go back to bed and stay asleep until spring.

Where did the barbeque go?

Daddy's had enough shoveling. Now it's your turn.

Where is everybody? This IS Costco, on a weekend, isn't it?

Ouch! Hey, honey - I think I found the barbeque.

Explain to me again, Daddy, why the British and French fought for control over this corner of the world?

Ironically, This Clip Made Me Wet MY Pants

2008-03-09T10:06:00.002-04:00

For those not in the know, I lived in Japan for five years a while back (pre-politics, pre-Hubby the Great and The Wee Man). My brother currently lives in Tokyo and has a four year old son whose mother is Japanese. I know they want my nephew to learn as much English as possible, but I’d also like The Wee Man to learn some Japanese (umm, I may be getting ahead of myself since he only has three words of English so far, but anyhow…) so he and his cousin don’t have any trouble communicating later on.

I was curious to see what kinds of educational English-Japanese kids’ DVDs exist out there. While my Google search didn’t really turn up anything to help The Wee Man with his future bilingualism, I did run across a Japanese clip using a popular animated character to, let’s say, encourage toilet training. Someone did the English-speaking world a huge favour by subtitling it. And, while you may at first be doubtful, I can vouch for the authenticity of the translation.

I’m laughing now, but when it comes time to toilet train The Wee Man, I may be begging for an English version…

I Blame The TV Writers' Strike

2008-02-22T21:04:00.009-05:00

The winter doldrums have set in big time. I have had zero inspiration to write – zero I tell you. So what does one do when stuck inside during this period of hibernation, besides wallow in a creative abyss? Why, you stare at your closets and realize that you need to get them organized - pronto.

But, first, you need a plan of attack. So off to Chapters you go where you load up on organization books and magazines and caffeine – lots of caffeine.

Then speed read through said reading material and (thanks to a weird combination of espresso and gray winter skies) convince yourself that you can turn this...

into this...

Canadian winters really do mess with your mind.

The Best Christmas Present EVER!

2007-12-29T19:29:00.000-05:00

Hubby the Great, The Wee Man, and I just returned from a holiday in Jamaica. Loved, loved, loved it! Not only did we get fun in the sun at a fabulous resort, we also managed to avoid the huge dump of snow in Ottawa while we were gone – bonus!

And while my body is back in snowy Canada, I think my mind is still on a Jamaican beach (with Pina Colada in hand) because I can’t really get words down on the page. Therefore, I will let pictures do the talking.

Have passport, will travel

Beer AND Popcorn! The Liberals’ fears have come true...

New Bathing suit: $65
Week’s supply of #45 sunscreen: $30

Cost of traveling to tropical paradise where having a large badonkadonk is the feminine ideal: priceless.

Check Out My Mad Sandcastle-Building Skillz - yo!

Chillin’

It’s My Party and I’ll Cry If I Want To

2007-11-26T22:01:00.000-05:00

I’ll admit it. I went a little overboard hosting The Wee Man’s birthday party this past weekend. I just figured that since it was a milestone, I shouldn’t half-ass it. So I bought the decorations, made the food, and invited his little buddies and their parents. Ahh, such good intentions.

Anyhow, here are some observations from a rookie’s first attempt at hosting a toddler’s birthday party:

1) Time is not on your side. No matter how fast you get the festivities rolling you cannot outrun the impending collective meltdown of toddlers overdue for a nap.

2) Don’t even try to be the hostess with the mostess. Cocktails and canapés are a thing of the past (unless someone comes up with a hors d’oeuvre made from Cheerios or people don’t mind getting their martini served in a sippy cup).

3) You will be eating off Peter Rabbit 1st Birthday paper plates until Christmas because you ordered too many.

4) You will be eating leftovers (on those paper plates) until Christmas because, despite having a toddler of your own, you have suddenly forgotten that parents have to eat in a hurry and are lucky to scarf down half a hamburger, let alone your variety of side dishes.

5) Forget buying a big cake. By the time you get around to singing “Happy Birthday” the only way parents are interested in prolonging their stay to eat cake is if it is laced with tranquilizers.

6) Warn friends who don’t have kids that every hour spent at your child’s birthday party will equal the number of years they will want to continue using birth control.

The Wee Man Turns One!

2007-11-20T09:05:00.000-05:00

I wish I could adequately put into words all that I’m feeling today as my baby turns one. I think back to a year ago when he decided to put the scare of our lives into us by having to stay in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for a week after he was born.

We wanted to put the celebrations on hold until we knew for sure that he was going to be okay. But by the time we got the all-clear from the doctors, we were so wrung out from the worry and uncertainty we endured watching him struggle to get better that passing out cigars and toasting ourselves with champagne seemed superfluous. At that point, all we wanted to do was to get him home.

Joy, pride and great love are just a few of the things I’m feeling right now. But if I had to pick just one emotion to sum up today it would be gratitude. Gratitude for The Wee Man being happy and healthy, gratitude for learning to cherish each day with my loved ones, and gratitude for being able to have joy, pride and great love in my life.

So after presents are opened, a first bite of cake is tasted, and The Wee Man is put to bed, Hubby the Great and I will finally open that bottle of champagne. Because, after all, we have so much to celebrate.

Are You Quite Serious?

2007-11-01T16:17:00.000-04:00

No surprise that the Christmas season starts earlier and earlier every year. After all, Yuletide products started appearing on store shelves right after Labour Day. But do they need to start playing Christmas carols so damned early?

I entered a store today and was confronted with “Jingle Bells” playing on the sound system. November 1st. November. Bloody. First.

I suppose retailers do it to create an ambience of Christmas to get shoppers in the mood for some holiday spending. Well guess how they can get me in the mood for holiday spending? LOWER THEIR PRICES TO REFLECT THE STRONG CANADIAN DOLLAR! Because if they don’t, I will be dashing through the snow right to the U.S. to buy presents. Ho Ho Ho – Merry Christmas.

It Really IS an Honour Just to be Nominated

2007-10-26T11:30:00.000-04:00

On the ‘Links I Like’ section of this blog, I have listed one of my absolute favourites - Suburban Turmoil. I can’t remember, exactly, how I happened upon this blog but it has turned out to be one of those I visit at least half a dozen times a day, hoping for a new entry. Lindsay, the blogger extraordinaire, makes me howl with laughter with her wit and wry observations on being a stay-at-home-mom. One day, I hope my blog grows up to be just like hers.

Last week she had an entry about bizarre kids’ names. She wanted people to write in with the most annoying name they’ve ever heard and I couldn’t resist. You see, in the apartment building we used to live in, there was a kid named – wait for it - Frobisher. While I’m sure the name is near and dear to his parents, Frobisher’s mom may as well dress him in an ascot and send him off to school for his daily beating.

Anyhow, Frobisher isn’t the only one with problems in the name department. Lindsay’s loyal readers came through with over 300 entries, ranging from unusual to cruel. She would narrow them down to the best (or, in this case, the worst) and then have her readers choose a winner.

Well, whaddya know, Frobisher made the list! And while it wasn’t chosen as the worst name (that distinction went to twins called Sharon and Notsharon), it was still an honour just to be nominated.

And to Frobisher and his parents…thank you.

(Check out an article Lindsay wrote on the surprisingly common practice of naming kids some pretty bizarre things. Frobisher starts to look pretty ~~lame~~ tame in comparison).

I’d Like a Hairstyle to Complement My Tiara Please

2007-10-22T20:00:00.000-04:00

I can’t really update on my new ’do because it is still looking all salon-y. Wait until I wash it and try to style it myself before I can accurately say if I like it or if I will have to go into hiding until it grows out. But even if I don’t like it, I will probably go back to the salon just for the people-watching.

It was good entertainment, especially since there was a big society soiree taking place that very evening. Apparently, Ottawa socialites had descended on the salon en masse. At first glance I felt like I wouldn’t fit in, what with all the big hair (on both the society mavens and the poodles in their laps).

But once Leticia Moneybags and Babs Trophywife returned to their Rockcliffe mansions, I realized that the stylists could produce more than just the ‘old money look’, much to my relief.

Forget Hospital Wait Times. What About Hairdresser Wait Times?!

2007-10-16T16:02:00.000-04:00

I had an appointment for this Saturday to get my hair coloured and hi-lighted. I’d booked it almost three months ago, during my last visit, so needless to say I kind of forgot that the appointment was going to clash with my Japanese lessons.

I called today to reschedule. I told the receptionist that I need a Saturday afternoon or weekday evening so Hubby the Great will be available to look after The Wee Man. She said that my hairdresser is “booked until Christmas”. CHRISTMAS! But I’ve got faded hi-lights and split ends now! (Much whining).

I’ve had one too many bad experiences with hairdressers in this town to want to find someone else, but what is a girl to do? My “beauty” regimen has really taken a hit since having a baby but there is only so much I’m willing to neglect – and only for so long.

Thinking this hairdresser's wait-time could be an industry-wide epidemic, I decided I had better get over the fear and book with someone else. So this Saturday afternoon I’m booked into a new salon. Should I have taken it as a clue that I didn’t have to wait until the New Year to see one of their stylists? Guess I’ll find out this weekend.

IKEA – Swedish for Husband Hell

2007-10-08T19:07:00.000-04:00

We'll try for the summit in the morning

This past Saturday we visited IKEA for the first time in a long, long time. We only needed shelving, but the thought of even the briefest visit gets my normally laid-back spouse agitated.

It all starts in the parking lot, where the only spot you can find will be so far away from the entrance to the store that you may as well pack provisions and prepare to set up base camp.

Once we reached the front of the store, Hubby the Great noticed the parking stalls “reserved” for families. Of course, they were all taken. I was tempted to inspect the cars to see which ones had car seats (as opposed to those who take “Family Parking” to mean a dad and his 30-year old son), but knowing that Hubby the Great’s blood pressure was rising, I decided to forgo my vigilantism.

We fought our way through the throng and got to the shelving. They were completely sold out of the one we needed – natch. Go figure, after I finally built up enough nerve to visit IKEA on a Saturday afternoon (of a long weekend no less), and convinced Hubby the Great that it really wouldn’t be like lighting his eyeballs on fire, they didn’t have what we came for.

Clearly, we weren’t going to be repeating this adventure anytime soon, so I had to settle for my second choice rather than risk suggesting we try again some other weekend.

With second runner-up shelf in hand, we made our way to the check-out where we gathered with similarly harassed-looking customers. That’s where it hit me. I know what IKEA really needs. Forget the cheap Swedish meatballs, IKEA should be serving liquor!

Perhaps they can implement my little suggestion in time for me to convince Hubby the Great to return to Satan’s Scandinavian lair (probably this time next year).

Greenhouse Gas Bag

2007-09-19T22:10:00.000-04:00

Recently I was lined up to register for more Japanese lessons (I suspect this will be fertile ground for blog entries – stay tuned). I was standing behind this non-Japanese guy who was there to register his four year old half-Japanese son (who is no doubt operating at a much higher level than I am on the foreign-language front). He also had his other son, about one, in tow.

I kind of zoned out, as one does when one is standing in a line moving at glacier-like speed. At first I wasn’t really paying attention to the guy talking until I realized that he wanted me to hear what he had to say.

Guy (to woman near back of line): Oh hi – how are you?

Woman: Good. Where’s your wife today, she didn’t bring your sons to register?

Guy: She works on Saturday.

Woman: I see.

Guy (to his four year old son): That was Mayumi. Do you remember her from the organic market we went to a couple of weeks ago?

Son: Hmmm…

Guy (to his four year old son): You know, the organic market we went to?

Guy (to his one year old son): Do you see Mayumi over there? We saw her at the organic market.

One year old: ????

Guy (to four year old son): Mayumi brought her son to the organic market. Maybe he will be in your class.

Okay already. We all get it. You go to organic markets. Good for you.

You know, go to your organic markets, drive your Smart Cars, compost your dog’s doo doo, but try, please just try, to be less smug and sanctimonious about it. People like him are less about being environmentally friendly and more about trying to make sure everyone knows that they are morally superior to you and me by pointing out all their efforts to “out-green” the next person. It might be good for the planet, but bad for those of us stuck in line behind you.

Canada's Best Kept Secret

2007-09-11T12:35:00.000-04:00

Hubby the Great and I love our adopted hometown of Ottawa. We’ve been here six years, first as singles, then newly-marrieds, and now as parents. This city has been a perfect fit for all three of those stages.

Ottawa gets an undeserved bad rap for being a boring government town. So not true. There is such an excellent quality of life here. We have discovered a beautiful and elegant city full of history. People are friendly here and the crime rate is surprisingly low for a city of this size. The housing prices haven’t gone berserk like Toronto, Vancouver, or Calgary and commuting times are still comparatively reasonable. Ottawa has an abundance of quality restaurants and no end of amazing festivals, historic sites, and museums. It is a dynamic city with a young population that has come from every corner of Canada. There is always something to do and see here.

Yes, the winters can be miserably cold, but this is Canada after all. Good luck trying to avoid snow unless you live on the west coast (and even they got DUMPED ON last year). And, yes, the best place for shopping in Ottawa is still Montreal. But, that too is changing (a shout out to the shops on Sussex Drive).

Everyone who comes to visit us from out of town is pleasantly surprised over how much Ottawa is different from their expectations. They all leave being as enchanted with the city as we are.

So it was with such pride (and a bit of smug validation) that I saw this survey ranking Ottawa as Canada ’s Best Place to Live 2007. I know these things are always highly subjective but it still warms my heart to see others coming around to our point of view.

Milk On The Rocks, Please

2007-09-10T13:08:00.000-04:00

We went out for dinner last night to one of our favourite restaurants. We love it for the great food and great service but also because they are cool with babies (it helps that we now do our fine dining at 5 p.m.).

I swear, the following picture was not staged. He opened the cocktail menu himself and found his reading material to be of the utmost fascination. I have no idea who he takes after.

And So It Begins

2007-09-09T16:47:00.000-04:00

A new NFL season that is. Not that I care very much but for Hubby the Great, he has been waiting for this since February. And with each new season comes a close personal relationship with the T.V. every Sunday (and sometimes Monday night too if his beloved Chicago Bears are playing).

Oh but being a football fan doesn’t just constitute cursing at the T.V. at regular intervals anymore. It has become A WHOLE LOT MORE.

The introduction of fantasy football leagues has virtually ensured that being a fan is a 24/7 job. There are trades to be made, lineups to be set during the week. Then there is the obsessive checking of scores on game day. I’m not sure if Hubby the Great spends more time watching the games as he does running to the computer.

This is all harmless fun though as I can tell it really enhances Hubby the Great’s football season experience (and I didn’t think that was even possible). But this year, he has got himself a recruit…

Do You Throw In A T.V. With That?

2007-09-01T20:10:00.000-04:00

Like most childless couples, Hubby the Great and I didn’t have much of a clue when it came to baby equipment. But when I got pregnant we had to get wise. At least we thought we were getting wise.

When it came to strollers we chose a “travel system”. It fit all our needs - a stroller combined with a car seat. We selected the best-selling one Babies R’ Us carried. And we were oh so grateful when The Wee Man’s great-grandparents bought it as a gift for us as it came in just around the $500 mark. A lot of money, to be sure, but we knew that we would get a lot of use out of it.

As it turns out, we love his stroller. It is durable, moves well, and has all the necessities for parents like a large storage rack and cup holders. As for The Wee Man, he digs his ride. He leans back, arm up on the side of the stroller, and acts as if Xzibit himself pimped it out for him.

Poor guy, if he only knew that it appears we have the stroller equivalent of the Griswold Family Truckster.

Apparently the stroller “to have” these days isn’t ours. The one mothers are clamoring for in baby boutiques (forget Babies R’ Us – how utterly common) all over town has a price tag double the cost of ours.

Now, I’m all for style, but when it comes to baby equipment, practicality and functionality usually win out.

When I told Hubby the Great about this stroller caste system and what the going rate was for this Rolls Royce of strollers, he rightly asked if the price included a television set.

“Ha! You’d think so,” I came back with. “But get this. These strollers have crappy storage, no cup holders, and, they’re wide open at the top, leaving the baby exposed to wind, rain, sun, whatever. I can’t figure out what the big deal is.”

“Well for a thousand bucks those things better damn well push themselves,” said Hubby the Great.

Or at least come with a T.V.

Starbucks Has My Number

2007-08-27T14:08:00.001-04:00

I have never been a coffee drinker. I’ve just never really enjoyed the taste of it. If I needed a little caffeine pick-me-up I would reach for a can of Diet Coke.

Anyhoo, before I moved to Ottawa I lived in Vancouver where a Starbucks beverage was virtually an accessory. No outfit was complete without one. So enticing was Starbucks that I started drinking coffee (only once in a while), as long as it didn’t taste like coffee.

At first, my drink of choice was the Caffè Mocha. But over time I noticed new items appearing on their menu – all of which fit my requirement of not tasting like coffee. I was distraught earlier this year when they discontinued their Cinnamon Dolce Latte. So imagine my glee when I went into my local Starbucks last week to see that it is now back!

And now that it has made a triumphant return, it is only a matter of a few short weeks before their pumpkin-flavored concoctions appear. And then only a few more short weeks after that, they’ll bring back their Christmas-themed coffees (I love me some Peppermint Mocha!) I am all a tizzy with anticipation. For someone who doesn’t really like coffee, I am far more excited than I should be. Maybe it’s the caffeine.

The Addiction

2007-08-20T19:49:00.000-04:00

After The Wee Man was born, I didn’t want to buy myself any clothes until I lost the ton or two of baby weight I gained. But I still needed my regular retail therapy sessions. Since I couldn’t be the beneficiary of my shopping habit, The Wee Man got decked out in a lot of clothes.

Almost every week for the first four months of his life, I went trolling for new outfits. Sometimes I would just browse but sometimes the addiction would take over.

The worst occurred back in April. One of my favorite stores brought out a summer line with gophers playing golf as the motif. (C’mon! Gophers playing golf – how cute is that?!) My pupils started to dilate, I got the shakes, and before I knew it, I was well on my way to another shopping high. Just one thing though: I didn’t simply get high, I overdosed. I bought every item that had that motif and The Wee Man was kitted out for the whole summer.

Yes, it was more clothes than one growing baby needed. And, yes, it cost more than one new mother should spend on a growing baby. But I needed my fix and this store knew how to deliver.

Since the o.d., I have stayed well away from shopping for The Wee Man. I needed detox and knew to avoid all bad influences. I didn’t go into this store for four whole months. I was doing well with my recovery. That is, until Grandma arrived.

My mom wanted to do some fall clothes shopping for The Wee Man. We had pretty much wrapped things up when we decided to “quickly pop into” the store I had avoided since April. It was like a junkie going back into the crack house. When I saw the current fall line with the bear cub motif (C’mon! Bear cubs – how cute is that?!), things started to go downhill. If my mom wasn’t there, I would have bought the whole line, I swear. But I managed to escape with two shirts and a baseball cap.

So, obviously, I still have a ways to go dealing with “my issues”. But I didn’t fall off the wagon with a big of thud as I thought I would. No need for a 12-step program – yet.

The Downside To Being Grown-Up

2007-08-06T19:32:00.000-04:00

Hubby the Great and I have been trying our best lately to conduct ourselves like adults now that we have big-time financial responsibilities. But acting like a fiscally-responsible adult can suck sometimes. Now is one of those times.

We have just RSVP’d to a wedding invitation and the answer we submitted was not the one we wanted. The couple getting married are dear friends of ours. We so very badly want to go and share in their happy day. However, the nuptials are in Calgary and when all was said and done, the trip would’ve cost us more than we could shell out at the moment.

At first, Hubby the Great and I didn’t even consider the cost, merrily planning our trip from Ottawa to Calgary and thinking about where we would stay, who we would visit etc. etc. We knew airfares were going to be outrageous but we also knew they are a sad fact of life for us when we live here and all our family lives two and three time zones away. We have become almost numb over the cost of flights and begrudgingly pay the loan shark-like fares, so the aeronautical portion of our trip didn’t initially dissuade us from going to the wedding.

Then we started calculating the other costs: the hotel, the rental car, and three meals a day in restaurants. Our trip to Calgary was starting to look A LOT more expensive. And while it killed us to send our regrets, Hubby the Great and I knew it wouldn’t be financially prudent (yes, we are grown up when we start using words like prudent) to go.

We are still paying down credit cards and paying off a vehicle loan. And within the last year we have added a mortgage and a new baby, both of which have managed to keep our bank account at a can’t-fly-to-Calgary-for-the-weekend level. We knew, intellectually, that there wouldn’t be as much money to go around after we started a family but to put it into practice is something we are just now coming to terms with.

And seeing The Wee Man gleefully smush and contort his face up against the mesh of his playpen while we ate dinner last night told us that we better start saving for his Ivy League education now!

Welcome

2007-08-02T21:15:00.000-04:00

I have been mommy to The Wee Man for the past eight months. The experience has been so joyful, but all-consuming too. For the first six months of my son’s life, I swear, I was in a bit of a haze. Once the haze started to lift I realized that even though my life had changed drastically, I was still the same old me with the same likes and dislikes that I had prior to becoming a mommy. However, the self-imposed pressure to “do well” at being a mom almost dictated that I reinvent myself as someone who solely focuses on my new role and forget about the old me. And I know I’m not the only new mom who goes through this.

I found that I needed to laugh, and laugh at myself, as I navigated this new world and to not take myself too seriously. So, yes, I no longer deny that I enjoy a cocktail or two or that I can let the F-bomb fly if I get cut off in traffic. And I don’t want to always discuss all things baby. I may have shoved my designer purses to the back of the closet in favor of a diaper bag and high heels just don’t go with a stroller. But I am determined to combine mommyhood with a whole range of other interests. And that is also what I intend to do with this blog. If it happens to generate a few laughs along the way – bonus.