An Open Letter to the Mystery Wedding Guest…

…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

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)

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?

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

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

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!

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’