Yeah, Alright, Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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…

…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.