Hey all, thanks for all of you who posted about our Spa-a-Thon and for all of those who won tickets or bought tickets and then came out to support us on such short notice. It was an overwhelming success and we raised a LOT of money for SickKids Foundation!
For you lovely people who asked about donating, you can donate to SKF HERE. I will love you for it. (As if I don't already...)
There were a few hiccups with the Spa-a-Thon that we will have to note for next year. Item #1? More psychics! People go apeshit for psychics. She was by far the busiest booth, even though some people (ahem, Emma) did not find her predictions that accurate, others swore up and down that she was bang on. I would imagine it exhausting to read people for four hours in that noisy, frenetic environment, so it may have depended what time of the day you got her at. Needless to say, more psychics next year. It's the sort of thing most people would not spend their money on, but if they're at a party and there happens to be a psychic there, they're all for it.
Item #2? More services, or at least a better way to facilitate who got to do what. Perhaps scheduling people in advance, or having them buy time slots. We had initially given people sheets so they could go to each station and make appointments. We had not anticipated the turnout we got, so 30 minutes into the event, everything (spread out in 15 minute increments) was booked! Oh dear.
One woman came to me teary eyed. It was her birthday she said. She had four hours away from her baby and her husband had arranged this for her and she couldn't get anything. We tried to help her, but I knew her frustration immediately. The crowds. The annoyance of nothing being simple. Being away from your baby. Being alone. She stormed out. I didn't even get to give her one of our awesome gift bags (complete with great stuff from Dermalogica AND a whole entire yoga mat!). I felt horrid that I couldn't help her, that I couldn't save her day.
In the end, just like a marathon, those who had the stamina and were persistent won out. All the stations went from 15 minute appointments to seven minute appointments. It was like speed dating estheticians. By mid-afternoon the crowds thinned out and people were hopping from station to station, getting the works.
A great turnout from bloggy buds, including Katie and Catherine, Julie and Anne, Jen MUBAR -- I mean Bliss Notes (she will forever be Jen MUBAR to me) and my homegirl Marla, who did REALLY well despite the fact that she's allergic to crowds and strangers. She didn't mention her asthma inhaler once. I think I am having a positive effect.
My IRL friends (though I suppose Marla, Katie and Jen now fall into that category too) Big J, Blondie and Dings showed up too. Plus, the creme de la creme, my sis and mom -- who went around telling everyone that SHE was the original Sweetmama. Hilarious. It was so wonderful to have the support of my best buds (even if Blondie and Dings gave up and decided to find booze instead of seats at the manicure station).
Overall, it was totally fun considering it was our first one and SO MUCH WORK! I am so glad it turned out well. We have an awesome online auction going on now as well, so you can get something in return for your donation. (There is a stunning Carole Tanenbaum Vintage Collection Necklace that I really must have. Truly. It's incredible. I would treasure it.)
So start training for next year's Spa-a-Thon. It takes guts and determination, but she who has what it takes gets a makeover and a great gift bag.
*******
I had a disaster of a day yesterday, at a point when I was feeling moderately Supermomish despite the chaos of work intruding on my personal life. I'm not ready to talk about it just yet, but stay tuned.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
The SickKid at the heart of it all
Last week we had to take Nate for follow up at the SickKids Stroke Clinic. It's almost always a nerve wracking process. Well-meaning doctors and nurses looking at your son with eagle eyes. Do they see something wrong with him that we don't? It makes me second guess myself as a mom and I hate that part.
They had to take blood for some new tests that help determine causes of pediatric stroke. Nate falls into the 30% of kids for whom there is no explanation as to why this happened. I have several theories myself, but I can't be certain. There are no studies to prove my mother's intuition.
After a very long physical and Q&A assessment by a gentle and wonderful doctor, we were all kind of peckish. We took the glass elevator down to the main floor of the atrium. There is so much for kids to see there, from the fountains to the suspended floating sculpture, that it takes some of the anxiety out of being in a hospital he associates with his sister breaking her collarbone. The food court has better options than a mall and sitting in the atrium to have your meal makes any kid excited. I figured, better they stick him with that needle on full stomach. Thankfully, I had a sweet trick up my sleeve.
He stepped on every footstep sticker marking the long walk to the other wing of the building. Just one more test, we told him, nothing to worry about. He had asked me that morning if he was going to get a needle and I said no. It was the truth -- at the time. I didn't know about these new tests until we got there. Still I couldn't shake the feeling I'd betrayed him.
He sat in the chair waiting for the nurse/lab technician, on his dad's lap while I waived a lollipop in his face. You'll get this after your test, I told him. I wished for a TV so that he could get sucked into something on Treehouse, but no such luck. They tied the rubber band on his arm. I talked him through what they were doing the best I could. J and I telepathically debated whether or not to tell him about the needle and then silently decided that it was better for him to be surprised.
I unwrapped the lolly just as they were about to poke him and he was having his first lick when they did. He expectedly screamed out and tried to escape the situation, but J held him down. Oh the feeling of guilt over the betrayal when you let someone hurt your kid, regardless of the reason. Thankfully it was over quickly and he soon had the lollipop in his mouth and a round yellow bandaid on the needle site. I drew a happy face on it when we got home.
I love SickKids hospital more than words can say. They have been nothing but supportive over this whole ordeal, and while I can't say they are the reason that I have a healthy son who recovered from massive strokes, I can say that they've got our backs. My boy is fine, for now. Time will tell if the scar on his brain will cause epilepsy, or whether he'll have learning difficulties. My gut says no, but if ever anything should come up, I am so fortunate to have a resource like SickKids on my side. We all are.
*******
They had to take blood for some new tests that help determine causes of pediatric stroke. Nate falls into the 30% of kids for whom there is no explanation as to why this happened. I have several theories myself, but I can't be certain. There are no studies to prove my mother's intuition.
After a very long physical and Q&A assessment by a gentle and wonderful doctor, we were all kind of peckish. We took the glass elevator down to the main floor of the atrium. There is so much for kids to see there, from the fountains to the suspended floating sculpture, that it takes some of the anxiety out of being in a hospital he associates with his sister breaking her collarbone. The food court has better options than a mall and sitting in the atrium to have your meal makes any kid excited. I figured, better they stick him with that needle on full stomach. Thankfully, I had a sweet trick up my sleeve.
He stepped on every footstep sticker marking the long walk to the other wing of the building. Just one more test, we told him, nothing to worry about. He had asked me that morning if he was going to get a needle and I said no. It was the truth -- at the time. I didn't know about these new tests until we got there. Still I couldn't shake the feeling I'd betrayed him.
He sat in the chair waiting for the nurse/lab technician, on his dad's lap while I waived a lollipop in his face. You'll get this after your test, I told him. I wished for a TV so that he could get sucked into something on Treehouse, but no such luck. They tied the rubber band on his arm. I talked him through what they were doing the best I could. J and I telepathically debated whether or not to tell him about the needle and then silently decided that it was better for him to be surprised.
I unwrapped the lolly just as they were about to poke him and he was having his first lick when they did. He expectedly screamed out and tried to escape the situation, but J held him down. Oh the feeling of guilt over the betrayal when you let someone hurt your kid, regardless of the reason. Thankfully it was over quickly and he soon had the lollipop in his mouth and a round yellow bandaid on the needle site. I drew a happy face on it when we got home.
I love SickKids hospital more than words can say. They have been nothing but supportive over this whole ordeal, and while I can't say they are the reason that I have a healthy son who recovered from massive strokes, I can say that they've got our backs. My boy is fine, for now. Time will tell if the scar on his brain will cause epilepsy, or whether he'll have learning difficulties. My gut says no, but if ever anything should come up, I am so fortunate to have a resource like SickKids on my side. We all are.
*******
He doesn't remember that he was smaller than Loogoo is now when they did this test for him... Now doesn't that just make you want to whip out your wallet and donate?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Help me support a sweet cause
My company is hosting a charity event in Toronto this weekend to raise money for SickKids Foundation. I work for a fun company, so when we were brainstorming ideas for how we could raise money for the hospital, I blurted out, "Mother's Day Off!" And then, "Spa-a-Thon!" (Perhaps that wasn't the order...)
I just thought, hey, on Mother's Day, we've got to do what everyone else thinks we want to do. If someone makes you breakfast in bed, even if they do the dishes afterwards, it's us who notice that there's pancake batter on the ceiling. Heck, it's us moms who magically know to buy the ingredients for the pancakes. Wouldn't it be nice to have a day off?
So no kids, just pampering for an afternoon. The Mother's Day Off Spa-a-Thon (an idea spewed forth by me and then executed by my amazing team of fabulous chickens -- Big up Sari and Elise!) takes place this Saturday, October 25. Drop in on us anytime between 1pm and 5pm. The cost of the ticket includes all the treatments, pilates/yoga classes, smoothies and chocolate you can squeeze in, as well as an awesome gift bag with freebies and coupons totalling around $175. And the proceeds go to the greatest hospital ever, one that all Canadians should be proud of. (People, pablum was invented at SickKids!) Best of all, you can lend your support without wearing a support bra. (My colleague Lori came up with that slogan and she deserves mad props for being so funny.)
This is a charity near and dear to my heart. I want to sell lots of tickets. But this economy has people in a tizzy. So here's what I propose. I have two tickets to give away to this event to the person who can best tell me why they need a Mother's Day Off. I will pick the best three entries and post them tomorrow for judging. You can leave your entry in the comments (and I know you snarky ass fools are going to have fun with this one) or via email.
(Personally I wish I could fly Tanis here this week and give her the tickets, but while my job sounds fabulous -- and it is -- we are still broke ass and not making the "fly people out here" kind of money.)
I can also offer my lovely readers a Friends and Family rate. Email me and I'll give you the details. Or just donate if you'd like to join me in raising money for this charity that I'm truly and deeply passionate about. (Plus Marla's going, people! Is that not reason enough?)
I just thought, hey, on Mother's Day, we've got to do what everyone else thinks we want to do. If someone makes you breakfast in bed, even if they do the dishes afterwards, it's us who notice that there's pancake batter on the ceiling. Heck, it's us moms who magically know to buy the ingredients for the pancakes. Wouldn't it be nice to have a day off?
So no kids, just pampering for an afternoon. The Mother's Day Off Spa-a-Thon (an idea spewed forth by me and then executed by my amazing team of fabulous chickens -- Big up Sari and Elise!) takes place this Saturday, October 25. Drop in on us anytime between 1pm and 5pm. The cost of the ticket includes all the treatments, pilates/yoga classes, smoothies and chocolate you can squeeze in, as well as an awesome gift bag with freebies and coupons totalling around $175. And the proceeds go to the greatest hospital ever, one that all Canadians should be proud of. (People, pablum was invented at SickKids!) Best of all, you can lend your support without wearing a support bra. (My colleague Lori came up with that slogan and she deserves mad props for being so funny.)
This is a charity near and dear to my heart. I want to sell lots of tickets. But this economy has people in a tizzy. So here's what I propose. I have two tickets to give away to this event to the person who can best tell me why they need a Mother's Day Off. I will pick the best three entries and post them tomorrow for judging. You can leave your entry in the comments (and I know you snarky ass fools are going to have fun with this one) or via email.
(Personally I wish I could fly Tanis here this week and give her the tickets, but while my job sounds fabulous -- and it is -- we are still broke ass and not making the "fly people out here" kind of money.)
I can also offer my lovely readers a Friends and Family rate. Email me and I'll give you the details. Or just donate if you'd like to join me in raising money for this charity that I'm truly and deeply passionate about. (Plus Marla's going, people! Is that not reason enough?)
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Darling, save the Bat Dance for me
Asking a three-soon-to-be-four-year-old what he would like to be for Halloween is about as useful as asking people in the suburbs who they're going to vote for. Holy flip-flopping Batman!
Oh wait, Batman. Right. After months of Spiderman, then reconsidering the robot costume his father spent 2 days making for him last year (without considering fit BTW) and then confirming that he still finds it claustrophobic, last week he settled on Batman.
So I have been hunting high and low, but every preschooler on the planet who is a size 3/4 has decided to be Batman apparently. Which of course irks me to the core, because heaven forbid our son should do anything mainstream, particularly when choosing his Halloween costume.
The old me came up with great costumes. J and I were Archie and Veronica one year, then a four-way Skipper and Ginger to my BFF and husband's Mary-Anne and Gilligan. We were Trinity and Neo (and that involved some serious pleather pants) and J once one a prize for his hilarious Norwegian Ninja costume. (I still think there's a recurring SNL character in that one.) We take Halloween very seriously.
But I'm up to my eyeballs in work (fingers crossed I'll get an assistant one of these days) and I'm farking tired. So I went to a mall. A real mall. The busy suburban kind. I even went into a (I can't bear to admit it)... Hellmart. All for this damn Batman costume that was undoubtedly decided because of THIS INCIDENT and a stupid burger chain toy Batmobile (from the Dirty Clown).
Finally at Toysrus, some clever company came up with selling merely the mask and cape, which is three thousand times better than that fake muscle suit. $11 later the costume caper was solved. A quick trip to Baby Gap for their awesome retro tees produced a Batman logo tee that would only enhance the whole effort and could be worn at a later date as well.
Apparently though, that later date is now. As in forever and ever until the end of time.
As soon as we returned to my mom's place, Nate exclaimed that he would like to wear his cape and mask, "NOW!" Then he swooped through the house over and over again while instructing my sister (who was playing the original Batman theme off YouTube), "Batman song again please," the way someone would command to have their glass of rye refilled.
My sister said that when Nate woke up this morning, his first words were, "I had a dream that I had a cool Batman costume." I still have no idea how she managed to get him to take it off so he could get in his jammies. (I was at our best man's b-day party last night.)
When J and I arrived at my mom's house to pick the kids up, Nate was dressed down, but upon seeing his dad immediately ran inside to don full regalia. We convinced him to remove the mask for dinner, but the cape stayed on. We drove home with him in the mask/cape combo.
My son just tried to sleep in his hard plastic Batman mask and cape and when I told him he could not wear it for the next two weeks until Halloween, he crumpled into a sad little ball.
"But it IS Halloween! It's Halloween outside at all da houses!"
"It's NOT a Halloween costume Mom! It's just something I like ta wear."
"I'm going to be wearing dis for yeeeeeears."
How can you deny this pure perfect joy?
One should not think of Christian Bale when looking at one's son.
Oh wait, Batman. Right. After months of Spiderman, then reconsidering the robot costume his father spent 2 days making for him last year (without considering fit BTW) and then confirming that he still finds it claustrophobic, last week he settled on Batman.
So I have been hunting high and low, but every preschooler on the planet who is a size 3/4 has decided to be Batman apparently. Which of course irks me to the core, because heaven forbid our son should do anything mainstream, particularly when choosing his Halloween costume.
The old me came up with great costumes. J and I were Archie and Veronica one year, then a four-way Skipper and Ginger to my BFF and husband's Mary-Anne and Gilligan. We were Trinity and Neo (and that involved some serious pleather pants) and J once one a prize for his hilarious Norwegian Ninja costume. (I still think there's a recurring SNL character in that one.) We take Halloween very seriously.
But I'm up to my eyeballs in work (fingers crossed I'll get an assistant one of these days) and I'm farking tired. So I went to a mall. A real mall. The busy suburban kind. I even went into a (I can't bear to admit it)... Hellmart. All for this damn Batman costume that was undoubtedly decided because of THIS INCIDENT and a stupid burger chain toy Batmobile (from the Dirty Clown).
Finally at Toysrus, some clever company came up with selling merely the mask and cape, which is three thousand times better than that fake muscle suit. $11 later the costume caper was solved. A quick trip to Baby Gap for their awesome retro tees produced a Batman logo tee that would only enhance the whole effort and could be worn at a later date as well.
Apparently though, that later date is now. As in forever and ever until the end of time.
As soon as we returned to my mom's place, Nate exclaimed that he would like to wear his cape and mask, "NOW!" Then he swooped through the house over and over again while instructing my sister (who was playing the original Batman theme off YouTube), "Batman song again please," the way someone would command to have their glass of rye refilled.
My sister said that when Nate woke up this morning, his first words were, "I had a dream that I had a cool Batman costume." I still have no idea how she managed to get him to take it off so he could get in his jammies. (I was at our best man's b-day party last night.)
When J and I arrived at my mom's house to pick the kids up, Nate was dressed down, but upon seeing his dad immediately ran inside to don full regalia. We convinced him to remove the mask for dinner, but the cape stayed on. We drove home with him in the mask/cape combo.
My son just tried to sleep in his hard plastic Batman mask and cape and when I told him he could not wear it for the next two weeks until Halloween, he crumpled into a sad little ball.
"But it IS Halloween! It's Halloween outside at all da houses!"
"It's NOT a Halloween costume Mom! It's just something I like ta wear."
"I'm going to be wearing dis for yeeeeeears."
How can you deny this pure perfect joy?
One should not think of Christian Bale when looking at one's son.Thursday, October 16, 2008
Darth 'vator
We've had a fairly steady influx of transcontinental cousins visiting over the past month. It's lead to some glorious outings (most notably, a trip up north with lots of big kids to play with my wee ones) and some touristy Toronto things that I can never get enough of. Like the Royal Ontario Museum (Or The ROM as we t-dotters like to call it).
It was a rainy September Saturday. My dad's first cousin was visiting with his new wife, all the way from Istanbul, Turkey. She happened to be about 6 weeks pregnant. (And I remember travelling while 6 weeks pregs all too well.) So we headed to the ROM. The lineup to get in was insane, so I bought a membership which covered all our entries and ensured that I didn't have to wait in line with an almost-four-year-old, who can't sit still but doesn't want to leave his mother's side.
We meandered through the dinosaur exhibit until my cousin's wife felt too tired to continue. We headed to the cafeteria (which serves beer and wine if you didn't know) for some good snacks (they have above average cafeteria choices) and a rest. We started to wonder about the whereabouts of my cousin, who tends to look at every museum exhibit with great interest and wanders at a turtles pace. The cafeteria was closing and he hadn't managed to make his way there yet, so we decided to go and look for him.
We took the elevator up to the main floor and after the doors opened, my sister remarked from around the corner that the crowds had disappeared. I popped my head around to see and was just about to comment when...
"Mommy! Mommy!"
I turned to see that Nate was still on the elevator and the doors were closing. I couldn't reach the door in time to pry it open, so I quickly jammed on the buttons to stop it.
The door closed. My son was on the elevator. All alone.
He is always right behind me. My shadow. He's never one to wander off. But he is one to dawdle. I should have held his hand.
My sister quickly raced down to the basement to see if she could catch him there. I waited where I was, not considering another choice in the moment. I could hear him crying on the elevator. It was pure torture. We were fortunate that this elevator serviced only the cafeteria and the five-star restaurant at the top of the museum, so the crowds would be limited and we could cover two out of three exits.
The elevator returned to where I was on the main floor. Except when the door opened, Nate wasn't on it. I was panicked. Even though I knew that it would all work out, I was afraid. I had half expected that he would just stay on and come back to me. I ran to the basement to see if he was with my sister. I caught her halfway up the stair. "I don't have him!" Fuck.
I ran back up where my cousin's wife was holding the elevator for me. It was ringing that alarm bell. I got on and headed up while my sister tried to find security. Oh. My. God. I am that mom. The mom that loses her kid in a museum.
As soon as the door to the elevator opened to the snazzy resto, I saw my son, being held by a very sweet, very young hostess. "See, I told you your mommy would come," she whispered to him. She handed him to me as I apologized like an asshole. "It happens all the time," she reassured me. There were a few other people getting on the elevator, who had seen it all go down, too. "He was right behind me..." I mumbled, while they nodded in sympathy -- a ruse for their obvious judging of my maternal abilities.
"Natey, I was so worried about you bud!"
"Well, I was so wowied fo myself," he replied, sucking his thumb and burying his head in my neck.
"Let's not tell Daddy about this, OK? It'll be our little secret." I gave him some chocolate to seal the deal and make him like me again.
*******
Later that evening, J called from work during bathtime. I put him on speakerphone.
Nate: "Hey Dad, guess what? T'day, at the m'seum, I was on de elevader all by myself. I thought I was never going to see my mom again. And dis nice girl in da westwant saved me. And I was so scawed. But she saved me and den my mom came and got me."
Thank goodness I had the foresight to start that "future therapy" fund...
It was a rainy September Saturday. My dad's first cousin was visiting with his new wife, all the way from Istanbul, Turkey. She happened to be about 6 weeks pregnant. (And I remember travelling while 6 weeks pregs all too well.) So we headed to the ROM. The lineup to get in was insane, so I bought a membership which covered all our entries and ensured that I didn't have to wait in line with an almost-four-year-old, who can't sit still but doesn't want to leave his mother's side.
We meandered through the dinosaur exhibit until my cousin's wife felt too tired to continue. We headed to the cafeteria (which serves beer and wine if you didn't know) for some good snacks (they have above average cafeteria choices) and a rest. We started to wonder about the whereabouts of my cousin, who tends to look at every museum exhibit with great interest and wanders at a turtles pace. The cafeteria was closing and he hadn't managed to make his way there yet, so we decided to go and look for him.
We took the elevator up to the main floor and after the doors opened, my sister remarked from around the corner that the crowds had disappeared. I popped my head around to see and was just about to comment when...
"Mommy! Mommy!"
I turned to see that Nate was still on the elevator and the doors were closing. I couldn't reach the door in time to pry it open, so I quickly jammed on the buttons to stop it.
The door closed. My son was on the elevator. All alone.
He is always right behind me. My shadow. He's never one to wander off. But he is one to dawdle. I should have held his hand.
My sister quickly raced down to the basement to see if she could catch him there. I waited where I was, not considering another choice in the moment. I could hear him crying on the elevator. It was pure torture. We were fortunate that this elevator serviced only the cafeteria and the five-star restaurant at the top of the museum, so the crowds would be limited and we could cover two out of three exits.
The elevator returned to where I was on the main floor. Except when the door opened, Nate wasn't on it. I was panicked. Even though I knew that it would all work out, I was afraid. I had half expected that he would just stay on and come back to me. I ran to the basement to see if he was with my sister. I caught her halfway up the stair. "I don't have him!" Fuck.
I ran back up where my cousin's wife was holding the elevator for me. It was ringing that alarm bell. I got on and headed up while my sister tried to find security. Oh. My. God. I am that mom. The mom that loses her kid in a museum.
As soon as the door to the elevator opened to the snazzy resto, I saw my son, being held by a very sweet, very young hostess. "See, I told you your mommy would come," she whispered to him. She handed him to me as I apologized like an asshole. "It happens all the time," she reassured me. There were a few other people getting on the elevator, who had seen it all go down, too. "He was right behind me..." I mumbled, while they nodded in sympathy -- a ruse for their obvious judging of my maternal abilities.
"Natey, I was so worried about you bud!"
"Well, I was so wowied fo myself," he replied, sucking his thumb and burying his head in my neck.
"Let's not tell Daddy about this, OK? It'll be our little secret." I gave him some chocolate to seal the deal and make him like me again.
*******
Later that evening, J called from work during bathtime. I put him on speakerphone.
Nate: "Hey Dad, guess what? T'day, at the m'seum, I was on de elevader all by myself. I thought I was never going to see my mom again. And dis nice girl in da westwant saved me. And I was so scawed. But she saved me and den my mom came and got me."
Thank goodness I had the foresight to start that "future therapy" fund...
Monday, October 13, 2008
Nateisms: Election Eve
Well I know our paltry Canadian election pales in comparison to the fireworks going on south of the border, but we're kinda used to that around these parts. Still, at bedtime tonight, after reminiscing on Uncle Bob's apple crisp, voting was a hot topic.
Nate: I'll be da king and you be da pwincess.
Me: Uh... OK. King, you are such a good ruler of the kingdom. All of the... uh... subjects really like you.
Nate: Pwincess? In a minute, we will go to bed. Then it will be wake up time... we will go downstaws and have bweakfast. Then I will go to school. Then we'll come home and play, or [hopeful] maybe watch TV? Ooooor [really hopeful] we can go to da store and get me a Lego Bob de Builder?
Me: (Damn you stupid Bob the Builder DVD we rented from Blockbuster because I was desperate for a distraction last week while parenting alone. Damn you for having stupid commercials at the end, after I didn't realize the show part of the DVD was over and just let it run and run!) Uh, nice try King, but tomorrow we have to vote.
Nate: What is vote? [and why is it keeping me from my precious Lego Bob the Builder?]
Me: (Damn you woman for bringing this up at 8:30pm!) Uh, well, it's kinda like, um... well say you were going to decide who would be the leader of your class. There would be a sheet of paper with all the choices on it. So you might have Miss H, Miss R, Miss M and Miss T, and they'd all have circles beside their name. Then you would go to the voting station and sit behind a box so you could make your choice in secret. Then the people at the voting station would count up all the papers and the person with the most checks beside their name gets to be in charge.
Nate: (smiling, understanding) Oh.
Me: Do you want me to tell you who is trying to be the leader of Canada?
Nate: Yah!
Me: Well there's Stephen Harper. He's the blue guy. He's also the leader right now. Mommy doesn't like him very much, but a lot of people do.
Nate: Is he a bad guy?
Me: It's debatable. Then there's Stephane Dion, he's the red guy. Heeeeeee's... OK. Mommy wishes he was a bit better than he is. He's a really nice guy, but she's just not sure about him. Then there's Jack Layton. He's the orange guy with the moustache and he represents our neighbourhood, though he doesn't live here anymore. You've seen his signs around here for sure. Mommy used to always vote for orange moustache man, but lately he's turned into a car salesman and she's not liking him so much.
Then there's Giles Duceppe, but we can't vote for him in this province, and well... we don't have that kind of time. Then there's Elizabeth May and she's the green lady. Mommy is thinking of voting for her, because she seems about as real as a politician could get, and because Mommy is sick of all the other guys and kinda wants to see what new ideas can bring to the table.
Anyway, it's important that we vote, regardless, because there are a lot of people in the world who can't vote. And not so long ago that was the case in Canada too. So we have to vote. Even if we don't know what to put down on the paper, just showing up and putting a scratch through all the circles can also get a message across. It's important buddy.
Nate: Can I vote? I'm gonna vote for da orange guy with the moustache. And maybe Daddy can vote for the blue guy.
Me: You can't vote yet. You have to be 18. You're only three.
Nate: I'm four.
Me: You're almost four. And even if you were four, you still couldn't vote. But you can come with me to vote.
Nate: I'm FOUR!
Me: 'Fraid not. You're so close to four, but not quite yet. You're like three and three quarters.
Nate: I. AM. FOUR!
Me: Well, we could vote on that but you're the King and I'd like you to get to bed and can't get into autocracy right now, so whatever you say little dude, er, I mean, Your Majesty. G'night.
*******
The votes are in around here though. Last night as I was putting Nate to bed, I leaned in and told him he was the most amazing little boy in the world. To which he replied, "I love you Mommy. You're the greatest-good mom in the whole world." I am going to print that somewhere so that I always remember why I do this job.
Nate: I'll be da king and you be da pwincess.
Me: Uh... OK. King, you are such a good ruler of the kingdom. All of the... uh... subjects really like you.
Nate: Pwincess? In a minute, we will go to bed. Then it will be wake up time... we will go downstaws and have bweakfast. Then I will go to school. Then we'll come home and play, or [hopeful] maybe watch TV? Ooooor [really hopeful] we can go to da store and get me a Lego Bob de Builder?
Me: (Damn you stupid Bob the Builder DVD we rented from Blockbuster because I was desperate for a distraction last week while parenting alone. Damn you for having stupid commercials at the end, after I didn't realize the show part of the DVD was over and just let it run and run!) Uh, nice try King, but tomorrow we have to vote.
Nate: What is vote? [and why is it keeping me from my precious Lego Bob the Builder?]
Me: (Damn you woman for bringing this up at 8:30pm!) Uh, well, it's kinda like, um... well say you were going to decide who would be the leader of your class. There would be a sheet of paper with all the choices on it. So you might have Miss H, Miss R, Miss M and Miss T, and they'd all have circles beside their name. Then you would go to the voting station and sit behind a box so you could make your choice in secret. Then the people at the voting station would count up all the papers and the person with the most checks beside their name gets to be in charge.
Nate: (smiling, understanding) Oh.
Me: Do you want me to tell you who is trying to be the leader of Canada?
Nate: Yah!
Me: Well there's Stephen Harper. He's the blue guy. He's also the leader right now. Mommy doesn't like him very much, but a lot of people do.
Nate: Is he a bad guy?
Me: It's debatable. Then there's Stephane Dion, he's the red guy. Heeeeeee's... OK. Mommy wishes he was a bit better than he is. He's a really nice guy, but she's just not sure about him. Then there's Jack Layton. He's the orange guy with the moustache and he represents our neighbourhood, though he doesn't live here anymore. You've seen his signs around here for sure. Mommy used to always vote for orange moustache man, but lately he's turned into a car salesman and she's not liking him so much.
Then there's Giles Duceppe, but we can't vote for him in this province, and well... we don't have that kind of time. Then there's Elizabeth May and she's the green lady. Mommy is thinking of voting for her, because she seems about as real as a politician could get, and because Mommy is sick of all the other guys and kinda wants to see what new ideas can bring to the table.
Anyway, it's important that we vote, regardless, because there are a lot of people in the world who can't vote. And not so long ago that was the case in Canada too. So we have to vote. Even if we don't know what to put down on the paper, just showing up and putting a scratch through all the circles can also get a message across. It's important buddy.
Nate: Can I vote? I'm gonna vote for da orange guy with the moustache. And maybe Daddy can vote for the blue guy.
Me: You can't vote yet. You have to be 18. You're only three.
Nate: I'm four.
Me: You're almost four. And even if you were four, you still couldn't vote. But you can come with me to vote.
Nate: I'm FOUR!
Me: 'Fraid not. You're so close to four, but not quite yet. You're like three and three quarters.
Nate: I. AM. FOUR!
Me: Well, we could vote on that but you're the King and I'd like you to get to bed and can't get into autocracy right now, so whatever you say little dude, er, I mean, Your Majesty. G'night.
*******
The votes are in around here though. Last night as I was putting Nate to bed, I leaned in and told him he was the most amazing little boy in the world. To which he replied, "I love you Mommy. You're the greatest-good mom in the whole world." I am going to print that somewhere so that I always remember why I do this job.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Where's Mrs. Epstein? I need a note
Dear readers,
Sorry I haven't been around. I have felt great guilt about leaving you in the lurch. I have missed you.
I am up to my eyeballs in work right now. I am unable to keep up with my current workload without turning on the computer each night and it's causing writer's block (among other things).
Lots of funny things have happened to me over the past month. I would love to share them with you and make your day a bit brighter at my expense. Be patient, it's coming. I just have to find a little extra energy somewhere to make the magic happen.
Nadine
Sorry I haven't been around. I have felt great guilt about leaving you in the lurch. I have missed you.
I am up to my eyeballs in work right now. I am unable to keep up with my current workload without turning on the computer each night and it's causing writer's block (among other things).
Lots of funny things have happened to me over the past month. I would love to share them with you and make your day a bit brighter at my expense. Be patient, it's coming. I just have to find a little extra energy somewhere to make the magic happen.
Nadine
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