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Now, What Was I Saying?

DAILY SNACK

I have at least half a dozen posts-in-progress

On the go right now.

There’s one on bath phobia and one on full-day kindergarten.

There’s the biggie about religion,

And a couple reviews.

There’s some Playground-worthy events that I need to list,

And a post about why we need to take care of ourselves.

Instead, though.

Instead I run around like a chicken with it’s head cut off,

Or like your typical pre-schooler,

And write a paragraph here, a tweet there,

Wash a load of laundry,

But don’t fold it.

Run the dishwasher,

But never empty it.

. . .

Okay, so Colum’s pants are on,

Now where was I?

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My Shiner

DAILY SNACK

Do you see that smudge under my eye?

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No, it’s not yesterday’s mascara.

It’s my black eye.

Let’s just say that Colum and I had differing opinions

On how long it should take one boy to put on one pair of snowpants.

The eye was just a bit of collateral damage.

It doesn’t look nearly as bad as it hurt at the time.

Then, when I showed the bruising to Colum,

And told him I had a black eye,

He said,

“Oh no, Mommy. When you wake up will it be green again?”

Too sweet, all is forgiven.

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Fashion

DAILY SNACK

Multi-coloured horizontal stripes,

And vertical ones too.

In blue.

Athletic gear meets cable knits.

Red and orange and green and yellow.

White socks and black shoes.

And ONLY T-SHIRTS because,

“I like cold!”

I wasn’t prepared for getting dressed by himself to also mean choosing his own clothes.

So don’t judge another mother in the first place.

But really don’t judge her for what her child is wearing.

Please.

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The Infant-Toddler Cusp

DAILY SNACK

“What should we do now?”

I ask Irene.

“Should we draw a picture?”

She nods.

“Do you want to use chalk? Where’s the chalkboard?”

She points.

I put her down and we walk over to the chalk board.

I hand her a fat piece of sidewalk chalk.

She puts it in her mouth.

“No, Irene, no. Yucky.”

She laughs and tears off into the kitchen,

Chalk firmly between teeth.

What am I dealing with here?

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Like A Fish Needs A Bicycle

DAILY SNACK

Gloria Steinem* has been widely credited with the slogan,

“A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.”

Just what is Pepperidge Farm trying to say with this, then?

Whole Grain Goldrish Crackers

That woman need men only if they want to feed their children healthy, “whole grain” snacks?

That we need men if we want to find the time to eat right and get fit?

That feminism has become such a fragmented and meaningless word that you might as well give a fish a bicycle and sell some snacks to kids while your at it?

I’d love to hear your interpretations.

*It was, apparently, the Australian Irina Dunn who actually coined the phrase in 1970.

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Mothers and Fathers

DAILY SNACK

Dear Son,

I am your mother,

And I carried you in my womb for nine long months,

And I laboured for over 20 hours before giving birth to you.

I breastfed you for 18 months,

And I’ve spent countless hours holding you and rocking you.

We’ve read hundreds of books,

And walked many miles and shared a lot of laughs.

But it was your father who took you down that big-ass hill at break-neck speed,

When you were only three years old.

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It was your father who sat behind you as the snow flew up and hit you in the face,

And you just kept going.

And when the sled finally stopped and you could catch your breath,

You said to your father,

“That was great!”

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Just Like A Girl’s Best Friend to Leave Her at the Mall

DAILY SNACK

I almost forgot to mention,

How we all took a quick jaunt to the Dufferin Mall the other day,

Because my husband had nothing to wear.

(It doesn’t always feel like I’m married to a 15 year old girl.)

And I was browsing through the clearance rack at H&M,

When my engagement ring snagged a sweater.

The reason for this is that,

At some point during our mall visit,

The diamond FELL OUT of the ring.

I am now left with a white gold band with a raised setting for a small diamond.

And that there can be pretty scratchy.

It just goes to show you,

That NO GOOD can come out of a trip to the Dufferin Mall.

No how, no way, not ever.

Think about it.

And, uh, happy New Year.

Whatever. Stupidest holiday of all time.

Until the invention of Family Day. I almost forgot.

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Clothes Are For Chumps

DAILY SNACK

The good thing about my job description,

Is that there is absolutely no dress code.

So when I decide to make this a holiday week, too,

And simply don’t bother getting the kids dressed,

(And then shoved into snow pants and coats and the rest)

Until lunch,

Nobody can give me heck.

That’s what I thought anyway.

Until the library called to say that Colum’s books are overdue.

I guess we should have gotten out of here this morning after all.

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Holiday Hangover

DAILY SNACK

This year was better than most,

In that Christmas fell on a Friday.

That meant that we had a long weekend in which to recover.

But it still wasn’t enough.

There are new toys to make room for,

And wads of tissue paper hidden everywhere,

And chocolates and fir needles and stray bits of tinsel.

Now there is this nether week,

These few work days between Christmas and New Years,

Without benefit of nursery school,

Or any of the regular kids’ programs.

But with work to get done for us grown ups.

It’s the year’s big hangover week.

And I just want to stay in bed.

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Props To Me and You

DAILY SNACK

Sometimes,

Amongst the old ladies that cross the street to reprimand,

“That baby needs a scarf,”

And the withering looks from other moms

As you stop for Kraft Dinner at the supermarket,

And the Jon-and-Kate-Octomom-Balloon Boy spectacle,

Someone bothers to approach you with kind words.

A woman stopped us on our way out of the hospital,

After we’d been juggling the kids

For several hours

While Ed’s father was being admitted,

Just to say,

“I think you are wonderful parents.”

Thank you, kind lady,

Because no parent hears that nearly enough.