DAILY SNACK
“I really wish I had my rain boots on.”
“Yes, there are a lot of puddles out here, aren’t there?”
“If I had my rain boots on, it would be so much fun to splash in the puddles.”
“I guess it would be.” I look away to open the car door.
SPLASH!
“Oh no! Mommy! My new running shoes and my feet are soaking wet!”
DAILY SNACK
“Mommy, I washed my hands with the soap from the front door.”
“The soap from the font door?”
“Yes. And I used it all and then I dried my hands on this towel.”
And then it hits. The overwhelming scent of an entire bottle of Purell wafts up the stairs and into the bathroom.
“Oh. Um . . . okay, let’s rinse those hands off again.”
And somebody open a window.
Update, Oct. 2016: The Toronto Symphony Orchestra still runs Young People’s Concerts for children aged five to 12. They also offer fantastic content (for people of any age) available for streaming from YouTube, SoundCloud, Spotify, and iTunes. The podcast reported on below does not seem to be available any longer.
This recently came across my desk (and when I say desk I mean dining room table because I’ve given my desk over the teetering stacks of “important papers”): the Toronto Symphony Orchestra puts out podcasts to accompany their Young People’s Concerts which are geared toward the 5 – 12 years set.
The podcasts are hosted by the orchestra’s educator Roberta Smith and run about ten minutes apiece. File these under educational, though, because they are pretty lean on the fun. I do give the TSO points for not kowtowing to the latest trends in child marketing and bending over backwards to engage the kiddies, though.
Earnest as they are, I can imagine an attentive child learning from these and even enjoying them. My three-year-old son loves educational TV shows and his favourite instrument is the double bass. So naturally he was quite happy to listen to the most recent podcast, “The Melodic Life,” over breakfast. He says, “It was good, Mom. Because it had lots of music. Now can we listen to trumpet music?” At free, these are certainly worth a try — especially if your kids are into serious music.
DAILY SNACK
“Mooommmeeeee! Mooommmmeeeeeiee ….!”
“What! It’s Quite Time for heaven’s sake!”
“There’s a bug . . . a bug . . . on Chicka Chicka Boom Boom.”
“A bug?” Sigh. “Okay, here I come. Oh, sweetie. It’s just a piece of fluff. You really are scared of bugs, aren’t you?”
“But I’m not scared of fluff.”
So the verdict is in and it looks like we should all be hoovering up the vitamin D supplements on a daily basis. Especially
breastfed babies. New studies are heralding this standard vitamin as the panacea prevention against everything from cancer to osteoporosis. The only natural source of D is the sun (and some mushrooms), so we really need to boost our input during the winter (October to March) when the sun’s rays are particularly feeble in countries like Canada.
DAILY SNACK
Quick. Wash the dishes, sweep the floor. Tidy up and throw the clothes into the dryer. Put on the kettle and check your email. Pour the water into the teapot and, just one more thing, find your purse and take out that book. Perfect. Tea’s steeped now and nice and hot. Whnaaaaa! Whnaaaa! Nap’s over.
Squeezing past the gaggle of gorgeous twenty-somethings in the Royal Ontario Museum‘s ladies room on Saturday night, I couldn’t help but wish I’d kept up with this season’s Gossip Girl. Here I was rubbing shoulders with the young elite of Canadian high society, and all I could think about was whether my borrowed dress could contain my ever-increasing milky bosom. I thought about launching a gossip blog, but then realized I have no idea who these people are, despite the paparazzi trail in their wake.
It was ROM Prom IV, the Young Patrons’ Circle‘s annual gala dinner-and-dance fund raiser. Eye Weekly footed the bill for my husband and I to partake of the Mark McEwan-catered dinner and South Beach themed dance party. It was without a doubt the most regal party I’ve attended to date, and just getting there required a team of helpers. I just had a baby five months ago, which means I’m well-entrenched in my post-partum jeans and t-shirt wardrobe. Not a ball gown in sight.
(I am of the variety of slight women who grow incredible massive whilst pregnant. My weight gain was 50 and 40 lbs respectively during each of my pregnancies, and it took me over a year to lose the bulk of those extra pounds the first time. Consider the ridiculously snowy winter we just had and the fact that I now I own a car and imagine how far I am from my pre-pregnancy wardrobe. At least I had the sense to pack it away this time so it doesn’t taunt me.)
I called upon the generous graces of a well-heeled cousin-in-law and came away from her closet with the perfect white dress to flatter both the South Beach theme and my figure. Some new make-up, a fistful of bobby pins and perseverance on my part produced an entirely passable result. (Just please let me look good enough to blend in, I kept hoping. Oh, how far we’ve fallen . . .) We enlisted the help of two babysitters, so as not to utterly ruin either one. Our 35-month-old spent the night with one set of grandparents, while my mother came over to take care of the baby. And I spent the better part of three days expressing milk. (We only had a week’s notice and, no, I don’t have a stash in the freezer.)
The dinner was really quite nice — not my favourite meal ever, but certainly the best dinner for 300 I’ve ever had. The service was excellent, too, and there was lots of it. I’ve done my share of catering and I was floored by just how many waiters were working that night. You can get the backstage info when the episode of The Heat featuring this event eventually airs. You might even see me: I’ll be woman obsessively checking to see if there were any missed calls on her cell phone as the cameras swoop down and my dessert is served. No missed calls.
And then there was the party. Imported Miami DJs JoJo Flores and Mateo and a team of drummers and dancers produced just the right vibe. The open bar might have helped, too. Still, we had to push ourselves to hang in until 11pm, claiming the party would have been really fun if our own friends were there. Watching the posh party-goers arrive, I wondered at how fleeting the chapters of our life seem. Wasn’t it just yesterday that my friends and I were the hot young things on the dance floor, prepared to party until dawn? It wasn’t that I felt too old necessarily (though maybe a bit) so much as I felt like somebody’s mom. And, well, I guess I’ve been there and done that (though not at that price point) and I got tired of it, so now I’m doing spit up and mud puddles.
It was very nice to wash up and have another taste, though.
DAILY SNACK
One foot pushes rhythmically at the bottom of the bouncy chair, rocking the baby up and down, up and down. “Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool . . .” One hand pulls open the fridge door and snaps off a single-serve portion of yogurt. A flick of the wrist and the foil cover is peeled off and now rummaging in the cutlery drawer for a spoon. All the while holding the manual pump to a breast, squeezing and sucking, preparing for tomorrow night’s feed. Wiping off the kitchen table, scanning the fridge, and plotting tonight’s dinner.
DAILY SNACK
It was the kind of cry that rips right through you. His arms were outstretched and the tears ran freely. I scooped him up and we ducked into the doorway, out of the wind. Kiss those tears away. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” “I jumped once, Mommy, and it didn’t hurt. I jumped again and it really hurt.”
Sex education is de rigueur up here in Canada, thank god. We don’t have to constantly grapple with the “abstinence only” crackpots that are hijacking the American school system, despite overwhelming support for a more comprehensive sex ed. Remember, “abstinence only” is a gateway curriculum to creationism. Nonetheless, the Globe and Mail reported yesterday that some parents are concerned that these programs are too explicit and the pupils too young. What’s more embarrassing than having to buy a condom at the drug store for a school assignment? Having the national media report that you went crying to your mommy over it, that’s what.
The larger question looms: do parents have the right to censor what the schools are teaching? And the answer is no. They can certainly impact the curriculum by voicing their opinions and concerns. In fact, I would encourage parents to actively engage themselves in their children’s school work and to teach their kids about critical thinking on all fronts. But we send our children to public schools and give the nod to the prevailing orthodoxies and most of us expect the teachers and trustees to uphold basic academic principles. (Others, like this guy, would be first in line at the book burning for the sake of our children’s naivety. And others simply opt out and home school their children.)
Even though sex education is as much a health initiative as it is a school subject, parents need to let the schools do what they will. For the most part it will be the kids who need it the most, whose parents are the least likely to broach the topic on their own, who will be the most uncomfortable. And whose parents are most likely to complain. (This teacher makes a good case for a frank approach to human physiology from a young age before shame and embarrassment kick in.
Does it work, though? Last year ABC reported on a study that showed a 50% decline in teenage pregnancies among those who had gone through a comprehensive sex ed program compared to those who had learned only about abstinence. There was a 60% drop when compared to those who had no sex ed at all. It just stands to reason that when condom use is the expected norm, more young adults will conform to that expectation.
I have an infant and a near-three-year-old, so it’s easy for me to be clear headed. I don’t have to worry about my babies growing up and exposing themselves physically and emotionally for a long time. Of course sex is going to be a touchy topic for parents. (All the more reason to leave the nitty-gritty in someone else’s hands.) Beyond all the “risks” associated with unprotected sex, there is a responsibility and an emotional maturity that should accompany sexual activity. All that parents can do is help their children develop that maturity, which includes staying true to their own moral compass.
(Image courtesy of Look PDF.)