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Everything you ever wanted to know about my cleaning habits and more

Thanks to Oxiclean for sponsoring this post and keeping my kids in clean shirts.

How to keep uniform shirts white?

 So how do I keep those shirts looking this good at the end of the year?

Let me tell you a story about the day I found out my son’s school was introducing a uniform. Oh, it was quite the day. I laughed, I cried, I wondered how in the world am I going to keep a four-year-old boy’s white shirt white?

I wasn’t going to, was the answer. I didn’t even come close. The uniform calls for either white or navy tops and after all the white shirts came out of the dryer with faded stains and a general dinginess, I wound up replacing most of them with navy blue ones. It was just a safer bet.

Then my daughter started school and a friend passed down some uniform clothes her girls had outgrown. There were sharp navy jumpers, nice cardigans, and BRIGHT, WHITE shirts.

“How on earth did you keep the white shirts so crisp and white?” I asked.

“OxiClean,” she said.

“Oh,” I said.

And then I went out and bought some.

It’s kind of like magic. I just toss a scoop or two into the barrel of the front-loading washing machine before adding a load of white, then add detergent and launder the clothes as usual. Okay, fine, I usually forget to add the scoop first and then wind up crouched down on the floor with half a load of dirty clothes on my lap while I scoop the OxiClean Versatile Stain Remover Powder under the remaining clothes and that method ALSO WORKS.

I have begun buying white shirts to add a little variety to my children’s navy on navy wardrobe and, thanks to the wonder of OxiClean, I even have some to hand down to my baby who is starting kindergarten next year. (How did that happen?!) White shirts, worn by actual children, are good enough to hand down. Can you even believe it?

But that is not all. No, that is not all.

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Of course new moms take everything personally

This card popped up in my Facebook feed last week.

I promise to never offer unsolicited parenting advice

Yeah okay sure, I thought. I remember what it’s like to have your first baby. I remember when any piece of well-meaning advice, any tidbit of info, felt like a sneering admonishment. I remember how I absorbed all and any criticism or suggestion into the very core of my insecure, sleep-deprived psyche where it would echo for weeks to come, feeding my bottomless anxiety.

So that is a good promise to make. And well-meaning intruders advisers really would be wise to think twice before offering up unsolicited tips to a new mother.

But, come on. That’s not going to happen. The world is full of judgmental busybodies. And even people who really mean no harm can accidentally say something that strikes a nerve with new parents. I’m sure I’m guilty of doing that myself.

A commercial for Similac is also making the rounds this week. It shows all the stereotypical mom types hanging out in cliques at the park like some sort of “back to high school” nightmare. There’s the breastfeeding moms, the formula feeding moms, the baby wearers, the yoga/fitness moms, the working moms and the stay-at-home dads. Then a baby carriage starts rolling down a hill and everybody chases after it with nothing but love and concern in their hearts because we’re all parents first, you see. Brought to you by the Similac Sisterhood of Motherhood.

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Stuff I’m Digging: TSO Young People’s Concert Pianorama

TSO Pianorama

I’m a big fan of the Toronto Symphany Orchestra’s Young People’s Concert series. This series is aimed for kids 5 to 12 and is a fun way to introduce children to music beyond Taylor Swift.

The upcoming Pianorama concert sounds like the perfect way to spend a wintery Saturday afternoon. It  features superstar pianist Emanuel Ax and young pianists from around Toronto. The 15 different piano players will trade off between movements, round robin style,  as they perform playful pieces, such as Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and The Carnival of the Animals.

There will also be special appearances, via video, from the Toronto Zoo and activities put on by the Toronto Zoo in the lobby 30 minutes prior to each concert.

February 7 at 2pm and 4pm
Roy Thomson Hall 60 Simcoe Street
http://www.tso.ca/en-ca/concerts-and-tickets/2014-2015-Season/EventDetails/Pianorama.aspx
$20-$32
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Not everyone’s excited about kids riding free on the TTC. Here’s why we should be.

ttc streetcar

Image credit

The new mayor of Toronto, John Tory, [insert Rob Ford tribute video] just announced a huge increase in public transit spending and service that includes every-ten-minutes-or-better service, 50 new buses, four new express lines, 11 new 24-hour lines (!) and FREE TTC rides for kids 12 and under. And, oh yeah, the price of fares is going up by 10 cents like it does every so often anyway.

How awesome is that? People were going to be stoked. I just knew it. I could hardly wait to jump onto Twitter and see all the buzz.

Good point, I guess providing services to your citizens is pandering. I never thought of it that way before.

Me too! WAIT A SECOND … do I sense a touch of sarcasm there? Good thing we force them to go to school most of the time or goodness knows where kids might turn up.

Lemme do my best this guy impression: Are you giving CHILDREN free rides on the SUBWAY?! That’s it, I’m out of here. Cannot deal.

Well, that’s just mean.

Another guy insisted that his four children don’t have to ride for free and everybody else shouldn’t have to be subsidizing them. Well, good for you. I’m glad you can fork over the kiddie fare for the one time a year you take the subway to the Santa Parade. I know single moms who take the TTC halfway across the city every single day to bring their children to daycare that say otherwise.

Finally, one guy just wanted to know where he could get a fake id that says he’s 12. Now THAT is the spirit.

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Sometimes breaking the news of a pregnancy is really sweet. Sometimes it isn’t.

A Bun In The Oven and other horror stories There’s this sweet video of a young couple in a photo booth that’s been making the rounds. The man thinks he’s just there to snap some pictures and then the woman holds up a newborn hat with the word “baby” on it. He gets all weepy and there’s a lot of hugging (and it does go on, to be honest), and it’s clear that he is overwhelmed with joy and love.

Like I said, it’s a sweet video. Here it is in case you like that sort of thing.

It reminds me of the first time I told my husband I was pregnant.

I put a solitary bun in the oven before we sat down to eat. Then, during dinner, I exclaimed that I forgot something in the oven. Could he go get it?

He walked over, opened the oven door, took out the bun and placed it on the table without saying a word.

“It’s a bun in the oven,” I said.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said. “I’m going for a walk.”

Then he left the apartment.

It was almost the same!

(Which goes to show you that you can be surprised, confused and even upset upon learning about a pregnancy and then go on to be a fantastic parent.)

Okay, let’s have them. What are your best “breaking the pregnancy” stories? You can share in the comments, on Facebook, Twitter or leave a link to your own blog. Whatever. It’s just for fun.

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In case you need another reminder of how precious life is. RIP, Adam.

Adam and CherAdam Gilbert, as a groomsman at my wedding in 2002. RIP, you beautiful soul.

I can hear his voice behind me as I’m washing the dishes. “If you put a glass on a tea towel to dry, you know how you get all that condensation,” he said. “That doesn’t happen when you use one of these drying mats.”

It’s like something out of a soap opera. It’s like when a character who has passed away keeps appearing to a living character and passing on important life advice. Except this is no soap opera. And the memories that keep dropping before me are mostly of pleasant chit chat instead of profound admonitions.

My husband’s family unexpectedly lost a wonderful man this weekend far before his time. He left behind two children, a step-daughter, a co-parent, his own parents and step-parents, a sister, many aunts and uncles, like a million cousins, and innumerable friends. Adam radiated strength, love and joy. I never saw him without a huge grin, full of love and laughter, always happy to see you and always the first one to help out wherever he could.

Those few sentiments don’t even begin to describe how much Adam meant to so many people. And this isn’t the space for a proper eulogy anyway. But how can I write about anything else? How can I carry on with the funny little rant about feeding kids that I’d been planning to write? Or should I devise some sort of snarky numbered list designed to elicit the quick laugh, the Facebook like and the social share, but is ultimately completely forgettable? How can I do that when there’s so much to remember?

The truth is that reality hasn’t sunk in yet. I am struck again and again by the suddenness of our loss, almost as though I’m learning about it for the first time. It keeps washing over me when I least expect it: washing the dishes, brushing my teeth, on my way somewhere or during any number of mundane chores. I’m still reeling and I expect we all will be for quite some time.

And it’s not as though we really needed another reminder about how precious life is, but I guess some lessons are harder for some of us to learn. Because, for the first time, I am really feeling my own mortality. I look at my three kids and my home and the life I am still trying to build for myself and realize I need to get on top of shit, like right now. That means preparing for the worst case scenario by making sure things like life insurance and wills are up to snuff, yes.

But it also means remembering that life happens now. Plan for tomorrow, for sure, but live for today. I’ll be trying to fill my days with more love and patience and gratitude. I want to work harder, play harder, give more, love more and laugh more.

At the very least, when I wake up cranky and tired, like I did today, I’m going to try to look out the window and think, “What a beautiful day to be alive.”

But goddamned, fuckity fuck, some shit still isn’t fair.

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7 New Year’s resolutions I’ve already failed at

Here’s a fun and festive idea. Let’s take a look at all the things a modern woman and mother is supposed to make a priority according to the mainstream media.

1. Time to myself.

Time to yourself: Impossible resolutions

We work too hard. We always think about others first. Shouldn’t this be the year we finally carve out time to just relax and do something that makes us feel better? Now, why didn’t you think of that before, silly lady?

2. Exercise.

woman exercising

Because we need to invest in our own health if we want to have the energy to invest in others. I must be doing it wrong because exercising only ever takes my time and energy, leaving me panting, red-faced and completely unable to focus on anything other than where my next glass of water comes from. And also, is this happening during my “time to myself” time? Because that’s a rip off.

3. Healthy food.

Veggies and Hummus

I am right there with you at first because as long as we are cooking and eating anyway, then it might as well be healthy, right? But then I start reading those health food recipes and meal plans and I realize they want me to spend an entire Sunday in the kitchen batch cooking things like millet, beet soup and lentils and I’d still only have enough food to feed Ariana Grande for maybe three days, tops, forget about my entire family of five for a week. I’m not even going to talk about how much this health food will cost.

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Best ever chain of distractions

Seriously, you can’t beat this.

It was around 1:30am on Sunday night and I was curled up with my laptop on the living room couch writing this post about New Year’s resolutions. I got a low battery warning on my laptop, so I went down to the basement office to get the power cord. I stopped in to use the bathroom on my way back.

When I was in the bathroom, I decided to remove my Diva Cup. (You can’t make this kind of thing up.) Remembering that I keep some pantyliners in this bathroom, I thought I might as well wash the Diva Cup and put it away until next month. I washed it thoroughly with soap and water, dried it with a paper towel and thought I’d better bring it right up to the second floor bathroom cabinet before I forget.

Returning to the main floor of the house I wandered into the kitchen and put on the kettle for tea. But I really wanted some orange juice. I had a bad cold and I wasn’t the only one. It would be a good idea to have some juice and fresh fruit in the house anyway. I looked at the car key hanging on its hook. Screw it. I was going out for juice.

I went upstairs and nudged Ed awake to tell him I was running out to the store. Then I grabbed my purse and drove to the nearest all-night supermarket. I picked up some juice, milk, a package of fresh croissants, a bagged kale salad, one cucumber, a tray of cut-up fruit and some mandarin oranges. I drove back home and put it all away.

I poured myself a glass of juice, finished making my tea and returned to my laptop.

Oh, right. The cord. It’s still downstairs.

And then I wrote this post.

I guess I’d better go finish the other one now.

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The M Word: Best book bet on motherhood

TheMWord

Shop local, they say. Support the arts. Feed the mind.

Yet here I am shopping the big box stores days before Christmas, looking to buy as many things for as many people for as little as possible. I’m sad I didn’t have my act together sooner. I could have done my holiday shopping sooner, certainly. But, mostly, I wish I’d told you about this gem of a book when it was first released in the early spring — or at least earlier this holiday season.

The M Word: Conversations about Motherhood is a collection of essays, poems and illustrations by Canadian women, edited by local book blogger Kerry Clare and published by the New Brunswick press, Goose Lane Editions. It’ll put a check mark in most of your feel-good boxes.

Of course, that’s not why you should buy the book. You should buy it because it’s a damn good anthology. The M Word holds motherhood up and then turns it this way and that, exploring it from all different angles. The act of becoming a mother is one of the most identity-shaking experiences for most women. It is rivaled only by the decision to not become a mother. And Clare sets it all out for us here, giving voice to motherhood (or the lack thereof) in many of its myriad forms.

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Let’s remember what a royal screw up last Christmas was

Time was starting to spiral out of control last December.

I remember picking up Irene from morning kindergarten and plying her with hot chocolate and muffins at a local cafe while I frantically tried to meet deadlines. Ed was working long hours and juggling multiple jobs. There was barely time in a week to keep everybody fed and clothed and shuffled off to where we needed to be. The holidays? I couldn’t even begin to think about them.

Luckily I’d hit up an end-of-summer clearance sale and stocked up on some toys for Christmas already. They were all bundled up in a big bag that I’d stashed…somewhere. I didn’t quite remember what I bought, but I was sure it was a good start. If I could just make it to the 23rd, then Ed would be home and I’d be able to sneak off to the mall to shop for the rest of the gifts. Yep. That was a fine plan. It had to be.

Except he wasn’t home on the 23rd after all. He’d been offered last-minute fill-in work on a talk radio show and we couldn’t afford to turn it down. So, okay fine. I’d get someone else to watch the kids while I did half of my Christmas shopping. Plus groceries. Two days before Christmas. It’d be okay, right?

Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a babysitter at the very last minute on December 23rd? I gotta say, it’s pretty hard.

Ed’s sister (god bless her) brought her own baby over and let me dash out for a couple hours in the evening. I did my best chicken-with-its-head-cut-off impression at the mall and came home with a bunch of stuff. What exactly? I didn’t know. I hadn’t even bothered digging out the toys I’d purchased in September to see what I already had. But I was sure it would work out. It always did.

BOOM. ICE STORM. HALF OF TORONTO POWERLESS AT CHRISTMAS.

ice storm 2013