They were out playing with friends, I was attempting to shower and make my hair frizz free. The phone rang - it was Son No. 1. He was at a neighbour’s house and wanted to know if he and Son No. 2 could go bike riding with a group of friends to a local pond then to the Mac’s store.
I hesitated only a moment then said no. The Mac’s store was across a busy intersection and while Son No. 1 was capable, I felt Son No. 2 was still too young to make this trek.
Twice, my son has choked on food. The first was when he was a wee tot, just turned two. He was walking around the kitchen eating a slice of cantalope and bit off a piece that was too large. I was washing dishes and he was just out of my sightline. I can't even allow myself to think of what would have happened if I hadn't peeked around to see what was going on. There were no sounds - no coughing, no grunts, nothing. Utter silence.
I was at Walmart shopping for boring stuff like milk and toilet paper so I decided to detour on over to the cosmetic section which is when I came across these.
They're nail polish strips with different patterns. I just about peed myself when I saw them *claps hands excitedly*. Why yes, I AM a cosmetic marketer's dream client.
You know when you have a weird pimple, maybe somewhere in the vicinity of your eyebrow and it won't go away. So in a moment of frustration you decide to squeeze it even though you're fully aware of the dire blemish popping consequences but you just want the damn thing to go away and do it anyway?
I met Katherine Stone at BlogHer 2010. We were standing in line waiting to get breakfast at an event and started chatting. Katherine created and runs Post Partum Progress, the most comprehensive and accessible information available on perinatal mental illness for pregnant women and new mothers.
She has essentially made it her life's mission to help mothers with Post Partum Depression get the help they need and let them know they aren't alone.
I miss my mother deeply. I don't speak about it much, the emotions are too close to the surface and threaten to surge up and overwhelm me at any given time, but the empty space left when she passed away is there every day.
A month ago, I bought a book for Son No. 1 to teach him the ins and outs about sex.
Ba ha ha ha ha ha..
I ended up buying him this book which is beyond awesome. An hour after giving it to him he was on page 35. Apparently if you want to encourage boys to read, just give them a book about sex and contains all the embarrassing words that will throw them into fits of laughter. Vagina anyone?
My son started collecting record albums a few months ago thanks to his awesome teacher who also collects albums and brought them in to share with the class. That, combined with his discovery of my old albums in the basement (Elvis, baby!) spurred on a lust for LP's.
Or alternatively a PR company contacted me to tell me they wanted to send a dessert from Baker Street, a family owned company here in Toronto. I was on that email like a PMSing woman on chocolate cake which, you know, probably.
I hate loot bags. I hate making them, I hate when my kids bring them home from a birthday party and I hate when the stuff is thrown out a few days later.
My kids don’t need any more cheap plastic games with pieces that get lost or fall apart the first time they play with them. We have enough super-duper bouncy balls, tattoos, cheap knock-off play dough and themed pencils, notepads and erasers to last a lifetime.