Category Archives: Parenting

If all else fails, go as a Vampire Pig

Posted on October 24, 2012 | Leave a comment

“Mommy, for Halloween I want to be a …”

Those eight words strike dread into my heart. What if my daughter wants to be a Ballerina Robot or a Pregnant Ostrich or some other creature where you actually have to create the costume instead of just going out and buying it? Oh, Halloween, you suck the creative juice right out of me.

Last year’s costumes were both warm and available for purchase. The face painting plumbs the limits of my creative-costume well.

When I was a kid my mom sewed an Indian Princess get-up for Grade 1. In Grade 5 she fashioned me a flesh-coloured, robe-like Conehead costume (not sure why I was watching Saturday Night Live at age 10? 70s parenting?), complete with a pointy hat-head-thingy, that warranted a call home from my teacher — the school thought I’d marched in the Halloween parade as a KKK member (clearly I did not look like a Conehead). Yes, my mom was somewhat crafty, if totally clueless about SNL characters. I’m the opposite — I can name all the members of One Direction but I can’t sew on a button.

I think the key to this costume is getting the head right. A pointy hat thingy sends a different message.

Back in September Avery wanted to be a bat. “I could make wings using black fabric and use two wired-together hangers as the skeleton,” I thought. “I could paint her face like a bat!” Um, who was I kidding? By October 1st I was suggesting other possibilities: “How about a witch? A ghost? Oh, I know! A pirate!” (Cuz, like, all that stuff is in the storage room, including Daddy’s old white puffy shirt.)

My son, bless him, is much more easily influenced by my Jedi mind tricks.

Bennett: “I want to be A.J. for Halloween. He scares me.”

A.J. is the neighbourhood shar-pei, who lays in wait for small passersby and then lunges up to the fence barking maniacally. It’s  gotten to the point where Bennett makes me carry him past A.J.’s house while he buries his face in my shoulder and whimpers until we’re a safe distance away.

This is scary, right? Squint your eyes a bit and it kind of looks like an Ewok.

Me: “Oh, I’m sorry honey. We don’t have a wrinkly-dog outfit. Why don’t you go as Superman instead?” (Cuz that hand-me-down costume is in your closet, and the “S” lights up — so cool!)

Bennett: “I want to be Superman.” That’s my boy.

In the end Avery chose a witch costume because that’s what Zellers had on special (Jedi mind tricks work really well at the point of purchse). The only problem is its light-weight fabric is more appropriate for a Florida Halloween than a -7C and blizzarding Canadian one. Which got me thinking. Maybe she could go as a skier? I know, that’s lame, right?

An easy and practical costume for Canadian children.

Then I had an epiphany. On Tuesday Avery wore her pink and purple parka and pink snowpants to school along with her pink pig hat. She’d scored a pair of vampire fangs on a playdate and was wearing those, too. Now, all we need is some face paint and my kid will be the freakiest child in the ‘hood, a beast of Amityville Horror proportions who is also dressed appropriately for the cold weather: a Vampire Pig.

Ahhhh! Run away! A Vampire Pig!

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We put down a deposit on a dog (gulp!)

Posted on October 22, 2012 | 3 comments

Our neighbours brought home a black lab puppy last winter and Avery fell in love. Whenever she saw Mack out with his owners she would run outside to pet him, play with him and, as he got bigger, walk him and throw balls for him. Thus began the never-ending plea: “When can we get a dog?”

We’ve put down a deposit on a Brittany puppy. ETA: April or May.

Life is already complicated with two little kids, so surely I must be crazy to even consider adding a puppy to the mix? This is what friends-with-dogs tell me, anyway. “Are you sure you’re ready for that? It’s like having another child,” I was warned just last week. A puppy chews on shoes, pees in the house, cries in the night like a baby and needs to be taught obedience. It’s a lot of work, so why would I want to go there when my youngest pup (Bennett) is — almost — finally trained up?

Taking care of a fish, on the other hand, is so simple. We purchased our betta, Blue-blue, on Jan. 25, 2010 as a reward to Avery for giving up her soother. Blue-blue just floats there all day and doesn’t complain about going hungry or his filthy bowl. Against all odds he is still alive. Yes, Blue-blue is boring, and I think Avery realized what a lame pet a fish makes after a couple months when she started asking questions like, “When Blue-blue dies can I get a hamster?”

Our fish is sure lame but he’s so easy to care for.

If there’s one thing I learned from my childhood: don’t let kids have rodents as pets. Or birds. Cleaning out those cages is disgusting. Before Blue-blue we had a cat named Moggy. Moggy was an okay pet until I developed an allergy to her, at which point we kicked her out of the bedroom and she began the annoying habit of standing outside our door meowing mournfully in the night. By the time we moved into our current house and Avery was born, we were locking Moggy down in the storage room when we went to bed. When I was pregnant with Bennett we shipped Moggy to Arkansas to live with my mom.

Aloof and with an insanely loud meow, Moggy went from cuddly cat to pet pariah in the span of three years.

That, dear readers, is our track record with pets. We exiled a cat and neglect our fish.

I should confess up front that I am not a dog person. I grew up with cats and so developed somewhat of an aversion to slobber and stinky dog fur. Any yet. I see the amazing bond that families develop with a dog. I marvel at the lengths (and expense!) my friends will go to to keep their dogs healthy (knee surgeries, etc.). I get excited thinking about our future dog curled up at my feet while I write, I fantasize about hiking with her in Fernie (she won’t complain about the distance like our children do), and I get weepy imagining what a good friend she’ll be to Avery, and especially Bennett. Our family doctor says dogs make great companions to children with autism.

So (gulp!), we’re getting a dog. Am I crazy? Or will this be the best thing ever?

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Hey parents: would you go on strike?

Posted on October 10, 2012 | 1 comment

On days when the kids make a mess of the house (every day), stack up dishes in the sink (three times a day) and then expect Mom and Dad to double as the cleaning service and pick up after them, it’s very tempting to go on strike. Sit back on the sofa sipping wine when you would normally be on your hands and knees picking up sticky rice grains from the kitchen floor. But would you really? Could you live with the pig sty that would become your house over the course of a week as it all went south, and quickly?

Does your living room look like this every day at 5 p.m.? It might be time to go on strike.

One Calgary mom did just that and has become a cause celebre because of it. On October 1 Jessica Stilwell decided enough was enough and stopped cleaning up after her three daughters. To motivate her from giving in to the piling up laundry and souring cereal bowls, she started blogging about it, with photos to illustrate disgusting things like used tissues wadded up on the ottoman. The Huffington Post began following her story, and now Stilwell is in New York for an appearance on the Today Show.

While many moms have been in awe of her tactic (the strike ended on Day 6 when the daughters couldn’t take it anymore — they cleaned the house on Day 7),  some bloggers have shown Stilwell no mercy, claiming her blog proves she’s a “sucky mom” because she raised slobs who should have been cleaning up after themselves long before the ages of 12 (the twins) and 10.

By the time I was 10 I’m pretty sure I was clearing my dishes, loading and unloading the dishwasher on request, helping with some meals and cleaning up my room. But now that I have kids, I see how easy it is to do stuff for them that they should be doing themselves. We’re more time strapped and it’s faster if Mom helps pick up the toys and sweeps the floor. At seven and five, Avery and Bennett are too young for some chores, but Stilwell’s blog steeled my resolve to get them doing more around the house — as I was expected to do. Besides, if you start them early, the logic goes there will be no need for drastic measures like a strike later.

What do you think, Moms? Would you ever go on strike, or have you trained your kids from an early age to pick up after themselves?

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