We have really been enjoying our winter break.

I mean, really enjoying our winter break. In fact, winter break 2011/2012 may go down as being one of the best winter breaks we’ve ever had. Naw, we’re not spending it in Hawaii or on a picturesque mountain somewhere – heck, we haven’t even gone into the next the town.

In fact, we’ve barely left the house. It’s been perfect.

We grudgingly get dressed if company is coming or if we’ve (foolishly) agreed to go out visiting, but these last 10 days have been one relaxed, slow drawl of movies and games, books and crafts. When we’re not sleeping. We’ve been doing quite a bit of sleeping as well.

This is how our days have looked:

8:30 kids get up

9:30 I get up, get breakfast for the kids, get coffee for me.

10:30 the huz gets up (don’t worry, he’ll pay me back for this later), whatever movie kids were watching that allows me to sleep in, ends. Kids play. We drink coffee and read.

Noonish – lunchish

Afternoonish – bake, craft or go outside, depending on our mood. Nap with four year old (remember the payback? Here it is. Ahhh.)

Late afternoonish – wonder if we should have done anything more productive for the day.

Dinnertime – more often than not, with friends. This is when we get dressed much of the time.

Afterdinnerish  - games, another movie for the kids maybe

Too late – go to sleep after watching half a season’s worth of Californication episodes.

See? Perfect. Seriously, I have not been bored or hungry at any point over the last 10 days. I weep to think that this will soon be coming to an end and that somebody will expect me to have my kids somewhere before 9am. I weep.

So, how has your winter break been?

I’m very proud of myself this year for sticking to my 2011 New Year’s resolutions. They were the following:

1. …
2. …
3. …

As you can see, I set very lofty goals for myself in the areas of self-improvement, kindness, discipline and dust bunny eradication. Now, I have the immense personal satisfaction of knowing that I Came Through For Me. Hooray!

Seriously. I didn’t set any resolutions, because I just didn’t want the personal pressure of basically setting myself up for failure about two days in to 2011. I had a 1 year old, seasonal depression and a whole lot of FuckItItis, and no real reason to believe that I was on a path to changing, well, anything. Still, it was remarkably liberating, in a way, to just let myself completely off the hook. I sucked and I knew it! Admitting is the first step!

But for some reason, this year I feel the need to make resolutions. And not “I will work out three times a week and I will keep the house immaculate and I will always be cheerful and never snarky” kind. You know, the impossible ones that will inevitably lead to failure and self-recrimination and immersion in cookies and bad late night TV.

So this year, I’m keeping them realistic. Here are my Resolutions For 2012.  I’m sharing them with you so that you can hold me accountable. Any time you see me not doing any of the below, feel free to slap me.  You have my permission. Ready?

1. I will shower every second day (at least). OK, maybe every third.
2. I will always make sure I put things on the shopping list well *before* we run out, not after. This will prevent, for example, the 11 pm run to the gas station for milk. Or rum.
3. I will actually put the dog on the leash and take him for walks instead of throwing handfuls of crackers in the backyard for him to hunt in the hopes he will take the hint and pee on his own.
4. When I pull on a sock and discover there is an enormous hole in it, I will put on a new sock immediately instead of leaving the sock on while resolving to throw it out that night then completely forgetting about it and chucking it in the laundry hamper and washing it and ending up in the exact same situation a week later.
5. When the garbage can is full, I will empty it instead of stuffing more and more and more in to it, playing some kind of game of garbage chicken until it finally wins and I open the cupboard door and face an avalanche of milk bags, dirty kleenexes and dog treat packaging.

I dunno, you guys. Do you think I’m setting my sights too high? I don’t want to let myself down.

What are your resolutions for 2012?

I know that this time of year is supposed to be all, happy happy joy joy, but the truth is, there is much about this season that just sucks. Between juggling family obligations, wrapping up school, work and all of those presents – which, of course you have to buy first, causing no amount of stress for well-meaning procrastinators like me – it’s enough to turn even the merriest of elves into a Grinch.

Add to that the emotional baggage that can come with the holidays – feuding families! Dead people we miss! Money we can’t spend! – and the season of joy can feel downright joyless.

But, since being in a bad mood for two weeks is no fun, and it kind of wrecks it for everybody else, I am here to offer a) sympathy and b) some easy ways to remedy the feelings of stress, sadness and punch-you-in-the-throat frustration that can so easily rear it’s muddled head at this time of year. Christmas doesn’t have to be blue.

Tips for Surviving the Holidays Without Ripping Anybody’s Head Off:

• Simply decide that you cannot and will not do it all this year. If making your own advent calendar and doing all the baking and making your kids’ stockings and cooking 175 latkes for the grade 1 Hanukkah party and hosting the holidays is going to kill you dead, cut something out. It’s ok, Martha – the kids will survive with store bought cookies.
• Pick your poison – and make sure you have it on hand, whether that means herbal tea, a bar of dark chocolate; whatever gets you through. I prefer coffee, with Baileys after six o’clock.
• Carve out a tiny bit of time for yourself. I know, this can sound ridiculous when you feel like you barely have time to go to the bathroom, but taking a few hours for yourself can be a lifesaver. Spend an afternoon at the gym or enjoying an evening out with your girls. Hell, a movie by yourself can be as relaxing as that spa treatment your husband had better get you.
• Remember the reason for the season. For me, that means family. The idea is to be together, to see people I don’t get to see often enough, to watch my children’s face light up when they open that present I stressed out about finding, paying for and wrapping. But whatever your reason for the season, try to keep it in mind.

You’re still shopping, aren’t you? Or rather, you haven’t started. Don’t worry; you’re me, half the time. (The other half of the time I feel way too ambitious then use the energy to radically overcompensate and buy way too many presents too early and end up with way too many copies of the same book that I can’t really give to everybody because they’ll know I bought in bulk and ANYWAY.)

But don’t worry: The Bad Moms Club is right here to save your way-too-busy ass.  Here are a few easy-peasy, last minute gifts – just as long as you’re willing to brave the malls. Visa Ho!

For the bookworm: This year’s Giller nominees were top notch, and any one of them would look like a thoughtful, well planned-out-in-advance gift. Look at you, looking smart and intellectual and stuff because you even know what the Giller prize is.

For the foodie: A gift certificate to the hottest new restaurant in town. It doesn’t have to be enough to cover the whole meal, just enough for a couple of plates of things with lentils and sauces made out of Pepsi or something. But you’ll still get the credit in the end, especially if they get a sitter and turn it in to a date night. See what I did there?

For the fashionista: Everyone needs a new scarf. Everyone, and especially your friends whose children have commandeered all their winter gear and used them to build snow armies in the back yard. And everything’s on sale everywhere right now as retailers try and desperately beat their 2010 Holiday Season numbers. And best of all, there’s some superawesome pretty scarves that will make any bad mom feel like a supermodel.

For the organizationally challenged: A datebook. Go to Calendar club and get them one of those books that has a new photo of Paris or London or Rome every week. Not only will they actually remember lunch with you, they’ll get a little lift when they look at a pretty picture of the Louvre or the Trevi Fountain instead of spilled cheerios and Thomas the Train packages.

And for your best friend, the one who listens to you no matter how late or illogical it is: A big bottle of wine. And two glasses. And sitters for both of you sometime in January so that you can drink it dry.

Merry Christmas, Bad Moms!

Upon having each of my babies, I received a very generous amount of gifts. Some gifts were from well-wishers that did not necessarily know me or my politics very well, and while I was touched by their thoughtfulness, some of the gifts were not appropriate for us. There is not really any delicate way of putting this, but some gifts included products that I didn’t want to use on my baby. I simply don’t use perfumed baby products or polyester sleepers. But I wanted to make sure that nothing went to waste, so I donated the items that I knew I wouldn’t use to a nearby shelter for women and children.

The gifts were received there with many thanks, but walking away from donating, I didn’t feel benevolent – I felt icky. Why were these items not good enough for my children, but just fine for others less fortunate? And how could I rectify my feelings without seeming totally bourgeois, patronizing and insensitive? I still haven’t found the answer to that.

This time of year, those feelings always come back to me full-throttle. Food banks are in need of donations; non-perishable items high in vitamins and protein. Things like canned meats, canned vegetables, etc. But once again, I am struggling with the idea of my ‘charity’ for others including things that I would never want to feed to my own family. I hate the idea of a family’s entire stock of food coming from cans, especially when I read articles like this. Some people, when trolling the aisles looking for food to donate, want to get the biggest return for their bucks, but I can’t help but think that the cheapest food is the cheapest for a reason.

So this year, I went to the grocery store with a very deliberate goal – spend $50 on items for the food bank that are healthy. That are more environmentally, biologically and nutritionally less damaging than a can of cream of mushroom soup. That could be found in my own pantry and in my own meals.

Here are some of the items that I bought:

-       Soup in tetra-packs

-       Fruit in plastic jars

-       Dry pasta

-       Dry beans

-       Children’s vitamins

-       Multi-grain crackers

-       Natural peanut butter

-       Natural children’s shampoo

-       Toothpaste

-       A package of ‘green’ diapers

Not a can in the lot, and a nice sampling of much-needed personal hygiene products as well. Products that I felt good about, and though it may just be a drop in the bucket, I can feel better that my drop is doing a tiny bit more than simply offering sustenance.

I plan to go back to the grocery store again, when diapers are on sale. I can’t imagine how great the need is for such an expensive item. I also plan on spending the money I have earned towards groceries from my store credit card on additional food bank items.

It’s not a whole lot, I know that, but I hope it helps at least a little.

Do you give at this time of year?

It was a beautiful sunny long-weekend afternoon. The roads were busy, but not abysmally so.

When I drove past the first car on the side of the road that appeared to be having a toddler breakdown, I was sympathetic. The Daddy was holding the two year old up,  hovering his naked butt a foot above the ground. Either the kid was being stubborn, or Daddy was trying to ensure he was empty before putting him back in the closed confines of the car. Either way, I sympathized.

But the toddler-breakdowns kept coming, by the side of the 401. When I saw the 5th, I was bothered. Was something in the air?

I shouldn’t have tempted fate. Because an hour later, I was the person by the aide of the toad with a puke-soaked, sobbing toddler.

I have no idea what happened. She was fine before; she’s been fine since. But for 5 minutes on the side of the 401 in the middle of a traffic jam, she turned in to the exorcist with apple juice. And there I was, alone in the car with a vomit-covered two year old, a beagle, and an empty coffee mug. Oh, god.

For a brief moment, I cursed myself for not stopping to help someone else earlier; perhaps it would have cleaned up my karma (car-ma?).

Then again, what help would have been really useful in that moment? While it would have been good to have my husband in the car when she spewed all over herself, the carseat, the ipad, the car, everything in sight, I certainly wasn’t going to ask a complete stranger to clean up my kid’s puke. There are limits to what you can ask people to do during their random acts of kindness, after all.

Then it came to me.

Maybe from now on I will keep a road trip emergency bag in the car to give to people having obvious toddler emergencies. Contents:

• entire pack of industrial strength baby wipes;
• spare diapers – size four, which can be adapted to fit most size butts in a pinch;
• unisex toddler outfit in size and style versatile enough to work for a wide range of toddler ages;
• plastic bags for hermetically sealing garbage- and bodily fluid-soaked clothing (and also for lining soaked carseat until arrival at destination);
• pleasant but not oppressive air freshener for in-car use
• And a small flask of emergency vodka, for Mom and Dad. Oh, FINE.  We are driving after all. Instead a bottled water, can of Pringles and chocolate bar for the adults. In these moments, it’s whatever seems necessary.

This will be in the car and available for distribution to any roadside parent in need.

And because it’s a guarantee that as soon as I hand it out, I’ll need it, I’ll keep another in the car just for me. Just in case.

P.S. Turns out Britax car seat covers ARE washable. On cold, gentle cycle, air dry. You’re welcome.

OK, now that I’m married with children I’ve had to give up one of my lifelong goals: To become the crazy cat lady. I really wanted to do this. To live in a ramshackle trailer in the seedy end of town, the lawn overgrown, me sitting on the decrepit front porch in a rocking chair with a shotgun, surrounded by cats.

OH COME ON YOU WANTED TO DO IT TOO.

The thing is, you can’t really be the crazy cat lady with a kid (cause, you know, responsibilities) and a husband. Particularly not *my* husband, the neat freak. I can’t even have one cat, let alone 43. Now, mind you, I am horrendously allergic to cats, which is the reason he CLAIMS not to want to allow a cat in the house.  But I know the real reason. He just wouldn’t be able to deal with (a) cat hair (b) litterboxes (c) warm-vomit-scented cat food.  THE UNFAIRNESS. I tell you.

Anyway, because cat collecting is out of the picture, I’ve been looking for a hobby, and perhaps I should take up this one: Knitting. I actually have lots of friends who knit. It allows you to accomplish something with your hands while still leaving your brain and voice free for other things. Like watching your kid climb the bookshelf and yelling at her to get the hell down. Anyway, so knitting looks cool, and kind of fun, and you can make fun things like scarves and sweaters and cats.

Cats?

Yes. Cats.

Look at this. I could totally knit myself an entire room full of kitties. Big kitties, little kitties, fat kitties, fluffy kitties, kitties kitties kitties! And I mean, that wouldn’t be crazy at ALL, right? Perfectly legal, wouldn’t smell, no need for spaying or neutering. Just little knitted kitties over every surface. All the crazy, zero the biological messiness.

It’s like the perfect solution has just presented itself to me in a neat little wool package.

Sometimes, people, the universe provides.

This weekend, I bought my six-year-old daughter a $75 lunchbox. She hadn’t asked for this particular lunchbox, and I didn’t consider it a splurge. But once I was unpacking it and pointing out its features to my friends, I started to wonder –

Was I a total chump, or just completely obnoxious?

Sheepish as I felt explaining why I had just spent $75 (plus tax!) on a friggen lunchbox, I’m glad that I did. I am not a person of great means, nor am I frivolous. I had done a good deal of research into lunchboxes, and this one fit the bill – many compartments, but all one piece; easy for little hands to manipulate; made by a company with a strong environmental ethos and with materials that I feel good about spending my money on and storing my child’s food in, and appealing to my aesthetic. Sold.

But even though I really, really like this piece of necessary equipment, I feel the need to justify the price seven ways to Sunday. Which means I sorta must feel like a chump. And then I think, Whatever, Karen. Just own it. Since you know, you already own it.

So I will try to get the stone in my stomach to stop dropping every time I think about my daughter’s new $75 lunchbox. (OMG – should I insure it?!) And even though I cut the price tag off the lunchbox before my husband could see it, (He’s busy. It’s my money. I don’t have to bother him with details.) I am telling you the truth, no matter how much it may hurt my pride and chequebook.

And hey! People spend money on useless things for their kids all the time. This one is useful! And can be handed down to my younger daughter in a few years! And it’s not like I ever have to spend money on my kids clothes, thanks to two shopaholic grandmothers! And did I mention the useful?

So please, please don’t call me a chump because I spent $75 on a lunchbox for a six year old.

Unless she loses it at the park on the second day of school.

Euthanasia

image via H4UM4N

I am all for encouraging imaginative play. I am totally down with mixing toys and letting Thomas chug through the barn or giving the toy frogs group hugs in the bath because frogs need love too. So, you know, usually I go with the flow. But sometimes, mainly because I’m a rookie mom, I just have to ask if things are OK, if I’m doing this right.  Because occasionally, things just get a little weird around here.

Case in point: Her dollhouse.

Ideally, you would think, when it comes to playing with their dollies, a child would model what (s)he sees in her home.  A happy, nuclear family, all in their specific roles for familial harmony. You would think you would see scenes such as this:

The Sweet Little Girl, washing her hands after age-appropriate use of the potty:

The Daddy, cleaning up the kitchen in this liberated household:

The Grandma, rocking the baby to sleep in the attic:

Or perhaps taking a breath of fresh late summer air on the balcony:

Meanwhile, Mama is sitting having a cup of coffee while contemplating deep, complex, world-saving thoughts:

And the well-behaved canine lays on the kitchen floor:

Except that exactly none of that is the way it rolls around here, aside from the part where Mama is sitting on her ass drinking yet another goddamn cup of coffee. The two year old isn’t potty trained, Daddy doesn’t even know where the dish soap is, and the dog is usually either eating someone’s underwear or licking his own junk. But still, you’d think the actual dysfunction of our own home would.. I dunno… be represented a little more accurately? I swear to god, none of the stuff that appears in her dollhouse ACTUALLY HAPPENS in real life. She just likes to … pretend it does?  Case in point: (Lighting effects added by me, to give the whole thing an air of CSI:WTF?)

The kitchen has been ransacked. Fire support is on scene.

The refrigerator upended, with random pork helping themselves to leftover cannoli:

Meanwhile the bathroom is filled with livestock who are obviously high on E. Medical assistance has been called in but by the looks of it this young bit of paramedic skirt got seduced by the lure of easy drugs and smooth talking cows:

Grandma is face down in the bedroom. The doctor is administering assistance, but the guy with the bad liver in the background probably needs help more:

The Sweet Little Girl is chatting online with a person who swears that they, too, are an eight year old girl! with ponytails! who lives just beside the park!! and has new puppies!!!!! WHEN CAN WE MEET?

The plumbing has been trashed, some guy in a red suit is carrying the pet goldfish around like a boom box, and the dog has apparently eaten the baby. The Police are unable to subdue the revelers.

Daddy’s bed has somehow ended up in the barn, where he has collapsed in a gin-induced coma next to a sheep and a midget.

And where, pray tell, in the midst all of this chaos is Mama? Why, yakking off the balcony.

This is all what we call normal imaginative play, right? I mean, she doesn’t know that cows don’t take baths in the people bathroom or that daddy’s bed doesn’t go in the barn. This is all just two year old creativity! Right?

Right?

Oh, god.

For Canadian kids, the end of the school year is approaching (quickly!), and if you are at all like me, you want to offer the teacher a token of appreciation for the hard work they’ve done with your kid(s) this year.

And, if you’re like me, you haven’t even begun to think about what the heck that gift should be. I mean, sure, I could run out the day before school ends and grab a Timmies card or a mug or a box of chocolates, but I prefer that we appear slightly more creative than that.  And what I mean is, as creative as one can get on a budget, with 8 school days left in the year. (Seriously, nobody warns you about these things in the baby books.)

With that in mind, I bring you:

The Creative Procrastinator’s Guide to End-Of-The-Year Gifts For Teachers

Catchy, eh?

1) Make a donation to a children’s charity in honour of the teacher

The nice thing about making a donation is two-fold. On one hand, you have the altruistic: you will truly be helping children in need, and nobody can deny the beauty in that.

On the other hand, donation amounts remain anonymous, and therefore fit any budget.

It’s often possible to make the donation online and print out a donation card at the same time, but in the event that one will be mailed and miss the end-of-year deadline, have your child hand-make a card, and simply print out a slip of paper with the charity’s information on it to include in the card, signifying the donation made.

Some favourite places to donate:

Your local children’s hospital

Smile Train

Save the Children

2) Photo collage

Education 2.0 often includes a website that teachers maintain, and these, along with personal and Facebook photos can provide everything you need to put together a collage or album of special moments throughout the year. It’s especially nice to include the pics of your child at school functions that the teacher may never have seen. These can become a triptych of sorts that your child can add captions to, explaining each special moment.

Services like Picnik or Kwikpix are great if you are no friend of Photoshop (like me).

5) Get your child to make something

For younger kids, getting them to draw a picture of their teacher, or write a story about a day at school is a lovely gift to give to a teacher.

Older children could make something crafty, like a set of magnets or something clever, like a booklet of fun activities a teacher could do with her time off (“Go to the beach. Do not perform one head-count while you are there.”)

4) Write a letter

At the end of my daughter’s first year of school last year, I wrote her teacher a letter. I began by speaking to the fears and anxiety I had watching my daughter walk into the classroom on her own for the first time, and how, 10 months later, my daughter emerged a confident, happy, totally keen pupil. And I let her teacher know how much I appreciated the role she played in that transformation, and in putting my mind totally at ease when leaving my daughter under her care and influence every day. I didn’t think too much about it; I just wrote.

And I cannot tell you how much it meant to me when, at the beginning of this year, that teacher told me that my letter made her cry, and that it still hung on her fridge.

It’s pretty easy to let the good teachers know that they are appreciated, and that their work makes a difference. And if you really, really want to, you can always slip a Timmie’s card in the envelope.