My husband has jetted off to Calgary for yet another conference, and what better way to fill the void of his absence than by writing about my celebrity crushes? None. It’s either this, or diving face-first into a bag of Doritos (Sweet Chili heat is my flavour of choice). This option is ZERO calories. Win!

One thing that my husband and I often joke about is our “Top Five” list of celebrity crushes. We both know that we’ll never meet them, but refuse to laminate the list just in case. I find it amusing that his top ladies look NOTHING LIKE ME. (See: Rachel McAdams, Mila Kunis, Scarlett Johansson, Natalie Portman, and Jessica Biel.)

My list, however, are dudes with similar qualities to my husband. Tall, well-built, great sense of humor, ability to sport the scruffy look, musical talent a bonus. Let’s begin.

#1. Ryan Gosling.

I’d like to be all hipster and tell you that I liked Ryan Gosling before Ryan Gosling was even born, and that could be true because (I’m five years older, and) he was born in my Grandma’s home town (Cornwall, Ontario), but it’s not true. I can tell you that he’s hot, and funny, and one of the best actors of this generation.

Did I mention that he’s hot? And funny? And talented?

I spent yesterday afternoon “researching” him for this article, and got lost in a YouTube rabbit hole of Ryan interviews. Go, watch, and I’m sorry for the hours you will lose. But not really. Thank me later.

He’s also a musician which, well. It doesn’t get any better than that. He also sings about ghosts and zombies. For real. I’ll stop now, before I get all fangirl and embarrass myself.

(Ryan. Call me. It’s totally kosher. Not that I’m Jewish, but you know what I mean. Oh, heck. I will die a slow and cheek-burning death should you ever read this.)

Ahem.

(He’s on the Twitter, for those of you who tweet.)

(I’m finished stalking him. For today.)

#2. John Krasinski

John’s not a new crush, and even made it on my Friday Eye Candy post over at Mama Pop three years ago.

Smart, funny, witty, and an amazing writer and actor. Have you seen Away We Go? No? GET THEE TO NETFLIX.

SRSLY.

(John isn’t on Twitter. Yeah, I don’t know either.)

#3 Bradley Cooper

Rugged good looks and hilarious roles aside, DUDE SPEAKS FRENCH.

And not “English Canada French.” He lived in France and learned the language.

*Slow exhale*

(He’s also not on Twitter. Celebrities, man.)

#4 Gerard Butler

I’d say more, but I’m over here fanning myself. BRB.

(I thought I found him on Twitter! But no. Sigh.)

#5. Craig Ferguson.

Said in my best Scottish accent: “The Hell?”

What can I say? We finally discovered Craig last fall and I think that my husband and I have equal crushes on him. Not in the “I want to dirty things to you” like the four above, but in the ‘I want to have you over for dinner and laugh until I (almost) pee.’

Also. My Mom’s second husband was Scottish, so. To hear Craig say my name would be (beyond) weird. And a little bit creepy.

(Craig is all about the Tweets and emails.)

Who are your celebrity crushes?

I have three children, two boys and a girl, ages nine, seven, and five. My seven-year-old son has been popping wheelies on his bike since he was three (He’s our Sporto), and my five-year-old daughter mastered the bicycle last year, when she was four. No wheelies, but she can bike without falling. My nine-year-old son … has had zero interest in riding a bike WHATSOEVER.

When we’re at home and his siblings are doing laps around the circular driveway, he’s usually writing stories and illustrating them, or reading, or building monstrous Lego creations that are more intricate that any of the ones that you buy in the store. We’ve tried (half-heartedly) for years to get him to ride his bike. He’d ask to play hockey (because his friends play, not because he loves to play) and we told him to learn to ride his bike first. We offered to pay him cold, hard cash, which he knows the value of, and always wants more of and … nothing.

It’s been a bit of a family joke, and we tease him about it, and that’s been that. I own a bike, but so rarely use it — I’m more of a runner/boot camp girl. My husband doesn’t even own a bike, unless you count the motorcycle (Kawasaki Vulcan) that we share. He’s a runner/gym guy too. It’s not like my son is not active or anything. He’s in soccer, a running club, and we all took up skiing this past winter as a family. He’s healthy, he’s happy, he’s fit. He just couldn’t ride a bike.

Until this week.

My son has a new (girl) friend, who is the sweetest thing ever. She also rides her bike to and from school, and he told me that he confessed to her that he didn’t know how how to ride his bike. She was “OK with it”, apparently. And then, while at the end-of-tax-season party this past Monday, my son called me because he had something exciting to tell me. He had been riding his bike.

Tuesday afternoon after school he kept practicing and was so excited to show me his new skills.

The things we do for (young) love, hey?

Oh shit! They found us!

Never fear, my friends: There’s always a fantastic and rich selection of bad parents being called out on the internet.  Let’s get to it, shall we?

There was lots of great news this week about how everything that goes wrong with your child during their entire lives stems directly from what you eat when they’re in utero. Not one but two studies made the news this week, telling us that if we’re overweight during pregnancy then Everything’s All Our Fault, from autism to increased risks of diabetes in our kids. Now, I’m not saying that good nutrition and good overall maternal health are not super important. Of course they are. But chripes, can we tone down the histrionics a bit? Maybe, I dunno, think about addressing societal problems that lead to poor nutrition and obesity instead of telling mothers how much we suck for the rest of our kids’ lives? Yeah, I know. Me and my stupid logic.

You know those days when you feel like spray painting a big sign on the side of your car that says MOM’S TAXI? You wouldn’t be exaggerating. Turns out parents spend 50 hours a MONTH schlepping our darling little ingrates around. If I could find my calculator, I’d work out what that comes to at the local taxi rate, but it’s buried under a pile of toys and I frankly can’t be bothered, so.

This isn’t really about bad parents, but it’s about bad car manufacturers who seem completely oblivious to the needs of parents who have to put safety seats in their cars. For all those of you (meaning: every single one of you) who have fought with a goddamn Britax for an hour to get the thing in what seems like properly but you’re still wondering if it’s actually in the right way in the end and wondering if you’re taking your child’s life in to your hands every time you drive the car, this one’s for you: Car seats are hard to install because car manufacturers don’t give a rat’s ass about making it any easier. Given that us ladies control 85% of household spending, perhaps we could put a little pressure on them to start giving a crap?

By the way, if you’re ever caught on a sinking ship, don’t expect any men to let you go first. Turns out that twice as many men survive aquatic disasters as women. Use those sharp elbows to your advantage on the way to the lifeboats, ladies.

And how about this editorial judging Mayim Bialik for judging other moms? The irony. IT BURNS. In case you haven’t seen it, Bialik wrote a book on attachment parenting. In the book, she talks about her chosen parenting philosophy and why she believes in it, just in case any other parents are struggling and want to see what worked for some other people. Apparently, Bialik choosing to voice her opinion is wrong, because it makes other people who choose not to do what she does feel bad. You know what’s funny? I bet when other people talk about why they choose to parent the way they do, it doesn’t make Bialik feel bad at all. I wonder why that is? Maybe because she doesn’t give a shit about what you think? Yes, her parenting is different than yours. Yes, she wrote a book about it. If  you don’t agree with what she says? Then don’t read it. But whining about how Blossom “made you feel bad” doesn’t give you any parenting cred. It just makes you a whiner.

But you know what, gang? It’s not all bad. Turns out, having children may just make you live longer. And that’s a good thing, right?

I don’t have a lot of time to fart around on the Internet (Full-time job, part-time freelancing, husband, three kids, etc.) but if there’s something that can see me wasting time for the sake of laughing at ALL THE THINGS, it’s ridiculous Internet memes. I got sucked into the Internet vortex of Awesome thanks to my friend Anastacia’s Cry-Laugh posts over at MamaPop. My husband and I have incorporated the phrases “ALL THE THINGS” and “YOUR ARGUMENT IS INVALID” and “WHATCHA THINKING ABOUT?” into our daily lives.

(The Moran bit slayed me, because that is my maiden name. GET A BRAIN! MORAN.)

The most recent Internet meme was brought to attention by my friend Linda’s post at The Stir about Ridiculously Photogenic Guy.

The popular photo is of 25-year-old New York resident Zeddie Little. On March 31, Little took part in the Cooper River Bridge 10k run, which was held in Charleston, South Carolina, and at some point during the race an amateur photographer named Will King randomly snapped his picture. King first posted the image on his Flickr account, and eventually decided to share it on Reddit.

I’ve seen numerous other people link to it since reading Linda’s post. I showed to to my husband last night and he was highly amused.

Do you have any favorite Internet memes? Like Texts from Hillary? Or Others?

It’s been more than 1½ years since my husband generously agreed to see Twilight: Eclipse with me, in exchange for me going to see The A-Team with him. In his folly, we saw Eclipse first, and by time we had the opportunity (read: babysitter) to go back to the movies a few weeks later for his choice, The A-Team was already out the door, destined to languish at the bottom of Bradley Cooper’s resume for all of eternity.

I mention that this was more than 1½ years ago because, despite the time lapse, my husband still brings it up. Like, a lot. Like, anytime we have the opportunity to go to the movies. Or anytime we are talking about going to see a movie. Or anytime one of our friends mention going to the movies.

It’s because he really, really liked Eclipse. I know it is.

I bring this up because I want to see Titanic 3D, and I want my husband to come with me. I want him to come with me because nobody else will it is a sentimental favourite of mine, and he knows it, and because Leonardo DiCaprio has always been my pretend boyfriend, and he knows it. And loves me despite for both of those things. And I don’t like doing the ugly cry in front of anybody else. (“Jack? Jack? Wake up, Jack.”)

But all I keep hearing from my husband is how, 1½ years ago, I promised to see The A-Team if he came with me to see Eclipse, and then we never saw The A-Team because The A-Team bombed so badly, it was out of the theatres before we even went to bed that night. Not my fault, right? And it’s not like I haven’t made it up to him – I have watched my share of Kung-Fu-meets-comic-book nightmares in the past year and a half.

And so, I maintain that, according to the laws of marriage, or at least friendship, my husband should indeed accompany me to the theatre, buy me some popcorn and let me get my Titanic on. And in return, I’ll accompany him to the next terrible boy movie that he wants to see. Although, I think he might agree that I paid him back in advance when I went to see Breaking Dawn without him.

So, will your husband see chick flicks with you, or should I stop complaining already?

Who's the fairest? Who cares?

Hi Samantha. Come sit. Have a cuppa. You’ve had a hell of a 24 hours, and I’m sure it hasn’t been fun. Facing the vast angry internet hordes of crazy people, well, it’s tough, and I feel for you. Now, if I were the advice giving type, I’d maybe say that it wasn’t the best idea to write an article about how you have no friends because you’re just so beautiful that it makes everyone jealous of you. But you know, that horse has pretty much left the barn, hasn’t it? So here we are. And I’m going to do something that friends do for each other: Tell them a little bit of kind truth.

Here’s the thing, Samantha. I read your article yesterday, and when I read it, I knew you were in for it. Not because you aren’t pretty: you are pretty. Not because you aren’t a good writer: you are a good writer. The reason I knew you were in for it was that it’s really, unbelievably, blindingly obvious that you’ve completely missed the point. And there’s nothing the internet likes better than alerting people to that. Loudly. Repeatedly. And rudely.

It’s nice to think you’re pretty. It’s nice to think you have admirers. Of course it is. People, women in particular, like to feel pretty, just like a four year old in a new dress and ponytails feels pretty. It’s fun. It’s nice when people randomly send you drinks or give you compliments. But sweetie, you’ve let it go to your head. Your “pretty” is all you can see. And now you’re blaming your lack of significant friendships on the fact that you’re just too pretty for everyone else.  And honey, I just have to say, if I had a friend who constantly talked about how her good looks were getting in the way of her friendships, we wouldn’t be friends for very long either.

You say you’re “not smug”.  Um, really?  Because, here’s the thing, sweetie: If you write an entire column about your own beauty, that’s pretty much the definition of”smug”. And you say you’re “no flirt”, but well, if a man pays attention to you, are you thinking in the back of your mind “who could help the poor lad for flirting with me?”  Because that way lies madness. And then you flirt back. And then it gets ugly.

Honey, you’re making a lot of assumptions. Your friend gets angry because her husband flirts with you, and you assume it’s because you’re too pretty to resist. Or maybe, it’s because he is a notorious flirt and it’s an ongoing issue with them. Here’s another one: your boss is awful to you, and you assume it’s because she’s jealous of you. Or maybe, it’s because her marriage is breaking down and she finds it hard to be nice to anyone right now. The list goes on and on, but the point here is that when people have issues, their issues are about themselves. Not you.

I have friends who could very easily be supermodels. And I’ll admit that sometimes I’m intimidated by seeing someone so beautiful that it takes my breath away. But then we start to talk, and then we get to each other’s hearts, and then we’re friends. Their looks are completely irrelevant; it’s their heart that matters.  The only time someone’s looks get in the way of making friends is if they put it in the way. Vanity or self-obsession can get in the way of getting to someone’s heart, and can keep you from making those friendships in the first place. It’s not about how pretty you are. It’s about how kind you are.  So ask yourself: Are they putting your looks in the way, or are you?

I’m not going to kick you or call you names. But what I am going to tell you, sweetie, is that you need a big dose of reality. You’re pretty. But it’s not the most interesting thing about you, nor is it the most important. If you want a friend, be a friend. If you think your looks are getting in the way of a friendship, then you need to be the first person to ignore them.

Come visit. We’ll sit, and we’ll talk, and I promise not to even think about your looks at all. I hope we can become friends. But if we don’t, it will be because something in our hearts doesn’t match up. Not because of your face. Or even because of mine.

_________________________________

Postscript: Someone just sent me a link to an article you wrote last year, wherein you state “If I had a choice of how to spend my ideal lunch hour, it’s a no-brainer. Each and every time I’d choose to flirt over lunch with a male superior rather than engage in mindless gossip with the girls over a Pret sandwich,” and that you “Put friendships on the backburner while in pursuit of the man or woman with the bigger, better job prospects.” Or in other words, you freely admit that you flirt, play up your looks and ignore friendships to get ahead.

And don’t I feel silly for feeling sorry for you.

It’s only March but I am willing to call it, and give Dara-Lynn Weiss the worst mother award of the year. The New York mom put her 7-year old on a diet and got her to lose 16 pounds, wrote about it, posed for Vogue, bought her daughter hair extensions and got herself a book deal.

The Vogue article details her methods which were humiliating and unhealthy and her pride at having a slim daughter. Her daughter obviously has mixed emotions about the ordeal and shows more wisdom than her mother when she says:

That’s still me,’ she [Bea] says of her former self. ‘I’m not a different person just because I lost sixteen pounds.’ I protest that indeed she is different. At this moment, that fat girl is a thing of the past. A tear rolls down her beautiful cheek, past the glued-in feather. ‘Just because it’s in the past,’ she says, ‘doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Weiss, who is open about battling her own food demons does not exactly endear herself to readers, and nor does she want to. According to her, she is fighting the good fight against child obesity. And she won. It doesn’t matter what damage she has left behind.

But it does matter.  Her goal: to have a healthy and thin child. Her methods probably have ruined her daughter’s relationship with food and her body. But it doesn’t matter to Weiss as long as the scale and the mirror have the correct figure. But, Weiss with all her New York pretensions, isn’t so different than many moms I know.

The obsession with feeding our kids the “correct” way has lead many parents down the wrong path. We focus on the food instead of the emotions around eating. We are paralyzed unless we can find organic produce, whole grain bread and free-run eggs. We scour cookbooks (hopefully mine) and the Internet for recipes that mix in dark leafy greens in a lentils in a way that our kids will eat.

This has lead to a tiny  perfect piece of the Internet where all kids’ food is lovingly prepared and photographed with a fuzzy lens. It goes by many names, but collectively it is known as Pinterest. The children’s food is often prepared in brightly-coloured mini coquettes that are highly-priced and impractical. The topping to each individual pie is cut out with a heart-shaped cookie cutter, or topped with a tiny perfect sprig of parsley or edible flower.

It’s as if kids’ food has become this cottage industry where tiny elves are making the rainbow-coloured, nutritionally complete entrees, complete with bows and birch bark and shipping it to hipster parents and talented photographers where they put up on the Internet to make us all feel bad.

Because feeding kids is not usually beautiful, delicious and heart-warming. Some days it is those things. Some days it is messy, irritating, yucky and heart-wrenching.  And if we have expectations that every meal is going to be perfect and we invest so much of our emotional selves into what our kids eat, we are going to turn into pale imitations of Ms. Weiss; obsessed, overly-controlling, nutritionists that take the joy out of eating.

When it comes to food and our kids health; we should be more concerned with the long-term goal of fostering a positive attitude towards food and their bodies than with every single morsel that they put in their mouth. Sometimes food is fuel – it is a treat, it is a quick snack, it is take-out, it is thrown together, it is a grilled cheese in the car on the way to karate, it is dessert first. The most important thing that kids learn about food isn’t by what they eat but by watching you. And if you are obsessed with it, or afraid of it, or avoid it, and generally give food too much emotional power — they will too.

Now I have to go take my own lesson and throw something together for dinner. I will leave the cookie cutter in the drawer.

Do you obsess over your kids’ meals?

Finally got a shot!

“Can she sit independently?”

“No, not quite.”

“Does she have a Jolly Jumper? Does she like to bounce on her feet?”

“Well, she has a Jolly Jumper, yes, but she doesn’t really do much with her feet.”

The doctor nodded and sat baby Mary up on the exam table. “I just want to see what her core strength is like.” She let go and Mary slumped to one side. She sat her up again, let go, and she slumped to the other side. “She’s almost there.”

“Uh … Okay?”

Fast forward two freaking days and Mary suddenly started sitting up completely independently (unless and until I reached for a camera) and became a baby human bouncing machine. Then, just to top it all off, she cut her first tooth.

Practically overnight, I have a six-month-old baby who is bouncing and sitting and chewing and on the verge of crawling. And I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. Babyproofing wise, that is.

This is my third baby, but it’s the first baby we’ve had in this house. We lived in apartments with our other babies, single level dwellings where everything was within earshot at the very least. I think at one point I had some junky old baby gate that I used in the kitchen doorway, but that’s long gone. As it stands, we own zero baby gates and I think I might want to keep it that way.

Is that crazy?

Here’s why. The cost and the hassle of buying and installing them is a big deterrent, for one. By the time the third baby comes along, it starts to seem silly to buy anything much less install it for just one measly kid. I don’t trust my other kids, for another. Are a six and three year old going to close a baby gate behind them every time they go up and down the stairs? Not a chance. In fact, the gates might give me a false sense of security. And, really, the stairs are the least of my concerns. The entire house is a Lego-Barbie-shoe-marbles-and-beads choking hazard shit show with open scissors and markers lying around just to keep things interesting. I really can’t see that changing substantially short of buying a big cage to keep my older children in. (Entrepreneurs, take note!)

So I’m thinking that maybe I’ll just skip the baby proofing, pretty much? I’ll keep the baby in her playpen and high chair and crib while I sip martinis, vacuum in pumps and a full skirt, and wait for my husband to tell me who to vote for. But actually, yeah. Playpen, high chair, crib and baby wearing should keep her out of trouble when I’m busy and I’ll put her down when I can give her my full attention.

Do you think that can work? Has anybody else gone against the grain and not babyproofed? How long do you give me before I’m hightailing it to the nearest baby gate retailer begging for mercy?

Did you know May is Pregnancy Awareness Month? It’s true, here is the press release to prove it.

May is a busy month, Pregnancy has to compete for awareness with National Pet Month and National Masturbation Month.  Did you know that each and every month of the year has multiple themes attached to it? Check out the Wikipedia list. It’s hard to keep up with all the marketers, do-gooders and calendar-makers who want to raise our monthly awareness of pancakes, Geeks and low thyroid (all three of which I have a personal acquaintance with).

But Pregnancy Awareness Month? Who is not aware of pregnancy? Is it some kind of disease that we need to know more about because it is hidden in the shadows? Pregnant women are certainly aware of it (except those on the “I didn’t know I was pregnant” show, but my guess is they didn’t receive the press release). Every time a pregnant woman walks by me and I get that little lump of envy in my throat, I’m aware of it.  The retailers and marketers are aware. In fact according to the New York Times story, Target may be aware of your pregnancy before you even tell anyone — including your parents.

I’m sure the planners of PAM (yes, really) have the best intentions in mind when they came up with the idea. Their goals of nurture, educate, exercise and nutrition are certainly lofty. Their corporate sponsors are real, and the event sounds kind of fun.  But do we need to be more aware of pregnancy?

There are definitely women who need better access to information about pregnancy and how to stay healthy. But that isn’t the discussion in the media (or in American politics), the discussion tends to be about the more consumer or celebrity-driven aspects of pregnancy.

There are so many websites, magazines, blogs devoted to publicizing pregnancy and celebrity bump watch these days, that I actually feel like I want to be less aware of it. I don’t really want to know about all the things I could have done to make my fetuses healthier, smarter and better looking. I don’t want to know about celebs and their pregnancy diets or wardrobe, I don’t care about their weight gain. I have pregnancy awareness overload, in fact.

And now that Snooki is reportedly pregnant — I think we will all be sick of any talk of pregnancy very, very soon.

What about you? Do you think pregnancy needs more awareness?

There’s been a lot of talk about co-sleeping lately as a number of recent deaths are making headlines.

Public health officials are stating in no uncertain terms that co-sleeping is always dangerous and that babies should always be put to sleep in their cribs (on their backs, of course) no matter what. Attachment parenting types and those of us desperate for a few consecutive hours of shut eye claim that’s ridiculous. Co-sleeping can be safe, they say, and public health campaigns should focus on how to cosleep safely rather than on prohibiting it altogether.

I don’t know. I really don’t.

I know that every night I put my infant girl to sleep in her crib and every morning I wake up with her next to me. I then proceed to keep shoving a boob into her mouth while I continue to doze for as long as it takes her to get (literally) fed up. Well, until either the baby’s had enough or one of her siblings starts playing hop scotch over and around our bodies.

But I also put her down on a laundry basket full of clean clothes and carried the basket, baby and all, up the stairs yesterday. I absolutely do not support a public health campaign on how to safely cart a baby around on a pile of laundry. Even though I am quite sure that the low level of laundry, the angle of the basket and her limited range of mobility meant that she was safe on that particular trip up the stairs, I think it’s fair to say that carrying babies around on baskets of laundry is generally a bad idea. Don’t do it.

And while I know that my baby is safe in bed beside me on any given night because she is far from the edge of the bed and from any pillows or bedding that might suffocate her, and because I don’t smoke and haven’t been drinking and because I don’t move around in my sleep when I have a baby next to me, I also know that some babies have died while sleeping with their parents. Babies have died. Lots of them.

Oh, I know that in most of those deaths drugs or alcohol or some other particularly unsafe sleeping arrangement have been implicated. I understand that if strict standards of safe co-sleeping are abided by, the rates of infant deaths drops dramatically. I get that.

But I also think parents who have been drinking are way more likely to put their baby to bed in a crib if that’s what they always do. I think that when co-sleeping becomes normalized people are less likely to worry about meeting all the safety criteria. And I think that public health officials need to be concerned with promoting the number one, most safe way of caring for infants. That means breastfeeding, yes. It means putting a baby on it’s back to sleep. And, I think, it probably means putting a baby in a safe and secure crib or basinette.

It’s a public health campaign; it’s not a judgment. Feel free to do your research and make the informed decision to disregard the recommendations. The truth is that if you really care that much, this campaign isn’t aimed at you anyway.

Am I wrong? Convince me.