The holiday season is in full swing, and even though I am the self-described “mother who sucked at Christmas”, I’m trying to get in the mood. Sort of. So here are our holiday season wins and fails so far.
We called more daycare centres—all with interchangeable cutesy names involving “love”, “children”, “wee” or “bear” —booking tours if they didn’t hang up on us. We drove to places well outside our neighborhood, filling up endless forms—“what do you want from a daycare?”, “list the three main ways you want your child to grow”, etc.
Mark doesn’t care about the Santa book I’m holding and the great speech I had prepared. Hopefully I will have more success with the heart-to-heart mother-to-son conversation we will have one day about where babies come from.
This isn’t a blog time machine, you haven’t jumped into the future and lost twelve years, Mark isn’t a moody teenager yet—just a toddler who entered the “no phase.”
At the tender age of two, Mark just lost his first job. A victim of capitalism—one more.
Just a few years ago, on the first snowfall of the season, I would have taken dozens of pictures. I briefly considered snapping shots of yellow leaves on snow and bare trees in black and white but I couldn’t bring myself to, mostly because the article I had in mind would have contained way too many expletives to describe my feelings about early winter.
Mark loves “machines”. “Machines” can be, well, any machine—air con units, vacuum cleaners, washing machines… anything with a loud engine that roars, bonus if something spins and he can see it.
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On October 30, Feng and I were scrambling to find a Halloween costume for Mark. I had been sick all week and I didn’t have the chance to plan ahead. So while I was looking for last year’s pirate hat in the closet, Feng drove to Dollarama to buy a few accessories.