By the time you read this, we will be about to leave, already in the plane or maybe even landing. It doesn’t get more vague than that, I know.
Monthly Archives: December, 2014
March was the month when the blog was most visited (165,708 visits… what the hell did I write about that month?!), followed by January (138,070 visits, must have been our trip to Mexico) and April (137,746 visits).
Here are three winter skills every Canadian should master, inspired by a banana, gloves and a walk in the cold.
“Boxing Day” had nothing to do with sports, unless you consider putting products in a basket, waiting in line and swiping your credit card is an activity involving physical exertion and skill. No, Boxing Day is about the other national sport—shopping.
I am writing to you on behalf of Mark, our two-year-and-two-month-old toddler dragon. You may remember him from the mall—he is the kid who is fascinated by Christmas lights and decorations but claims he is afraid of you. Yes, well, this is Mark.
My poor dry hands are a constant reminder that winter is here, and that the season is tough on the body and the mind. I can’t do much for my spirits but eating Lindt chocolates and taking long walks when there is still light out (i.e. before 4 p.m.) and when it’s not too cold. For my body, I can buy “fixes”. Sort of.
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.