Skiing and Ladies Ski Day - Winter 2012

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I heart skiing.

Josh never thought he would hear those words!!!  We've been going up to a little hill suggested by our friends about an hour away from our house every Saturday.  Ellie and Sam love to ski. LOVE it.  Ellie proclaims she is better than me but I am trying hard to stay in front of her.

She is pretty good, though. And Sammy is getting better, going up the "big" lifts, if any lifts in Ontario can really be called big.

Josh is skiing with some friends in Vail this weekend, and we are going to meet some family in Vermont in a few weeks to end the season. It is a far cry from where we were a few years ago, driving up to Ski Liberty, with me grumbling the whole way and chasing after Sammy in the lodge.  My goal this year has been to be able to go down blue runs with less fear and more speed, which I have mainly been able to do. We've been somewhat hampered by terrible snowfall, so most of the snow has been manmade.

Friends, I will let you in on a little secret of skiing in Canada. Ladies Day.  (Gentlemen, they also have Men's Day**.) My friend is a member of a private ski club, which is a concept which is fairly unique to Canada, I think, but it is just like any private club, except for skiing. At ladies day, for the price of a lift ticket and a bit more, about 200 women were given lone access to a hill for a day. It came with a complete breakfast, mimosas, lunch, wine, swag bag, special club jacket, complimentary mani, pedi or mini-massage, and lessons.  They also had vendors on site if you wanted to do a bit of shopping, a DJ, and fabulous raffle gifts, including a trip to Banff.  There was no waiting for lifts. No small kids zooming past you on skis, almost knocking you over. The club she belongs to is a hidden gem, about 45 minutes from where you live. You know it is a great day when two very drunk women ski past you, telling you that "skiing is always better after a few glasses of wine!" The skiing was amazing and fun and I also was able to take my first skidoo ride with this kind gentleman.  It was a bit scarier than I thought.

My friend and I have been skiing together. She is still learning and has been super brave about taking up a sport her children are learning.  She has been taking lessons, taking things at her own pace and having a good time with it.

I think that is what most of our time has been like in Canada - slowly stretching ourselves into new directions and into new adventures, and most of them, like skiing, have been really fun. Sometimes they have been a bit more difficult, but always interesting.

*Hilary had to have another biopsy recently, which was scary. It was clean and cancer-free, so a big cause for celebration around here!
**Apparently Men's Day many involve some sort of barely clad women. There has been no confirmation from any men on this point.

Happy things about Toronto

I am strangely sad today so I will list some happy things about Toronto for you.

• Calling 311.  When you dial 311, like my darling husband did last night, a real, live person picks up. Immediately. Without even putting you on hold or making you listen to a menu of options.  Then they help you answer a detailed question. (Ours was about trash, of course.)  J was shocked at how helpful they were. That's Toronto!
• No strike. Municipal workers almost went on strike this week. It was averted. It would have meant hockey rinks would have closed down, and now they won't.  And trash wouldn't have been picked up, except in our area, because ours is contracted out.
• Trash plays an important role in the average Torontonian life.
• Regina (pronounced like the body part, yes, that one) means Queen in Latin. It is actually on all of our coins here. It means that my friend, who works for the Department of Justice, or equivalent, is actually Regina's lawyer. I find this hugely funny.  Also, all court cases are Regina against (they don't use versus, I don't remember the exact wording), and they wear robes. Which means, I guess, that the lawyer representing Regina could be naked, I guess. Which could be EVEN more hilarious. (Normally/Usually they wear pants or business attire, I'm told.)
• Ellie slept in her own bed last night. Ellie and Sam decided they needed to sleep with their beds bunked.  Ellie is on the top bunk and Sam is on the bottom bunk. They are pretty funny in the same room together.  They wanted to do it, though.  
• Tim Horton's Coffee - I love it. I don't love the new cup sizes - very confusing! I do love the coffee. Happiness in a cup.
• Ellie and Sam's teachers - they have delightful teachers.  Even though one speaks a language I haven't yet learned, they are happy in their jobs and with children.  
• Donnybrook Park - the park was crowded yesterday with parents, nannies and kids since it was so warm up here! It was fun to watch everyone run around. (I heart our street!) 
• Paul's ice rink - even though it has not been very cold, our neighbor has his own backyard ice rink, and we get ice updates via email.  It is very Canadian. 
• Skiing - I love skiing so much it will get a separate post.  Ellie and Sam are doing so well!
• J, who is finally home after his first round of long travels. Hooray!
• My new gym, with N, who is a drill sergeant who would make Paul Regino proud. With a heart of gold, and lots of enthusiasm and love for me. 
• Tim Horton's again. I really love this coffee. The convenience of the drive-thrus. The ease of ordering (no soy milk!).  
• Widow's dinners. 

I am now not sad anymore. Thanks for being a part of my day. More next time! xo

Why are you home?

I was walking with Ellie and a small friend of ours and he innocently asked,

"Avery, why are you home?"

Implying, of course, why am I home when his mom is at work? Why does he have a nanny and my kids don't? Why does the world work the way it does where some moms work and some don't?

I explained to him that before we moved to Canada I did work, just like his teacher, in a school.  That jobs were hard to get in Canada, and I tried. And it didn't work out, and I'm home for now and the near future.

What I really wanted to say, though, was, "I don't know, little dude. I just don't know."

I don't know how I got to this place in my life where I am a stay-at-home-mom. It is not a role that sits easily or comfortably on me.  I like to read Martha Stewart. I am certainly not Martha Stewart.

I am a teacher, preferably of other people's children. I have patience with them, because they don't crawl into bed with me at night and I don't listen to their sibling rivalry while I cook dinner.  I like to observe their intelligence.  I love their idiosyncrasies.  I enjoy talking "teacher talk" incessantly at social functions, much to my husband's dismay.

I would probably be fired if I was audited for my stay-at-home-ness.  I would like to outsource most of my day to day tasks and would if I could afford to, including things like: emptying the dishwasher; putting laundry away; dishing out goldfish crackers; budgeting; opening the mail; taking out the trash; emptying luggage after a trip (we need a trip fairy!); watching Cars 2.  I could use a small army of elves, or perhaps a butler or lady's maid.  I enjoy: grocery shopping, volunteering in classrooms/schools, cooking, reading with my kids, hosting playdates, the flexibility of stay-at-home life.

I miss work. I do not miss the crazy hectic life of trying to balance it all.

I don't know if it would be easier or harder to work in a different country, and if the parenting-work balance would be calmer.  Women seem to manage better here.  Policies like one year of maternity leave, on the surface, seem to help.  Yet it appears, at least in my neighborhood and at my children's schools, that women are the primary caregivers; they are the ones picking up the kids and volunteering.  To be fair, we had a family in the neighborhood just leave for Abu Dhabi. For her job. She has a seven month old.  (And a preschooler.)

I have to go now. I have to color a book. Then bathe 2 small, squirmy children. Then read to them, and convince them that sleep is a necessity worth their while.

Ellie at 6

I got peed on in my sleep last night. Not by J. Luckily.  S is still sneaking, ninja-spy style into our bed, and I woke up in what smelled like a urinal in Bryd Stadium during the fourth quarter.

Before kids, I would have thought after 6 years of parenting that I would have been through this already. I would have thought that my children would have both been fully potty trained, including at night, and that S would no longer use his paci at night.  I would have thought that, while the early years would have been tough,  I would have been through them by now.  This older me laughs and gently mocks that younger and more naive me when her back is turned while she is trying to nurse a new baby with a toddler hanging around.

J does not get peed on, by the way.  He mysteriously stays dry, while I just try to find a dry spot on my pillow (because you don't think I got up, do you? sleep is hard to come by, people).  

E celebrated turning 6 years old a few weeks ago.  Looking at her, I can't believe she is six.  I can't believe she started life outside of my body at almost 7 pounds and now she is a French-speaking, Wii-playing kindergartener.  She is capable of pouring her own milk, going to the bathroom on her own (mostly) and tries to teach S various things she probably shouldn't.  She is mischievous and funny and loving.  She is learning how to stand up for herself.  E is proving to be an awesome skier and I'm hoping she learns to swim to the end of the pool by the end of the school year.  In many ways, she is mirroring her toddler years - she goes to do something independent, and then is still very needy, cuddly and needs a lot of reassurance.  

Parenting continues to surprise me at how hard it is every single day.  I keep thinking that I will be good at it.  Maybe this week will be the turn around!  Mostly E and S are fine, and it is my own expectations that I am failing to meet. I am not reading to them enough, they watch too much television, they bicker with each other too much.  Then I try to do a reality check and tell myself that everything is a continuum and that they are well within the normal range on everything, and not every day is going to be perfect.  

And let's be honest, folks, how much can one adult play ________? You can really fill in the blank with any children's toy. I would rather play with a cardboard box than most toys. Actually, I got in trouble with J for buying E this cardboard box for her birthday.  

J and I talked with E over the past few weeks about how hard it is to be the oldest kiddo.  She gets to stay up late with us sometimes, and talk to us, but she also has to be the test case for a lot of our parenting mistakes, and be the responsible one.  Both J and I commiserated with her on how hard it is, and how well she does at being kind to S and teaching him the right things to do.  

Six years ago, I was up every few hours. She couldn't talk, or laugh, but I loved her so much! Now, she is sharing when she is hurt, and what she wants, and sometimes she has an attitude I would find hilarious if I were not her mother.  E is a delight, in every way. We are so lucky to have such a great kid as our daughter.   

The Devil is in the Details

It is all fun and adventure to live in another country.

Until that country is bilingual, and packages all of its products in two languages, and you are at Costco on a Saturday and you are in a rush.  You just want to know if the blankty-blank juice is indeed fruit punch or if the ziploc bags are gallon size so you don't buy the wrong thing and then get home and have to go out again for what will be the millionth time to the millionth place because youdon'thavetimeforthat. Because you've already had no hot water this week (fixed) and a broken dishwasher (also fixed) and a traveling husband (back) and you just want to run your blankty errands.

Then it isn't always so fun. I mean, it still IS, just not in that moment.  I think people sometimes suppose Canada is like America-lite, but it is not, friends, it is not.

We had to go to the American Consulate in Toronto recently to get E's passport renewed. Kids' passports are only good for 5 years.  You remember that one of the scariest places in the world to be, beside a military base in a combat zone, is an embassy/consulate. They had bomb alarm evacuation guidelines.  Also, excellent posters from the 80's that said "Feel the Spirit!" I would have taken a picture but I was allowed to bring nothing in, not even my key fob because it had a keyless remote.  I was allowed to pay in American dollars.

Ultimately, I do like living in another place. It is the little things like this that somehow exhaust me, though.*

*Like, what is Vim? And why would you clean with it? Is there a partner cleaner Vigor?
**Homework: please look up on google maps the town of Regina.

Pinterest, until JG stole it!

I was going to write about Pinterest, then JG STOLE MY IDEA ON HER BLOG. (But she is my friend and she introduced me to pinterest and now I neglect my family and stay up too late so it is all really OK.)

Really, pinterest is all about sharing, so you can go read her blog here, and save me the time of writing it.

I will be posting pics of E's pinterest-inspired birthday party next week here. *It's awesome!* And has lots of glitter and sparkly lights. Every 6 year old needs a party with glitter and sparkly lights.

I have been thinking about how men could use pinterest.  Perhaps to visually cultivate a personal style, or to note places they would like to travel. For the design-minded man, it wouldn't be an issue. But for the average guy, it may be more of a challenge.  I'm not sure.  Maybe for great sports photos? Food, recipes, cocktails? There are lots of great things visually on the internet to capture and review.

Take a look, create your own board. Mine are very much in infancy because I have been working on E's birthday, but I know some of you have them already. Apparently the app is not that great yet, but hopefully that is fixed soon.

Dad, please block this website on mom's computer. I accept no liability for this post or the effects.

Winter, Again, In Canada

There are so many things I am overdue to tell you about! Above, a picture of my friend and neighbor Paul's backyard ice skating rink. It is cold today - 10 degrees F - so finally cold enough to freeze the rink. I think we'll check it out tomorrow or the next day.  Because in Canada, they build rinks in their backyards.

Canadians also give delightful gifts. I urge you to take a few minutes and watch the video based on the book The Sweater.  Watch it until the end, otherwise you will not love the story as much as it should be loved. It is about a young boy who lives in rural Quebec, and needs a new hockey sweater. His mother writes to the department store to send him a new one. Is it the one all the other boys wear? What happens?  

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"Have you ever done this before, E?" I asked, knowing she hadn't.

"Why would I have cut down a Christmas tree? I'm Jewish!" she responded emphatically.

J suggested in the spirit of Canadiana, and in our first holiday season away from our families, we should cut down a tree at a tree farm about an hour north of the city.  They had a tractor ride out to get our trees, a sleigh ride if there was snow, and a bunch of other holiday activities. We did none of them. The place was packed. We arrived at about 9 a.m. on a Sunday, after keeping our kids up until 11 p.m. the night before, and were able to get on a tractor pretty easily. By the time we were leaving, there was a police person directing traffic outside and the lot was full.  We had our tree, though, that J/Paul Bunyan/Clark Griswold chopped down all by himself. 

Since S was so tired, blankie and paci also helped us pick out the tree. We got to carry S and the tree back to the pick up site. That was really fun! 

Mom has all of our stockings in a box in Arizona, with the guns, of course, so we had to make some. We didn't have any ornaments, so E and S went crazy. We had many ornaments with Buzz Lightyear and Spiderman stickers. 'Tis the season for superheroes.

S was also a reindeer in his school concert. He sang traditional Christmas songs with lyrics like, "Heigh-ho welcome baby Jesus," (it is pretty catchy) and the Santa cheer, "5-6-7-8, fill our stockings, don't be late, GOOOOO Santa!" This is actually fairly hilarious coming from a bunch of three year olds. If you have not been to a preschool concert lately, I urge you to find one and attend. It will restore your faith in humanity.  

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We also held our traditional latke Hanukkah party for our neighbors on Boxing Day, the 7th night of Hanukkah.  It was super fun and we (by we, I mean H) peeled 15 lbs of potatoes and I fried them up. We also made Renee's brisket and had lots of other yummy treats. We were even able to find Loonies and Toonies for our Canadian Hanukkah gelt bags!  

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We wish you a happy holiday season and a joy-filled 2012! There will be more to come as we celebrate E's birthday, begin skiing, skating, and enjoying our second winter in Canada.