my big day?!

So tomorrow's the big day.  I've thought about this day before and I never dreamed it would feel like this.  I remember thinking about it as a child.  I clearly remember the day it happened to my mother.  I know exactly where I was.  I remember who was there.  I know exactly what I did.  Perhaps it's the photos, but i even recall exactly what i was wearing.  If you're curious, it was turquoise.

I've made some preparations,  yet still i don't feel ready.  Where does the time go?  And why does it go so quickly?

This past week i invited 30 close female friends over to celebrate the occasion.  I hosted what i thought was a wonderful inmate dinner party.  For days I shopped various specialty stores, looking for the perfect napkins and the right colour accents.  I ordered a huge carrot cake decorated in the perfect shade of Tiffany blue.  From another source, I had the sweetest personalized cookies created.  Same shade of Tiffany blue.  From the fish market to the flower stores, I searched the city.  In the end, my party felt like me.  Right down to the CUT COFFEE loot bags i handed out at the end.

Somehow that whole party and the generosity of my amazing friends, still didn't create what i had hoped for at this date.  This milestone.  Okay, so maybe turning 40 isn't actually a milestone, but it sure does feel like a big day.

Today, I'll spend some time returning a few of the lovely gifts i was given.  I'll take time to reflect how lucky i am to have such terrific, bright and supportive friends in a city that is not my own.  After that i'll go to my favourite spot to enjoy an iced americano.  By 3pm, I'll be back with my babies.  And our puppy.

 Perhaps the problem is that puppy.  Is that why i'm feeling so down?
Is it because i hack with a cough known only to chain smokers each time i'm near her.  Is it that i must take antihistamines to make it through a day and sleeping pills to get through a night.  I'm not allowed to exercise,  because without my inhaler i'm unable to breathe.  I've managed to located my lost fitbit and i'm enjoying knowing that at the very least i'm walking 10.000 steps at day.

Perhaps I'm sad because i thought that for the last 2 weeks i've eaten less.  I've cut out snacking past 8pm.  I've been drinking water.  No sugar in my coffee.  I hardly touched my carrot cake the other night.  I was sure that when i stepped on that silly scale this morning, i'd be lighter.  Just a little bit at least.  I wasn't.

Should i actually allow this number to ruin my birthday? My year.

I guess not.  I've had forty mostly wonderful years.  I can call Riley and Teo, two of the sweetest children on the planet, mine.  David mostly loves me (though i'm sure he'd prefer to adore less of me).  I have degrees from some of the finest schools in the world.  Very quietly, my little business is quite successful.  Most of my family at home loves and adores me.  My house is exactly as I wish it to be.  Each room decorated  to reflect my life and my loves.  I'm surrounded by people who seem to want to be with me. Whether for a walk through walmart or costco or a drink at the chicest bar, I usually have a terrific pal by my side.

I will not let that silly number ruin or define me tomorrow.  Tomorrow at 9:36am (just ask my mommy) I turn 40.  I'm going to fixate on the positive.  My parents love me.  My sister loves me (just not right now).  I might not fit into my size 6 jeans in the morning, but I think that's okay.  I may not be as skinny as I'd like, but at least my face has no wrinkles.

I'm still going to indulge in birthday excess.  I will absolutely enjoy my manicure.  And pedicure.  And facial.  And massage.  In the evening, I'll go to a restaurant i've been dying to try.  And i'll be sure to eat dessert too.

I'll work on getting back to "perfect" on september 10th.

have a sweet day, xoox

Dear robin,

It's been 23 hours and I can't stop thinking about you.  It doesn't help that the whole world is talking about you today.  You've blown up twitter.   And Facebook.  People are even putting your picture on instagram.  More people are chatting about Mork and Mindy than they did in the 80's.
Even the president is talking about you robin.  And he has woderful this to say.  Of course.

Everyone is reminiscing about you.  What a selfless man.  What a genius.  They're all replaying scenes from dead poets society.  You're dinner conversation.  I loved your work, but I refuse to talk about it.  And I'm hoping you'd understand.

You knew the world loved you.  You knew you could make people laugh and then cry.  With a single smirk, you'd have the crowd laughing again.

You're a hit today.  Now people are anxiously awaiting your yet unreleased films. But guess what?  It doesn't seem to matter anymore because today you're not here. I'm not sure exactly where you are, but I know you're not hanging out in Marin county.  I know one there is one less belt in your closet today   And I know you're no longer laughing.   

I imagine you haven't really laughed in quite awhile now.  I get, robin.   I truly get it.  I'm sure you always had to be the life of the party.  As the Motown hit goes, "people say I'm the life of the party cause I tell a joke or two.  Although I might be laughing loud and hard, deep inside I'm blue. 
You must have been blue.  Or  black and blue. Broken.  

I hate that I get it but I totally get it. A lot of us get it. We got it.   Good.  And it sucks.  Bad.  Really bad.  

But I'm hoping last night wasn't in vain, robin.  I know even like this you'll touch the world.  You'll get people talking.  Depression, bipolar, suicide won't be so taboo. I know through you the will be light shed.  And hopefully cash spent.  We won't have an issue with too few beds in hospitals.    Mothers won't have to weep while their kids suffer. Together we will support mental health.  Or lack there of. 

Who knows?  I know.  Robin, I promise I know.  

Why?  Because I know that feeling of wanting off. Wanting out. Wanting to vanish or hide so far away.  I know how sometimes you can try to run from the pain but then it chases you.  And sadly, it's faster.  You may be suffocating.  The feeling is toxic.  Debilitating.  And no matter what, you can't make it go away. 

Robin, I've been in that dark place.  I probably shouldnt be so presumptuous to say I get it, but I swear I do.  I was close.  Closer than I'd like to discuss.  

I was so close that I didnt care what came next.  Make it go away.  Make it go away.  

So close that I didn't are who cried.  Didn't care who got Hurt. It wasn't my 
Problem if you missed me.  

It was early spring.  Passover for my Jewish friends following along.  To be continued

work it out to work it out.

Today my yoga pants were grey with the faintest black pattern running through them.  My shirt was the usual.  Black.  From Lululemon.  Sportsbra was the famous TATATAMER.  Today i didn't feel all that tame.

Bend and reach and bend and reach.  Lift.  Lift!  Move to the right.  Now move to the left.  Bend and reach.  Bend and reach.  Side step.  Lift one leg.  Now the other.  Jump.  Jump.  And bend and reach.  Bend and reach.

Felt like I had been doing those cardio moves all day long today.  In reality, as I checked my watch, it was only 7:40.  AM.  And bend.  Bend.  Bend.

The music was pumping.  I was the only one in the house who was up so far.  I wondered why no one was bothered by the music.  Blurred lines would wake me out of a dead sleep any day.

Now it was the stair routine.  Run down the stairs.  Bend and lift.  Bend and lift.  Repeater.  From the top.  Run up the stairs.  But all the way up.  Like 3 floors this time.  And you know the drill.  I said, bend and lift.  Bend and lift.

I was sweating.  My heart was racing.  My sports bra was certainly well appreciated.  I felt hungry, I felt productive.  And now we're at 8am.   Not bad for a morning workout.

Only problem was this wasn't a gym workout at all.  I've started to consider every bit of what i do in the house to be an exercise activity.  Bending to load the dishwasher.  Lifting to fill the cabinets with these clean dishes.  Bending to do a laundry.  Or switch to a dryer load.  Side stepping from the milk my son spilled.  Last night.  Jumping from the pain I just felt from that stray lego piece I asked him to clean up yesterday morning.  Bending to pick up the cap from the ketchup that we thought we lost three days ago.  We threw that ketchup out.  Reaching for the clothes in my kids' closets.  Reaching to re-arrange for the summer season.  Running up and down the seemingly endless stairs in this 3 story 1929 house.

For sometime I was bitter about working in the home.  After all, we've discussed my master's degree and all the cash that's gone into my grooming and education.  Some days I was envious of friends who employ full time nannies, housekeepers.  A few of my best friends even have a  proper staff.  Please don't believe i'm so hard done by.  I do have a lady who helps me once a week.  She takes the edge off, but 7 weeks ago she broke her leg.  Running to buy a pineapple that was on sale.  Hopefully she'll never do that again.

But these days I embrace my position.  I lunge hard when i walk across the wood floors with a broom in my hand.  I bend deeply when i take a dish from the machine.  In between, I stretch and i plank.  I'm starting to see results, and for that i'm pretty happy.  It's almost like i've created my own 1950's housewife workout.  As I approach forty, I'm surprisingly okay with that.  Sure beats heading to the gym in this heat.  Namaste

summer perspective.

Please excuse my cockiness, but I used to have great legs.  Like really great legs.  People would compliment them all the time.  No matter where i went, I heard the kind words.  I guess it was lovely, thought at the time I found it sort of disturbing.  Kind of gross.  I didn't like to feel objectified.  Regardless,  I'd wear short shorts and short skirts.  And high heels.

All legs look best in the summertime, kissed with some sunshine.  If i took a mid-winter vacation, I'd be sure to bake my extremities.  I'd used copious amounts of sunscreen, but not on my legs.

Today I hate my legs.  With the excess baby weight, they're not as skinny as they used to be.  Two babies and all the baggage that came with those dolls has also left it's toll in the form of spider veins.   They're gross.  Not as gross as the fat, but they're not a pretty look.  Sometimes I use my expensive Smashbox BB cream to cover the lines.  That works and it beats surgery.

 I also can't stand my knees.  For many years, my knees were adorable.  Skinny.  Almost knocked kneed.  But now there's a little mound of side fat that makes my knees look like they're on backwards.  I'm not a fan.  I don't love to show my knees.  In fact, i rarely do.

As if the weight gain wasn't egregious enough, my psoriasis also decided that it should spread itself out.  What used to be just a small patch on my elbows is now a rather large and bright pink marking all over the side of my calves.  Again, not a good look.  Make up does cover it, but it's not healthy.  Sometimes it even hurts.  And more than just my ego feels the pain.

Don't be mistaken, I also loathe my arms.  Psoriasis has left it's ugly mark all over them too.  When my skin isn't shedding, it's an uncomfortable shade of itchy red.  I have two  horrible scars where the biopsies were pulled two years ago.  One of these said scars makes me so sick that most days i cover it with a kiddie bandaid.  It's my own perpetual ouchie.  Sometimes I wonder what's more obvious?  The bandaid or the scar?  I'm sure the bandaid is worse, but i cover that mark regardless.

My arms were never great, but they were always just fine.  They were long and thin and strong.  I had great muscles and some decent definition.  Now i have bat wings.  Lunch lady arms.  Hadassa arms (for my jewish friends following along).  They're not the worst i've seen, believe you me, but they're not lovely.  For this reason, i try to refrain from wearing short sleeves.  I suffer unmercifully in the summer heat and humidity.  Buying clothes for the season is also not an easy job.  Dresses with capped sleeves make me shake.  Jean jackets, wraps, boleros and pashminas are all my best friends.  I can't buy anything that wouldn't allow me to conceal my meaty shoulders.  Not a good look.  I promise you that.

I'm also starting to dislike my ears.  I've had issues with them since I was a kid in grade school.  At that time i was sure that they made me look like Dumbo.  As a matter of fact, even my dear daddy made fun of them.  He would say that we didn't need an umbrella if we used my ears for protection.  Never would i wear my hair in a ponytail. Ever.

As the years moved on, and i became more comfortable in my skin, i began to accept my ears.  They weren't such an issue.  But today as i look in my reflection, my ears look big.  My face looks tired.  When did 40 get so close?

And finally, I could do without my stomach.  Today as i caught a Kim Kardashian view of myself in the public library's window reflection,  i noticed the perpetual pooch in my belly.  I was wearing what i thought to be a lovely dress, complete with long sleeves and my leg make up.  I even had on a pair of skin sucking spanx.  The lacey material of the dress, the slip beneath, nothing could cover the mass.  I tried to suck it in and carry on.

But then as i sat in my favourite seat, in my favourite cafe, sipping my favourite iced Americano, I watched as a regular customer placed his order.  He had lovely ears for his face,  but they didn't seem to work.  He was mouthing words and motioning to the food in the glass window.  Luckily the barista was lovely and together they understood his order.  One strawberry smoothie and a chocolate croissant.  While i saw him stumble to get out his choices, I touched my ears and smiled.  Yes, they may not be dainty, but all the better to hear your voice darlings.

While standing outside, watching my daughter talk to a friend, an elderly couple came to the cafe for their regular breakfast date.  Each was in their late 80's.  Newlyweds.  Actually only married for the last 4 years.  I adore them.  The gentleman walked slowly to the counter with his cane in his right hand.  His legs weren't what they used to be.  The pretty lady sad down and left her silver walker beside her.  Each morning he comes over to push it closer to her when she's ready to get up.  I imagine she was much stronger when she was my age.  Forty years ago.

As i looked at their accoutrements and i thought about my legs.  No, they weren't as sexy as they were when i was 20, but then again, I'm 20 years passed that.  My legs have run races and biked for miles.  I've walked through cities in countless countries.  On these two strong legs.  I'm sure i'll be happier when they're a bit more slim, but for now they're just perfect for walking home with my girl or running after my boy in the park.

Leaving the coffee shop, my daughter and i walked past the library again.  This time i saw our reflection staring at me.  I saw her,  in her little dress,  and me,  in my not so little dress.  I didn't notice my big belly.  All i could see was my teeny mini me walking beside me.  Tomorrow she'll be off to her first summer at sleep away camp.  It felt like just yesterday that I was carrying her around on the inside.

Instead of sucking in my gut just then, i breathed a sigh of relief.  Relief that my body had allowed me to successfully grow such amazing creatures.  Two beings who look up to me and count on me everyday.  Those two kids adore my stomach and I adore them.  This doesn't mean i'll give up the quest to get fit, it just means i'll be more gentle.  More grateful.  More aware.

From the library, we continued walking towards our house.  On my left, I noticed a young attractive blonde woman with great legs.  She was wearing a turquoise and pink paisley print dress.   Looked like it could have been a Pucci.  The sleeves were capped.  In a heartbeat, I had to nearly look away.  As I was staring at her sleeves, I realized she only had one arm.  Boy how I was hoping my kid wouldn't stare.  Certainly that arm was lovely, but it was the only one she had.  With it she clung to 3 very large and seemingly heavy sustainable bags.  She walked passed me and we smiled.  Strong and beautiful.  Her one amazing arm.

My two arms were loaded. Library books, an iPad,  groceries.  But at this moment they felt strong and useful.  I could hold all of my bundles and still hold my little daughter's dolly hand as we crossed the road.  I know that today my arms aren't ideal, but I give thanks for the fact that i have two at all.  Perspective.  Time to use a little perspective.  Namaste. xoxo

how many days till september?

Let's just say it hasn't been a very good summer.  It's been raining.  Lots of rain.  So much rain that you might think the air would be free from that sticky and disgusting humidity.   This is not the case.  The days have been so thick that I haven't had a blow out since early June.  My hair has been a wreck and hasn't been out of a bun in 6 weeks.  First world problems, I know.

And my husband has been away the past 6 weekends.  The first weekend I was away with him and that was lovely.  We spent the most dreamy night in Niagra on the lake.  It was heaven.

The 2nd weekend he took our daughter away on a special trip to Montreal.  They had a blast visiting his candy factory, hanging out at the hot tub, and dining on fondue.  I spent those few days with my loving, yet exhausting four year old son.

The following weekend my dad was invited to go on a "business" trip with my DH.   Together they drove out to wine country and enjoyed what looked to be a perfect weekend.  Wine tours, wine tastings, wine pairings.  What could be bad.  Brick oven pizzas and sweet homemade desserts.  I spent that weekend home with the kids.

As per usual, the next weekend, DH left on his annual canoe trip with his old camp buddies.  Months before they plan and plan.  What route to take.  What menu to serve.  I laugh when i hear the list of foods they'll drag on their backs.  From Serrano ham to lamb chops, this never reminds me of the canoe trips I used to take.  Hot dogs and baked beans seemed more familiar.  The kids and i played on.

This week, his weekend started on Thursday morning.  He raced to the airport to catch a private plane.  Fishing trip.  Business.  I call it a BOONDOGGLE?!  Not sure why fancy fishing trips have now replaced the boardroom business meetings and golf games of yesteryear.

I knew he was safely on his jet, because he sent me two or three texts with JET selfies.  Do we call them Jelfies?  I'm not sure.  I've never flown on a private plane.  I also knew he arrived across the country.  He posted this on Facebook.  Glad i was able to follow along.

Then came the pictures of the red and white checker table cloth complete with lobster dinner.  The molten lava cake with the hurricane candle beside it.  The shots from the canoe.  The pictures of the canoe.  The water.  The coffee press and the perfectly perfect coffee cups.  There was a photo of bean soup.  And vegetarian pizza.  I'm pretty sure it was spinach and feta.  There were other random selfies.  From the boat.  Or the deck.  Or the veranda.

I was happy he was enjoying himself, but i couldn't help but be jealous.  Maybe even sad.  My sitter had decided to go to France for the month, leaving me alone with the kids.  I adore them, but everyone needs a break sometimes.  Or a swimming pool.  Or a summer house.   And to add insult to injury,  somewhere along the line I caught a stomach virus.

Life back in my hometown seemed to be going swimmingly.  My nephew was getting cuter by the day.  Cousins were coming in to visit.  Garage sales.  Birthday parties.  Lots of togetherness, and i was feeling more alone.  By the minute.

World news has been pretty chilling this week too.  What with the Malaysian air flight going down and all.  For some reason, I can't get enough of this story.  The horror.  The terror.  I pray the passengers didn't suffer.

Closer to home a local 7 year old girl was run down very close to my home.  By mistake I drove by the memorial last night.  With the kids.  Tons of flowers and stuffies lined the road.  I could barely look.  Put things in perspective.  That's for sure.

Last night, as my kids were wired and awake well past 11pm, I found myself feeling low.  Not so low, that i couldn't tend to them, but the low that makes me nervous.  The low that wants to listen to sad music and read books non stop.  The low that wants to stay home and hide.

Checking my usual favourite social media sites just seemed to make it worse last night.  I felt more lonely.  More out of touch.  More forgotten.  Once again, that gross feeling of seeing your friends out and enjoying in pictures.  Not sure why some people feel the need to rub their perfect lives in your face.  Especially when i'm not included in the merriment.  Total shock to the heart.

I cried a lot and then fell asleep. Both my kids and my iPhone by my side.

I woke up, checked my Instagram.  This morning I focused on the beauty and the love, and then found my son wanted to make guacamole, french fries and omelettes.  Within 1/2 of an hour, he had created all three dishes.  Each one was divine.

Suddenly, I wasn't so weepy anymore.  I am totally okay being the one at home with my babies.  In true reality, there's no place i'd rather be.  xo

skating in July

We all have to manage our own realities, right?  Reality...what a concept.  To be honest, I'm not a fan. After all, life throws a lot of crap at us, doesn't it?  Each day there are little things I do to make myself feel calm.  Centred.   At peace.  Somedays my strategies work and other days i'm out of luck.

Don't laugh, but I find that checking my Instagram account relaxes me. Facebook too.  Much to my husband's chagrin, it's the first thing I do in the morning.  I check my phone before i even check on my children.  Why? Because I enjoy looking at pictures of food, fun and flowers.  For me, those silly sites show me the Beautiful in everyday activities.   A well prepared breakfast.  A sweet new baby.  A unique halloween costume.  When i'm not well, watching the world online helps me feel connected.  Helps me feel alive.   I'm aware that social media can be a huge time waster.  For me, it's actually a huge life saver.

 Recently, I learned that drinking coffee also helps me deal with life.  It doesn't even have to be the caffeinated stuff.  Or the pricey stuff.  It's just the delicious ritual of sipping an iced Americano that seems to make me whole again.  Each and every morning.  Even when it's chilly outside.  On days where i feel less than perfect, I'll switch to a chai latte.  Warm.

The need to reapply lip gloss every 5 to 10 minutes is something that might drive the average female crazy.  Doing so actually helps me to keep from going crazy.  I apply lipgloss non-stop.  No matter where I am.  After dinner.  When i'm going to bed.  While I'm talking to a friend.   Not sure if it's a habit or obsession. Perchance an addiction?  I can't handle the feeling of my lips getting dry.  Not even for a second. To avoid this sensation, all of my bags and pockets are filled with different coloured tubes.  I don't discriminate.  I like organic, shiny lip, fruity, or plain glosses.  Expensive or store brand doesn't much matter.   I guess i like to keep my lips supple.  No other real explanation.  Sorry if it bugs you.

Obsessive planning also helps me keep sane.  Or almost sane. Since my mind only seems to allow me 9-10 good months per year, I live in constant fear of not finishing things.  I also fear the time when I'm not able to purchase stuff.  While the tasks or the items may not be vital, i know my life would be incomplete without them.

When i'm well, I constantly worry about having all birthday, housewarming, and new baby gifts purchased and ready to go.  Seriously, I buy gifts months ahead of time.  I keep them wrapped and stored in gift drawers.  Currently I have hundreds of dollars worth of perfectly packaged presents in my home. Candles, toys, art sets, and gift cards.  Before my son was born, his room was the "gift room".  People made fun of me, but i miss that room.   This need to keep a house full of perfectly planned pressies comes from the fact that during certain months, I can't leave the house.  Yes, I actually don't leave the house.  But only usually for a month or two.  Don't worry.  Often this low period comes around the beginning of the school year.  And seriously,  nothing i would hate more than for my little ones to have to attend a birthday party sans present.

Since I now know that post summer can be a bit trying for me, I also plan my kids' schedules way in advance.  It's July 20th and they're both already booked for swimming lessons.  And skating.  And skiing too.  I'm sure the people who run these said programs must think i'm the most keen mom around.  Guess this is why we shouldn't judge.  I book these programs now, because if i don't, the worry about arranging them in the fall could bring me to the ground.  That feeling of not knowing how to figure out what to plan a week is awful for me.  Sometimes even just getting one activity booked is helpful as it give me a foundation.

As i get worse, the feeling gets more insufferable.   Everything is a struggle, including figuring out how to feed the children.  During the majority of the year, I live to cook.  I love to create gorgeous and healthy meals for my friends and family.  This all changes as my mood drops.  When things are getting particularly sad, but not yet quite horrific, you may find me wandering the aisles of the most local grocery store.  Try not to stare, as I'll be the unshowered girl wandering the produce aisle.  My hair will be a mess and my weight might have fluctuated.  I can bet that i'll be in some sort of coat and black leggings.  I may appear to be lost, but please don't stop to chat.  I won't be ready for that.  The idea of speaking to you will make me cry.  You don't want that, now do you?  So carry on.

Those shiny aisles filled with my favourite organic apples, leaks and cauliflower suddenly start to mock me.  At that moment, planning for dinner is something akin to climbing Mount McKinley.   No training in the world can prepare me for those days.

Fortunately, i have friends who are well aware of my condition.  They'll pick me up at home.  Walk me through those mean aisles.  One dear love will literally plan my dinners.  She'll push my grocery cart and let me trail along like I'm her 4 year old daughter.  She asks if I have milk.  And eggs.  And bread.  She'll pick up the tortilla wraps.  And the chicken.  Calmly she'll explain to me again and again, how I should prepare my tacos later that evening.   When I get home, I never can remember what she has said, but at least the fridge is full.   For friends like her, I'm forever grateful.

Run. Spin.  Breathe.  Drink coffee & water.  Apply lib gloss.  Have a cookie too. Do what you must to keep the crazy at bay.  Namaste.  xo

Which super hero would YOU be?

I've always wanted to have the power to act like a "fly on the wall".    While i'm a fairly confident  girl, I always believed it would be fun to know what people actually think of you.  You know, to know what they say when you get up to leave the table.  A close friend of mine always jokes when describing her family, "we're very nice people, just don't leave the room".

I'm pretty sure this sentiment is true for most families.  Maybe it's human nature.  Perhaps people are just more insecure than they think?  Not sure about the science, but I do know that people (especially of the female persuasion) are prone to talking about friends behind their backs.

I'll admit that I have done it in the past. But I've tried so hard to refine my ways.  Honest, I have.  Especially living in a close knit city like Toronto.  I find  here you just never know who knows who.  Scary enough, in first months in TO, when I was still in graduate school, I learned this from a total stranger.  He was interviewing me for a job in consumer products.  Halfway through the meeting he says, "TO is a small town.  Be careful not to ever have an affair.  You never know who's watching.  And if you do find someone worthy, be sure to head out to the suburbs.  Never do it in the city".  I was 26.  His words stunned me.  I had no idea why he was saying this. Needless to say, I didn't get the job, but I did learn that even big cities are like small towns.  From then on, I've tried hard not to be unkind to people.  At least publicly.  At least in the city.

The other night, my close friend invited us to her children's birthday celebration.  We were invited to their home for a most wonderful family dinner party.  I dressed myself up in my most flattering black and white wrap dress.  I wore my red TOMS wedges.  I even suffered with a pair of ill-fitting spanx.  My children were appropriately groomed too.  My girl in a sweet striped GAP summer frock and the boy in a sweet Ralph Lauren shirt with blue anchor shorts.  We looked legit.  And our hair was brushed.  The three of us.

My lovely friend was happy to see us and the children took to playing immediately.  I was content to meet the extended family.  Six brothers and sisters and their various partners made 11 in total.  Before I arrived, I told myself to act demure.  Only speak when spoken to.  If anything, play the shy card.  After all, they didn't know how wonderfully charming i could be.

I sat myself down in front of the wonderfully baked fig & brie and waited for the evening to unfold.  The middle brother was a sweetheart.  I found him handsome.  Charming.  His sweet smile warmed my heart.  We seemed to bond over some similar mental health issues and I tried hard to keep that distance between POLITE and FLIRTY.  We chatted about my husband.  He gushed about his ex-girlfriend.  He companied about his job.  I was fully engaged.  I liked him.  Knowing their were many sisters beside me, I kindly ended our chat and turned towards on of the woman.

Seated on my right side was the older sister.  Pretty girl, though not as pretty as my dear friend.  I complimented her dress.  I genuinely adored the blue and white piece.  I acted shocked when she admitted that she was 10 years older than I had guessed.  Her skin was perfect I heard myself say.  And it was.  In five minutes i knew where she lived, how many acres her home was built on, and what she did for work.  I also learned what she had done for a job in the past ten years.  I knew where she vacationed.  I knew where she shopped.  I had seen not only a few pictures of her stunning children, but also recent paintings she had created.  I ooohed and ahhhed in the correct places.  I particularly liked the paintings of the boats.  Truth be told, I enjoyed chatting with her and i thought for sure the feeling was mutual.   I was wrong.

As the night went on and my children became more exhausted, I was sure my perfect appearances were going to pot.  My son busted out his Broadway tunes and began to dominate the evening.  At four, he has a savant memory for every song he hears and the crowd went wild. This lovely family was literally singing along with my boy.  Like he was Billy Joel.  The piano man.   It was adorable, but i was sure they'd think it was my fault that he was so "out there".  So very out of control.

One of the sisters is a school teacher.  She went on about how bright my boy is.  Her feeling was that we should take him out of his current school.  She believed an alternative school would suit him better.   Funny, she didn't even know our situation from this past year.  I told her she was perceptive and thanked her for the kind words.  As i spoke, I kept my legs crossed and hoped my dress wasn't as low cut as it seemed from my vantage point.

By 11pm, my eyelids were getting heavy and I rounded up the children.  Politely, they said their goodbyes and we headed home.  A lovely evening indeed.

Well, you can imagine my surprise when my friend sent this text, "as soon as you left they were bad mouthing you".  Seriously?  Come on!  I was on my best behaviour.

Apparently they didn't think so.  They thought i was "out there".  Me?  Whatever did THAT mean.  They thought I was a know it all, trying to be smart.  Funny, because actually i just AM smart.  They really didn't like me.  Not even their 80 year old mother liked me.  At first my feelings were hurt, but then i realized you need to go to the source.   These people don't like my amazing friend either.  Why?  Because she is a warm, beautiful, accomplished, intelligent, worldly woman.  She has more class in her left finger than they have in their whole persons.  Combined.

When i think back to the party, I try to recall what i could have said or done that was so egregious.  Nothing seemed to stand out.  Save for my son's singing debut.   Clearly they thought i was trying to pick up their brother.  I guess they didn't know that i know better than to do that.  At least not in the middle of the city.   Grow up girls.  Namaste ladies...

Anyone free for a movie tonight?

It's sort of funny.  About 6 weeks ago, I was desperate to find someone to see the movie CHEF with me.  I emailed 7 different local female friends.  Each one had  an excuse.  Most were honest.  Working late.  Up at the "cottage".  No sitter.  Plans for dinner.  Exhausted.   Out for drinks.  Spending the night with my man.  He wants me home tonight.  Ugh.  I think this one was the most annoying, but i digress.

I sent a few texts by phone and then resorted to a posting on Facebook.  Since i have close to 700 "friends" on FB, i was sure that SOMEONE would be free to come see a 90 minute film with me.  After all, the movie is a beautifully shot food picture.  Sounds way better than "hanging with your man" to me.

After waiting an hour, i learned that there was not anyone in the city of Toronto who was able to join me for the evening.  Wow.  Was i disappointed.  As it turned out, my own unreliable child care provider cancelled on me at the last minute.  A movie was not in the cards for me that early summer night.

I'm sure i spent a large part of that Tuesday surfing the internet, checking out Facebook, instagram, Houzz, and Twitter.  I know that i had to sit through copious amounts of pictures of parents sending their children off  to sleep away summer camps.  They posted about tears and sadness.  How would they ever endure a quiet, empty clean home for two weeks?  Days later, these same parents are still posting pictures of every single thing their offspring is doing at camp.  On a daily basis.  Every.  Single.  Activity.

I'm totally annoyed by this phenomenon.  I mean, is there actually a photographer following young campers from archery to swimming to tennis and then volleyball?  Each and everyday?  There are even pictures of these said kids just hanging around and applying sunscreen.  It's creepy.  Often I wonder if the photographer is a professional?  Then i hope it's just a high school staff with a SLR camera?  What makes it worse, is that i know these parents had to siphon through hundreds of pictures online to find their little ones.  Not an easy task.  Believe me, I've done it. And I do adore my friends kids, I just don't need to see every popsicle they eat at camp.

But anyway, I did manage to finally see CHEF when i was back in NYC.  I loved it.  Went with my sister who had zero appreciation for the amazing production and complained that it was a 90 minute Twitter advertisement.   While I really enjoyed the movie, I realized that although it feels like i have friends all over the globe, in all reality, i probably do not.

So all this lead up to tell you that last night i went on a major UN-FRIENDING mission.  I went ballistic.  It was a wee bit insane.  I don't know what came over me, but I'm pretty sure it was the closest i'll ever get to going on a full blown killing spree.  Actually, I'm completely sure.

The massacre started because last night there was yet another NYC friend bugging me to join a multi-level marketing organization.  Come on.  I've been through this already.  Vitamins, protein shakes, jewelry, clothes, stationery, skin care, etc.  What's next?  And when did Avon-like tupperware sales become the new GO TO career choice for smart and accomplished stay at home moms?  I wish them great luck in their newest endeavours, but if they couldn't join me for a movie, then I didn't want another invite to their wine and cheese "party".

So i de-friended these girls first.  I just couldn't see another BEFORE picture of their old aunts' wrinkly necks.   Two down and I was feeling brave.

I got rid of ten women who used to be involved in the work i did about 8 years ago.  Women i had met through working in the baby industry back when i had a baby.  Often i was sure that these ladies were stalking me or at least checking out my photos on a regular basis. They were not my friends and they had to be deleted.

Twelve down.  Next were the high school girls who i hadn't seen since high school.  For a time, it was fun to see their posts, but heading dangerously close to 40, i was now over it.   I think i got rid of 5 or 6 women with this criteria.

There have been tons of people who never comment on my posts at all.  Never a like for a cute picture.  Never a comment for a serious quote.  That group was going down.  I estimate them to be about 7.

Finally, I just deleted another 26 for good measure.  People who post about religion.  People who post too many quotes about puppies and kitties.  "Friends" who post all their girls nights out and never manage to invite me.  Families who post pool pictures, but never ask us to come for a swim. Women who put up too many bikini shots.  They all had to go.  And fast.

By the end of the day, I felt pretty good and decided to alert my true "friends" about what i had done. Their responses made me giggle.

My post read, " i'm on a mission---un-friending people like mad...Feel good, if you can read this, then i haven't hit you just yet :)

So far, in less than 12 hours, I've had close to 50 people comment on this status update.  People I haven't heard from in years asking kindly that i keep them as friends.

One lady begged to stay, claiming she adores my food posts.  One male friend threatened to block me if i delete him and then poke me unmercifully.  Another friend was curious as to what criteria i used to cull?  

I found their words charming.  I was flattered.  They like me.  They really really like me.  And at the end of this one sided war, I was happy with the hundreds of friends I had left.  

Next time I'm searching for a friend to see a movie with me, I'll see how quickly someone says "yes".   
Breathe, smile and drinks lots of water.  Namaste.

and tonight i feel sadness...

Everything was going swimmingly.  The sun was finally shining, our flowers were growing, and we even had tomatoes ripening on the vines.  My kids had finally finished what could only be described as a harrowing 10 months.  Their report cards were stellar.  And not just stellar, they were outrageous.  Basically that teacher who had tortured me all year was now extolling the greatness of my genius son.  "He is a scientist who puts together facts like no other student".  His fondness for learning would make any educator smile, she went on to say.  Truth be told, reading her kind words made me feel a bit guilty.

But today is another day.  My kids are exhausted and wild due to excessive programming at summer camp.  My husband is away on yet another business trip, his second in 7 days.  When i called my mother for the 3 time this evening, i realized that the reason she couldn't hear her phone because her home was filled with revellers celebrating my little sister's birthday.  Seems that the whole extended family was together enjoying and here i'm stuck.  Not that i feel bad for myself (ok, so maybe a little), but i just feel disappointed.  Dissapointed that my phone rarely rings.  Disappointed that I seem to be the perpetual party planner.  Sad that so few people seem to want to reciprocate my dinner invites.  Sad that i have to board a plane to be in my proper home.

But life isn't really so bad.  So celebrate the sweetness.  Namaste

what makes you happy?

By the time the doll baby turned three, they were actually ready for a second child.  Lucky for fertile myrtle, they fell pregnant on the first chilly day in February.  This event wasn’t as sweet as the last.  She was neausis and feeling unwell for three months.  Sadly this didn’t keep the pounds at bay.  Her belly ballooned way too quickly for her liking.  But life stayed happy until about month 7.  This is when that scary reality set in.  Another child.  Another mouth.  More running shoes.  More diapers.  More early morning wake up calls.  Worst of all was the notion that flying to NYC wouldn’t be as easy.  After all, baby girl was the perfect travel accessory.  Not only was she a dream to travel with, she even knew when to take off her little sparkly shoes at security.  How would she ever handle a second kid on that one-hour flight?

Meds were needed to stop the pain.  She was too scared and too angry.  Poor baby bean didn’t have a chance and it was disgraceful.  A fantastic team of doctors came up with a plan.  Baby boy would be born on December 3 and closely monitored by the nurses in the evening.   Breast-feeding would not be expected and mom to be would get at least 7 hours of rest a night.  Labor came and went without the needed epidural.  At the end of the fire, the most brilliant and handsome child graced this world.  His name was to be Javier.  Blue eyes sparkled and his face was intense.  He would be her perfect partner.  The perfect brother to their already darling little 4 year old. 

And so it was written.  He lifted her spirits better than any drug could ever do.  She took to him right away and he was supremely smitten from the beginning.  It was a match made for sure.

Life went on.  Too quickly one might note.  Boy was growing in leaps and bounds and walking by age 9 months.  People were amazed.  Now there were two perfect children walking on this earth.  The two children were hers and life was definitely blessed.  She was in heaven and no one could deny.  The boy was charismatic, funny and charming.  He had so much mommy in him that he was more like a 20 year old than a 20 month old.

He enjoyed playing, running, jumping, cooking, eating… He was from another world.  The home was happy.  Bustling.  Smiles everywhere.  Singing all day and night.  Everyone slept well past 9am.

The weight still carried on.  By now there were about 60 pounds to shed.  It was tougher than before.  She was 5 years older and the pounds were very comfortable where they were.  They were stubborn.  One might even say obstinate.

Back to that Weight Watchers meeting to learn about how to eat.  Don’t eat too much bread.  Stay away from cheese and pizza.  Clearly she could write the book, she just couldn’t seem to follow the directions.  How could she help that she wanted to eat at 2am.  Why was it that dim sum and cheese were still favorites.  Was pizza not really healthy? There was cheese for calcium and pepperoni for protein, no?

So the war waged on and it seemed that she wasn’t winning yet.  The smiles at home were only turned up when the kids were involved.  Otherwise, there was unrest.  When are you going to get back to your pre-baby weight he seemed to plea.  Aren’t you happier skinnier?! Clearly, she wasn’t happy, but was it really the pounds that were making her upset?

Life was easier behind her MAC computer.  When she was typing online no one knew her.  With that shiny screen in front of her, she still looked 25.  Slim and fit, no one truly knows you online and that was just perfect for her. 

In her head she whispered: Run, run, run from your pain.  You may hide it if you stand in the rain.  I’m not thinking rational.  This kind of thinking is fashionable.  Don’t want to walk away, but it’s not safe to stay.  That was the truth.  It wasn’t safe to stay.  But where did she have to go?

Then again, there were the babies.  Mother of two.  That was her new title.  It was both the best and hardest job she ever had.  Thankfully she was great at it.  Cooked, cleaned and entertained those kids.  A lot.  Sure, some mornings she lamented the fact that they had to eat yet again, but then she’d pull it together.  Off to the market for the organics.  Milk, cheese, and fresh produce.  Only her little ones snacked on avocado right from the shell.  These kids were healthy.  These kids were happy.  They weren’t trying to run from the rain.  They were jumping.  Right in.  And they weren’t even wearing their rain boots.

I’m not thinking rational.  And so it went.  Another day.  Another year.  Another letter.  Another ex.  Live in the present.  Forget about the past.  How can you ever forget when today is just so darn ugly?  Hmmmm. 

But the music kept playing.  Everyday.  Mostly in her head.  Sometime from the iphone.  Running from the life that she had.   Went down to the ocean to meet the candy man…with all the answers to her problems in his hand.  She doesn’t want to change her ways.  Ever.  Why should she?   Only happy when she’s high??  It certainly was starting to feel that way.

worst job ever

Sometimes I wonder which kids grow up to be "parking police".  Is it something they dream about when they were young?  Did they want to become police and couldn't quite make the cut?  Or maybe they want to look like police officers, but they're not stable enough to carry weapons?! Do they enjoy the idea of ruining people's days?  Maybe they like the uniform? Or riding a bicycle around town? Whatever their motivations are, I'm sorry for them.  Truly and utterly sorry.

I can't think of a more useless occupation.  I mean seriously.  No one likes you.  Most people despise you.    I hate you.  You have hardly any real purpose at all.  Most tickets are useless anyway.  I totally get it if you're blocking a fire pump or a bus lane.  Other than that, tickets are just a silly way to collect money.  Sometimes I wonder why the cities don't use your powers (and your biking legs) for good?

So, to the total loser on the roadside cruiser today, Thank you so much for the $60 parking ticket that you wrote as I watched.  I figure (and i believe) that you probably have never had a second date with a woman in your life.  Our aggressive and rude conversation outside that disgusting sandwich shop aptly named BOAR, was probably the first female interaction you've had all day.  All this anger you displayed while I gasped from that large pig head on the sign above.  You even threatened me with a second ticket.  GET a LIFE.

Don't worry parking agent, I'll get the last laugh.  One of these days, you'll be rushing to ticket a hybrid Prius and you'll get knocked over by an 18 wheeler.  Until then, carry on.  And i hope you do some charitable and meaningful work somewhere else.

coffee, tea or me?

I'm seriously fascinated by the coffee world.  I've given the concept some serious thought and i can't recall when it all started.  Sure, I remember my parents drinking coffee at home.  At first from their old fashioned and basic drip machine and years later from their super duper JURA hot rod.  I'll never forget the day my dad came home with that $3000 beauty.  My mother swore up and down that she'd never use it.  She was convinced she'd never figure it out.  After all, it was nearly a computer with way too many bells and whistles.  Then she gave up her fight and became obsessed.  I swear she pays more attention to that machine than she does to her kids.  These days the JURA sits beside her distant cousin, the Nespresso.  My mom has a need for both, or so she claims.  I am not a fan of that little pod machine.  Seems like a short cut that's not quite worth taking. Also, i've done the math, and those little guys cost a ton per cup.

My mom has passed her obsession for coffee right down onto my two kids.  From the time they could speak, she'd have them smell the fresh beans and then press the buttons to create the perfect cup.  My four year old can nearly pass as a barista.  He's mastered the whole event and even chooses to wear an apron around his waist.

I do remember coffee at our home.  Everyone who walks into my parent's house is offered a cup.  From close friends and family to  guys who come to do yard work or plumbing.  My parents treat everyone equally.  LOVE that about them.

As a small kid, I recall spending copious amounts of time in a place called DUNKIN' DIP.  If i had to guess this place pre-dated Dunkin Donuts, but i haven't checked google on the dates just yet.  My mom used to meet her lady friends there and together they'd enjoy, get this,  a muffin and a cup of coffee.  If they were feeling particularly hungry, they'd have a tart frozen yogurt too.  The year was 1983.  Obviously.  Muffins were considered "health food" in that era.

I can still smell that shop.  They also had killer mousse in edible chocolate cups.  I was thrilled when my  mom allowed me to have one of those puppies.  Mmmm.  I can still taste that waffly cup today.

And i remember coffee in diners.  Real NYC and NJ diners.  Where the take out coffee came in those retro blue and white patterned cups.  I love those cups.  My parents used to let me indulge in the stuff.  Starting from a really young age, I think.  They'd call it "coffee milk" and my mom would add a couple of drops of sweet coffee to my 2%  milk.  Back in the 80's, it wasn't organic.  But i digress.

When we'd go out for lunch or brunch, my parents would always order coffee.  I loved the establishments that served their cream and milk in those small tiny plastic cups.  My favourite was to open a teeny cup 1/2 way and then dribble some coffee right in.  Then i'd gulp back 5 or 6 minis and i'd be good for the day.  I must have been 6.  The neatest thing is that BOTH my children do this today.  Must be genetic.  They also live to eat butter straight from those plastic pads.  My kids rock!

So, coffee has become quite the thing.  Back in the very early 90's, my parents took a trip to Alaska by way of Seattle.  They came back raving about the coffee.  Coffee shops on every single street?  Coffee?  And there was born Starbucks.  Who would have known?  Sadly they weren't wise enough to invest that year.  Not in Apple stock either.  What did they know?

I've always considered myself someone who drinks the stuff for the "taste".  I never actually needed the caffeine and I was always fine with decaf.  I couldn't even tell the difference between the two.  That was pre-kids.  Now i feel lost and foggy without a dose of caffeine before 10.  Sadly, it seems the more i drink, the more i require.

We have a lovely coffee machine at home.  Not quite a JURA, but a pretty sweet piece.  We buy great coffee.  No starbucks allowed.  At present, we are good with Ezra's pound.  Delish.

Strangely, as much as I claim that it's economical to use my home goods, I find that i'm drawn to coffee shops.  I meet friends to chat at different shops.  Business meetings are always easier with coffee.  Today i even interviewed a potential baby sitter at my favourite local spot.  This felt easier than cleaning the kitchen for her.

Most days i go for coffee alone.  It's my treat right after i drop off the kids.  I run down the street on autopilot and the baristas always know what i want.  Iced americano with room for cream.  Lots of ice.  Take-out cup and a straw.  I guess it's nice to be a regular.  Makes me feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside.

Lately, i seem to be spending a lot of time at one particular establishment down the street from our house.  The owner is a young Jordanian guy.  Coffee is his passion and its awesome to watch him prepare a drink.  He jokes that my americanos are made with love, but i don't actually think he's kidding.  I also don't think i'm the only recipient of his amor.  The guy just loves coffee.  He loves every part of it, and he won't serve a less than perfect cup.  Sometimes his love causes a bottleneck in his production line, but his guests love his coffee and his smile isn't bad either.

Sometimes when i sit at this said shop, I watch the other consumers.  Everyone has a style.  Each person has what i believe is a coffee ritual.  Some people prefer decaf others like 2 shots of espresso.  Fat free milk, soy milk, almond milk?  When did milk becomes such a difficult situation?  And then there's the issue of cups?  I can't drink out of a "stay in" mug.  Not sure why, but i prefer to sip from a to-go type.  Maybe i always want to keep my options open?  My mom assures me that I learned this thing from HER mom.  She didn't believe that a cup of coffee was a cup of coffee until it was served in a TO-GO cup?! Family ties.

I'm not super picky about the brand of coffee I'll drink.  For a dollar, I'll swallow down a medium iced from McDonalds (hold the sugar please!).  Lately, however, I'm learning that i'm becoming more of a connoisseur.  Last week I had to spill out a perfectly good iced coffee from both Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts.  I'll never be a fancy wine drinker, but i think this CUT COFFEE stuff has me converted.

i'm sorry, i must have missed the memo.

Honestly, I must have missed the memo.  Somewhere in between the 23 emails from Sky Zone asking that i drag my kids, in the heat, to jump on their trampolines and the 400 reminder notes begging me to come back to Weight Watchers, I must have missed her memo.  I had no idea.  I didn't see it.  I swear.  So tonight I went in totally blind.

To begin, I did not realize I was meant to bring my nanny.  Good thing I didn't know about this requirement ahead of time, because had I known, I may not have made an appearance at all.  Mostly because we don't have a nanny.

I also did not realize we were ALL meant to wear very tight white jeans.  Not only tight, but so tight that i could see the lines of your Hanky Panky underwear.  Funny, this was part of the memo that some should have ignored.  When you don't have a perfect BUTT or sexy strong legs, please don't wear clingy white jeans.  If you must, please pair with a rather large tunic.  But thank you.  Because of you I couldn't eat my dinner.  Plus one for me!

I'm guessing the note also asked that each woman wear very high heeled and expensive shoes.  No, not just TOMS or Birkenstocks.  It must have read "very expensive", because  each lady had on a shoe more fancy than the next.

What else could that note have said?  "Please don't forget to get your hair blown just so".  Also, please be sure that your eyelash extensions are long and fresh.  Preferably a size 11 in length.
Oh and whatever you do, DO not leave home without your Chanel bag.  This part was surely written in bold.  It had to be! Some even went so far as to wear Channel shoes too.   Actual Chanel wedges.  Who knew that Chanel even made wedges?!

As I took a glance around the room, there were at least 6 Chanel bags in plain site.  Wow, at more than $5000 per bag, that was a TON of cash spent on what in NYC we call "pocket books"!! Personally i'd rather use that money for a weekly one hour massage downtown?!

Well, since i was busy drinking coffee at my local watering hole, I didn't check for a memo.  Had i seen this note, I may not have even gone to  your party.  Tonight I showed up with perfectly blown out hair from the evening before (more on that night later) and what could most definitely pass as pyjamas.  My well cut navy blue t-shirt was from Old Navy.  Circa 2010.  My yoga pants with the wide leg bottom were actually from Costco.  My toes were painted the most perfect shade of periwinkle blue, but to stay casual, I paired them with my old white and well worn BIRKS.

I probably stood out, but i felt good.  Comfy, relaxed.  In reality, I felt i was one of the only people appropriately dressed?!  After all, wasn't this a party for a 4 year old? I'm pretty sure that 1/2 the guests still wear diapers.  Or at least pull ups at night.

So as I watched the lovely nannies work, I giggled to myself.  It's a chuckle i have internally on a pretty regular basis.  It's the notion that if martians landed in TO, they'd be sure that miraculously  ladies from the Phillipines birthed white, often blonde hair/blue eyed babies.

I laughed and then frowned when i saw a kid fall off the ginormous jumpy castle.  He hobbled straight from the jumpy house and right into his nanny's lap.  This kid didn't even look for his mommy.  Poor mommy.

I, on the other hand, was luckier.  My four year old was literally beating me for stealing one of his french fries.  As he continued to hit me, I thought that maybe these ladies who bring their nannies everywhere are onto something.  These said moms were the most quaffed.  In best shape.  Seemingly the happiest.  I was, on the other hand, sitting on the grass eating a veggie dog and sipping on an organic grace juice box.  My kid was seriously hurting me, and i'm pretty sure my bum was rapidly spreading on that cute blue and white striped picnic blanket from Ikea.

Note to self... be more careful and read all memos.  xo

Dear mom,

hey, 

Just wanted to apologize for being late to pizza lunch-

I had intended to get there on time and then had issues with my car…

I was there as soon as possible.

Regardless, I have been meaning to talk to you.

I planned to bite my tongue, but then decided that now was a good time to mention what i’ve been hearing.

It came to my attention at GARDEN FETE that there have been a couple of mom’s really undermining me at the school.

I was quite shocked when i was first told about the adjectives used to describe me-

Stuff like “mentally unstable”  and "unfit mom" really upset me.

I’ve heard about this now from more than one source-

I contemplated letting it go in the spirit of DON”T ever argue with people you don’t respect.

Today, after you seemed upset that i was late for the pizza event, I decided to let you know that i’ve been pretty upset with these rumours.

It would make me very happy to learn that what i heard was not actually true.

I would be even MORE thrilled to learn that there wasn’t more than one mom bad mouthing me at the school

So, if indeed these other mother’s have been lying to me, than i’m sorry for getting you involved at all.

And if you have been behind this gossip machine, than i’m truly sorry for you.

Just for the record (though i hope you keep this note private)

I have had some mental health issues.  That said, I’ve overcome a lot of obstacles and for that i’m very proud.

Yes, I have also had words with a teacher at the school.  And the principal too.

I was right.  Unquestionably correct.

My amazing 4 year old is having a terrible school year,  thanks to his teacher.

I’ve been quite vocal about this.  I might seem unfit when speaking to her, but that’s the LEAST of her issues.

I’m one of the most dedicated mother’s i know.

I run a phenomenal business, write a book, expose my kids to the world and keep a lovely happy home.

each night i prepare healthy and fun meals for the family

I never have had a nanny raise my children-I’m there for every school trip, pick up and drop off.

I’ve been class parent more than once.  I’ve volunteered my time.  Given money.  Products.  Attended every event…

I even attempted to sit on that school board a few times.  Well, we all know how THAT went down...

Again, If you haven’t been spreading these rumours about me, i 100% apologize for this email.

If you are the one who is keeping up this silly story, then, please find something more meaningful to do.

As a marketing and PR professional, I do and will always believe, that it’s great to have people talking about you…no matter what they say.

And sometimes even being a train wreck is OK—because train wrecks always make the first page!!

All my best, 

Speed dating.

Last night, before the hurricane came to the city, I headed downtown, in ridiculous,  traffic to meet a group of strangers at the rooftop of the THOMPSON hotel.  It had been a long day, so i didn't have time for my usually party preparation.  I did manage to spray some coconut oil into my dirty hair, run my hot pink flat iron through my dry curls, and after all that effort, the locks were thrown into a chignon.  It wasn't my best look, but it was a look.  Tom Ford's $250 fragrance from heaven was squirted liberally on my neck and other pulse points.  In my mind, that smell made up for the remnants of the earlier Air Canada flight and the hot and humid afternoon.  

I didn't have time or the inclination to worry about a sexy outfit, so i stepped into my old faithfuls.  The black crepe-y tunic and my favourite extra tight black leggings.  Mostly it's in my head, but i feel 10 pounds lighting in those said "pants".  Because tonight was extra special, I took off the birkenstocks that had so lovingly moulded to  my feet and sparked a pair of nude heels.  I was as ready as i was going to be.

When the valet took my car, he confirmed the fact that my leggings were working.  Fine, maybe it was the convertible, but he seemed to think i was all that.  Maybe and a bag of chips too.  I probably should have been more anxious.  I probably should have had my nails done. Or tried more earnestly to straighten my hair.  Actually, what i really should have tried was a shower.  But i digress.

When the host of the evening greeted me, I felt like an excited teenager.  I was only mildly disappointed when I was told that we would have to move to the basement.  Due to the inclement weather,  it wasn't a great plan to use the glamorous, swanky rooftop we've all come to know and love.  The basement was better anyway.  Darker.  More intimate.   Better A/C.

I was among the to arrive.  Together with the two hosts, I helped with a bit of last minute planning.  Where would the food go?  The music?  How would we arrange the chairs for the evening.
I was happy when my girlfriend walked in.  She looked quite lovely.  She was in her favourite outfit too(or so she said).  Unlike what I had put on, she actually managed to find a sweet skirt.  Skirts are lovely.  Definitely better than my lycra "pants".  I should find a skirt one of these days.  Note to self.

It was nice to see a familiar face.  She and I don't spend a lot of time together, so I was looking forward to the evening's activity.  Another familiar face stepped into our room.  And then another.  This was getting awkward.

Here I was.  3 months till forty.  Married.  Two kids.  Rapidly frizzing hair.  Heals.  And my first speed dating event.  Speed dating.  Yes, that's what i said.  I'd always wanted to try it, so I jumped at the chance when my invite arrived last month.  Speed dating.  The idea of going from person to person, quickly showing my best side.  Or my worst.  Or their worst.  Which is worse?

My husband didn't even seem to mind.  He even let me borrow his convertible?  Speed dating.  Thompson Hotel.  Bring it on.

So, before you think that i'm totally deranged, (wait, is it too late?) let me explain.

This SPEED DATING event was organized by a business group.  The idea was not for me to find a new husband.  Or a new boyfriend.  Or even anything in between.  The point of this delicious night was for like-minded women to get together and mingle.  WOMEN.  My first attempt to speed date, and not a straight man in sight.  Sigh.

What seemed like a silly idea was actually quite wonderful.  Our evening started out with a young and talented 26 year old playing his guitar and singing his heart out to us.  As we swayed to the sounds of I'm Yours and then my personal favourite, Santeria, we nibbled on tasty victuals.  Steamed crab legs, mussels, shrimp, and oysters.  A cheese board filled the entire table.  The drinks were interesting and generous and the mood was set just so.

When the formal part of the evening began, I was a bit unsure.  Sure it was fine to chat with these ladies, but did I really want to get involved in these pre-planned questions?
1) If you could invite 6 people to dinner who would they be and why?  Um, that's a tough one.  And the answers were amazing.  Funny to hear who would include their husbands.  I surely didn't.  The woman next to me was inviting hers, and JESUS.  She said she had a great thing going.  With both of them.  She had some other very evolved and interesting guests to add to her table.   After her cool answers, I was nervous to give mine.  How shallow could i be?

I was honest.  It would definitely be my college ex, Brian. (see older posts)  I'd do anything to have an evening to clear up the mess I made in 1995.  I'd also invite my dad's older sister who passed away many years ago.  She was a fireball and would add drama to any dinner party.  Patrick from Train still melts my heart.  As does Matthew McConaughey.  I added a few others, none all that notable.

2) What one change would you make in life if you could?  That was a tough one.  Again, the ladies had interesting answers.  Mine was vain but honest.  Would NEVER have gained those crazy pounds (twice) with my babies.

The other questions were equally thought provoking and a lot of fun.  Everyone had promised a code of silence (or is it cone of silence?), so as the evening progressed, our most personal stories flowed.

At the end of the party, we were all laughing and enjoying.  We had left our spouses and offspring behind.  The night was spent chatting with old friends and  new.  The music was terrific.  The food was perfect too.  I realized as the night ended, that I had really had a terrific time.

I learned that speed dating is a cool party concept.  Even with a group of women.  And the Thompson Hotel, like NYC where I think it was born, is never a bad idea...

should i get a nanny?

Go ahead and ask me?  I dare you.  Why is your house such a wreck?  How come you can't manage to "work from home" and keep a tidy home?   What do you do all day long?

Well, for starters, I have two kids. Yes, you remember them.  The loves of my lives.  Mi vida.  Mi cielo.  Love them, but they bring mess everywhere.  Literally dirty oozes from their every pore.  Honestly.

Last night I went out to walk my friend's giant black Bouvier and when i returned home, I realized all the Elmers glue was gone.  So was the devil's dust.  And the borax.  Ten little plastic bags were missing too.  What had they created in my one hour absence?  SLIME.  Homemade squishy and glittery slime.  I'll admit, I was impressed.  Definitely there was a cool factor. Fun factor.  But the remnants of their scientific art project were everywhere.  Spoons full of GOOP.  No, not gwenyth's newsletter.  Real and sticky slimy goop.  What was SHE thinking with that silly name? Or conscious uncoupling?  Let's not digress.

So there were straws strewn about.  The counter tops were messy.  My bare feet stuck to our new hard wood floors.  It was disgusting.  One hour gone and my whole first floor was a disaster.

I didn't freak out, i didn't really care.  I'm used to it by now.  Sometimes i feel i spend my days attempting to clean the place.  Once i tried to count how many times an hour i bent to pick up stuff.  You know, small objects like lego and dried pasta shells.  Paper pieces which cover my floors.  My four year old has an obsessive issue with cutting computer paper.  Recently we found he hoards reams in his dresser!?  I'm used to the slightly white tone of our floors made so by his love of the stuff.

Don't get me started on rainbow loom elastics.  Really, don't get me started.

Everything the kids eat seems to land on the floor.  Or coat the table.  Or coat the table and then drip to those said hardwood floors.  Milk, juice, tomato sauce.  Crumbs from cookies.  Or fish and chips.  Cereal never makes it to their mouth in time.

But they're kids.  And my mom told me the house would out live me one day.  So i try not to care.

Each family member has a shoe problem.  We each possess about 190 pairs.  Running shoes, tennis shoes, sandals, flip flops, hiking boots.  Ice skates.  And then in the winter there are the ski boots.  And the skis.  I went so far as to have custom shoe closets built in our front mudroom.  I also built two coat closets.  We have a coat rack.  Yet every evening I comb the house, picking up used jackets.  Looking for the match to the silver ballet flats.

Yesterday we hit the ultimate in home mess disaster.  My boy had lovingly made the family an organic banana, strawberry, blueberry and raspberry smoothie in our new NINJA blender.  (shameless plug: best blender ever)  He was so proud of his creation and we were all enjoying.  He went upstairs to grab some, um, paper and when he came down he tripped.  And by tripped, I mean down the flight of steps.  Don't worry, he was okay.

What he managed to do next was amazing.  The fall left him unscathed, but I can't say the same for our carpet.  The runners were stained.  This fact i'm okay with as I've been longing to make the change to Missoni for a while now.  The walls were filthy.  He managed to hit the window treatments with extreme precision.  But what amazed me most was the ceiling.  I looked up as he started to cry.  This shake had found its way UP to the top of our hallway ceilings.  Big time.  What to do? Shoot, what to do? Pack up the back packs and head to school.  Well, what would YOU do?

Of course, later that day, I forgot about the state of my house and invited a friend over for lunch.  I roasted fish, cut beets, chopped egg, etc.  We had a lovely time and then went out for coffee.  Later that day, my daughter had a friend over for an ice cream playdate.  And when we left for the kids' haircuts, we left the place in disarray.  Ceilings included.

We returned close to 6 only to have another kid come over for a snack.  Surely no one else feeds their kids sugar.  Maybe that's why I'm so popular with the under ten set?  As a group we headed to gymnastics.  Came home, cooked a second dinner.  This time it was perogis and onions.  Greek salad and pita.

By nine o'clock i was ready to leave the kids and head to NYC.  I was exhausted.  Laundry had seemed to pile up everywhere.  I had loaded the dishwasher just before school pick up, but now the sink was full again.  And the countertops too.

My kids fought me about bed time.  Again.  So i took to my favourite spot to troll Instagram.  When my husband walked in, he was furious.  What had happened?  What did i do all day.  What were all the stuffies doing in the entrance way?  (i had cleared them out in an effort to donate them to the needy.  My mess could be someone's happiness, right?)

So he tried picking up stray shoes.  And loose change.  He started hanging a few spring jackets.  He was furious.

Thankfully it was too dark to notice the smoothie.  This morning's going to be a treat...no doubt.

and what have you done this am?

So far today I've boiled a dozen eggs, cut and prepared carrots, grapes, cucumbers, celery sticks, blueberries and other various fresh produce to make snacking simple.  I've done one load of laundry.  And put it away.  Two beds have been made.  Elaborate and earth friendly lunches have been completed and stored in appropriate book bags.  Ice packs included.  A chicken that i had roasted earlier has been pulled apart to a shred of itself.  Mint and lemon ice tea has been freshly brewed and bottled.  Coffee has been complete.  Two birthday gifts for this weekend's festivities have been wrapped.  Well.  I've forged my kids' signatures on homemade cards.   All of my daughter's musical dreams have been posted to her Youtube page.  I've updated Facebook.  And Twitter.  My fruit and veggie work has been uploaded to Instagram.  Of course.  I'm showered.  My hair is pretty.  Nearly dressed am I in my uniform.   Leggings and a tunic top be thy name.

It's 7am.

The joys of not sleeping past 6 in the springtime...