Notes from the Blue House

After reading Tina Fey's prayer for her daughter, (which you can read here: http://www.parents.com/blogs/goodyblog/2011/05/tina-feys-a-mothers-prayer-for-her-daughter/  ) I felt moved to write down my own thoughts, hopes and intentions in raising my boys. I'm calling it my manifesto because, well, because it sounds wicked cool. Here's the definition of the word "manifesto": MANIFESTO: a written statement declaring publicly the intentions, motives, or views of its issuer By it's very definition a manifesto must be made public, so here ya go, blogosphere. It's my hope that, by publishing it to my own wee little blog, I will feel more accountable to these goals. It's my hope that I'll remember this post when one of my kids is being a fartface, here's hoping that it inspires more patience and commitment from me during the tough spots. Kids, here are my intentions in raising you from babbling infants to bright, compassionate young m...

Dear Obnoxious Parent at Owen's soccer class, Nine times out of ten, I try my very best not to judge other parents. I realize that none of us really know what we're doing and we're trying to give our kids the best we can offer. Except you. Well, either you're not trying or you're just lost at the moment. Your constant exasperated and hostile whining led me to believe that you don't enjoy your kids. It seemed that your young kids were so accustomed to your barked commands and critical comments, that they didn't even appear very bothered by it. I was bothered by it, though. If you were aware of your surroundings, you'd have seen by the pained facial expressions of every other parent on the bleachers that they were bothered by your harsh and joyless parenting too. I wanted to hug your son. I wanted to tell him that I understand that it's tough to pay attention to the coach when you're four. I could see that he was trying, but the neighbouring clas...

Sometimes it seems that I tuck my sweet, good natured preschooler into bed and then wake up to find a mouthy, defensive and sullen teenager has replaced him overnight. This strange phenomena has been happening more often over the past few weeks and I'd be willing to bet that it's got something to do with my parents absence. You see, my mom ,in particular, has always been a very regular presence in Owen's little world. Now that my parents have been stranded in N.Ireland thanks to my Dad's busted ankle, I wonder if Owen's been a bit rattled by the hole they've left behind here. No more "Fridays with Nana". Those days are kind of like "Tuesdays with Morrie" but with less soul-searching and more junk food. Thankfully, these meltdowns aren't a daily occurrence. But when they happen-watch out. I'm talking screaming, fist pounding and foot stomping. I'm talking red-faced, teary-eyed and out of breath, this stuff is not for pansies. I thi...

A girlfriend of mine is preggers and I couldn't possibly be more excited for her. She's not a naive teenager; she's an intelligent, capable and, most importantly, hilarious woman. I know her sense of humour will serve her well when she finds herself smeared with baby poop someday soon. While I'm sure she's not going into this next chapter of her life blind, I think that none of us can really anticipate how greatly life will change once this teeny weeny person moves into your house. During pregnancy, there's no shortage of strangers offering you congratulations, advice and tidbits of wisdom. I've actually had a stranger at Home Depot put her face on my belly to talk to Simon in this horrendously cutesy voice. I could feel her breath through my sweater! yuck. There is nothing like a bump to draw the attention and well-meaning advice of strangers. This advice ranges from the typical crap like: "start putting pablum in the bottle right away to get more slee...