The thing about crazy hair is that it sneaks up on you.
Seriously, it is wicked stealth. One day you're just cruising along, knowing full well that a cut and colour is way overdue, but you're busy and you figure you'll get to it one of these days, and then BAM!
You look in the mirror.
And there it is: crazy hair.
Check out the rest by clicking over to my Shooting For Hip column at Mommyblogstoronto - I promise there's an after photo over there!
I know my thoughts are all over the place when it comes to Graham's future career path.
Yes, I have ruled out culinary greatness in the foreseeable future, but there are so many other ways he could really make his mark on the world.
At one time I was positive about a full medical scholarship to Harvard. But then I started to think MIT would come calling on account of his clear talent for engineering.
And then just about a month ago I chastised myself for not recognizing that I had a budding artistic genius on my hands.
But then just yesterday I started to consider a possibility that I had thus far overlooked...
It was an idyllic scene.
Graham and I were lounging in the bath together, playing and singing, when I leaned forward in what I can only, in hindsight, conclude must have been an extremely unflattering manner.
He frowned. A look of confusion passed his face. He reached out and grabbed a small(ish) section - okay, okay, a roll - of my belly.
Whassat?!
Sigh.
It’s Mama’s stomach sweetie. Look there’s Graham's stomach.
I tried and failed to pinch an inch on him.
He eyed me suspiciously and lunged at my stomach again, seizing what can only be described as a handful.
Dat mama! Whassat?
Oh Good Lord.
It was then I knew. It’s not the sickness and the puking or the worry or the exhaustion that finally mark you as a mother: it’s the abject humiliation.
Could we please just go back to talking about my nipple?
Rob and I, we like to cook.
I have always liked to think of us as foodies, in fact, and if that label sounds just a little bit smug then...well...guilty as charged.
From the time he was about six months of age I have watched Graham with no small amount of pride, imagining he was following in our footsteps as he gobbled down every gourmet morsel I set in front of him.
Sea bass? Check. Wilted spinach? Check. Sweet potatoes roasted in duck fat? Check.
Then a few months ago Graham made a discovery that changed everything.
And now it seems my pride, along with everything that passes his lips, has been quite completely and thoroughly doused with gobs and gobs and gobs of cheap, mass-produced ketchup.
At least I can stop worrying about saving tuition for the Cordon Bleu.
I am a big, fat liar.
I lie almost every single day. And I don’t feel the least bit guilty about it.
Because I don’t tell lies designed to hurt people or cheat people or even lies designed to afford me some kind of power or advantage over others. I tell little, white lies designed to boost the spirit and fortify the resolve of both casual acquaintances and the people I love the most.
I do appreciate that some people see a value in complete total honesty: but I don’t want to be around those people. I don't believe that brutal honesty is constructive much of the time, especially not when spirits are low or people are plagued by insecurities.
Let me tell you the kind of honesty in which I believe.
I believe in selective honesty born of hope, of kindness and of need.
I believe that words are like magic beans: that sometimes when you say things in just the right way, you can make them grow into something like truth.
Sometimes impossibly brave words – You can get through this, Things are going to get better, All these trials will make you stronger - come out sounding something like resolve.
Resolve spoken aloud has a funny way of making the heart swell with hope.
And is not hope the seed from which conviction and truth grow?
Have you ever been struck by someone’s weariness, and then made a point of complimenting them on their dress or their hair or the book they are carrying, as if that were the first thing you noticed about them? I have. Don’t tell me it’s not magical to watch a sad face breathe in compliments and breathe out confidence.
Have you ever clutched a crying child to your chest and told them that mommy would always be there, that mommy would always make the hurt go away? I have. Don’t chide me for creating a zone of safety from which my child may freely grow and learn to nurture the strength he will need when he is old enough to discover my duplicity.
Some things, kindness, hope and love, for instance, are more important than the blunt, unvarnished truth: words that impart strength and optimism need not pass a lie detector test.
If a friend of mine raises her tired, hopeful face to me and says, I know I must look terrible, I will smile, touch her cheek, shake my head and say, Don’t be silly, you look beautiful.
If my child runs to me bruised, crying and fearful of the hurts the world has in store I will crush his tiny body to mine, take a deep breath and whisper fiercely, Don’t worry, Mommy will never let anything hurt you again.
If someone I love looks at me with tremulous eyes and asks if everything is going to be okay, I will embrace them, I will reach into the depths of my heart, summon my courage to the sticking point and say in a voice that brooks no doubt, Everything is going to work out just fine, I know it.
And if my pants do catch fire, let them burn: I will be too busy making magic to notice.
It's been quite the journey my friends.
There was this letter sparked by some reeeaally poor judgement by McDonald's. There was the swift and sincere apology we wrenched from the Golden Arches. Then there was the contest to give away some of the bounty the big clown sent to make amends.
I wrote up all your entries and let the cutest boy I know do the honours...
Congratulations Caramama!
E-mail me with your address and I'll get the Shrek figurines in the mail asap.
Cheers to everyone who entered.
In the interest of keeping things upbeat around here I thought it a good time to present the second installment of our getting-to-know-me game – our second date if you will.
Let’s get right to the questions!
Apparently you are all people after my own heart because there were a lot of questions about food and music which are two of my very favorite things. Emily at Wheels on the Bus asked about my favorite dinner and Awesome Mom asked what I would request for a last dinner. Well, I do love a good steak and red wine, but I think I would probably settle on a huge feast of perfectly fresh sashimi with ice cold sake, followed by deep fried bananas with caramel sauce and ice cream.
Gabriella at Speaking from the Heart asked which three famous people, living or dead, I would share my fish with: Amelia Earhart, Salman Rushdie and Bono because not only is he a great musician, I bet he’s a hell of an interesting guy.
Speaking of music, Painted Maypole asked what my favorite dancing song was: that is a hard one because, wow, do I love to cut a rug…probably Sir Duke by Stevie Wonder. Kathryn at Seeking Sanity asked about my favorite make-out song to which I say probably my wedding song – At Last by Etta James. Hetha at Ethan’s World asked what I’ve been listening to lately and although I’m a little behind when it comes to new music I just bought Amy Winehouse’s Back to Black and it is fantastic.
Also fantastic was Kyla of The Journey's question about my favorite thing that Graham says. He’s not actually talking all that much but I just about died from cute overload when in response to my explanation about the cast on Rob’s arm he shook his head solemnly and said, Oh goodness. Sore arm. Oh boy. Sorry Daddy.
While we’re on the subject of Graham, Teachin’ This Mommy New Tricks asked when it actually hit me that I was a mom? To be honest I’m not entirely sure it has, but the reality slowly seeps in a little more each day. Over the past few months as Graham has really started to talk and I actually talk to him, not at him, it hits me, He’s not just a baby, he’s a person. He’s my son. I’m his mother. Crazy!
I had an anonymous reader who asked will Graham attend the fine public institutions Don Mills has to offer or will I send him to private school? If we can afford it and we are still in our current house I would love to send him to the fantastic private school that is literally a few hundred metres from our house, however it’s likely that Graham will end up attending Catholic school of some sort – Rob is a product of the Catholic system and feels strongly about its benefits.
Laski Gal asked about my biggest pet peeves and the most valuable lesson I've learned as a mom. These questions actually dovetail quite nicely for me. The most important thing, I’ve learned, I think, is tolerance for other people, especially other moms. The doubt, the worry, the relentless giving that comes along with being parenting has really opened my eyes to the difficulties that so many people face in their day to day lives. Without a doubt, my biggest pet peeve is people who are unable to feel compassion for others who are down on their luck and don’t understand how much success is dependent on fate’s whim.
Which brings me to my next question from In The Fast Lane at That’s Life who asks what’s my favorite thing about myself. I could be all modest and say Oh gee, nothing springs to mind, but in true diva fashion I’d like to asset that I am proud of myself for being ready, willing and able to roll with the punches in life and to take a mostly philosophic view of the bad times.
Another two questions that I can answer together include one from Dawn at Renaissance Mama who asked my favorite spot in the house to relax and Jennifer at Faking It who asked what colour is my bedroom? My bedroom is my favorite spot to relax. I love nothing more than heading to bed early with a stack of trashy magazines. The room is really unusual and I’m not sure it could be captured in a photo (sorry Dawn). Basically one whole wall is glass doors that open to overlook our living area (we have dark blinds for sleeping). There is a skylight and a huge triangular window above the bed. One wall is stone and there’s lots of wood and some stucco that I eventually want to cover with more wood.
OHMommy at Classy Chaos asked what a sassy mommy diva like me wears to feel fabulous on date night with hubby: high heels and attitude OHMommy, high heels and attitude.
Magpie at Magpie Musings asked how I got to be a diva: high heels and attitude Magpie, high heels and attitude.
Angie at Keep Believing and Adventures of a Reluctant Housewife both asked for a little background one me, specifically how I met hubby, how I ended up blogging and how I cling to the crumbs of my cool.
I dug up some links that might help. This, my very first post, is alludes to my wild youth, my journey to Don Mills and how I try and stay somewhat cool. This post is all about the people, places and things I love. This post talks about how I met my hubby and this post gives my very specific reason for starting a blog. (Seriously).
Karen at The Rocking Pony asked if there are plans for Graham to have a sibling.
Oh, Karen, that’s both a hard and an easy question to answer. I can only say that absolutely nothing in the world would make me happier than another child: I don’t, however, know if it will happen…
And finally, Melissa at Hope for the Hopeless asked what makes me happy?
Now that one is just plain easy.
I’m probably going to be sorry I told you this but…
It turns out my film – Mya’s Normal Night - is already available on the web for your viewing pleasure. Our lead actor, Dylan Ramsey, has it on his web site.
If you really want to see it you can click here:
http://www.dylanramsey.com/videos.html
Before you watch please keep in mind that this was my first attempt, I’m an amateur, Rob and I did the whole thing on our own dime, it’s harder than it looks, sometimes location and lighting and equipment dictate script and…umm…well it’s not exactly Oscar material, okay?
Anyway, enjoy and also check out Dylan in an upcoming episode of Nip/ Tuck airing (in Canada) on March 28th.
Thank you everyone for the wonderful comments on yesterday’s post. Rob and I just sat and read them all together and we’re still smiling. Rob is still in a lot of pain but he is trying to stay upbeat. It helps you know, it really helps, to be reminded that there are real people out there rooting for our family – we appreciate each and every one of you.
I spent last night in the emergency department of our local hospital worrying over my husband.
He called not 10 minutes after I posted last night screaming in agony after an evening bicycle ride around the neighborhood ended with a fluky slip on a patch of ice and an elbow so completely and grotesquely dislocated that even the attending doctors winced at the x-ray. (I almost threw up)
Kudos to the friendly and efficient staff who rushed him through a frantically busy emergency waiting room and had him on a morphine drip within 20 minutes of arrival.
Boos and hisses to the dozens of drivers who never stopped to offer assistance to a bloodied man out of his mind with pain, lying in a frozen snowbank beside a mangled bicycle.
Please direct your positive thoughts, good wishes and prayers towards the speedy recovery of my husband and an end to the stresses that have plagued our house of late.
Whew.
There are a lot of enquiring minds out there.
A big thanks to everyone who participated in the ask-me-anything game which, I think, is the next best thing to opening a bottle of wine together and spilling our guts: think of it as bonding without the calories or the hangover.
I had so many questions that I’m gonna split the answers into two separate posts – makes for easier reading methinks and also lets me off the hook for two topics to write about.
A lot of the questions had to do with my work in the film and television industry. GoMommy at Random Acts of Momness wanted to know my most and least favorite thing about what I do, Abbie at Just as I Am wanted to know the most bizarre thing I have experienced in the industry, Maria at Mommy of Four asked who are some of the coolest people I’ve met, Mama Geek at What Works for Us asked what actor makes me swoon and SkyGirl at Chasing Blue Skies wanted to know who I admire as an actor, director, etc?
First, although I have met a lot of actors I don’t work with them directly on a day-to-day basis like my husband does. I will occasionally visit a set or be at a party and be introduced and perhaps even make some small talk but that’s the extent of it.
Also, I need to be careful about saying too much about things I may have seen or (more often) heard, because the encounters I do have are as a result of my job and I do want to keep my job. How about I just tell two stories about two pleasant encounters with two lovely actors who I really admire to cover the work-related questions, m’kay? Thanks.
When Graham was about 3 months old I took him to a set where Robin Williams was working. Robin came over to admire him and asked me if he was smiling a lot yet and I said Oh yes, he smiles at everything.
So Robin started to coo and pull faces at him, but Graham just stared stone-faced. Then he started doing funny voices, making fart noises – really going all out. Graham just continued to stare with an expression that said clearly, This guy? Not funny. Not funny at all. Robin finally gave up after I assured him Graham was probably just tired.
When Graham was about 11 months old we visited a set where Michelle Pfieffer was working. She came over to coo at him and he was so enthralled he kept slapping me up the side of the head to try and make her laugh. She chided him, “Oh no, don’t hit your mommy” and he responded by head butting me – hard - and laughing uproariously.
Yup – the boy knows what he likes.
Continuing on the movie theme, Amy at Memories and Musings of a Mommy wanted to know if the film I wrote and produced was available on DVD or if it was shown anywhere. No and not really. It is only a 12-minute short and while it had some success on the film festival circuit, it never had a theatrical release or a distributor. One of these days I will put in on Youtube, I promise.
Kay at Kay’s Simple Life asked if I have ever written a book? Yes, have I ever! I have a finished novel, an unfinished novel and two finished screenplays that are currently gathering dust. Know an agent? Send ‘em my way.
Yvette at The Boyd’s Family and Heather at Cool Zebras both had questions about my reading habits. My all-time favorite author is John Irving who wrote The World According to Garp, Son of the Circus and A Prayer for Owen Meany. My most recent favorite was Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts – I talk about it a little more here.
Heidi at Viking Conquest and Lizzy at Lizzy in The Burbs both asked about my dream travel destination to which I can only answer: Africa.
A Kelly at Transformed by Words asked me about my trip to Africa. I spent a month camping my way through Kenya and Tanzania with Rob in 2000 and it was the most magical thing I have ever encountered. The glorious wildlife, the wonderful people, the breathtaking landscape: it was utterly fascinating. I have promised Graham that he will see lions and elephants in the wild: I started saving to take him back to Africa when I was five months pregnant.
She also wondered: Starbucks or Tim Horton’s? Timmy’s, oh my yes, Timmy’s: I am Canadian.
Linds at The Daily Knack asked about my hobbies. Obviously I love writing, especially blogging. I also love traveling, cooking and flying, which happens to be a great opening for a question posed by Angie at Seven Clown Circus who asked what accomplishment are you most proud of?
There’s my sweet Graham, of course, but I feel he is more a blessing than something I’ve earned so I would have to say my proudest accomplishment is getting my pilot’s license and subsequent float endorsement. As I expressed in what is probably my favorite post ever, it was a tremendous amount of work and very a poignant thing to experience with my dad, an old-time bush pilot.
What I don’t talk about in that post is what Mishelle at Secret Agent Mama asked: What did you think about when you flew your first solo cross-country?
Well, there was absolutely a moment where I thought: Oh my God, what have I done? It was shortly after takeoff from Lindsay, Ontario when I started towards my first stop in Toronto and all I could think was, I either do this or I crash this plane and die. I experienced about 10 seconds of sheer terror before I calmed down and reassured myself that I was fully prepared and equipped to successfully complete the flight. And you know what? I was and I did.
The last question I will tackle today comes from Saralynn who hails from Kooky Kids, plus two(!) other blogs. She wants to know my most embarrassing moment.
Saralynn, you are killing me. Seriously.
Ack, here goes.
On my first job out of journalism school I was running a little community newspaper outside Ottawa. I was full of piss and vinegar and determined to win a Pulitzer with my thorough and searing coverage of local politics.
I worked insane hours for no pay. I had next to no staff. I was already a bit of a burr in the Mayor’s butt when I wrote and approved the following headline describing his reaction to a poorly-attended meeting for a controversial municipal issue:
Mayor Disappointed: No Pubic Input
That’s right. No PUBIC input.
Stop laughing. Stop laughing right now. I have never been so mortified and the damn worst part of it is whenever I try to cry on someone’s shoulder over it they crack up laughing. I vividly remember calling my mother and sobbing that my journalism career was over only to hear the unmistakable sound of muffled laughter on the other end of the phone.
My most embarrassing moment was mentioned on a CBC radio show and went on to be featured in a “crazy headlines” segment or some such thing on The Tonight Show.
Is it any wonder I stick to blogging these days?
The final chapter in the smackdown between the Don Mills Diva and Ronald McDonald is about to be written.
First there was the horrible experience at McDonald's that I documented in this letter and posted here. Then came the profuse and sincere apologies that Graham and I received from Lori, the restaurant owner.
And then on Friday a courier delivered some tokens of the big clown's goodwill. In addition to a half dozen coupons for free breakfast sandwiches, we received this set of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle dolls...
...this set of Shrek collectibles...
...and this set of Wizard of Oz collectible dolls.
So here's the deal.
I appreciate that Lori took the time to send these things out: I truly, truly do. But Graham doesn't have the foggiest idea who any of these characters are and he is currently up to his neck in toys and it just feels a little dodgy to me that I should actually profit from an unfortunate incident when all I really wanted was an apology and so...
I'm gonna give 'em away.
I'm gonna give the coupons to my brother 'cause he's a single dad and he works his butt off driving a dump truck and he eats at McDonald's and he will use and appreciate them. I'm gonna give two sets of the collectibles to a local shelter that houses women and children fleeing domestic violence.
And...drumroll please...I'm gonna send out one set of the collectibles to one of you fabulous readers because, really, if it weren't for all your support and angry comments the fuzzy-red-haired one might not have even paid me any heed.
So if you are interested, or you have kiddies who would be interested, in one of the three sets of collectibles, leave me a comment indicating which one you'd like. I'll close the comments at midnight next Saturday, print 'em up and pick one from a hat.
I'll post the name of the winner on Sunday and even pick up the cost of mailing the dolls out. I will, however, remove them the cardboard set they came in and stuff them in a bubble envelope or something 'cause postage is expensive and there's a limit to my generosity, y'all.
So there you have it, a happy ending for everyone. Leave me a comment and enter to win!
I told him over and over again that it was just a haircut.
I told him that it wouldn't hurt a bit. That he would look so handsome afterwards. That I would give him a lollipop when it was all over.
And still he protested mightily, whimpering and clinging to me the whole time. It wasn't a furious scene like last time, thank goodness. There was no screaming or flailing or streaming tears.
But there was tension and muted murmurs of protest, as if he knew something that we adults don't like to think about.
As if he knew exactly what these photographs prove: that with each lock of hair shorn a piece of his sweet babyhood falls away and flutters irretrievably into the past.
