We Should Have Half-Assed This Parenting Thing or Stuff Parents Don't Talk About In Public

We had our kids young. It's weird now because folks we know are just starting their families. We seem like we're 80 when we talk to these people. Times have changed. It's like we raised our kids in the Depression when we compare what parents face now. It seems like a year is like a decade in kid time.

I can't imagine facing teenage years at my age. New parents think the baby and toddler stage is hard. These people are living in a fool's paradise. Those years were a cake walk! Sure those early years required a lot of running around. That took energy. No doubt. What sucked the real energy was when they hit teenhood. That's when the dance began.

A parent needs to be on their game in the world we live in. Kids are dealing with temptations we couldn't have imagined. It isn't just sex, alcohol and drugs. It's the kind of sex, alcohol and drugs. It's the amount of sex, alcohol and drugs. When I was young we drank 2 litre bottles of cheap wine coolers and we liked it. Actually, it caused horrible headaches and induced much vomiting, but it was cheap and plentiful. Now kids are pounding back Jagermeister bombs until they go blind. They chase that down with energy drinks until they are so wired that you have to peel them off the ceiling. I can't understand how they can mix booze and energy drinks. When your mix comes with medical warnings, you know you're in trouble.

When we were young, we kept our sex private. Or kind of private. Pretty private. We all knew for sure who the one person was who was having sex. She'd be the only one pregnant during the entirety of our high school years. I still remember the ONE girl I knew who got pregnant during my high school years. That's how unique it was.  Now you can't swing a dead cat with out hitting a pregnant teen. Where is the good old fashioned shame that is supposed to come with sex? Maybe I feel that way because I was raised in a Catholic/Mennonite household where shame was dealt out by the heaping spoonful. Kids are doing stuff now that would make Jenna Jameson blush. They hand it out like candy. I can't help but feel a little sad for them. You shouldn't have done everything by the time you hit 16. What the hell are you going to do for the rest of your adult life. Makes me shudder. This summer I went camping. The couple in the next tent couldn't have been more than 19. They started the show at about 10:00 pm. The young lady kept up a running dialogue so me and the tent mate knew everything going on. A couple of 19 year old kids shouldn't be doing stuff like that. Stuff like that takes professionals. Requires training, stretching, safety nets and harnesses. I needed a cigarette when they were done and I'm pretty sure she wasn't having as much fun as she was leading him to believe.

It's the drugs that scare me the most. Kids have lulled themselves into such a state of false comfort. They are fooling themselves about how benign the effects of drugs are. They think they are smoking pot that's left over from the 60's. They don't understand that the chemical make-up of pot has changed drastically. It comes with a host of truly horrific potential health problems. Doctors are seeing a rise in serious psychological problems linked to pot use. That's just pot! I can't even wrap my mind around the other stuff they choose to snort, smoke or inject. It's so damn easy to get too. When I was young, you had to look for stuff. Now, it seems so easy. They can find something to help cut them off from reality by sending a simple text. In the end, I think that is what puzzles me the most. Why they feel the need to cut themselves off from reality. What has their reality become that they seem so desperate to escape it?

As parents, I think we have fooled ourselves into believing that we've made our kid's lives easier by giving them so much stuff. Cell phones, computers, cars, trips, expensive clothing, blah, blah, blah. Like if we throw enough stuff at them, they'll be happy. That doesn't seem to be working. I certainly don't have the answers. We've made a host of mistakes. We're pretty honest about them too. We hope by being honest we might give other parents a clearer view of what they might be facing. As well, we believe that parents need to stop fooling themselves into thinking that if they follow everything in the parenting books, they'll be home free. In the end, there is no guarantee. You put your years in and hope for the best. Be there for them when things get bad but don't help them out of every stupid situation they get into. I think they learn the most from digging themselves out of their own holes.

During particularly bleak periods we've made jokes about how we should have half-assed parenting. All that time spent nursing, reading books, coaching their teams, cooking meals from scratch, family vacations, being a stay-at-home mom and homemade Halloween costumes could have been spent sitting on a couch in the front yard drinking beer. Scratching ourselves as we yelled at our kids without ever moving our asses off said couch. Ah, hindsight.

Embracing My Inner Dinosaur

I love the movie Step Brothers. I feel there are so many life lessons to be learned from this fantastic movie. How not to make bunk beds, how to make fancy sauce, tips for job interviews and, most importantly, how to embrace your inner dinosaur. For those of you poor folk who haven't seen the movie, I'll explain. There is a pivotal moment when the two heros of the movie have moved away from a life of childish joy and now must work at soul sucking jobs. An emergency crops up that only they, and their youthful passions, can handle. It is at this point that the two main characters get some of the best advice ever given. The father of John C. Reilly's character tells the boys to never forget their dinosaur and delivers the message wrapped in a story of how he forgot his dinosaur. Here, watch it and try not to tear up:

As much as I love this movie and value it's lessons, I realized recently that I had let the unthinkable happen. I had forgotten my inner dinosaur! I made this shocking discovery when we were going through some family drama. Stress was high and I needed to think of something to do, that didn't involve drinking vasts amounts of wine, to ease my anxiety. Possibilities went through my mind and were quickly discarded. I didn't want to take any more university classes, my husband wouldn't agree to me teaching in another country for a year, and the idea of scrapbooking scares the hell out of me. Scrapbooking is just weird. There. I said it. I know that scrapbookers might become enraged and dedicate whole scrapbooks to how mean I am. I don't care...put your pictures in a photo album and skip the stickers and captions. Look at this picture! I just puked in my mouth a bit.

Then it hit me...I'd start taking horseback riding lessons again. I had taken lessons, for a brief period, when I was a young teenager. I had fallen in love with it immediately. Not just being on the horse, but everything about horses. I loved mucking out stalls, grooming horses and feeding and watering them. The smell of a horse barn is, honestly, better than some of the best perfumes I've ever purchased. To me, it smells like a mixture of comfort, danger, possibility and endless glee. I asked my ever supportive husband if he minded and he said 'go ahead'. Luckily he had absolutely no clue how much this sport costs. Thank God! I searched around for a place and lucked out on Misty River Ranch . These endlessly patient people agreed to take a very out of shape and slightly (I say slightly because it makes me feel better...I think I was getting past slightly) pudgy new student.

I headed down for my first lesson and they got me on a beautiful, but slightly reluctant, school horse named Phil. Some older ladies who ride there like to call him the 'thigh master' because you must constantly squeeze to get him to go. This was fine with me. I should have a thigh master permenantly glued to my thighs so this was all good. Once I was on top of old Phil, it only took seconds for all those teenage girl feelings to come flying back. There it was....my inner dinosaur! It had been waiting for me for years! Things I thought I forgot came back to me and I felt such a sense of power and accomplishment.

As a side note, men think women ride horses so we can experience having something as powerful as what they have between our legs. This is ridiculous when you consider what that whole area on a woman can do. We're used to having power south of the equator.

As soon as the lesson was done, I was off to the local equestrian supply store and bought boots, breeches, and some really cute horsey socks. I think the cost started to hit my husband there but there was no way he could say no. In addition to a pretty constant giggle, I was glowing.

It was pretty crazy how quickly so many other aspects of my life started to change. Up until this point I had just felt exhausted and no longer really knew what my role in life was. My kids are getting older and they have their own lives. While they may need me emotionally, I'm not a part of their daily life like I used to be. So I was just sort of sitting around waiting for retirement. My retirement plan was pretty simple. Sit at the lake and read and write. That had sounded swell until I'd found my dinosaur.

I'm exercising like I haven't done since my 30's, my weight is dropping (probably because I'm not sitting around watching life go by), have said bye to the local wine store and am filled with excitement for what life has to bring next. I think this is a problem that all parents face at some point. We enjoyed our youth, met somebody we loved, had some kids, worked, stopped sleeping, forgot what we liked to do, worried about our kids, and stopped thinking of ourselves as individuals with needs. So, every individual needs to make their own decision. Will you treat life as a spectator sport or will you dive in and embrace your inner dinosaur?

I can't. I am a Lady!

Ladylike behavior and the rules that govern it are very complicated. The need for charm schools is testament to how difficult these skills are to understand and master. I like to think of these rules as control top pantyhose that cut off blood circulation. They make me uncomfortable, angry, and they put me at a disadvantage. Disadvantage because I'm so busy scratching, adjusting, and fixing runs, I can't actually enjoy my life. Just recently I was told that I am not a lady. At first, I was pretty pissed. What?! Me! Not a lady? Then I felt relief. Thank God....I'm not allowing myself to be governed by those restrictive rules. This accusation did get me thinking though. Does it pay to be a lady?

I thought back to the way I was raised. Strange household where I got two very different opinions on how a lady should act. My father, who worked construction, encouraged me to enjoy all of the aspects of acting like a boy. I spent numerous hours on his construction sites loving every second of it. I could get dirty, operate heavy machinery, and swear like a trucker. He took me hunting and camping. He was very proud when I joined the reserves and completed basic military training. I ran around with cam stick on my face, stripped and reassembled weapons, and dug trenches. All very unladylike but truly delicious. My mother was the opposite. Wear make-up, cook and clean, don't go to university and college because that is a man's job, and get married as soon as possible. Very restrictive and not near as fun.

When I got older and outgrew my awkward stage (what my mother called the time that I was basically a really ugly tween), I like to think that I blossomed into a not half bad looking young woman (evidence provided in picture on left). At this point in my life, I decided to embrace, to a certain point, the rules of lady behavior. I read the Emily Post Etiquette Guide and followed the rules. The rules were tough and very specific. I have to admit that a certain amount of power came from following them. I got a lot of dates and rarely had to buy a meal. Gifts were bought and promises were made. Lucrative promises that implied that if I continued to act in a ladylike manner, I would be rewarded with a husband who would take care of me. Sounded lovely for awhile...until I finished college and turned down a marriage proposal. It had started to hit me. Being a lady meant I would have to spend the rest of my life following rules I didn't write and no longer particularly liked. The rules had become stifling and I wanted more.

I started to make my own choices based on rules I liked. Rules that I soon realized were made for men. I laughed loudly, I swore when I wanted to, I stood up for myself and felt no hesitation in calling someone out when they treated me in a way I didn't appreciate. Basically, I took what I wanted and stopped apologizing for it. Did not take long to feel the backlash. Society still does not feel comfortable with women behaving in this fashion. We get called bitches and sluts for simply living by the same rules as men and when we're really bad they tell us we are not a lady. Who made these rules? Emily Post may have written the book and women operated charm schools but I don't believe it was because they truly wanted to be shoved in a box. They realized that we had complicated territory to trek through and they simply provided us with a map.

I do not consider the successful women I know to be ladylike. I like to think of them as Dames. They feel no shame in showing they are as smart, or smarter, than the men they work with. They drink, swear, and demand. They self-promote and push themselves to the front of the line. Most importantly, they make no apologies for having, what is traditionally, the appetite of a man. The truth is, a woman can't achieve in this world if she is a lady....she must be a Dame. She must throw off the restrictive shackles of ladylike behavior and attack life with gusto. And if somebody tells them they are not ladies, they need to say, in a lovely charming manner with eyelashes batting, thank you. Then check their bank balance and comfort themselves with the fact that they're no lady!

There is No Place Like Home

I recently came home from a trip to Ottawa and Montreal. While there, I visited with some people who are from Manitoba and, for various reasons, have decided to move out to Ontario and Quebec. The reasons vary and each person feels a little different about the home they left behind. It's a weird thing when people leave Manitoba. They either hate it with a passion (but insist on returning for vacations) or they remember it fondly. As for me, I LOVE Winnipeg and am not afraid to admit it in a crowd. Our passion for the city we live in is a pretty personal thing, so I try not to trash a person's hometown in front of them because there is really no place like home whether it is a place you were born in or have decided to move to of your own free will.



Granted, I have decided that Montreal is not my favorite place I've ever visited. I find it way too large and crowded. I felt scared, like the skunk my husband's cousin ran over with her bike on a family camping trip when they were kids. True story. I do get why people love it though and I wouldn't dream of telling a passionate French person that I feel like Winnipeg is definitely a superior city. I mean, I'm not THAT stupid! I just like knowing that in Winnipeg everything is about 20 minutes from my house. (This theory of mine drives my husband crazy because I'm always late due to this belief.) I will say that while there I really broke my vegan rule by eating a sandwich that I think 3 cows had to die for. Look at that thing! Anyhow...Montreal is lovely and people who live there have the right to feel very proud of their city...just like I do.

People ask Winnipeggers how can we stand living here. They look at us like we're crazy. We are the butt of constant jokes...but we're Winnipeggers so we can handle it. So here are my reasons why I live where I live and am very proud to do so.


*A family can actually afford to buy a house here without selling one of their children into slavery.

*I don't have to pay $10.00 for a cocktail at a lounge...that is just the craziest thing. Period.

*The Zoo...and I don't mean where they keep the wildlife. The Zoo is a Winnipeg institution. Who can resist the scary lure of the slightly funky smelling Osborne Village bar? For any Winnipeg teen, going to the Zoo is a right of passage. Just bring hand sanitizer. A lot!

*Which brings me to Osborne Village! That place has been around since hippies stopped washing. A mix of little stores, pubs, restaurants, and squeegee kids. It's right by my place and is the home of my favorite pub-the Toad! Which, just for your info, has hired a lovely new cook which makes it REALLY worth my trip.

*We have an incredible cultural mix in this city. As a result, the restaurant choices are endless. As a teacher, I benefit from the delicious goodies my students' parents send in. As I cross the room on potluck day, I take a side trip to India, the Philippines, and Portugal as I sample each lovingly prepared dish. As an extra bonus, this year my school hosted a cultural bake sale. I came to realize that the three most beautiful words in the English language are "cultural bake sale". I will never admit to how many samosas I ate. Safe to say that watching me eat wasn't a pretty sight.

*Due to our diverse culture, we host Folklorama every year in the city. We have about 40 different groups that set up pavilions where you can enjoy food, dancing, and music. On a good night, you can easily sample the wonderful things that 4 or 5 countries have to offer. Then, the next day, you get to do it all again. Other cities say they have this, but they don't....not on this scale.

*Fringe Festival...lots of great plays at great prices, lasts for days and days, and this year I get to watch my friend Lindsay perform.

*Hello!? Folk Fest! I don't go due to a strange and complex story involving a scary man with a beard (not Santa) that I don't like to talk about but the music festival allows lots of hippies to gather for days and dance around half naked and then spend the night camping out in beautiful Birds Hill Park. I say rock on hippies, rock on!

*We have fanfreakintastic beaches....deal with it.

*In winter we get snow. Lots of snow. White. Pure. Crisp. Perfect. On top of that, we get sun. The days are glorious.

*A fantastic opera and ballet company and so much live theatre, it would make your head spin. We have culture up the wazoo!

*The World Famous Palomino Club: giving hope to cougars for decades.

*Finally, we may have been the city that lost our NHL team but we took the loss with class, never gave up hope, chanted "GO JETS GO!" at every opportunity for any reason, and bought up those season tickets in minutes.

So, do I love my city? Hell yeah! Will I visit yours? If I can. Would I insult your city and point out all it's flaws? Never, because it's yours and you love it. That is good enough for me.

Thank God I'm Not Getting Any Younger!

The kids I teach always seem surprised that I have little desire to be their age again. I proudly tell them how old I am and openly cringe at the thought of having to experience those horrific teenage years again. Why? Well, let me give you a list of the reasons I love getting older:

1. I am old enough to buy my own booze and when I do it isn't with change I've pilfered off of my Dad's dresser. As well, what I do buy is way better quality.

2. I never have to wonder if "He" will call cause he sleeps right next to me and knows he better call because I have the power to make his life miserable.

3. I never have to get ready for another date and I don't have to pretend that my date is funny when he isn't. I also never have to feign interest in topics of conversations that would come up on dates. If I'm bored now, I just leave the room.

4. My job does not require me to say "Do you want fries with that?"

5. When I put weird outfits together now, people just think I'm quirky. When you're a teen you are always one weird outfit away from being totally ostracized from the rest of the population.

6. I can buy as many chocolate bars as I want and eat them all in one sitting if I want. I mean, I wouldn't but it is nice to know that I can.

7. When I ridicule someone now I can use way bigger words!

8. If I really don't want to do something I am now cagey enough to get out of it. A skill most teens don't have.

9. If I see somebody being a total shit monkey to another person, I'm big and mean enough to stop them.

10. I, very rarely, have to run my own errands. This was a teenage dream that I shared with my friend Cheryl. We are both lucky enough now to have errand runners. When you're a teen you're constantly running errands for everyone. You're just a lackey!

11. If I REALLY want to go there, I can go there.

12. I never have to wear makeup again. Frankly, the stuff scares my husband and makes him think I'm up to something. The undertaker might slap some on me but at that point I'll just be happy I'm not the one having to apply the darn stuff.

13. I can afford WAY better shoes!

14. My hearing is starting to go in one ear, so that means that I only hear half of the stupid stuff people are saying.

15. I am quickly approaching what I call the "fist shaking" stage of my life. This is when you get to open your front door, shake your fist, and yell rude things at the neighbourhood children. Who wouldn't want that!

So bring on the support hose and false teeth. Oh yeah, false teeth! Teeth you can remove to brush. How cool is that?!

Conditional Love

Conditional love is a pretty odd concept to normal families. Explaining it to folks who have grown up in a stable family environment can be complicated. They look at me in a confused manner wondering what planet I'm from and what kind of environment I was hatched in. It seems simple to me, but I was raised in it so I'm halfway versed in the intricacies. For the uninformed, conditional love is as follows: when you have been deemed worthy of love by parents and siblings... you get it. What is required to be deemed worthy changes constantly and requires a manual to understand. At 42 I STILL don't understand ALL the rules attached. It is a constant, painful, learning experience.

I was convinced, for a long time, that I was the only person that experienced this phenomena, but as I get older I have come to realize that there are a lot of other bruised souls walking around living in this strange predicament. We, as a society, are force fed images of normal families who love each other and communicate with ease. This, in my opinion, is a myth for a large amount of the population. We watch talk shows that tell us that we should constantly forgive the nasty things that our families do to us. I say BULL! There comes a time when you need to say that enough is enough. You can't pick your family but you can sure as hell walk away from one that treats you like a doormat. Some relationships can't be fixed and aren't worth the constant energy it takes to try.

Thankfully, I married a man who comes from a TOTALLY normal family. Sometimes, I swear he grew up in some 50's sitcom because his family seems so unreal. They love without condition and it took me a long time to get used to that concept. The love his parents give to me, their son, and their grandchildren never changes. It is constant and dependable. I don't think I can ever thank them enough for this. Mostly, it is my husband that amazes me. He is the one who has helped me to open my eyes to the dysfunction junction that is my family. By doing that, he has helped to set me free. Because of him, I know I am worth more and deserve more. I shouldn't have to beg at the table for scraps of love from my family. Neither should anybody else. If you aren't getting what you deserve, walk away. Find a new family. You can make your own. I have come to realize that I have done just that. I have made a new family. I have surrounded myself with the love of my husband's family, my wonderful children, my fantastic husband, and my incredible friends. My new family loves me without condition.

If this resembles your situation in any way, I encourage you to run! Find something normal. You deserve it. Be the best person you can be and ignore the bad press you've been getting. Life is too short to dance this dance. Sit this one out! Find some new partners and embrace something more worthwhile. I know I will!

Keith & Andrew's Excellent Adventure

My husband recently had a to travel to Hong Kong on business. After much discussion, and more than a few concerns, we decided to let our 14 year son go with him. My husband is the sweaty guy on the left. Pictures really do tell a thousand words. My husband is the shade of a tomato and his shirt looks like it has been tattooed on. Meanwhile, the Boy looks as cool as a cucumber.



My husband was more than a little upset with me over this whole trip issue. He knew he had to go to Hong Kong way back in February. I told him to hold off until July, if he could, so I could go along with him. He happily complied. As the date got closer, I thought I would check on weather conditions in Hong Kong in July. Turns out the temperature sits at around 40 C and the humidity sits at close to 100. No way was I going! The only thing that stops me from becoming a mass murderer in summer is my air conditioner. I'm not joking. I have been known to fly into an uncontrollable rage if the car air conditioning doesn't kick in fast enough. So, not only was I not going but my husband was going to have to tolerate that weather because of my addiction to my air conditioner.



I made sure I packed plenty of clean underwear for them and sent them on their way. Turns out-I had made the right call. No sooner had they landed and the Facebook messages started about the heat. After a few days of heat complaints, things got ugly. I would log on to talk to them both in the early evening. The two of them would be sitting in the same room (no doubt scowling at each other) as they typed nasty things about each other. Nothing was off limits and thanks to modern technology I was able to moderate arguments on another continent. They complained how the other one smelled, how much the other one liked to argue, how unfair the other one was being. It was pretty darn funny to me because I wasn't there...thank God!


I was starting to get a little discouraged for two reasons: all the cash to send the boy and all he could do was complain about his Dad and they would be coming home and I'd have to listen to this stuff in person which would take some of the glow off the gifts I anticipated getting. Then...a miracle. Hot and tired they decided to head to a mall. My son spotted a sign for a rink. They looked at each other: two Canadian boys far from home and each hoped it was the right kind of rink. Andrew sprinted ahead and ran back with the news that it was a SKATING RINK IN THE MIDDLE OF HONG KONG! They slipped out of their sandals and slid into their rented skates, sans socks, and skated for 20 glorious minutes. They were giants as they broke all the safety rules and screamed by little kids pushing big plastic peguins for support.

Funny, but those 20 minutes on the ice managed to save the last little bit of their vacation. It's one of their favorite memories of the trip and in the end the trip did what it was supposed to: reminded them they still like each other.