Top videos of the week

It's the Friday of a long weekend, a day for which productivity can be best characterized by the fact that the world stopped to play Pac Man on the Google home page this morning.

So just for fun, I'm going to share a few videos that made me smile this week. Some are to watch with the kids. The others are just for you.

BEST CUTE ANIMAL VIDEO

Meet the sloths from Amphibian Avenger on Vimeo.

Because who knew baby sloths were so ugly-cute?

BEST SUMMARY OF A TV SERIES BY A BUNCH OF SCRAGGLY CATS

Because you're never going to find time to watch those other seasons on DVD.

BEST ATTEMPT TO GLAMORIZE PEDESTRIAN ASPECT OF LIFE AS A PARENT

Because you may be trying to convince yourself that the mini-van is the new Jetta.

BEST SHREK FOREVER PRIMER

Because with YouTube, there's no reason not to know the funniest lines before you even leave for the theatre.

A Mother's Day Cocktail Party

How are things looking for your Mother's Day?

Will you be sleeping in, eating a leisurely brunch and getting a pedicure? Or reading an entire novel while sipping coffee in your favourite chair?

Didn't think so.

You probably have a busy schedule this weekend and at least some of it may involve celebrating your own mom, step-mom, grandmother or mother-in-law. Whether you're putting miles on the car or just wearing out the floor boards in your kitchen, my guess is that the day might not be all about you.

As some may have read before, I host a party for my friends around each Mother's Day. You can see a photo gallery of one of these here.

The party in the gallery looks pretty fancy, but in the last two years, I've changed this event to a low-key Thursday night cocktail gathering in advance of the big day. Food prep is minimal: I put out crudites and hummus, olives, good cheeses and crackers, and serve hot appetizers baked straight out of the freezer (thank you, Mr. President). Friends bring pretty desserts.

The focus is on the cocktails and conversation, and everyone looks forward to dressing up a little and sneaking out after bedtime for a bit of grown-up fun.

Here are a few pictures from this year's event (all photos by Kelly Smyth).

 

Raising a glass with me (left), Tanya Davies, Erin Billowits and Fabienne Moureaux.

It gets crazy if you give guests too many drink options. In addition to non-alcoholic offerings, we made two cocktails, Kir Royales and Sidecars.

Lego picked up? Check. Lights dimmed to hide grubby slipcovers? Check. Tulips purchased for $10 on way home? Check.

With me here from left, Lisa Murphy, honourary mom and expert lemon squeezer Jennifer Wilson-Speedy, and Kira Vermond.

Irene Tashiro (left) and Juli Belliveau.

Sarah Noonan (left) and Tanya Davies.

It doesn't matter what you serve or what your house looks like (candlelight does wonders, though!). The key is to the gather the people you want to see and share a few spirit-lifting laughs.

So go on! There's still time between now and Mother's Day, or even in the week or two after, to do something that's just for you and your people. Budget-friendly options could include chick flicks and ice cream, a pot luck, or a wine tasting where everyone brings a bottle. You don't even have to host: A night out at the movies, the neighbourhood pub or a restaurant would be quite a treat as well.

Happy Mother's Day!

More inspiration:

More Mother's Day coverage

Mother's Day photo gallery

Recipe finder

Yummy Mummy Club

The perfect family vacation?

Please accept my apologies for getting behind on this blog. And for the somewhat misleading title of this post.

I haven't just returned from the perfect family vacation (though I did do some reconnaissance on family-friendly resorts, which I'll share with you soon). However, I do have some thoughts on what would be the perfect vacation for both recuperation and family time.

My mom and I have been on our first mother-daughter holiday to Turks and Caicos. Not since her Switzerland wedding to my step-father, Roy, have Mom and I been away together, and of course that was with other family members. Occasionally we'll snag a night in a hotel when she's coming through town on business, and when I was in university I'd sometimes steal away to Montreal or New York to join her. But during most of my adult life, we've lived across the country from each other and most of our time together has occurred in her city or mine, where jobs, children and household responsibilities have competed with our quality time.

This week of walking the beach and reading novels side-by-side on lounge chairs provided us both with a great opportunity to rest and enjoy each others' company. We'd stumble upon conversations about our family history. The way her mother used to make butter each week using an apparatus that fit into the washing machine in place of the agitator. The tuberculosis status that led my great-great-uncle to establish one branch of our Irish family in Australia instead of Canada. The great-grandfather who went back to Ireland for a wife and brought one back for his brother as well.

Just as importantly, we got a chance to share and reflect on the things currently going on in our lives, hopes for the future, and the seasons of content and discontent that are part of the normal ebb and flow of life. It was the kind of trip we'll always remember.

I've never been away from the kids for more than a few days, and I think the rest I got on this trip has recharged me in a way that will help me keep my cool and be in-the-moment with with them.

But I'll admit that I did have pangs - particularly toward the end - when I saw families playing on the beach together. In my dream world, I'd spend five adult-only days in a warm destination before having Cameron and Alister magically airlifted to my side for a few days of sandcastles. By then I'd have had read a couple of novels and enjoyed a few umbrella drinks, making me entirely ready to ferry buckets of water from ocean to moat, slather crinkled-up faces with sunscreen and coax decent restaurant behaviour from my toddler.

One can dream, right?

Meanwhile, if you're yearning for a family getaway, check out our last-minute travel article. If you're attempting the drive to Florida (brave you!), here are 10 tips to get you to the amusement parks alive. And if it's some adult-time you need, here's how to plan some March break fun for moms.

Find everything else you need to know about March break camps, stuff to do at home, unexpected family destinations and more in our March break section.

Daycare should not be a partisan issue

Why must child care be so divisive?

Michael Ignatieff announced yesterday that - no matter what the cost - a national childcare program would become reality under a government led by him. 

Not surprisingly, partisan gloves immediately came off. On one side, Liberal supporters happy to hear the news. On the other, the expected conservative accusations that the initiative is too expensive, too ambitious and not supportive of the traditional family where one parent stays home to look after the children. "You had 'em, YOU look after 'em," is the basic message.

What I think gets lost here is the notion that children themselves are citizens. There are always the predictable daycare naysayers who speak of kids as though they are a luxury consumer product. "If you cannot afford children, don't have them. Don't expect me to pay for your bad family planning," espoused one such commenter on Susan Delacourt's story. 

While there's a cogent argument to be made that there's a worldwide population crisis (though my own take is that we have a more urgent over-consumption crisis in the developed world), Canada does not have that sort of population problem. In fact, we are not replacing ourselves fast enough, not even when immigration is factored in. The boomers and seniors complaining that a universal child-care program is "20 years too late," and that the money would be better spent on the medical and old-age security costs associated with an aging population, are incredibly myopic.

The children in daycare now are the very ones whose income taxes will support the "Me Generation" when they are elderly.

Here's what I'd like the ask the commenters who use the phrases "my money," "my paycheque" and "my taxes" as if there had been a going-out-of-business sale at the Fraser Institute: Just because you're done with raising kids (or didn't have them), do you think people aren't going to continue to have babies? Are we simply going to wind civilization down here to coincide with your slow, pharmacologically-enhanced demise?

No, not everyone who has children can afford them. Teen pregnancy may be down thanks to public health campaigns and better access to birth control, but there are plenty of other ways to wind up with both kids and a small bank account. Fleeing a place of less fortunate birth, for instance (should kids from Haiti not be entitled to a licensed daycare spot?). Becoming the victim of spousal abuse, or simply being left by the other parent to fend on one income. Not having a higher education and a chance at a professional salary. Getting pregnant in the middle of a higher education and not being willing - because of religious conviction or other deeply-held personal beliefs - to consider termination as an option. Becoming ill or disabled.

None of these circumstances (or, I'd argue, any decision made by any parent) removes the right of a child to quality care in the critical preschool years. If you're not clear on the connection between good early years and successful adult outcomes, read the Pascal Report for starters. And while you're at it, ask an average middle class family in Quebec about the difference $7-a-day daycare has made in terms of the stress - even on double-income, professional couples - of providing for a family.

To put it in terms that tunnel-finished, free-marketeers can understand, there is a demand for childcare spaces that far outstrips supply. Witness: two-year wait lists for licensed daycare spots and longer wait-lists yet for coveted after-school programs.

So keep in mind that while you're busy spewing your disapproval of federally-funded childcare into commenting fields on articles, there are low-income parents dropping their children off at unlicensed basement daycares where they will sit in front of the television with no one to sing to them, read to them, or engage them in a little finger painting.

And furthermore, access to good quality childcare does nothing to threaten the right of families to choose to have one parent look after the children at home. A daycare space does not remove a stay-at-home mom space.

A national daycare program is a good idea. And it's a good idea no matter who thought of it, and no matter what political party manages to make it happen.

What NOT to do when your friend is going through a separation or divorce

When someone in your circle is going through a separation or divorce, it's not always clear how to help or what to say. Here are some "dos" and "don'ts" to make that a little easier.

DON'T act like you know what your friend needs. You don't want to foist a night of dancing on someone who just wants to disappear for a while, and nor should you assume your friend wants to be left alone.

DO ask how best you can help. Everyone who goes through a major life event like the loss of a marriage is going to experience it differently. Your friend may want distraction or quiet walks in the woods or a pair of boxing gloves or a van to carry stuff to goodwill.

DON'T ask "Was it mutual?" or "What happened?!" If you don't already know, you're not close enough to ask. Besides there are no tidy talking points to cover this raw, nuanced territory.

DO make yourself available to chat about the separation if your friend seems to want to share.

DON'T presume you're helping by offering a playdate. Your friend may not want to be without his or her children and may already be missing them when they're in the care of the other parent. Or it could be that by taking the child who is old enough for playdates, you're removing a playmate for the younger, higher-needs child, and a source of conversation and happy interaction for your friend.

DO ask what kind of childcare is really needed, and be open to having siblings over, too. Or ask if you can time a playdate with a younger child's nap.

DON'T assume your friend will feel awkward in a room full of couples. Couples are the world your friend knows, and being suddenly locked out of the circle is very hurtful. He or she is likely grappling with a staggering loss of social status and you contribute to the isolation of single parents when you don't extend the invitation.

DO make your friend welcome, but not obligated, to bring another person of either sex to the party or outing.

DON'T assume a single-parent can't get or afford a babysitter. Your friend may have off-duty nights when the other parent is looking after the children. And in fact, it's possible he or she out-earns you. Not every divorced parent is financially strapped. Maybe your pal has wildly under-spent on entertainment and eating out since finding himself at loose ends!

DO make sure you give your friend the opportunity to decline rather than assume he or she won't want to participate or be able to make it happen. Even if she can't come the first time, be sure to keep asking. Maybe next time that teenaged neighbour or kind aunt will be available.

DON'T waffle on an invitation. When your friend invites you to do something, don't leave them hanging and waiting to see if you get a better offer. Likely she's learning to set things up in advance to avoid loneliness and keep things fun for the kids. And you don't want your friend to feel like the person you call only when your spouse is out of town.

DO what you can to clear your schedule when your friend musters the courage to ask friends to help him or her blow off steam or tackle an emotional closet clean-out. 

DON'T gossip. There isn't anybody that's going to help, or anyone that's going to entertain for more than a minute.

DO be humble. Your friend never dreamed he or she would be in such a position, and you may find yourself there one day, too.

Cute kid quote of the day

"Every once in a while when I see Maddy, she tries to kiss me. But I never let that happen."

Cameron, 6

An honest Christmas letter

I'm a bad person.

Well, maybe not officially. I donate to charities and treat my friends lovingly and adore my family. But when it comes to writing Christmas cards featuring pictures of my kids on Santa's lap (or at least in coordinating sweater vests), I'm an abysmal failure. If I can remember to get some new camera batteries today or tomorrow, I may still achieve a late-breaking email Christmas card, but between you and me, the odds on that are about 20 to 1.

So when I go to the mailbox these days, it's with a mixture of delight and guilt. I love that some of my friends and family have it together to design and print fun Christmas cards - my favourite bears pictures of a whole family making funny faces.

But my personal experience is that as life has gotten busier with more children and more Christmas concerts and some of life's terrifically poorly-timed complications, I've had to pick a few things to do well (this year we baked hundreds of cookies) and let some of the other slide.

Yet it seems there are always one or two families we know who manage to do it all, and if things aren't going wonderfully in all aspect my life, I find their newsletters make me feel a little inadequate. I hope everyone who hasn't given up on me for my poor Christmas-card record will keep sending me their newsletters, while also allowing me to have a little fun with them.

You know the newsletters I'm talking about, right? You took your kids to Disney World. They climbed the pyramids at Giza. You finally got your kids in swimming lessons at the same time. Theirs are flying through Suzuki violin. Your weekends were spent shuffling kids to playdates and birthday parties while just trying to acquire some groceries. They car-camped their way across Canada, or juggled cottage invitations and music festivals.

Their family activities inspire us to get a little busier making memories with our children and not to get so caught up in our to-do lists and responsibilities that we forget to design the family life that we want.

Nevertheless, just once I'd like to read a Christmas newsletter that starkly outlined somebody's really bad year. Because they happen to all of us, so why not share?

So here's my part-truth, part-fiction sample honest Christmas letter:

Dear treasured family and friends,

Hope this finds everyone well and looking forward to a happy holiday season.

It's hard to believe we've arrived again at the time of year when I sit down to pen this Christmas newsletter.

Actually, I've taken my laptop to bed with a giant box of Kleenex. Everyone in the house has had a cold since Labour Day.

The kids are well otherwise, though. While our eldest didn't quite learn to ride his bike this summer, we're sure his baby brother's overachieving performance on the tricycle, along with a dose of peer humiliation about his training wheels, should ensure he'll master the pedal brakes by 2011. Our big boy has also adjusted better to school and is no longer saying things like, "Maybe I'm just slow." We slept in on Parks and Rec tele-registration day so we've been a little light on extracurricular activities this fall.

Our toddler is still hooked on his pacifier and bottle and won't go near the potty, but we're hopeful to tackle these in time for him to start nursery school because man the nanny care is getting expensive. Happily,his all-white food palette has been expanded to include the occasional baby carrot and spinach-disguising fruit smoothie.

As for the extended family, my brother has disappeared into an oil patch since the death of our father a year ago. But we're able to glean a little about his life from the pictures of him partying with his friends that we see on Facebook. My sister has had a bit of a rough go, but this latest diagnosis should help and perhaps keep the rest of us from getting committed.

A little light has come into the life of at least one of us. My husband has finally stopped sleeping in the basement and has moved into a second-story apartment next door. Now that winter solstice has passed, the seasonal affective disorder should subside.

We're both enjoying our work. Well, as much as that's possible under the threat of lay-off.

Wherever you are this Christmas I hope this letter finds you well and looking forward, as I will, to new beginnings in 2010. Oh, and 2009? Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.

Merry Christmas!

Brandie and the boys

Easy wrapping paper you can make with your kids

Here's a lowish-effort holiday craft you can do with your kids while, at the same time, personalizing the gifts you give this year. (The phrase "killing two birds with one stone" comes to mind but just doesn't seem either appropriate to the festive season or humanitarian!)

With simple potato stamps, my boys and I turned some plain kraft paper into cheap, eco-friendly holiday gift wrap.

We started this project during a weekend playdate. As we were about to begin, Cameron's friend asked if I could make a stamp of Indiana Jones on a motorcycle. After I explained that my potato-carving skills were limited to Christmas tree and star, we were underway.

You've may have done this before and it's pretty self-explanatory, but just in case you're wondering, here's how.

1. Cut a potato in half lengthwise. Using a small paring knife or similar, score your design into the potato's flesh.

2. About 5 mm into the surface, begin to cut away the area outside of your design. Your shape should now protrude from the rest of the potato.

(I didn't think ahead and actually take a picture of what this looks like as one carves the potato, but here is what our stamps looked like when we were done. A blue star for Hanukkah would also be great.)

3. Spread kraft paper out on wipe-able flooring, using board books or other weights to prevent it from curling, and keep a wet cloth nearby. Tempera paint is pretty washable, but obviously it helps if kids are not wearing their best threads.

4. It works better and wastes less paint if you use a small brush to cover the surface of your stamp with paint. To share the activity, one person (perhaps a parent, if you're keen on mess containment) can use the paint brush and pass it to the other to do the actual stamping. This is the glory job your kid really wants anyway. You can get 2 or 3 stamps out of one use of the paint brush, particularly if you instruct your kids to press down firmly and then use their fingers to compress different sides of the potato.

It should turn out imperfect but charming, something like this.

5. Let it dry for an hour or so (just to be sure) and you're ready to wrap!

With a little ribbon and some inexpensive gift tags (mine were $2.50 for 16 from Canadian Tire), this low-end, homemade wrapping paper looks pretty good.

(When Cameron was a baby, I painted his foot using green paint and used it as a stamp. It made grandmas and aunties swoon.)

Since I'm on the gift wrap beat today, it seems, here's a story I wrote for yourhome.ca on how to store gift wrap while trying to keep it nearby for the next few stolen moments.

Remembering my dad's parenting

Tomorrow marks the one-year anniversary of my dad's passing. It happened on a Friday night, two days after he'd collapsed in a sushi restaurant, a result of hemorrhagic stroke linked to fourth-stage lung and brain cancer. He was a non-smoker and a marathon runner. We were mystified and devastated and heartbroken.

When I came back from Calgary, my place of birth, a little more than a week after he died, the holidays were in full swing. It all seemed so crass. Strings of Christmas lights on our neighbour's houses assaulted my eyes. The holiday music in stores - not to mention the sequined party dresses - offended me deeply. But I put on my big-girl shoes and marched back to work, ever-productive first-born daughter that I am.

I shared on this blog the words I wrote for his celebration of life.

Today I'm thinking about the aspects of his parenting that I want to emulate. The way he encouraged our curiosity (see cow eyeball anecdote), answered all our questions, taught me to be brave in the dark. The way he'd walk along the top of the white wooden fence that corralled the horses and say, "Can YOU do this? Come on, try it!" The way he encouraged us to laugh without embarrassment and aspire to anything, and how he'd patiently explain our math homework. I happily remember his endurance for living-room gymnastics. The way he could recall a few lyrics from every song he'd heard (a useless but fun party trick I have somehow inherited), and how he'd sing them to make us laugh when we were taking things too seriously. The way his own parents had taught him to dance or even drink a cup of coffee (which he hated) to be polite, just because they were important social skills. His love of getting elbow-deep in chocolate cheesecake batter, or making traditional Norwegian lefsa before Christmas with his wife and four sisters.

He loved to hear about the funny things Cameron would say. He never got a chance to know Alister, now two, in his new-talking stage, but he would have adored hearing him ask about a day-time moon and say, "I go moon now?"

Maybe someday, kiddo, he would have said. Maybe someday.

Parenting tip of the day: Partnership parenting

How do you build a true parenting partnership where there's a balance of decision-making and only a modest amount of resentment over who's been taking the brunt of bedtime or unpacking the dishwasher?

Authors Kyle Pruett and Marsha Kline Prett explore that territory in Partnership Parenting (September 2009): How Men and Women Parent Differently - and Why it Helps Your Kids and Can Strengthen Your Marriage.

The husband and wife team - he a child psychiatrist and she a psychologist and professor of social work - emphasize the importance of investing in the couple relationship.

We've all heard before that nag about setting aside time for date night, sending sweet little emails, etc. It's a lot easier to say than do. With budgets tight and extra-curricular schedules demanding, it's hard to cobble together the time or babysitter money. I'm the last to suggest any of that is easy.

But this little tidbit struck me as something anyone could try:

"Banish talk about logistics for an evening."

Hmm. A whole evening without "Oh, you need to pick the kids up at daycare tomorrow," or "Did you talk to your mother about Christmas?" 

That sounds do-able. And kind of nice.