Listen to Lena

Perfecting the Art of Conversuasion

fun

Let’s Start a Conversation

By

A few days ago, my girlfriend sent me an email entitled, “Clean Conversation Starters.”

I’m going on a blind date, she wrote, and I want to know which conversation starters I should throw out there to get to know him better. Which ones should I bring up?

ratherFirst, I have mad respect for anyone who will attempt a blind date in 2016. With dating apps, photoshop, internet creepers, etc – it takes a special kind of confidence (bravery? foolishness?) to meet a stranger for drinks.

Second, conversation starters!! How delightful!

I spent the next little while pouring over the questions, pausing to mentally answer most of them (and surprising myself with some of my responses!). So, let’s play a little game today – go ahead and select one or two of the following conversation starters, copy and paste the question and leave your answer in the comments!

Would you rather eat your favourite meal for every meal for the rest of your life or never be able to eat your favourite meal again?

Would you rather live in a place where it is always hot or always cold?

Would you rather be poor with lots of good friends or rich with no friends?

Would you rather lose all of your money and valuables or all of the pictures you have ever taken?

Would you rather never be able to eat warm food or never be able to eat cold food?

Would you rather be a famous director or a famous actor?

Would you rather take a vow of celibacy or take a vow of silence?

I look forward to reading your answers! And in case you were wondering, I’d rather live in a place where it is always hot, and I’d much rather be a famous director!

The Cindy Crawford.

By

“What’s this?” Reid asks, pointing to his upper lip.

“It’s just some dirt,” I reply, licking my finger and wiping it across his face.

The speck of dirt does not vanish.

“Huh.” I frown, bending my face close to his for a more in-depth inspection.

“Oh!” I exclaim, smiling at him. “I think you have a little birthmark!”

He looks at me, thoughtfully, digesting this strange new word. Turning toward the mirror, he once again rubs at his face, trying to remove the mark.

“Leave it,” I admonish. “It’s not going to go away. It’s a tiny little mark and now it’s part of your face. It’s beautiful! It’s a Cindy Crawford!”

He looks at me like I just told him that Santa Claus eats reindeer kabobs for dinner.

“I DON’T WANT THE CINDY CRAWFORD!” he yells, horrified.
The CindyOh Reid, you don’t know how beautiful you are.

Their Not Interchangeable and Never Will Be

By

If you caught the grammatical error in my post title, Hallelujah! We can be friends.

I found this post from August 2010 – almost four years ago to the day!

“Lately, I’m finding more and more people simply don’t take the time to use the words there, their and they’re in their proper context. Frankly, unless you’re in second grade and have yet to learn the subtleties of grammar and pronunciation, you really have no excuse. There, I said it. It all comes down to this silly notion that intelligence is constantly conveyed in everything that we do.”

Okay, I was pretty self-righteous, no?? But you know what? I’m not going to apologize for it. I am a proud grammar cop! And in the last four years, I can only say I’ve become worse – kind of like a crotchety old man on a park bench. Back to my post –

“I wouldn’t dare insult you by posting the different uses of the three words; I’m under the assumption that we all know what they mean and how to correctly insert them into a sentence. What I am going to say, especially to the violators, is please, take a moment to proofread your work. Anal-retentive perfectionists such as myself (who clearly have a lot of time on their hands) take offense to those who don’t show respect for the English language. Some actually exhibit a marked rise in blood pressure when confronted with this popular grammatical error. Trust me, they’re out there.”

I went on to bash people like only a blogger with mildly inflated readership can do, but over the years, I’ve learned to bite my tongue and reserve judgement for whale poachers and fashion criminals.

As such, I had put the post out of my mind almost completely – until recently, when Weird Al Yankovic validated every. freaking. word with his new single and video, Word Crimes. It’s like he wrote it for me, and other grammar snobs (we tend to stick together, since few people can stand us).

Do you have any grammatical pet peeves?

You Say Tomato, I Say Tomahto

By

If you don’t know, I’m hosting a Twitter Party tonight for #RoyaleTigerTowel Paper Towels. And in chatting with an old friend, she casually asked,

“So, does Ryder still call paper towels f**k?”

WHAT?? Oh Lord. Memories immediately came flooding back. It’s true! Ryder used to call paper towels f*ck. Here’s a post I wrote in 2010 – when Ryder, as an impressionable toddler, picked up on my potty mouth and in a nanosecond, completely erased any mommy cred I had. Sigh.

August 20, 2010

I say paper towels, Ryder says f**k.

WHAT??

Okay, it’s all my fault. I broke the cardinal rule of parenting – Whatever You Do, Do Not Swear in Front of Your Child. And not only did I break it, but my infraction took place at a time when Ryder only needs to hear a word once to add it to his vocabulary. Sheesh.

It was three weeks ago, and I was lining my eyes with a soft black eyeliner in the bathroom. Ryder came in to observe (he likes watching mommy play with all the pretty pots) and I basically ignored him, going about my business as usual. Just as I was admiring my handiwork, out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Ryder had completely unrolled the toilet paper – leaving it in tufts on the floor.

“F**K!” I yelled.

He looked at me with wide eyes, pointed at the toilet paper, and said “F**k.”

“No, no, no,” I corrected. “That’s toilet paper. TOI-LET PA-PER. Say it, Ryder – Toilet Paper.”

He stared at me blankly. Whatever, we’re cool. No harm done. I calmly re-rolled the toilet paper to the best of my abilities and took him downstairs for breakfast.

Did you ever notice how paper towel rolls look like giant toilet paper rolls? Ryder did. And he then pointed to the paper towel roll on the counter top and declared, “F**k.”

Lord Jesus, what have I done.

I corrected him once again. And the next day. And the next day. I tried diversion: “Did you mean truck, Ryder? Because that’s not a truck, that’s a paper towel roll.” I tried correcting him: “Oooh, that is a bad word, sweetheart, you shouldn’t say it.” And I even tried begging: “Please, please, please, say PA-PER TO-WEL, come on, say it for mommy.”

Nothing doin’.

Now like most toddler phases, I was prepared to wait it out, reasoning that sooner or later he would forget the baddie and accept that “paper towels” is in fact the preferred term for tiny towels made of paper. But you know what really blows? The fact that he finds it necessary to point out the f**k to everyone who visits my home. Grandma has seen the f**k. My girlfriend was passed a f**k. Even Ryder’s great aunt was offered a f**k. And then I invariably turn beet red as I try to explain why my baby boy is cussing out the paper goods.

Oh well. Walmart’s got a good price on paper towels this week. Time to stock the f**k up.

It’s Good to be a Loser… In Hollywood

By

File this one under… “We can solve world hunger one Hollywood swag bag at a time.”

This morning, I came across an article on US Magazine online that I simply had to share. Entitled “Oscars 2014 Celebrity Gift Bags: Losing Nominees Will Receive $80,000 Worth of Products”, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. NOT because I think celebrities don’t deserve a goody bag – or because I have a pseudo-political agenda that urges the rich to distribute their wealth. The truth is, I love actors, I love movies, and I love the Academy Awards… and what they choose to gift to their nominated attendees is their prerogative.

So why the eye roll? The contents, dude, the contents of the gift bag.

“While a select group will take home those coveted gold statues at the Oscars on Sunday, March 2, some of the losers will at least have their $80,000 ‘Everyone Wins at the Oscars’ gift bags. For the 15th year, L.A.-based marketing firm Distinctive Assets will give the gift bags to the losing nominees in the Best Actor/Actress, Supporting Actor/Actress, and Director categories.

Us Weekly takes a sneak peek inside each parcel – and highlights the most outrageous products.” And…. here are my personal faves:

Weird Procedures, $18,070

Uh O! Celebs will receive the O-Shot procedure, which supposedly “rejuvenates and enhances the genital tissue of a woman.” The $2,700 procedure is said to enhance sexual response and slow urinary incontinence. For the gents (and some ladies): hair restoration surgery using ARTAS Robotic Hair Transplant system ($16,000) is also offered.

Er…. I’m not sure how to respond. Do I picture Cate Blanchett sitting in the waiting room of a local clinic, reading the 16-page disclaimer agreement pertaining to her orgasm shot? No. Would she gift it to her assistant? Maybe.

A Walk through Japan and the Best of Vegas, $24,000

Explorers will have the chance to tour and discover the authentic, non-touristy side of Japan by foot from Walk Japan ($15,000). Celebs will also have the chance to live it up through the Best of Las Vegas offering ($9,000), which includes a face-to-face meeting with Boyz II Men.

While the Japan walking tour is cool – if a celebrity actually thought it safe to walk through a 127.6 million-populated country without being recognized – I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that if Leonardo DiCaprio wanted to have a face-to-face meeting with Boyz II Men, he’d just… you know, call them up. No need to wait for the coupon included in the swag bag!

Maple Syrup — and a Maple Tree!

Celebs will receive $280 worth of pure organic maple syrup, salad dressings, jellies, mustard, and an apron. But that’s not all! Each star will receive an adoption certificate of a maple tree in Notre-Dame-Des-Bois. Cost? Invaluable.

WTH? Invaluable? I actually checked out the cost, and it’s $138. Why a multimillionaire celebrity needs to adopt a maple tree in Quebec, I do not know. But, if you want to feel like a multimillionaire celebrity, good news! It’ll only set you back a bill and change.

Okay I’m done. I can’t even continue because my eyes have rolled upward for so long I’m afraid they’ll stay like that permanently. Click here to see the entire list of highlights, including a horse shampoo for humans ($95), his and hers Mace pepper spray guns ($120), and a narrative clip that gives its users a shareable photographic memory ($279).

On My Mind Today…

By

…Love.

First love, summer love, the thrill of falling head over heels.
Old love, motherly love, the fierce satisfaction of being somebody’s whole world.
Platonic love you have for a friend; a sibling, a person in need.
The love you send to someone who has suffered a loss.

Yet to me, perhaps the most interesting “love” is the unrequited type; a crush, so to speak. A regular at your favourite cafe; the co-worker you secretly yearn for. A friend who catches your eye and holds your heart. The absolutely unabashed need to make a person notice you. Notice me. Notice me.

Your mind, monopolized with questions – questions about your appeal, fate, worth. Your body, taken over with vanity, lust and greed. Your heart – each beat pulsating hope, hope, hope.

Notice me.

When I think of unrequited love, no song puts my thoughts into words more profoundly than Bic Runga’s “Sway“. Runga, a New Zealander of Chinese decent, perfectly and melodiously tells the tale of every girl’s crush. Although the song is almost 20 years old, I can still remember the chills I felt when I first listened to the lyrics:

And here I go losing my control; I’m practicing your name so I can say it to your face…

Oh, I’ve been there!

Don’t stray, don’t ever go away… I should be much too smart for this, you know it gets the better of me sometimes
When you and I collide, I fall into an ocean of you, pull me out in time, don’t let me drown
Let me down, I say its all because of you

And here I go, losing my control… I’m practicing your name so I can say it to your face
It doesn’t seem right to look you in the eye, and let all the things you mean to me come tumbling out my mouth
Indeed its time to tell you why, I say its infinitely true…

Say you’ll stay, don’t come and go like you do
Sway my way, yeah I need to know all about you

And there’s no cure, and no way to be sure… why everything’s turned inside out instilling so much doubt
It makes me so tired, I feel so uninspired! My head is battling with my heart, my logic has been torn apart
And now, it all turns sour, come sweeten every afternoon…

Say you’ll stay, don’t come and go like you do
Sway my way, yeah I need to know all about you

It’s all because of you, it’s all because of you.

The Age Test

By

I’m sure y’all have come across multiple tests online that claim to predict your age – or spit out what your “real age” is in terms of health, wealth, etc. Well, my husband has come up with his own age test, and he boasts that it can accurately determine a person’s generation within seconds, and with minimal effort.

But first, the background story.

My husband is a naturally curious individual, and has been known to ask questions pertaining to age, ethnicity, marital status, weight (YES, weight) and the like… to people he has recently met. Ugh.

I’ll normally shoot him a cut-eye or interject with a trilling, high-pitched laugh – “Oh honey, you can’t ask someone that! You don’t have to answer,” I’ll clarify, my face conveying massive apology.

To which he’ll roll his eyes and ask the person point blank: “Do you mind if I ask your age/ race/ weight/ insert-personal-and-potentially-offensive-question-here?”

Of course, that can make someone about 100 times more uncomfortable, because really, if you don’t want to answer, you shouldn’t have to.

However, I should insert a disclaimer: my husband is a jovial, easy going and completely personable guy, and he’s not asking to be creepy or intrusive. He simply enjoys meeting and getting to know people, and if the conversation evolves – and finding out someone’s age or ethnicity would allow him to continue the conversation in a more meaningful way – he’s not against probing. It’s harmless, and he’s a top-notch sales professional who’s accustomed to asking questions, so I do get it.

That doesn’t mean I don’t scream at him later, of course.

(As an aside – I’m referring to those in close proximity of our own ages, +/- about 10 years. He would never disrespect our elders by asking their age, as he firmly understands the inherent courtesy of not challenging generational and cultural traditions/ taboos.)

And so, after debating with me back and forth the stigmas associated with simply getting to know a person better, he came up with his own age test. Are you ready? Here goes.

When guests come over, at some point he’ll retrieve his favourite childhood toy from its secret hiding place (he rotates the location so even I don’t know where to look). Then he’ll say, “Look what I found at my parents’ house the other day! Man, this was my favourite toy!”

1. If the person exclaims, “That’s Thunder Punch He-Man!” – he can summarize their age is between 30-40 years old.
2. If the person guesses, “Oh, that’s He-Man right? What kind is that?” – they are usually over 40 years old.
3. If the person stares blankly at the action figure, we’ve got an under 30 year old on our hands. (See part B.)

Okay, part B. When my husband clarifies, “This is He-Man, he was popular at the same time as Voltron. Which is what Mighty Morphin Power Rangers copied.”

1. If they know what Mighty Morphin Power Rangers are, they’re 25-30 years old.
2. If they say “Mighty Morphin what? I’ve heard of Power Rangers but not the Mighty Morphin stuff…” – then we need to check for ID, because they may be too young to consume alcohol.

So… what do you think of his age test? And, what toys would your age test include? Myself? I’d hold up my Peaches ‘n Cream Barbie… my Jem and the Holograms Rockin’ Roadster… and my Rainbow Brite.

Filed Under: Lifestyle Tagged With: , ,

Oh Brother. How Do You Choose?

By

For the last few nights, I’ve had a particularly unwelcome habit of falling asleep for about 30 minutes around 9:00pm – then waking up and being WIDE AWAKE until, say, 1:00am.

NOT COOL.

And so I’ve discovered the exciting world of late night television; talk shows, nightly news, and episode after episode of Property Brothers. You know, those two adorably tall-but-yet-never-seem-awkward brothers who dabble in home improvement and real estate. There’s a certain thrill about watching them take a below-average home (more often than not, one that I wouldn’t set foot in without my tallest wellies) and turning it into a modern castle. How I’ve dreamed of witnessing such a glorious transformation! (On my 5-year old executive semi in the ‘burbs, of course. None of that foreclosure stuff.)

More about the show:

“Property Brothers is a real estate & renovation show featuring twin brothers Drew and Jonathan Scott. Drew’s a real estate agent and Jonathan’s a contractor – together, they find down-and-out fixer-uppers and turn them into perfect homes for their clients. To convince the buyers to believe in their vision, they use CGI technology to help buyers see the potential in two rundown, outdated, ugly homes. Once the homeowners decide which house is right for them, Drew gets to work on negotiating the purchase while Jonathan oversees the renovation. When the dust has settled, and the buyers walk through their front door for the final reveal but the question is, do they have their dream home?” – W Network

Okay, so here’s the deal. Last night while watching the show, I was immediately struck by the fact that even though the brothers are identical, they offer something very different to a woman.

Are you attracted to the “Jonathan” kind of guy – incredibly handy with an eye for design and obviously, great with his hands? This is a man who takes on projects (and life) with gusto, and when confronted with problems, normally has a fabulous solution (that may or may not involve a modern white kitchen).

Or do you look for more of a “Drew” type – a sharp dresser, smooth talker and the ability to negotiate just about anything? He’ll text you, take you to an expensive restaurant on the first date, and his roaring metrosexuality will make you question your own choice of hairdressers.

As much as the serial re-decorator in me sees the value of having a Jonathan prototype around, I must admit that I tend to be attracted to the Drews of the world. After all, a smart, successful businessman can simply hire a contractor, no? It’s like having the best of both worlds! (And, you’ll always have a shopping buddy.)

What about you? Do you love a man who frequents the Home Depot… or Holt Renfrew?

(EDIT – I’m not the only one who wants to know… Look who’s been following this post!)

 

Merci. Gracias. Danke. Thank You.

By

There’s a whole laundry list of reasons I love being an entrepreneur. Way up at the top today:

1. Afternoon nap with a 3-year-old.
2. Blaring Demi Lovato’s Heart Attack while working.
3. Googling “how to revive almost dead flowers” for 26 minutes.

Also up at the top? Interacting with my amazing readers. As you know, I make it my mandate to respond to every single comment that is left on my site. Sometimes you’ll catch me right away; other times, it may take a day or two for me to find a moment to circle back. But in the end, I always love to reply to friends who have taken a moment to share their feedback, experiences, tips and thoughts with me. You see, comments are a big thing to me; publishing a post on the big, bad internet can be scary, and it’s feedback and support from people like you that keeps me motivated, keeps me authentic, and keeps me from spending too much time Googling “how to revive almost dead flowers”.

(Not that I just spent another 14 minutes doing that.)

And so I thought I’d do something completely spontaneous! Here’s a little thank you to those readers who have tirelessly supported me over the past few weeks, months… even years. I know there are so many of you I’d personally love to thank, and so I’ve decided to break y’all up in groups. Today, I’d like to recognize ten (10) readers who always take the time (every day!) to stop in, say hi, and often, make me chuckle.

Thank you Allie, Anne Taylor, Debbie Bashford, Jenny, Lisa H, Marissa, Nicole W, NT, Soozle & Victoria Ess!

You all truly make my day – I adore you! And I wanted to do something – just a little something – to show my appreciation. So I called up one of my favourite companies in the world, Maple Leaf Foods, and they graciously offered to send you all a sweet little coupon bundle: $25 in free product coupons. You’ll be able to grab your favourite products from amazing brands like Maple Leaf Prime, Dempsters, Olivieri and more. Enjoy!

(Thank you to Maple Leaf Foods for continuing to be one of my strongest, most cherished partnerships. I have nothing but the greatest respect for you, and it’s a pleasure to stand behind your products. Psst – Maple Leaf Prime Chicken is the superstar ingredient in my Butter Chicken!)

It’s just a small way of giving back to my readers who give so much to me every single day. However, I realize there are many more than just 10 of you – so stay tuned, another reader appreciation post is around the corner! In the meantime, please know that YOU. ALL. TOTALLY. ROCK. Muah!

They’re Actually My Favourites Too

By

This morning, I was up at the *enviable* hour of 4:30am. I know, you’re totally jealous, right?

Truth is, I made the colossal mistake of falling asleep after reading Ryder a bedtime story (turns out the Three Little Pigs can induce slumber in 34-year-olds as well) and so, felt very refreshed after 8 hours of sleep. Ack! I was wide awake. And so I had nothing to keep me company but 7-hour old status updates on Facebook and a plethora of auto-tweets on Twitter.

(Seriously, don’t schedule your auto-tweet for 4:30am. You know you’re not tweeting, I know you’re not tweeting, and it somehow feels cheap to read computer-generated “interaction”. If you’re going to pre-schedule promotion for your company or blog, at least do it at an hour when you can respond to follower feedback.)

So right about now you may be wondering… if you’ve been wide awake for the last 5 hours, how come you couldn’t be bothered to come up with a post? (Technically, THIS is the new post so I did accomplish something.) The truth is, I spent my time reading through my “Reader Favourites.” They’re the posts listed on the ride side of my blog; just scroll down for about 2 seconds. These are little snippets of my life that recount my journey as a mother, woman and human being who is far from perfect. For the most part, I’ve written them on a whim with little thought into the direction of the posts, or how they would be received. Nevertheless, as much as they’re reader favourites, they’re my favourites too.

And so I think I’ll take a break from blogging this morning and indulge in a trip down memory lane. Want to know me better? Just scroll down the right sidebar, or click here, and read some of the posts that define me. Have a great day!

Ryder, The Four-Year-Old Face Bomber

By

If there’s one thing I sorely need in 2013, it’s a camera with a faster shutter speed. Because really, it only takes 1/8 of a second for Ryder to face bomb our pictures, and apparently I’m not taking pictures fast enough.

Case in point: pictures from our recent family vacation to Walt Disney World. Sifting through the lot, I shuddered at the sheer amount of photos Ryder managed to face bomb. I swear it’s a skill; I’ll say, “Smile!” and I’m expecting to see something like this –

But then, the moment my finger hovers over the trigger for a second shot, THIS happens –

For lack of imagination, we call it “Ryder’s Ugly Face”. And boy oh boy, does he pull out that ugly face often. As soon as the picture is taken and I see the final result on the camera’s LED screen, I normally shriek and threaten Ryder within an inch of his life to stop ruining the family photos. He’s repentant for about 45 seconds… allowing me to snap an album-worthy shot or two. And then… BOOM! He drops another face bomb. For the love of God….

Read More

Now THAT Would be Super.

By

It’s just been one of those weeks.

A thousand balls in the air, a million things to do. Wiping the boys’ runny noses while hacking up a storm thanks to a dry cough that has lingered on way too long.

Thinking about the holidays, houses (still on the lookout for my dream kitchen) and how the heck I’ll balance it all. Wondering if there is indeed a rewind button for life: can I skip back to 10 years ago, when I still lived at home and my biggest worry was if I could pull off a chain belt?

(Us hippy girls try not to draw attention to the general hip area…)

And to top it all off, my insomnia is back. Is there an “Off” button for one’s brain? Because at precisely 1:00am I generally awake from a restless slumber, thousands of thoughts going through my head.

Work. Kids. Family. School. Home. Meals. Commitments. Money. Ideas. Christmas. Sleep.

Okay, so that’s only 11 thoughts, but it feels like thousands in the middle of the night. While co-sleeping with two horizontal toddlers. With a head cold. And a dry, hacking cough.

Yes, I will have some cheese with my whine, thank you very much.

Two nights ago, I did the one thing insomniacs shouldn’t do – I turned on the television. Fantastic Four just happened to be airing at the fantastic time slot of 1:00am, so I got sucked into watching the better part of two hours. And it got me thinking.

Remember that game you used to play when you were young (or two nights ago… don’t judge) – where you asked yourself, “If I could have ONE super power, what would it be?”

Would you have superhuman strength? Read minds à la Edward Cullen? Maybe you’d be like Susan Storm from the movie, with the ability to bend and manipulate light to render yourself invisible. What is the coolest super power to have?

I gave it much thought (which is another no-no for insomniacs at 2:56am) and just before drifting off to sleep, settled on the best super power ever.

Just call me The Great Metabolisma! I can eat whatever I want without gaining an ounce!

You knew this was coming… what would your super power be? 

Happy Birthday Husband!

By

It’s the most wonderful time of the year… Halloween is over, and Christmas preparations are in full swing!

(Not really, but I love eliciting upward eye rolls.)

And… it’s my husband’s birthday! For those of y’all counting, he’s officially waaay closer to 40 than 30, you know. Yup, I’m married to an old man.

I recently realized that I spend a lot of time gushing about how wonderful my boys are, but I rarely pay tribute to my husband. He’s just about the most affectionate person I’ve ever met (which is actually kind of stressful, being that I’m a non-PDA-please-don’t-touch-me-before-washing-your-hands kind of person), is smart, kind and funny, and he actually works two jobs – his day job, and his daycare job, taking care of the kids early morning and late night as I blog.

Here are some pictures of the man I love on our recent Royal Caribbean cruise (yes, Ryder IS a carbon copy of him):

…

Read More

This Little Guy Needs a Name!

By

Hola Readers! I’m currently sailing off the coast of Cozumel, Mexico… ready to embark on our final day trip before we turn around for home. Our adventure aboard the Royal Caribbean Allure of the Seas has been EPIC! It’s been such a treat spending time with my family, enjoying the splendor of the largest cruise ship in the world, and of course, witnessing how Fisher Price makes family travel a cinch.

Now, before I leave you for the day, I couldn’t let another moment go by without introducing you to the newest member of our family!

(Do not adjust your computer screens. You did NOT stumble upon some car buff’s blog – the following pictures are just me appreciating a fine machine when I see one.)

You may remember that a few years ago, “Scarlett” joined our family – a red MINI Cooper with sassy white bonnet stripes. She was my favourite gal for zipping around in – and I must say, she made parking in downtown Toronto a LOT easier! And, of course you know about Ryder’s fascination with MINI Coopers, encouraged by spending copious amounts of time zipping around with Mommy.

Well, when the time came to trade Scarlett in, I just couldn’t give up the FUN of driving a MINI Cooper. Hey, I’ve become accustomed to taking corners at 50 km/hr… how was I supposed to give that up? Plus, there was no way Ryder would ever forgive us if we didn’t indulge in another one of his favourite cars.

Hence, just before we left for the #FisherPriceonRoyal press trip, we picked up the newest member of our family! Meet our Black MINI Cooper Bakerstreet!

…

Read More

My Little Baryshnikov…

By

Avid readers of my blog will know that little Reid started dance lessons a few weeks ago. We knew he loved to dance, but we weren’t really sure of how he would take to dancing in an organized setting. Turns out… he loves it!

Toddler Dance is all about listening, following cues and of course, having fun. This past weekend, I had to skip out on the usual Saturday 8:30am class in favour of getting a little work done. So, it was a true father-son day at dance class. I asked my husband to take a quick video so I could see what Reid was up to, and when he came home, he showed me this:

Oh, Reid! Hear that? It’s Dancing with the Stars calling – they want their moves back! So proud of my little guy – he knows how to finish with a flourish!

(We’re still working on his Just Dance 4 moves – so far, he likes to groove to What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction, and Never Gonna Give You Up by Rick Astley. Talk about pop icons!)

Video Killed the Radio Star…

By

… and the Keyboard Killed my Penmanship.

As I’ve been trying to show Ryder how to write his name, I can’t help but notice that my penmanship SUCKS. This morning, as I watched him struggle with loops and lines, I thought to myself – “I’ve written about my crappy writing before, haven’t I?”

And so I hunted up this post from over two years ago. Sadly, my writing has now progressed from kind-of-sucky to sucks eggs.

– July 2010 –

I used to have the most stylized, idyllic cursive handwriting. Even as a young one, adults marveled at my perfect 75° right tilt and fluid curves. Little girls passed notes to me and wanted to be my friend. Boys looked at me and thought… “what a nerd”. (Two out of three isn’t bad.)

But now, after countless years of MS Word, e-mailing, texting – even using apps to assemble my grocery list – my handwriting strongly resembles that of an eleventh grade quarterback. In fact, I sometimes wonder if it’s possible to lose a skill entirely from lack of use, because it’s PAINFUL to write. My hand forgets what to do with a pen. The first few lines are generally passable, with minimal flair. Yes, I can actually form legible words.

By the second paragraph it looks like I had a stroke. The letters all mesh together and run off the page in a sloping line. Painful. And so I’ve adjusted to the sloppiness by keeping all greeting cards to a two-line minimum; no soul-baring notes from moi. When asked to fill out forms, I counter with “do you have a writable PDF version?” And given the choice of hand writing in a journal, disclosing all my secret hopes and dreams – or blogging for the entire world to see… well, I guess we know how that turned out.

What about you? Has your penmanship suffered?

So You Think You Can Dance?

By

Our little guy was just registered for Toddler Dance classes! After playing “Just Dance 3” obsessively for the last two weeks, we felt he was trying to send us a message :) Excited to see Reid bust a move on the school’s dance floor!

Three minutes of foot stomping and fancy hands ahead…

I’ve Decided to Re-Name My Son “Don’t”

By

So it occurred to me this morning that actually say “Don’t” to Ryder more often than I actually say his name.

Don’t jump.
Don’t touch that.
Don’t hit your brother.
Don’t eat that.
Don’t crawl behind there.
Don’t pull on that.
Don’t kick the back of my seat.
Don’t you dare give me that look.
Don’t say that.
Don’t scream like that.
Don’t stand there.
Don’t make a mess.
Don’t make that face.

Don’t DO that. (10x per hour, at least.)

Hence, I’ve decided to cease calling him Ryder, because he obviously responds more effectively to Don’t.

(Or maybe he doesn’t. But do I care at this moment? DON’ T think so!)

Friends, let’s all bow our heads and pray that I don’t decide to sell him for two Bon Jovi concert tickets.

What’s Your Smurf Name?

By

A girlfriend sent me this oldie-but-goodie link last night and I couldn’t help but re-post. What’s your Smurf Name? When I type in my full legal name, I’m Brainy Smurf… but when I type in my moniker, I’m Dopey Smurf. Hmm, perhaps a little of both?

Not your cup of smurf? Check out your Mafia Name! I’m “The Ugly” – WTH? As if women aren’t self-conscious enough! Though I am married to the very dangerous “Junior Mint”…. BAHAHA!

Leave a comment with your two names so we can all share a laugh!

Friday Morning Funnies

By

Who doesn’t love a friendly game of Battleship? “It’s America’s All Time Favourite Game!” But this ad from the 1950’s always gives me a chuckle. Can you spot the faux pas?

Come back later today – I’m currently blogging a recipe for the BEST lasagna I’ve ever had. Until then, hope your Friday is off to a fantastic start! xoxo