Now that he's five...

Ben tells me he can zip his jacket by himself;
he says he should always say "please" "No thank you" and "excuse me" because that's good manners

Now that he's five,
Ben wants to ride his bike to Bannerman Park "tout seul";
he says he doesn't need his blue blanket to fall asleep

Now that he's five,
his socks are big enough to be mistaken for mine;
he says he needs to be alone in his room just to play Lego, sometimes.

Now that he's five,
I should get used to it.

Now that he's five.

Free, free, set them free.

Between the Globe article on the free-range child and Ted Blades interviews with Alfie Kohn and Barry MacDonald, I'm not sure what it will take for our generation's obsession with hyper-parenting to stop.

Everything from tap lessons at three to piles of homework (I'm not even in that madness yet!), parents today are more concerned with filling up their kids social calendars than, well, letting them be free.

It's like if we don't structure their every minute, they will complain of boredom. What's wrong with a little boredom? Well, if we let them sit a little they might just use their imagination, or think for themselves or speak with us, or just be.

So here's the challenge -- instead of signing your kids up for a gazillion different things, how about letting them run around the back yard, look at clouds, walk to the store with you or even help with supper? Find the balance - maybe swimming or piano or gymnastics...pick one.

Might be all the extra-curricular they need (and want!)

About Banff

"I want to hear everything about Banff," a friend asks, knowing full well that the splash of cold water relativity quickly washes memories away.

In a word: amazing.

A Banff Centre for the Arts artist card, gourmet meals and 6 days in the mountains with writers and wine to write, talk about writing, read and listen to readings --- not a bad gig. The people in the non-creative group (ok, all groups) were inspiring and supportive. Especially J, H, K. All great women, great writers.

My surprise was in how being away just freed my mind; made me write clearer, crisper.

I couldn't remember the last time I traveled on my own without babes or PL when it was not for work. I did miss home at the end though. But at Banff, I saw the story and made the edits to make it work. Now all I have to do, is to get it down to knitting it together. May Edna's resin be with me.

A Million Little Pieces

I know everyone called James Frey's memoir a big fat lie -- but when I steal the title, it will be all true. Promise.

Not about alcohol and drug abuse - No! More about Polly Pocket shoes and 1x1 Legos.

There won't have to be one embellishment to captivate parents.

You've all been there - troweling through the bottom the toy bin; poking fingers between the sofa cushions full of crumbs and pennies to find that missing tiny piece of coloured plastic. Or mayber it is in the the junk drawer. Ah, the junk drawer. Did you check the junk drawer?

Most times, you find it when you least expect it; in the pocket of your fleece jacket or squirrelled away in the cupboard inside the broken mug you've been meaning to fix.

I suppose, a little like Frey, you wonder how it got there.

Where do toys come from?

Ben: Mama, we got new toys at school today.

Mama: Really, where did they come from?

Ben: Boxes

Six Figures?

So just what's a Mom's work worth?

Mom's Salary Wizard tries to figure it out. According to their latest numbers salaries in Canada would/should be $126,593 for Stay-at-Home Moms and $74,101 for Working Moms.

The job titles that best matched a mom's definition of her work in both countries are (in order of hours spent per week): housekeeper, day care center teacher, cook, laundry machine operator, computer operator, psychologist, facilities manager, van driver, chief executive officer and janitor.

Don't get my wrong, I love slobbery kisses and pancakes in bed, but a wouldn't turn down a raise on Sunday morning either.

Happy Mother's Day!

Ice, Ice Baby

It was freezing but worth it. After supper we bundled up and went down to Cuckold's Cove - literally a 2 minute drive - to see the season's first icebergs. A very kind stranger offered to take this photo.