Teacher Teacher

I'll admit that through my writing, and my own big mouth, I'm known for giving teachers a hard time. Partly this is due to my jealousy over their summer break, and partly it's because I have way too many close relatives in the field to ignore the easy jibes.

But this past week, it was my privilege to judge entries into Staples "Teacher Appreciation Contest" which rewards both the student entrant as well as the teacher with some fabulous prizes. I was blown away by some of the stories of dedication by the teachers, and the inspiration they provided for their students. We received entries from all across Canada - there are truly great teachers from coast-to-coast. Winners will be announced November 14th.

The truth is, my kids have had fabulous teachers who have laughed at my goofy son, comforted my shy daughter, and obligingly moved my chatty kids from one side of the room to the other...and back again.

So, to my sister, my two sisters-in-law, and two brothers-in-law who persevere in this vocation...well done. You're setting a great example for my oldest daughter, now in Grade 12, who is applying to enter university next fall...in a teaching program.

Awesome. I'll have someone to hang out with in the summer.

Pretend We're Normal

This is advice that I often give to my children, my husband, and whisper like a mantra to myself when entering social situations where I am about to inflict my family on innocent bystanders. Such will be the case tonight, when we venture into the treacherous land of the Public School Open House.

I'm somewhat of a veteran at these affairs (given my oldest children are in high school), and I have insider knowledge from my sister-the-teacher, so I thought I'd share some tips for newbies.

1) This is an Open House, not a teacher/parent interview. Likely there are 25+ kids who are all clamouring to introduce the teacher to their Mom or Dad. Say hi and step aside. You'll get the signal if they need to talk to you some more. They want to go home.

2) You're there for the kids - admire the classroom, see their desk - you can gossip about whether you think the head of the school council had Botox or not later (chances are, she did - she fought to be head of the school council so we know she does weird things).

3) If you bring flowers or any sort of other butt-kissing present to the teacher, they will know that you think you need to apologize for your behaviour in advance. Yes, of course your child is more special.

Above all, avoid using the phrase "well I don't know where he learned that!" in front of the teacher - she knows where he learned it.

Act normal.

Just do the math...

I sometimes feel that having four children is a lot. In fact, when we're down to just two kids, (as we were this weekend) my husband and I often say "what do people with two kids do all day?" We're half kidding...as we are well aware that it's all relative. When you have four kids, two is easy. When you have two kids, one is easy. When you have none... ONE (especially the first one) is REALLY hard.

The relativity hit me this weekend as I found some quiet time (only two kids in residence, remember?) and watched the classic movie "Yours, Mine, and Ours" with Lucille Ball and Henry Fonda. He had 10 kids, she had 8, and not only were they madcap enough to get married, she got pregnant (the logistics of finding time alone to begin with are truly boggling). Of course they all lived happily ever after - it was more a fantasy movie rather than a romantic comedy. Even their teenage son was pleasant.

Flash forward to me, yesterday, at Staples, pulling together school supplies for my kids (only four of them, not 19) it occurred to be while advising my nine year old that $12 is too much for a pencil case, that relatively speaking, I could handle this. Most of the time.

But if you live in the Toronto area, tune into Breakfast Television this Friday morning to see Alyson Schafer talking about "Mom Overboard", the theme of the Babes & Tots Show I'll be participating in on Tuesday, September 2nd in Mississauga. Yes, September 2nd...the first day my kids will be test driving those overpriced pencil cases.

Where's my gold medal?

Here's a sneak peak at my September Funny Mummy column. Think most Moms can probably relate.


Faster, Stronger,...Quieter?


Like many, I’ve watched the Olympic Games and have been impressed by the strength, stamina, and relentless effort and energy of the athletes in Beijing. However, it made me think about how today’s Moms compete at an Olympian level every day, in many challenging and sometimes stupefying physical efforts. Take, for instance, the following events I myself personally competed in during the past week:

• Hurdling: We’ve running 10 minutes late for a doctor’s appointment, and due to an unfortunate incident involving fighting siblings and an errant softball throw, I’m jumping over knapsacks, skateboards, laundry baskets, and assorted rubbery clog shoes to get to the family room, retrieve the crying child’s favourite blankie (which will cure the pain of course) and get back out the door before the doctor decides to punish ME for being late…for once.

• Sprinting: Yep, that’s me, running through the aisles of the grocery store. Bought all the ingredients for my daughter’s special dinner, but forgot her favourite topping – get out of the way old lady I need to get to the sour cream and back again before the cashier abandons my order (yes those are my kids wandering the parking lot – I was only supposed to be five minutes!)

• Long Distance Running: “Long”, being a virtual thing. Yes, the 1000 meters to the park seems like 10,000 when towing along a screaming six year old who desperately needs to go pee but simultaneously doesn’t want to leave his friends on the jungle gym.

• Long Jump: From one side of the family room to the other just in time to catch the spilling chocolate milk from hitting Daddy’s precious rug.

• Water Polo: More like Water Haul-O, an annoying and exhausting event created by Dads which involves inexplicably picking up and hurling young children from one end of the pool to another. Oh, where’s Dad? Resting his weary arms at work while I pick up the slack (a.k.a. the kid). Again! Again!

• Beach Volleyball: Yes there’s nothing quite so attractive as watching a mother of four in an ill advised bikini, leap about on the beach trying to wrestle the Monsters Inc beach ball from a teasing teenage brother and return it to its rightful teary younger sibling.

• Javelin: This wasn’t a physical sort of javelin throw attempt, rather a metaphysical or “shooting daggers” style of competition which took place during a fight between my two children while other pleasantly disposed children played like lambs at a public swimming pool.

• Weight Lifting: No, not my own girth off the couch after watching seven straight hours of Olympic coverage, but the Herculean effort of carrying the Wal-Mart disposable shopping bags which are ubiquitously filled with juice, milk, pop and heavy frozen items. Could they have made these bags any bigger? Can one of you kids get the one full of bread? Sheesh.

My best event is still to come. The High Jump. The one I’ll be doing the morning of September 2nd – the first day of school.