The following text contains seriously strong views on parenting which some readers may find offensive. Reader discretion is advised.
Having held parental status for almost sixteen years now, (insert sound of astonishment and awe at how fresh and youthful I look) I have had my share of opportunities to observe some rather remarkable changes in how we are treating our ‘Leaders of Tomorrow’ and quite frankly, I have some concerns.
Unless you are living in Communist China, (in which case I am pretty sure you won’t have access to this blog anyways and if you could get access to the WWW, I would understand fully if my Blog weren’t the first thing you Googled and bookmarked) you may have noticed that is was back to school time a few weeks ago.
Here is a sampling of some of the correspondence over the years between myself and the kids’ teachers:
“Simon needs large Zip lock bags for his letters from the Teacher. The ones he has are traditional seal. Please send secure-lock bags instead”
Dear Simon’s Teacher: Were you planning to send home killer bees? Molten lava? What bloody difference will it make what kind of Ziplock bag he has? Update from the Kathryn files; I never see any of those letters until at least four days past the due date anyways so save yourself the trouble, save me the $4.45 and in case you missed that Oprah episode, save the Albatross.
“Simon’s gym shoes have laces. Waiting for Simon to lace up his shoes is holding up the class. Please send velcro shoes”
Does Simon’s writing and reading also hold up the class? Here’s a thought, teach Simon to lace up his shoes. Teach all of those corner-cutters in the class to lace their shoes. Am I the only person who has nightmares about our soldiers being killed on the battlefields because they couldn’t lace up their boots before the enemy advanced? Or the next Madame Curie tripping over her laces and thus spilling the cure for cancer down the drain all because up until that day in the lab she always wore velcro?
“Elizabeth is very independent and doesn’t always want to play with the other children”
Um, yes. Have you seen the other children? At least three of them have peed their pants, they all have crusted-over nostrils (most sad are the five year-old girls in HIGH HEELS) and not one of them even knows who Barack Obama is, much less can point out his home-state on a map. Try not to think of her an independent. Try to think of the other children as morons. It’s what I do.
Grade one math test:
Question: 3 + 4 =
Answer: Г (backwards 7)
Teacher marks it as incorrect.
Grrrr.
“Your child’s grade four teacher has a banana allergy. Please refrain from sending bananas or banana-based products in your child’s lunch”
Dear Teacher: Keep your chalky fingers off my kids’ lunch and there shouldn’t be any problems. You’re a grown-up, he’s nine and quite frankly after eliminating peanuts, nuts, anything in a wrapper and glass bottles I am fresh out of ideas.
“Simon needs duotangs in the following colors: sky-blue, navy blue, light blue, cyan, black, grey, orange, yellow, canary, goldenrod, white, beige, red, purple, violet, green, hunter green and chartreuse”.
Simon has a mother and father who have far better things to do than hunt high and low looking for leprechaun duotangs. Please find enclosed 18 white duotangs and a sharpie.
Many of my friends and family are educators. I want to finish this blog by emphasising that I have absolutely no ill-feelings for teachers whatsoever. I whole-heartily admire the work they do and am the first person to stand up and admit I could never possess the patience and will it must take to shape the young minds of tomorrow. The instances sighted above are merely excerpts from our experiences with an over-stretched school board trying to simplify their life while overly complicating the parents’ and, I believe, depriving the children of some of their learning experiences.
Monday, September 20, 2010
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
The Summer in a Nutshell Post
Holy Mother it has been a long time since I’ve been here…what the heck is going on? Oh, right… a nervous breakdown, three kids, the last of which started school last week, a new job, a new house, two weddings and another on the way, ten pounds and another bloody stinking ankle sprain. Where to begin…
Well, yes, I went off to the Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver. I never wrote about it, blogged about it or even spoke about it much to almost anyone so don’t feel as though you’re in the dark. For seven weeks I lived in the Olympic Village, ate lunch with Syd the Kid, consumed a LOT of McCafé and missed the entire last season of Lost. Enuf said.
The kids are great; Nicholas has his first real job, (by real, I mean not working for his dad) at Kunstadt Sports. He loves it and although I have not been in to spy on him, is I am sure a natural. He has always been very at ease around people and is a master at shooting the daily crap, so no doubt will be Manager by Christmas. Simon played soccer all summer, worked for his dad and surprisingly avoided injury, which for him is a major accomplishment. Elizabeth was lured by the siren song of the Eastern Townships pony and is now in regular lessons. Oddly, she seems to have no trouble communicating to the horse that she is in charge.
Started a new job in August; I am the Facilities and Operations Technologist for the Canadian Museum of Civilisation as well as the Canadian War Museum. Ahh…the great Canadian dream to move to Ottawa, ice-skate to your government job and live no more than six feet from a Tim Hortons…Yup, I have sold out. What can I say…the pension rocks, the benefits are great and from my office I have the single best view in the City. Suck on that Syd. Seriously though, the job is going well enough…The people are nice, all the work is in French and most importantly people seem to dress well; It’s amazing how just being ‘on the other side’ makes such a difference.
Yes, another house. Pics and updates on that one to follow. It’s a lot of work, but stunning underneath it all. Kinda like me
As mentioned, we have attended two weddings this summer; they were both equally beautiful and touching and as such deserve their own post, along with one for the final wedding of 2010 in October. Stay tuned.
Ten pounds and another bloody ankle sprain. Blerg. Piece of advice from me to you; don’t wear your work heels for the riding part of your commute. There is a reason that you often see people wearing runners or flats on their bikes. That reason is ankle sprains. As such, running has taken a major backseat. In the front seat? Cheese.
Well, yes, I went off to the Olympic Winter Games in Vancouver. I never wrote about it, blogged about it or even spoke about it much to almost anyone so don’t feel as though you’re in the dark. For seven weeks I lived in the Olympic Village, ate lunch with Syd the Kid, consumed a LOT of McCafé and missed the entire last season of Lost. Enuf said.
The kids are great; Nicholas has his first real job, (by real, I mean not working for his dad) at Kunstadt Sports. He loves it and although I have not been in to spy on him, is I am sure a natural. He has always been very at ease around people and is a master at shooting the daily crap, so no doubt will be Manager by Christmas. Simon played soccer all summer, worked for his dad and surprisingly avoided injury, which for him is a major accomplishment. Elizabeth was lured by the siren song of the Eastern Townships pony and is now in regular lessons. Oddly, she seems to have no trouble communicating to the horse that she is in charge.
Started a new job in August; I am the Facilities and Operations Technologist for the Canadian Museum of Civilisation as well as the Canadian War Museum. Ahh…the great Canadian dream to move to Ottawa, ice-skate to your government job and live no more than six feet from a Tim Hortons…Yup, I have sold out. What can I say…the pension rocks, the benefits are great and from my office I have the single best view in the City. Suck on that Syd. Seriously though, the job is going well enough…The people are nice, all the work is in French and most importantly people seem to dress well; It’s amazing how just being ‘on the other side’ makes such a difference.
Yes, another house. Pics and updates on that one to follow. It’s a lot of work, but stunning underneath it all. Kinda like me
As mentioned, we have attended two weddings this summer; they were both equally beautiful and touching and as such deserve their own post, along with one for the final wedding of 2010 in October. Stay tuned.
Ten pounds and another bloody ankle sprain. Blerg. Piece of advice from me to you; don’t wear your work heels for the riding part of your commute. There is a reason that you often see people wearing runners or flats on their bikes. That reason is ankle sprains. As such, running has taken a major backseat. In the front seat? Cheese.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
The Shopping Post
Here's a list of things I bought lately and how I feel about them;
1. Lululemon's Run Zoom Crops. Yes, they look great (possibly not as great on me as little Miss Legs in the pic there) but they are not, in any way intended for anyone who, a) has an ass or b) intends to take thier ass with them on a run. Why? because they shimmy down and you spend the better part of the run hiking up your pants and let's face it, we don’t need anymore excuses not to run.
2. These fantastic 'choose your length' leggings from Aritzia. LOVE these. They come in a super-long length for those bitches with really long legs but they have three little tiny stitch lines at below the knee, knee, and above the knee length so you can cut them to whatever length suits you the best. It's genius!!!!!! They don't fray or stretch out of shape. On a recent trip where I bounced through five airports in three days I wore the same pair over and over again and they held their own. Approx $20.
3. Bras from Victoria's Secret. What can I say, get your ladies in one today. They're sexy, comfortable and supportive. They're like a wonderful gay friend, but for your tits. Although the website is super fraught with ridiculously fake breasted women in poses that no women has ever been in, it is easy as pie to manoeuvre; details about coverage, cup size, padding levels are all at your fingertips. I have a bunch of different styles but have not ventured to the strapless variety. Will do so this summer though; stay tuned.
4. Mr.Clean Magic Eraser. Bought a pack of two last week and tested them out on fingerprint stained doorways and coloured-on walls. While the sheer joy of cleaning was definitely a major highlight, I'm not entirely certain this qualifies as 'magical' in any sense. I mean, it cleans things, but not any better than good old-fashioned soap and water. I suppose there is something to be said for the soap always being in the eraser and not having to reapply, but really, no big whoop.
5. 'Northern Songs - Canada's Best and Brightest' CD. I actually bought this at Starbucks in Vancouver, and apparently the coffee icon has the exclusive rights to its' sales, so you may have a hard time finding it, but if you are so lucky as to track down a copy, it will be well worth the hunt. It's a great Sunday afternoon collection of Canadian singers and songwriters; the Band, Feist, Rufus Wainright, Cowboy Junkies and of course Sarah Mc to name a few.
Further to these items, I am happy to fully endorse AirCanada's Cheese and Crackers plate from the on-board cafe, Glee (the television program, not the emotion), any Bosch appliances, C2 paint, the iPhone and a venti-triple-non-fat-skinny-latte, unless I'm in the UK in which case, stick to the Illy.
1. Lululemon's Run Zoom Crops. Yes, they look great (possibly not as great on me as little Miss Legs in the pic there) but they are not, in any way intended for anyone who, a) has an ass or b) intends to take thier ass with them on a run. Why? because they shimmy down and you spend the better part of the run hiking up your pants and let's face it, we don’t need anymore excuses not to run.
2. These fantastic 'choose your length' leggings from Aritzia. LOVE these. They come in a super-long length for those bitches with really long legs but they have three little tiny stitch lines at below the knee, knee, and above the knee length so you can cut them to whatever length suits you the best. It's genius!!!!!! They don't fray or stretch out of shape. On a recent trip where I bounced through five airports in three days I wore the same pair over and over again and they held their own. Approx $20.
3. Bras from Victoria's Secret. What can I say, get your ladies in one today. They're sexy, comfortable and supportive. They're like a wonderful gay friend, but for your tits. Although the website is super fraught with ridiculously fake breasted women in poses that no women has ever been in, it is easy as pie to manoeuvre; details about coverage, cup size, padding levels are all at your fingertips. I have a bunch of different styles but have not ventured to the strapless variety. Will do so this summer though; stay tuned.
4. Mr.Clean Magic Eraser. Bought a pack of two last week and tested them out on fingerprint stained doorways and coloured-on walls. While the sheer joy of cleaning was definitely a major highlight, I'm not entirely certain this qualifies as 'magical' in any sense. I mean, it cleans things, but not any better than good old-fashioned soap and water. I suppose there is something to be said for the soap always being in the eraser and not having to reapply, but really, no big whoop.
5. 'Northern Songs - Canada's Best and Brightest' CD. I actually bought this at Starbucks in Vancouver, and apparently the coffee icon has the exclusive rights to its' sales, so you may have a hard time finding it, but if you are so lucky as to track down a copy, it will be well worth the hunt. It's a great Sunday afternoon collection of Canadian singers and songwriters; the Band, Feist, Rufus Wainright, Cowboy Junkies and of course Sarah Mc to name a few.
Further to these items, I am happy to fully endorse AirCanada's Cheese and Crackers plate from the on-board cafe, Glee (the television program, not the emotion), any Bosch appliances, C2 paint, the iPhone and a venti-triple-non-fat-skinny-latte, unless I'm in the UK in which case, stick to the Illy.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
The Breville Post
Ring-ring, ring-ring.
“small, privately-owned kitchen-crap store in the worst location in the City; Brittanie speaking”
“Hello, my name is Kathryn Moore. I have an espresso maker that I purchased from your store five months ago and it doesn’t seem to be working”
“oh really? What kind is it”
“Breville”
“oh. Well have you called Breville”?
“no. why would I do that? You’re the vendor”
“yes, but we don’t handle any warranty issues. You have to take that up with Breville directly”.
Short pause.
“Well, what about returns or exchanges then? How do I go about returning what is now nothing more than a large piece of metal that is sitting on my kitchen counter”?
“Well, do you have your receipt”?
“As luck would have it, I just threw it out”.
“oh! Well in that case I don’t think we can help you”
“I paid by credit card; can’t you trace it”?
“sigh…yes. I will need the exact amount you paid, the date you bought it and the card number”
“well, the date is easy as it was a GIFT for my husband’s birthday and the card number is bla bla bla, but I do not have the amount. You should though as it is your bloody store and I would expect you to know the prices of your merchandise”
“sigh…I can probably look it up with that information, but it will take a while. I have a terrible headache”.
At this juncture, there are a few lessons to be learned:
1. If you name your child Brittanie, no one will ever respect her. Brittanie is the name of a Highland Terrier or Barbie’s BFF. A close second to naming someone Brittanie is naming someone anything that ends in “ie”, especially if there was an original spelling of “y”; Beckie, Cathie, Amie, Carlie, Jade.
2. Before you complain about your headache to your customer who is caffeine deprived, take a moment to let that thought pass. Perhaps lie down a moment.
“Brittanie, maybe I should speak with your manager or the store owner. Are they in”?
“I am the store manager ma’am”
Two sentences; two major injustices:
1. Brittanie is a store manager. If Brittanie is the manager, one shudders to the depths of ones’ soul to think of who the pions are?
2. Mrs. Moore is NOT old enough or Southern enough to be called ma’am. This combined with the low caffeine level is not going to improve Mrs. Moore’s relationship with Brittanie.
Pause. The sound of a stack about to blow is audible.
“Maybe I can take your number and call you back once I find the receipt Mrs. Moore. Shouldn’t take more than a few days”
Brilliant. A few days. Without coffee.
Several days of caffeine deprivation pass. The phone rings.
“Mrs. Moore, this is Brittanie from the small kitchen-crap store. I have managed to locate a copy of your receipt.”
“Good for you”
“If you would like to come by the store I can give you a copy and you can send it to Breville in Montreal; They should be able to help you”
“You can‘t be serious”
“Yes ma‘am, I am. We don’t normally deal with Breville directly but I hear they are very easy to deal with“.
WTEFFINGEFFING EFF?
Click.
A series of seriously unsatisfying rounds of telephone tag between Mrs. Moore and the lovely people at Breville ensue.
Mrs. Moore leaves for business. Ten days pass. Mrs. Moore returns on a Tuesday evening, jet-lagged and exhausted. The large piece in idle machinery is still on the counter.
Mrs. Moore orders it into the car, dives through the City and walks into the kitchen crap store. Brittanie is at the cash. Wielding a 26 pound hunk of machinery and a serious scowl, Brittanie recognises Mrs. Moore immediately. What follows is a nasty, but brief altercation resulting in Mrs. Moore tossing a new Breville Espresso machine into her trunk and fondly admiring to this day.
Allow me to explain a few things to all of the Brittanies, the crappy-kitchen store owners and everyone working in any customer-service field.
When Mrs.Moore made her initial phone call to complain about her espresso machine, there was only one correct response;
“I am sorry to hear about this trouble you are having Mrs. Moore” (I actually prefer Ms.Moore, but I am nothing if not flexible). If you would like to bring your machine in we will gladly replace it for you.
This response would have had the following after-effects:
Mrs.Moore would have been very satisfied with this level of customer service; she would have ranted and raved about what a lovely girl Brittanie is* and what a fine store she works for. These reviews may even have resulted in further business for this little store. Certainly Mrs. Moore would have made an effort to shop there at least one more time**.
Mrs.Moore would not have spent several days in a sleepy, cranky haze, thus endangering the lives of all who cross her path.***
Brittanie may not have cried herself to sleep that night, questioning her job, her life, her very existence in this cold, heartless world.****
Mrs.Moore would not have bored you with this terrible dialogue some months later.
* This would not have precluded the name Brittanie to be referenced at future dinner parties and friendly get-togethers as a prime example of a stupid name.
**To be honest, this may not be entirely true. The store is located on a one-way street with limited parking and Mrs. Moore is terribly lazy.
***okay, Mrs. Moore may have still been cranky, but not so sleepy.
****Note the use of the word may. Mrs. Moore cannot be certain that this does not happen for poor Brittanie on a twice-weekly basis. Brittanie strikes Mrs. Moore as a bit of a loser who judging by her age and neck-line foundation is probably a self-loathing sadist, but this is in no way Mrs. Moore‘s problem
“small, privately-owned kitchen-crap store in the worst location in the City; Brittanie speaking”
“Hello, my name is Kathryn Moore. I have an espresso maker that I purchased from your store five months ago and it doesn’t seem to be working”
“oh really? What kind is it”
“Breville”
“oh. Well have you called Breville”?
“no. why would I do that? You’re the vendor”
“yes, but we don’t handle any warranty issues. You have to take that up with Breville directly”.
Short pause.
“Well, what about returns or exchanges then? How do I go about returning what is now nothing more than a large piece of metal that is sitting on my kitchen counter”?
“Well, do you have your receipt”?
“As luck would have it, I just threw it out”.
“oh! Well in that case I don’t think we can help you”
“I paid by credit card; can’t you trace it”?
“sigh…yes. I will need the exact amount you paid, the date you bought it and the card number”
“well, the date is easy as it was a GIFT for my husband’s birthday and the card number is bla bla bla, but I do not have the amount. You should though as it is your bloody store and I would expect you to know the prices of your merchandise”
“sigh…I can probably look it up with that information, but it will take a while. I have a terrible headache”.
At this juncture, there are a few lessons to be learned:
1. If you name your child Brittanie, no one will ever respect her. Brittanie is the name of a Highland Terrier or Barbie’s BFF. A close second to naming someone Brittanie is naming someone anything that ends in “ie”, especially if there was an original spelling of “y”; Beckie, Cathie, Amie, Carlie, Jade.
2. Before you complain about your headache to your customer who is caffeine deprived, take a moment to let that thought pass. Perhaps lie down a moment.
“Brittanie, maybe I should speak with your manager or the store owner. Are they in”?
“I am the store manager ma’am”
Two sentences; two major injustices:
1. Brittanie is a store manager. If Brittanie is the manager, one shudders to the depths of ones’ soul to think of who the pions are?
2. Mrs. Moore is NOT old enough or Southern enough to be called ma’am. This combined with the low caffeine level is not going to improve Mrs. Moore’s relationship with Brittanie.
Pause. The sound of a stack about to blow is audible.
“Maybe I can take your number and call you back once I find the receipt Mrs. Moore. Shouldn’t take more than a few days”
Brilliant. A few days. Without coffee.
Several days of caffeine deprivation pass. The phone rings.
“Mrs. Moore, this is Brittanie from the small kitchen-crap store. I have managed to locate a copy of your receipt.”
“Good for you”
“If you would like to come by the store I can give you a copy and you can send it to Breville in Montreal; They should be able to help you”
“You can‘t be serious”
“Yes ma‘am, I am. We don’t normally deal with Breville directly but I hear they are very easy to deal with“.
WTEFFINGEFFING EFF?
Click.
A series of seriously unsatisfying rounds of telephone tag between Mrs. Moore and the lovely people at Breville ensue.
Mrs. Moore leaves for business. Ten days pass. Mrs. Moore returns on a Tuesday evening, jet-lagged and exhausted. The large piece in idle machinery is still on the counter.
Mrs. Moore orders it into the car, dives through the City and walks into the kitchen crap store. Brittanie is at the cash. Wielding a 26 pound hunk of machinery and a serious scowl, Brittanie recognises Mrs. Moore immediately. What follows is a nasty, but brief altercation resulting in Mrs. Moore tossing a new Breville Espresso machine into her trunk and fondly admiring to this day.
Allow me to explain a few things to all of the Brittanies, the crappy-kitchen store owners and everyone working in any customer-service field.
When Mrs.Moore made her initial phone call to complain about her espresso machine, there was only one correct response;
“I am sorry to hear about this trouble you are having Mrs. Moore” (I actually prefer Ms.Moore, but I am nothing if not flexible). If you would like to bring your machine in we will gladly replace it for you.
This response would have had the following after-effects:
Mrs.Moore would have been very satisfied with this level of customer service; she would have ranted and raved about what a lovely girl Brittanie is* and what a fine store she works for. These reviews may even have resulted in further business for this little store. Certainly Mrs. Moore would have made an effort to shop there at least one more time**.
Mrs.Moore would not have spent several days in a sleepy, cranky haze, thus endangering the lives of all who cross her path.***
Brittanie may not have cried herself to sleep that night, questioning her job, her life, her very existence in this cold, heartless world.****
Mrs.Moore would not have bored you with this terrible dialogue some months later.
* This would not have precluded the name Brittanie to be referenced at future dinner parties and friendly get-togethers as a prime example of a stupid name.
**To be honest, this may not be entirely true. The store is located on a one-way street with limited parking and Mrs. Moore is terribly lazy.
***okay, Mrs. Moore may have still been cranky, but not so sleepy.
****Note the use of the word may. Mrs. Moore cannot be certain that this does not happen for poor Brittanie on a twice-weekly basis. Brittanie strikes Mrs. Moore as a bit of a loser who judging by her age and neck-line foundation is probably a self-loathing sadist, but this is in no way Mrs. Moore‘s problem
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