Winning!

Congratulations to Sassy - winner of a signed copy of First Crush!

I don't know about you but I'd love to hear more about that snowstorm and those warm mulatto hands.....

Guest post Sassy?

Thanks for playing.

Who Was Your First Crush?

Our first crush. Do we ever fully recover from it?
Isn't there always a little scar, from the breakup, on our otherwise resilient hearts?

Who can forget the all consuming elation of knowing someone likes you?
The thrill of a first kiss. The tingle when your hand is clutched by another.
Sigh.

Parenting requires an oasis every once in a while so,
The Parenting Myth is delighted to give you the chance to relive your first crush.

I am giving away a copy of CRUSH Edited by Andrea N. Richesin.

This delicious collection of 26 stories of the heady fall into first love is bound to bring a smile and maybe a tear to your face.

Leave me a comment encapsulating your first crush into five words or less.
Winner will be by random draw on Tuesday, May 24th and the giveaway is worldwide.

Too intrigued to wait?
Just click below and order your very own copy.

In Defense of Blogger

I have a beef.
So, I'm hoping up on my soapbox.

Blogger is FREE.
They host our blogs, store our millions of words and pictures for free.

They had a major problem last week and were only able to show blogs for a few days.
No comments. No new posts.
We might have lost comments.

I have read on twitter, facebook and a major blog community site that we should all dump blogger and move to Wordpress.

This sense of entitlement confounds me.
Things break. Mistakes happen.

I think we shoot ourselves in the foot with such fickleness.

If you prefer Wordpress - go for it.
But don't go as a punitive measure.

I have been blogging for over two years. This was the first time I couldn't access the full features of blogger aside from scheduled maintenance. Sure, sometimes I have trouble getting the site to do exactly what I wanted - but isn't that life?

In those two years, sometimes the market didn't have what I went in for.
Sometimes my credit card didn't work.
Sometimes my phone dropped calls.
My oven died. My fridge needed repaired.
My gutters blocked. The waste disposal jammed.
My car needed repair.
I might even venture to say that my parenting wasn't 100% all of the time.

Why the huge backlash?

You may say I'm a dreamer but I think we need to be a little more forgiving.
A tad bit more tolerant.
A wee bit more patient.
A whole lot less entitled.

Modest Mom.

Did I ever tell you about the time I peed myself at the spa?
Let me restate that - I allegedly peed myself at the spa.

You need a little background.
I was raised in a religious household. Modesty was a big part of that. How big?
Well, I shared a room with my sister for 17 years and watched her give birth to her son at home. I have yet to see her naked.

Then there's the issue of a post-partum body. Stretch marks, a weakened bladder, boobs that are setting out for the South Pole.

The whole thing started when I was asked to be a bridesmaid. Big deal. I was VERY excited.
I decided to get a spray tan so I would be less blue in the pictures standing next to a group of Cali girls.

You should know that the whole spa thing is challenging for me. I keep my underwear on for massages. I wear a swimsuit in the sauna.
I'm just more comfortable that way.

Determined, I called up a local spa offering spray tans and booked up.
I imagined one of those booths where you go in get sprayed and come out. Alone. Private.
I show up for my appointment and the girl shows me to a tiled room. Empty except for a stool.

???

"Take everything off and just call out when you're ready" the girl says blithely.

Erm??

I decide not to panic. I am a mature woman who has given birth.
I can handle this.
I strip.
In my head I am chanting over and over.
"No big deal, no big deal."

The girl comes back and we begin. It's not so bad actually - she's very nice.
She doesn't seem to be too appalled at the sight of me in the buff.

Then.

"Pop your leg up on the stool and we'll do the inside of your leg."

NO, NO, NO.
There will be no popping.
I CANNOT DO THIS.

It feels like twenty minutes go by as my brain scrambles trying to think of how to handle this.
Before I know it I have popped my leg on the stool.

WHO AM I? Where is prudish Joy?

I begin to relax. This is really OK.
I CAN do this. It's fine. We're all girls. It's fine.

Then.

She stops, her face red she looks at me and says,

"Would you like a tissue for that?'

I look down and there running down my inner thigh is a drip.

Oh dear God.

I am sure it is an over application of spray tan. She is sure it's pee.
There's no graceful exit.
We finish, I get dressed and run out of there cheeks still burning.

Driving home I feel more and more sure it was a spray tan drip and not a bladder malfunction.
I begin to relax. Who cares? I'll never see that girl again.

That evening I have a girls night to go to. We're going for dinner.
I get there early so go up to the bar to get a glass of wine. It's very busy.
As I wait for the bartender to notice me I hear a girl telling a story of her horrible day at work.

"......then she pees down her leg."

Yup, the girl from the spa. Her friends roar with laughter or scream "ewwww."
The drip is Niagara Falls in this version of the story.

Should I have asked for the tip back?

Keeping The Love Alive.

Seventeen years is a long time to be married in our current culture.
Add two kids to that mix and we might be breaking records.

I think even The Husband would agree keeping the romance alive is a challenge.
We have to make an effort to spend time together. A big effort.
Babysitters are like gold dust and often as expensive.

Assuming we secure a babysitter that the kids like - staying awake to go out is the next hurdle.
Not talking about the kids when we are out, finding something we both want to do, not falling asleep.....

My motivation to spend $100 to see a movie is low. If we just wait a few weeks we can watch it at home for $5.
Some date nights one or both of us hears the couch calling and going out is the last thing we want to do.

Vacation is no different. if your full time job is your children and they are with you - calling it vacation is a stretch.
It's one of the reasons we have embraced All-Inclusive Hotels. Truthfully, I have spent considerable time mocking Club Med for being generic. Not now.
Now, the idea that someone wants to look after my kids while I lie by the pool is just about the most appealing thing in my year.

This past trip, we waited a couple of days before taking the kids down to the kids club. We wanted to make sure they knew their way around and maybe had met some of the other children at the pool first.
They skipped in happily. The husband and I took a great hike down the endless beach and swam in the ocean. It was fabulous.
When we went to pick up the girls, it fast became clear it would be our last free time.

The two year old had been hit by another child. The staff were horrified. The offending child was banned but the damage was done. The two year old was not going back to kids club happily.
So we are a team of four again.

The husband and I had planned a sunset stroll, no big deal, the kids love sunsets too.
As we sat on the beautiful, white sand beach watching the sky turn pink, I must admit that I was a little sad we weren't alone.
The husband perhaps sensing this strolled off.
He came back with a beautiful flower. A tiny pink bud sticking out of a cactus pod. Beautiful.

I was really touched at the simple, romantic gesture.
I showed it to my girls. We were all wondering what it was, what it might be called until it became painfully obvious.

It was a prickly pear. Emphasis on the word PRICKLY.
Ever touched one? Don't.
It is covered in teeny, tiny razor sharp hairs which lodge into your skin and cannot be removed by any method.
I still have two of them lodged under my skin. They are still quite painful.
I may have them forever.

Who said romance is dead?

Love and Other Distractions.

I have had lots of conversations about The Royal Wedding.

I have applauded and critiqued fascinators and hats in great detail.
(Really Beatrice?)
Reveled in the pomp and circumstance which is so truly British.
Marveled at the angelic choir.

Swooned over the dresses - Kate's and Pippa's.
Teared up at the intimate, stolen glances between two people in love while two billion people watched.

It has made me homesick, proud and hopeful.
Hopeful that love really does make the world go round.
Hopeful that the new Royals will return the sense of dignity and service that The Queen has but that seems to have skipped a generation or two.

I have also felt defensive of the derision. The "who cares?" attitude.
The criticism of the vast expense while people are homeless and hungry.
While I can't disagree with this sentiment - wholly, here's why I care.

Becoming a parent changes your view of the world.
You yearn for safety and peace.
You hope for ease and abundance.
You pray for good health.

The current world news is grim.
Seemingly endless natural disasters.
War.
Hunger, famine and illness.

If I can't focus on hope and joy sometimes what kind of parent will I become?
Even if children don't know exactly what is going on the world they can tell if we are happy or sad, stressed or light hearted.

I realized that what made me so happy about the wedding was shared experience.
Shared joy - with people I don't know and will never meet.

Isn't this what we yearn for in parenting?
Why we read blogs about sleep deprivation, diaper blow outs and tantrums.
We want the connection - the shared experience.

We want to feel we have community with like minds.
We want relief in the form of distraction or humour.
We want balance.

So there's my justification. Watching the Royal wedding and having a wedding party where me and my girls pranced around in white dresses and veils and ate cake - makes me a better parent.

You can't argue with that.