BT Calgary Blogs

One of my fondest memories of time spent with my Dad as a child is of watching the Montreal Canadiens play. The Slone father-daughter team would plant itself on the couch on Saturday nights with a bowl brimming with potato chips, and would in unison cheer our favourite team on. Because our passions for the game burned so intensely, swearing, which was otherwise never acceptable in the home, was permitted during the three periods of play.

My love for the game and the team continued into teenage-hood (can you believe I had the chutzpa to wear a Habs winter coat all through high school!?), and continues to this day. So imagine my excitement when I heard that the big outdoor “Heritage Classic” game this year would be played right here in Calgary between the Canadiens and the Calgary Flames.

In the weeks leading up to the big game, I made sure I had a press pass to secure access to McMahon Stadium, and made plans for a babysitter to arrive an hour prior to game time. All set to go to the game! But wait… Enter parenthood: Audrey, who had been suffering from a cold (pretty standard stuff in our house), developed a fever over the course of the morning, and if you know what an eighteen month-old with a fever looks like, you’ll know that whining for Mummy and Daddy is a big part of the equation. Daddy had to work, and so for a very short time I contemplated letting the sitter come so I could go to the game. But that would neither be fair to the sitter, nor to Audrey, who needed her mother. So. No game for me. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Don’t get me wrong – not being able to see my team in action stung, and not just a little bit. But there wasn’t a moment where I gave a second thought to my decision. Parenting means that all plans are tentative, and that’s just how it is. It was a lesson in letting go, and it wasn’t the first, and certainly won’t be the last. And as it turns out, my little girl was fine with watching hockey instead of Treehouse, and even kept yelling “hockey, hockey!” Perhaps it was the start of a new tradition.

On today’s show we discussed an article in this month’s issue of Chatelaine magazine which talks about the book “Cinderella Ate My Daughter”, the gist of which says that the toys girls play with at a young age may have serious effects on their self-esteem and sexual behaviour later in life.  Among other things, the book focuses on the fact that the media images our daughters see in the home (on television) and out in the world (um, everywhere) are highly sexualized, as in barbies, princesses, Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus etc.

As the mother of an eighteen month-old who is becoming increasingly interested in our occasionally but not often used television, this is certainly pause for thought. Sure, I can keep Audrey protected from the barrage of Barbie commercials and instill a healthy sense of self-esteem and sexuality. But we don’t live in a cave, and she won’t be home schooled. There will be no escaping princess culture in this part of the world. Which leads me to another question; are little girls in fact drawn to Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty simply because they’re over-exposed, or do many girls have something inside of them that is, well, girly? My daughter is more drawn to her baby doll than she is to her trucks (of which she has many), and we have never encouraged her either way.

Perhaps the most troubling conclusion the book seems to draw is between being exposed to these “highly sexualized” images and that of becoming a scantily-clad teenager with little self worth. Sure, there wasn’t the same princess influx when I was growing up, but I wanted to be Princess Leah on the playground all the same. I’ve done some stupid things in my life, and maybe, at times, I haven’t valued myself in the way that I should have. But I learned from those mistakes and now posess (I feel) a very healthy sense of self-confidence and self-dignity. Maybe battling one’s self esteem, for girls and boys alike, is all part of growing up.

So what’s my conclusion? I don’t have one; only more questions. One thing I so know for sure is that my daughter will always know that she can do anything in the world that she sets out to do, her body is nobody’s but her own, and that she is beautiful from the inside out. But if Audrey wants to wave a wand and wear a tutu, I’ll let her. A girl can dream, can’t she?

http://www.chatelaine.com/en/article/22671–parenting-princess-culture

On today’s show we spoke about a line of handmade “birthing” dolls that are getting all kinds of press on sites like nytimes.com and parentcentral. They’re made by Edmonton’s Adriana Guerra, who was expecting her third child when she created cloth dolls that feature a baby in the tummy (complete with umbilical cord and placenta) and a snap at the mom’s breast so the baby can breastfeed.
Guerra says they’re for expectant parents to teach young children about their mommy’s pregnancy. Some people are applauding the movement towards openness with children, while others are saying it’s just too much to show a toddler (the dolls are suggested for children 3 and up).

I haven’t yet had the need to introduce my daughter to the wonders of childbirth, but I wonder what the big deal is, and in fact would love to get my hands on one of Guerra’s beautiful creations. I feel that it’s our attempts to gloss over the realities of life (which include our natural bodily functions) that create a repressed and undereducated society. What do you think?

As a new mother in her thirties, I spent many years as a non-parent listening to the revelations of my parent friends. Honestly, there isn’t much that I retained from those conversations; I didn’t really pay attention to anything child-rearing related until I became pregnant. But one thing that has always stuck with me is a conversation with a friend who told me that she had never experienced as much love as she did when she became a mother. I think there was a part of my that didn’t quite believe her – surely I had as great a capacity to love as any parent, and isn’t that a bit arrogant to say anyway?! 

As I looked in my daughter’s eyes yesterday, I recalled that conversation, and realized that she was right. I never have experienced a love like the one I have for her. When I look at Audrey it feels as though my heart is going to burst, and though it seems like I couldn’t possibly love her any more than I do, I fall more in love with her more every day. I think it is the first time in my life that I actually understand the concept of loving someone unconditionally.

I don’t think this feeling is reserved for parents only; those enlightened beings in the world who have cultivated their sense of compassion to include all in their hearts surely have this. But for me, someone who is still a novice on the path of life and love, having a child  opened a part of my heart that had never before seen the light. I am so grateful.

Thank you, Audrey.

I have always heard that one of the characteristics of the “terrible twos” is that a child knows how to say little else than the word no. So imagine my surprise when my daughter Audrey, at the tender age of ten months, learned how to say the word.  At first it was little other than mimicry, but now, six months later, it is with an enormous amount of purpose and zeal that Audrey says no to just about everything. Noodles for dinner? “No!” Getting dressed for a minus thirty degree morning? “No!” Another turn through “The Very Hungry Caterpillar”? “No!” And a surreptitious trip towards a forbidden pvr or electrical outlet yields a series: “No, no, no, no!!!”

While I’m glad that Audrey’s personality is crystalizing so rapidly, I wonder where her desire to contradict comes from. Is it because she hears it so often from the mouths of those who care for her? Obviously a sixteen month-old needs some clear boundaries, and though we try to use it sparingly, sometimes the big “NO”  is the only thing that can cut through a moment of imminent danger. Or is this just how the road to independence is paved, with as many yeses as nos to come in the near future? I’m hoping the answer is… “yes”.

Okay, I have like 5 pregnant friends right now. While they are beautiful and sweet, I don’t particularly envy the ones who are having their first, having been through the excitement and anxiety not too long ago. But the ones who are having their second… I find myself looking at their bellies with envy and wondering what it would be like to do it again with baby #1 under my belt. I wouldn’t need to pore over the stack of pregnancy books (who has time to read with a toddler in the house!), or page my midwife at three in the morning with Braxton -Hicks contractions. I could be comfortable with my pregnant body, know what to expect when the contractions start, and do things better the second time around. It’s a no-brainer, right? 

No, WAIT!!!! What about the sleepless nights that continue to this day? I’m just getting my body back – do I really want to go through the agony of trying to shed 30+ pounds again? What about the astronomical price of childcare? Would I stay home and forsake my full-time career? Plus, we’ve been blessed with an amazingly good-natured child, so inevitably the next one would be a devil child!

Truthfully, I’m torn. I feel like if I’m going to do it again, then I should probably do it soon, and the thought of Audrey having a younger brother or sister brings a smile to my face. Frankly, I think if I had all the money in the world I’d just go for it… Oh, and of course there’s my guy who has to have a say! What do you think?

When I was in New York last week with our Kiehl’s contest winner, I was filled with nostalgia. I was elated to be back in the Big Apple, a place that was central to my career as a musician. They say New York is the city that never sleeps, and there’s been many a sunrise that I’ve shared with her. Some of my best friends in the world live there, and a night out in NYC always yields amazing food, and even better conversation.

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When I first thought about writing a blog, it seemed natural to focus on all things parenting; after all, I’ve been immersed in the world of motherhood for the last fourteen months and have no end of opinions on plenty of parent-related topics. But when I thought further, I realized that what matters to me most about being a parent is not which stroller is better than which, or at what age to start potty training our children (though I do reserve the right to comment upon such things on occasion!). It’s really the uber-personal journey that is parenthood that I find worthy of exploration. Motherhood has provided an opportunity for spiritual growth unlike any I’ve encountered in my life thus far. To me, parenting is a path, my fourteen month-old daughter is my teacher, and I am a but a humble student. I have been and continue to be a confident, confused, delighted, maddened, frightened, ecstatic, amazing, and ridiculous mother. I make good decisions and bad, and sometimes I simply don’t know what to do. I pledge to share these vulnerable moments with you.