Category Archives: Guest Bloggers

Guest Blogger, Kelly Quinn: The Marriage Plot

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Earlier this week, I finished reading Pride and Prejudice for the umpteenth time.  When Elizabeth tells her family of her engagement to Mr. Darcy, her sister Jane and her father are incredulous: both are adamant that she must marry only for love, and both take some convincing to accept that this is, indeed, what she is doing. Increasingly, I’ve been wondering what Austen is doing here. Is she, on the one hand, emphasizing the extent to which Elizabeth and Darcy have transformed, completely privately, and how much they are now set apart from the other characters as a unit? Or is she planting seeds of doubt: can this really work? Should we, with Jane and Mr. Bennet, be skeptical?  Despite all the fanlit sequels, we’ll never really know: the door on that marriage is firmly shut in our face at the end of the novel.

Now, though, it seems that how we conduct our marriages is public business, the newest piece of cannon fodder in the Mommy Wars, joining whether and how much we work outside the home, how our babies are born and fed, where they sleep and how we get them to sleep, and just about everything else about parenthood for women to use against each other. (Perhaps I’ve missed it, but I haven’t seen any fathers weighing in on this topic.)

It feels so artificial, though. In real-life, my friends run the gamut in this as in everything else, and no one’s feathers seem to be particularly ruffled by anyone else’s lifestyle. I have one friend whose in-laws have the children from supper-time Friday until noon on Saturday every single week, and she and her husband travel without the children several times a year.  And I have other friends who, whether by inclination or by necessity (lack of funds, lack of local family to help with babysitting), have rarely been out without the children, let alone away overnight.  And then there are all the in-betweeners. Most of them seem happy; statistics suggest that some of them won’t last; and my entirely uninformed guess is that no outsider can predict which marriages will founder based solely on the number of date nights. I just keep my fingers crossed for us all that we have each figured out what our marriage needs to keep the flame going.

Marriage is after all built on highly individual choices: we’re all fine with the fact that we can’t imagine being married to some of our friends’ spouses, so shouldn’t it stand to reason that we can’t imagine living their marriages either?  It’s the denial of individuality that tends to irk me in debates like this. In the on-line world, if not in the real-life world, there often seems to be an element of judgement in the responses to Rancic and her ilk, both in those defending her and those attacking her. Some commentators seem to take the stance that there is only one right way to negotiate the rich, complex, intertwined emotional relationships that constitute every family.  And they also seem to assume that there are easy ways to read and interpret the choices that people make: to suggest that those who value solo outings are the only ones who nurture their marriages, that those who stay close to home are the only ones who are passionately devoted to their children.

This week, my Facebook feed has gone all pink-and-red with profile pictures changed to support same-sex marriage, in reference to the US Supreme Court’s deliberations on the topic.  It is in that spirit of diversity that I look at the “marriage vs. babies” debate and shrug:  chaçun à son gout.

Guest Post: Kelly Quinn on Babysitting A Boy

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Last year, when neighbours asked if I could look after their 5-year-old son every afternoon after school, I agreed readily. N is a likable little boy, and my daughter, also 5, enjoyed playing outside with him. She’d had a number of little friends over for playdates, and so I thought I knew what was in store.

Ha! I have two little girls, and all those playdates were with little girls. My extended first-hand experience of boys is pretty much limited to a nephew who is decidedly more active than his sister and his two girl-cousins, but, being as reluctant as the next product of the 1970s to step away entirely from the idea of gender as a social construct, I was chalking that up to personality.

Now, though, I’m not so sure. My first indication that things might be a little challenging came a few days before school started. N ran up to my daughter on the street with his soccer ball and asked her if she wanted to play. “Sure! Let’s pretend the ball is a baby and—”  Swift kick to the baby’s head!  It took some persuading to convince her that he hadn’t committed an atrocity, but had simply used the ball for the purpose for which it was intended. Mine isn’t a house of Barbies and princesses, and we do sometimes kick a ball around, but I was starting to realize that things might be a little different with a boy around.

And then the N afternoons got started. By the end of the first afternoon, I was completely frazzled. He was in constant motion, into everything. My daughter had a black eye (accidental), and I needed a stiff drink. Over the weeks that progressed, he climbed the rickety, rusty fence in our backyard—something that had never occurred to my daughters; scaled a wire fence to get into the neighbours’ yard (again, new to the playtime repertoire, but my daughter eagerly scrambled over after him); bolted into the street repeatedly without looking; devised numerous very active games in the house. Injuries were frequent—I had to declare the basement off-limits because the floor is concrete and I had visions of small heads crashing down on it. Within a couple of weeks, I had one goal each day: to keep him alive until his parents got home. Bonus points if he wasn’t bleeding. Indeed, it often felt like N and I were at cross-purposes: he was on mission self-destruct, and I was trying to thwart him.

I’m still sheepish about resorting to stereotypes—true, my daughter’s participation in soccer is usually reluctant, but some of her female friends play with gusto. Meanwhile, some of the little boys we know—including N’s brother—like to spend a lot of time colouring and working on crafts. And yet, and yet, whenever I mention my experiences with N, especially to parents in families with at least one of each, there’s sage nodding about the different energy levels.

I got used to those energy levels (and I also figured out the N trick: if I sat down with a book and started to read aloud, all motion ceased and he was transfixed). This year, I miss having N around. I loved the impact he had on my daughter. With N, she runs, jumps, and somersaults more than when she is left to her own devices. Coming to compromises about games they could both enjoy was useful (and even better were the imaginative games they devised together). Most of all, though, it was a lovely friendship. This year, she found the transition to grade 1 overwhelming, and for the first couple of weeks, the only way we could get her to go into school was with N. Off they went, morning after morning, hand-in-hand through the big doors.

The other benefit: this year she has made friends with a classmate who makes N look like a sloth. Playdates with him have been an adventure, to say the least. I shudder to think of what a shock he would have been to my system if N hadn’t helped break me into the world of boys!

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Kelly Quinn, the mother of two girls, lives in Ottawa.

Guest Post: Carol Pitre: To Road Trip or Not to Road Trip

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To Road Trip or Not To Road Trip 

Sorry Will, old friend, but that is the question.

Well, that becomes the question when you’re facing an entire summer month with no plans, a husband who has used all his vacation time, and three children otherwise known as the Bickersons.

I should mention, I do adore a good road trip. In the past, I have always been the first passenger in the car and ready to get outta Dodge at the mere mention. Of course, being the sole driver did give me pause… I paused long enough to put on my rose-coloured glasses and imagine that those magical ipods and DVD players would save me in an hour of need.

That said, let me paint a picture of my three Bickersons… My first born, 11 years old at the time, is happy to travel but states very clearly: “I love road trips! Except for the road part.” My middle child, nine years old and whip smart, can’t quite generate any excitement at the idea but he’s willing to “play along”. (For the record, he did include air quotes and a wink of the eye.) Finally, my six-year old daughter brings up the rear with plenty of happy, bubbly energy.

With the children (mostly) on board, there’s only one decision left to be made… Where to?

While I’m pondering destination ideas, I fall upon an unusual stroke of genius: tie the trip into a good book. Three out of three Bickersons love a good story; two out of three Bickersons are redheads; and one out of three Bickersons wishes she had a sister. Anne of Green Gables it is.

PEI or Bust! Done.AnnesHouse

Prior to the trip, we spend our evenings reading chapter after chapter of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s famous novel. I do my best to give the characters unique voices so the children stay engaged. The plan works as I sometimes hear chuckles at the funny bits and cries of woe when one of the kids misses a chapter due to another commitment. Despite the varied crowd, Anne is loved in our home and now we are ready to visit hers.

A brief look at our road trip stats:

- Eleven days

- Four provinces: ON, QC, NB, PEI – and back

- Three children and one 15-year old niece (the world’s best road trip assistant)

- Forty-two hours of driving

- Twenty-one movies watched in the car

- One dead car battery in Quebec

- Spotted in the St. Lawrence: one blue whale, several belugas and many, many seals

- Anne’s house was a highlight right down to the bottle of raspberry cordial in the pantry

- My children do NOT like lobster

- My children LOVE the ocean

- My children LOVE hotel pools slightly more than the ocean

I could write endless stories about our experiences and the intensity of spending eleven days and nights together. Rather, I would summarize it as such… The Bickersons will always be the Bickersons, but amongst the endless hours on the road, the spectacular vistas, visiting new provinces, trying new foods, and tasting the salt of the ocean water, I was able to understand my three Bickersons just a little bit more. It was sometimes difficult, but a priceless adventure leaving us all with fantastic memories.

Road trip? No question.

Addendum: The day after returning home, my oldest asked: “Mom, can we go the other direction next summer?”

Alberta or Bust? Hmm, I need a good novel…

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Carol Pitre is a mother of three; seeker of adventures on the road and otherwise.

Guest Post: Meg Gardner Blogging for Away

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Our guest post today is from Meg Gardner, who is an American living in Toronto and the blogger behind Loving Albany.  Here is the story of how her blog got started.

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It happened with the third child. I couldn’t do it anymore.  My dad passed the phone to my mom and she said, “So, what was that…how are things?” and I lost it.  I could not have the same conversation twice.  So, then I blogged.

I’m Meg. I’m a mother of three boys. And I blog so that I don’t have to talk to my mom.

Actually….I blog so that I can talk to my mom. And my dad.

Three little kids biting my ankles (sometimes literally) make it hard to talk on the phone with my parents back home in Wisconsin. It’s hard in the morning during breakfast. Harder when my toddler is napping. Hard again during snack time after school. And forget dinner time. Then it’s bath, book, bed…whoops! Forgot to call.

Again.

So I started to blog. The first post went up and I emailed the link.

The phone rang. “I love the costumes! How much candy did they get?” I had enough time to answer my mother before someone started fighting. Success!  Phone passed to dad. “He really looks like a penguin!”  I didn’t have to repeat the story of how George’s Halloween costume was a penguin or that it was passed down from his cousin…he already knew because he had read the blog post.  And he saw the smiles!

Before I could say, “Yes, it was great, and everyone’s gorging themselves on sugar,” chaos erupted and the phone call ended. But it worked. We shared our what’s-going-on-around-here-today moment with our far away family.  Without high school ex-boyfriends on Facebook watching.  Or emails with huge attachments downloading.  And no disappointment on the other end of the phone.

Since then, it’s taken off.  First tooth, first lost tooth, painting a bedroom, going on vacation, birthdays, half-birthdays, changing the kitchen, school starting, graduating kindergarten.

That was a good one.

Over the past year, mom and dad have seen it all. Including our new guest bedroom.

BEFORE

AFTER

And I don’t have to tell the story twice.

The School of Friendship: Guest Post by Kelly Quinn

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In today’s guest post, Kelly Quinn, who lives in Ottawa with her husband and two daughters, writes as an emissary from Girl Land.

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This post is a missive from the Land of Girls, a country I know is foreign to the four mothers of 4 Mothers. I didn’t have a preference for boys or girls when I was pregnant (other than that, having had one girl, I had a slight pragmatic preference for more of the same next-time round, for ease of hand-me-downs). And I have to admit that much of my sense of the differences between boys and girls is based on stereotype and first-hand experience of a very small sample group of boys. (Chiefly: one very energetic nephew and last year, after-school babysitting of one very energetic neighbourhood boy. 4Mothers:  do all of them really move that much??)

Six years and two girls in, we have somehow managed to avoid more than a taste of princess culture, hurrah. There is rather a lot of unavoidable pink around, but either I’ve become acclimatized or it’s still within reasonable bounds, because it doesn’t bother me. But on day 5 of grade 1, my daughter came home and told me that at recess, she asked her two “best friends” to play, and they told her that they were playing a game that was for two people only. She followed them around for a little bit hoping they would include her, and finally she gave up and sat down by herself waiting for recess to be over.

I’m sure this kind of thing happens with boys too. But it’s one of those things that many people associate particularly with elementary-school girls, and one of the things that always lurked at the back of my mind as a “con” to girls—having to confront the insidious schoolyard politics of young girls. I remember very keenly my own triangular “best friend” relationship of the early grades: brief honeymoons of playing all together were inevitably interrupted by the exclusion of one or another of us. Seeing my daughter’s sad little face recounting her first experience of this was heart-breaking (all the more so because the transition to grade 1 has been intensely difficult for her—et tu, Brute?, I addressed her little friends in my head).

Because she is only 6, and because she is having such a rough time altogether, and because I am good friends with the mothers of her little friends, it did not take me long to decide to helicopter in. I know eventually she’s going to have to learn how to navigate this territory on her own, but I told myself a bit of hovering was justified when everything else about grade 1 was causing her so much angst. I talked to the moms; they talked to their daughters, and recess, at least, has improved. But when my daughter asks why I can’t keep her home and teach her myself, one of the things I tell her is that school is important not just for the academics, but for learning about relationships with other people. I knew this was coming, but it doesn’t make it any easier to witness.

Guest Post: Patsy Spanos on Being a Dancing Queen at 40

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Español: Bailarines en la discoteca Pachá Ibiz...

Español: Bailarines en la discoteca Pachá Ibiza por la noche (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My situation is a unique one. I am a mother of three young boys — six year old twins and a nine year-old — and for the last five years, I have spent my Julys in Ibiza. For those of you who don’t know Ibiza, it’s a Spanish island close to Barcelona, with a party scene that resembles Babylon during the summer months. Seeing body-painted, half naked women, in their G – strings, is as common here as Lululemon pants are for us in Canada. Bare breasts and string bottoms on the beaches are more accepted than tankinis. In fact, you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who knows what a tankini is in Ibiza.

Along with this eccentric fashion sense is the out-of-this-world nightlife that starts somewhere around at 2 a.m. and goes strong until 7 a.m. Luckily dinner in Spain is usually at 10 p.m. and if I feel like putting my dancing shoes on, I tuck the kids in bed by 1 a.m. and away I go! This 40 year old, Canadian mom turns into a Dancing Queen.

Let me stop right here for a second, and put things into perspective. I am a stay-at-home mom from Stouffville, Ontario. The most excitement I get throughout the school year is scoring two free slices for the school pizza lunches. Dancing in the V.I.P section in all the hottest clubs in Ibiza (thanks to a very connected brother in law) throughout the month of July is a far stretch from my home life in Stouffville.

Needless to say, I feel like a fish out of water in this subculture, kind of like Madonna, with her toned arms, desperately trying to hold on to her youth. But the saving grace in all this is that I am a certified YogaDance instructor and I love to dance. So this old maid feeling I get amongst all the young beautiful ladies quickly disappears for me once I start to dance and allow the music to take over.

It is this passion for dance is that controls my Mother Bee instinct and keeps me from throwing a sweater on these half naked 19 year old girls, or from having a one on one with a go-go dancer and strongly suggesting that she read The Beauty Myth by Naomi Wolf.  If I did, I’d be behaving like a frumpy Oprah in a Lady Gaga world. Nobody asked me for my opinion, and these girls are all having a great time…so maybe I’m the one with the issues…Maybe I’m just too rigid, and uptight…Maybe I have to change my angle, and let loose….

So, last night, at a very happening club, I made an extra effort to embrace this foreign world. When my husband knuckle-chucked the bouncer, who then waved us through the VIP entrance letting us bypass the horde outside, I instantaneously allowed my I.Q. to drop by five notches. I squeezed my husband’s arms and whispered in his ears, “You are HOT!” After 16 years of marriage, no matter how hard you try, a comment like that oozes with sarcasm, so my husband grabbed me by the waist and pulled me in for a long, romantic kiss. For the first time in a long time I felt like he and I were the only people on the crowded dance floor.

I slowly turned into a Solid Gold dancer, twisting and moving, and turning my body into pretzel positions that would make most people blush in Canada. It was fun! I smiled at strangers and danced close to them. I didn’t know their first names, but I definitely knew the size of their waistlines. I laughed, made funny faces, and challenged them with a dance move that would make the shirtless guy with the cowboy hat on City TV’s Electric Circus nervous. Oh yeah! I would have given him a run for his money that night.

Last night, I wasn’t a conservative, Canadian stay at home mom, looking for the latest specials at Wal-Mart. I was a Goddess who was offered a drink while her husband was in the restroom. Of course, my instinctive reaction was to scream, kiss the boy and thank him for reminding me that I still got it. Whatever “it” is, I like “it”! Even though I had to say, “No thank you,” to the young boy with a Mrs. Robinson fetish, at that moment, I was fifty shades happier 40 year old in Ibiza.

Guest Blogger: Karyn Bowman blogs about Family Movie Night

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Have you ever thought “I want to start a ‘family movie night at my house?”

And then that is as far as you get?

I have been there but I made it happen. The story of how that happened is a little long and the particulars have been largely forgotten. And yet this is one of the most enduring traditions of our family.

I should explain first and foremost that I am a big movie fan. I worked for seven years as a movie reviewer for our local paper and I still blog for the paper on a bi-weekly basis. As much as I love watching movies, I want to share that experience with my kids.

Friday Night is our designated “Pizza and Movie” night. Someone gets a movie or we find something on a cable station and watch a movie together as we are eating pizza. It is that simple. Most Fridays, there is nothing else planned so gathering together makes it all that much easier. Before you know it, friends of the kids show up and the house is a little crowded.

So there we are, making lots of pizzas and having plenty of soft drinks while we watch a movie. Friends of each child show up, the husband retreats to the kitchen and I make room for myself in the living room. If friends talk during the movie they are quickly shushed.

Trying to figure out how we started took a little digging. Because I am a creature of habit, long ago I made Fridays “Pizza Night.” Our eleven-year-old daughter stated we have been doing it for as long as she could remember. The fifteen-year-old said the same thing. That is when I went to our 20-year-old.

His report was that we just started doing it. Sometimes it was a movie, sometimes it was whatever was on TV. Friday nights were always pizza and movie night. I remember allowing the kids a choice in the feature. As more kids arrived at the age of being able to pick, we allowed each child to choose a movie on a rotating basis. If need be, I put down my two cents if I thought the original choice may not be so good for the youngest family member.

As I write this, my other memory is that my husband used to work on Friday nights. He is my second husband and it made life easier on visitation weekends and non-visitation weekends to have routines for the entire family. This gave our oldest continuity in some way, shape or form.

As our children have grown older, my husband encouraged the kids to invite friends. Friends meant we needed more pizzas with different toppings. Pepperoni, sausage, plain cheese, spinach and mushroom for mom and dad.

I know you are wondering how you start your own movie night. The first and best step is setting aside that one night every week that is pizza and movie night.  Pick a day that works best for your family.

Then pick out a movie every week, let the kids make a selection even if it is something you hate (can we say “The Smurfs?”). Shop ahead of time for food and make the kids a part of the pizza-making process. We buy the pre-made shells and the kids like to put on the toppings although I think it is so they can snitch pepperoni slices.

Next, set a start time for the movie and stick with it. In the winter, I start at 6 p.m.; summertime goes up to 7 p.m. Scheduling conflicts might get in the way and you can use those flexibility muscles to fit it in if it is that important to you.

We have done that when games or church events find their way onto a Friday night. Or when we decided to do Movie Night at a drive-in instead of at home. Or when traveling. Well, you get it. Nothing makes a habit like the continual practice of it. And you can start the practice this week.

What movies do you watch on your Family Movie Night?

Karyn Bowman writes the Notes From Rumbly Cottage blog on WordPress. On Fridays she posts about Family Movie Night and the rest of the week can be about anything else.

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Win a Prize for Telling Us: What Do You Wish You Knew?

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Were you surprised by some of the changes in your body when you were expecting?  Did you know what to expect when you were expecting?  Did you even have time to read that book?

That famous (or maybe you’d say infamous) book, What To Expect When You’re Expecting, has been turned into a blockbuster movie coming to theatres May 18, starring Cameron Diaz, Jennifer Lopez, Matthew Morison, Dennis Quaid and Chris Rock.

To celebrate all you mothers, expecting or not, we’re giving away a Pregnancy Survival Kit, provided by the Spoke Agency.  This box is full of goodies sure to satisfy all your cravings, nourish your skin and put a little spice back in the bedroom.

To win, leave a comment sharing your ultimate pregnancy tip for the expectant mother – the one thing that you wish you knew to expect when you were expecting.

Make sure that you leave your comment before 11:59 pm on Sunday, May 6.  The 4mothers will announce the winner on Monday, May 7.

As much as we love our friends living outside Canada, this contest is open to those residing in Canada only. Residents of Quebec are excluded as well (sorry.)

Guest Post for Remembrance Day by Sarah Hill

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For Remembrance Day, we’ve invited Sarah Hill to write about being a military mother.  For many Canadians, images of soldiers at war and families left behind on the homefront is brought to us by way of the television – and usually American television at that.  This Remembrance Day, we have asked Sarah what it’s like to be part of a Canadian military family.  Sarah’s husband flies helicopters for the Canadian military and is often away for extended periods of time. 

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The quintessential military mom—children flanking her sides as she waves a Canadian flag standing stoically as her uniformed loved one departs to a far off dangerous place. It seems like a scene from a TV special or a news clip. Yet this is a reality for many families in Canada.

To be completely honest, until I was asked to write a guest post for the “4 Moms” I’d never really given much thought to the fact that I am a military mom but, as my dear friend pointed out, our family life is not run-of the mill. We have deployments and relocations, protocols and echelons. The Canadian Forces are so vast and diverse in their services it really is hard to capture the ‘typical’ military family experience, but I’ll attempt to offer a little insight.

Yes, my husband does leave for extended periods of time and we do have to move more often than most and not just down the street or the other side of the city. It will be from one coast to the other for us. As unsettling as the whole experience is, with the waiting and wondering—when and where we will be posted– I’ve learned perspective is everything. You make the most of what you have, learn to love where you are, build in strong supports and work hard nurturing our relationships. Many military moms can speak to part-time single parenting. I have much respect and admiration for those that do it full time.

How do you do it? I am often asked. In short, you just do. The Military Family Resource Centre (MFRC) offers fantastic support services and education around the deployment cycle, some of which I’d like to share, because if you have a partner that travels I know you will be able to relate.

The Deployment Cycle

  • PreDeployment—often characterized by an anticipation of loss, denial, mental/physical distancing and an increase in arguments.
  • Deployment—a mixed emotion: relief “yes he’s finally gone the lead up is over, but now I really miss him”, overwhelmed, numb, sad, alone, which quickly moves into new routines and calling in supports, then comes anticipation, excitement, “daddy’s coming home!”
  • Post Deployment—the honeymoon, the need for your “own” space and the renegotiation of routines and reintegration into family life.

Some of my favourite tips from the MFRC:

  • give your children secret diaries where they can write down the things they wish their absent parent could hear
  • Take pictures (or video) of the parent doing ordinary things at home, which are very good for young children with short visual memories. Post them where they can be seen frequently. We posted a picture of daddy brushing his teeth on the bathroom mirror so every night we could brush teeth with Dad.
  • Talk about what you think the missing parent is doing right now and give an extra kiss from “Daddy” or “Mommy” – whoever is away.
  • If you know how long the separation is going to be, start a countdown. A friend of mine used a tower of blocks with her young child and everyday they’d take a block off.
  • Keep the absent parent with you. Put some books on tape or video so the kids can still be read to. Hallmark has some great recordable books.
  • Homecoming can be wonderful and stressful. Things change in your partner’s absence, take it slow. Talk. Be patient.
  • Adults and kids need to take time to get to know each other again. Do things as a family and as a couple.

My husband gets paid to do something he loves—fly helicopters. He has stable employment and benefits. He has now been to 5 continents, seen first hand the border between North and South Korea, a boat of refugees packed like sardines crossing the gulf of Aden in hopes of a better life, Somalian pirates, Pearl Harbour, parts of this country that few ever get the chance to experience and we get to live vicariously through his adventures. Family day at Daddy’s work involves going for a Sea King helicopter ride, and sitting in the cockpit exploring the endless switches and buttons. Every time a helicopter flies overhead we wave ‘at daddy.’

I’d be remiss if I didn’t say that at times we envy a life where our children would be at the same school, with the same friends, and there would never be a missed birthday, graduation, lost tooth, or Christmas concert. But I am proud of what my husband does and our role in keeping Canada glorious and free. Military families are the strength behind the uniform. So in honour of those that have sacrificed so much for our freedom, do not forget to thank the wives and mothers this Remembrance Day. Lest We Forget.

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Sarah is the mother of a 4 and 2 year old, married to an Airforce Pilot, and currently based out of Victoria, B.C.

Welcome Back, Carol, and Thank You, Guest Bloggers

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Carol will be back to blogging with 4mothers next week.  Welcome back, Carol!  (You can see some great pictures of her new bundle of boy at The Kings and I.)

And a very big “thank you” to our guest bloggers for August and September:

Kelly

Kerry Clare at Pickle Me This

KJ at let’s go fly a kite

Lori Dyan

Patsy Spanos

and Roseanne at Summer of Funner and The Lunchbox Season