This week was a pretty rough week to be a mom. Mom-wise, had I been measured on my performance over the last seven days, I would have fallen somewhere between “raging wreck” and “why bother?”
Having recently moved into a job that temporarily involves an 1.5 hour commute on both ends, the routine at home has taken a slight shift. And by slight shift, I mean its been whacked over the head and dragged through the streets of suburbia all the way into downtown Toronto.
Last week, despite my best efforts, I just couldn’t do anything right. Thanks to traffic, I was up and out of the house by 6:20am, leaving work at 4pm and barely pulling in before 6pm to pick up my daughter from daycare. I was too tired at night to prep dinner for the following days which meant leftovers, frozen dinners and one spontaneous pizza night which followed my being $8 late to pick up my daughter form daycare. Sorry, I meant 4 minutes late but since they charge lagging parents by the minute, it’s practically the same thing. Continue reading “We All Need That Mom In Our Village”
Curacao: A blue liqueur that makes tropical drinks taste delicious. Right?
Until about two months before booking, I’d never heard of a Curacao beyond the cocktail list. When family suggested making Curacao our Christmas getaway, we immediately took to researching the island and Google sent turquoise waters crawling across my screen. We were sold. To escape what turned out to be a remarkably warm winter in the end, we decided to make haste to the beautiful beaches of Curacao.
Curacao: About the Island
Wat bedoel ik ? Curacao is a Dutch Carribean island which, today, speaks the language of Papiamentu (very confusing when you show up expecting Dutch, and listening for Spanish… it took us a few days to figure things out). At first glance (and even at close up), the colourful houses lining the water in Williemsted are entirely reminiscent of Amsterdam, with decorative facades squished together near the edge of the water. We had a passing glance of Williamsted en route to our hotel from the airport… it was solid timing considering we had just caught glance of the monster of an oil refinery riggght across the highway. Eek! That being said, Curacao ranks 46th in the world in terms of GDP per capita for a reason and part of that reason is that it hosts the Isla Refinery, operated by Venezuela’s state oil company. Cha-ching!
Continue reading “Curacao: One Week at the Santa Barbara Beach and Golf Resort”
Remember those days when last minute, we’d all decide to meet downtown for drinks, spend hours re-hashing the ups and downs of the past week and brainstorm over trips we’d take and plans we’d make with all that extra time we have floating around?
No, neither do it.
And I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I birthed a human and now I can’t commit to anything if it’s not on my calendar 3 months in advance. Don’t misunderstand me. I LOVE going out. My post-baby booty loves to shake it and I am dying to mingle with fun-loving adults. Anyone in fact, who doesn’t pull my hair, slap my face or expect me to eat food they’ve graciously pre-chewed.
What’s stopping me, you ask? Let’s start with the babysitter. Mainly, the fact that I don’t have one, and my husband’s out of town. I mean, of course there are the grandparents, but I’ve already reserved them at strategically dispersed intervals throughout the next year, so I don’t really want to push it. There’s the neighbour’s daughter who is amazing with my daughter but has school commitments and you know, a life, and unfortunately she’s not free on Saturdays. There is that other babysitter who charges like $20/hour… I guess maybe I could get her. If we leave at 5pm to get there for 6:30pm, that’s dinner from 6:45-8:30pm – and then dancing you say? Yes, of course dancing. That goes until, what…11pm? Ahem, oh yes of course I meant 1am, obviously. So at $20/hour (maybe I can negotiate down to $15 or so) that will cost me around $120. Plus gas. No big deal (gulp). Maybe I just won’t drink? Genius! A sober night off. I’ll rememeber more this way. Phew! Glad that’s taken care of.
Continue reading “Parenthood and the Death of Spontaneity”