Someone asked me the other day; If you had to name five things you do every day that keep you sane as a Mom, what would they be? Wow, good question! I fought the urge to answer with the expected, Shiraz, Chardonnay, Merlot, Cabernet and (for emergencies) Double Distilled. This really was a good question; I figured it deserved a real answer.

The first thing I do is that I get up one hour before the rest of the house. Yes, that means I get up at the insane time of 5am. I don’t make lunches or get things ready for the day…I drink coffee and chat online with my sister, I write or catch up on reading. This is MY time and it leads to many less moments throughout the day where I am screaming in my head for five minutes of peace and quiet.

The second thing I do is eliminate the need to think. I park in the same area of the parking lot at work, the grocery store, the mall; I never have to think about where I parked. I clip my keys to my purse when not in use, eliminating the frantic search when we are already running behind. I buy toilet paper every week whether we need it or not, we never run out and I never have to think “do we need toilet paper?” The more things I can do to live life by rote, the better!

Number three; I shut the door. When the kids were very little I used to keep their rooms for them, when they got a little older I would help them keep their rooms. When they became old enough to do it themselves without help, I shut the doors. Looking at the chaos of their untidiness makes me crazy and the nagging at them to improve their housekeeping skills makes it even worse. A very bizarre side effect of this tactic – the less you care, the more they do.

The fourth thing is that I shut the door. Yes I know that was number three, same rule, different door. I shut my door. By this I mean that I make a point of making my life not all about my kids and being a mom. I make it about my adult relationships too. I enjoy time with my friends, I enjoy time with my husband. I nurture those relationships and it makes me a better Mom, more fulfilled, more full of patience, more supported with a richer life that I can pass along to my kids.

My fifth and favourite thing is to reconnect the family every day. For us this means eating together. We share our day, argue and help each other find solutions to problems. We laugh, cry and occasionally hurl insults and peas, but we are together. This is when we keep each other in the loop, celebrate our successes and encourage one another to reach for our goals. Something else we do is to express our gratitude; we don’t skip a day or a person.

So while I might joke that the most effective coping strategy I have is a dark room and a glass of red, it really is not entirely accurate. Oh, there are days that drive me to that place and you can be certain that I have everything I need to get me right again but that’s not really how we do it, is it? The truth is that being a parent is the hardest job on the planet. It is also the only job that you can screw up every day and not get fired from. You can’t quit either, you have to do the best you can which means you have to keep those tactics in place that make you the very best at the job in front of you. For me that means less sleep, a closet full of toilet paper, hinge oil, escape and the occasional food fight.

Now I’m going to pass this question on to you…What are the five most important things you do every day that keep you sane as a parent?

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

Recent events in our home have prompted me to address a post this week about brain injuries. The air is warming up and kids are jumping on everything with wheels; bikes, skateboards, scooters, long-boards, tricycles and big wheels. I did a quick count at one point on our street this past weekend and I counted the following observance; 14 kids busy on some mode of wheeled transport, 14 kids who had increased their risk of personal injury by 100%. 1 of those 14 children was sporting a helmet. ONE!

There was also one child sitting on the curb wishing he could be wheeling around on something. That child was my son. He has been banned from all risky activity for a minimum of three weeks. He has a concussion and the doctor has benched him. Benched him because his brain is injured just like a sprained ankle or a broken leg, it needs time to heal and another blow before it has recovered could put an end to more than skateboarding.

He is suffering from headaches, poor sleep, bad dreams, nausea, mood swings, increased frustration and disappointment. He missed playing in his year end hockey tournament, has been removed from gym class participation, missed move-a-thon at school and has another 2 weeks of sitting on the curb.

If his accident had been predictable, if there had been a way to protect him from the injury you can bet I would have made sure he was equipped. Unfortunately you cannot predict an out of control burpee, a street hockey slap-shot, clumsy, bizarre or ‘how the heck did that happen?” or a compilation of the above that resulted in a whopper of an injury.

I grew up like most parents today, with parents and doctors who believed that kids bounce before they break. I fear however that far too many of us did get dropped on our heads and have suffered long term damage. Think I’m kidding? Want proof? The proof is in all of those kids riding around helmetless today. With all of the advancements in medical technology with all the research, understanding and awareness parent after parent allows their children to free wheel around without a second thought. Take a look at your kids, are they wearing helmets? Why not?

I want to challenge you to make this the year of the ‘No Brainer’ – enforce the rule. Be the parent asking where the helmets are. Ask your own kids, ask the neighbour’s kids, ask the neighbours kid’s parents. Take your kid’s wheels away when they break the rule. I dare you to be the Mom or Dad that sucks.

Put up with the complaints, the whining and the tears. Be cognizant of the dangers your kids are having too much fun to give a second thought to. Accidents happen in a second, without warning and are usually avoidable or at the very least the damage can be minimized.

Your kids only get one brain, use yours to protect it. I promise you will be grateful when they crash, that you did. They will get over the big meeny bit.

***coolness tip*** it restores you coolness factor if you are wearing your helmet because you were told to not because you chose to. Moms, Dads …yell out HELMET! for all the kids to hear so they know your kid is wearing a lid not by choice. Who cares how you get them to put one on as long as they do it. Oh and if you get the chance, lead by example.

For some great information on helmets and how to use them properly visit Safe Kids Canada.

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

Not forever, Just for two hours. Just long enough to catch a movie or go out to dinner to a restaurant where ‘red’ is a beverage not the colour of this week’s toy. Two hours to be in my kitchen baking a pie or trying one of the 8,000 recipes I’ve been collecting would be divine.

No?

I’ll settle for ninety minutes. That is plenty of time to read a magazine at the coffee shop, take a bath or start my next craft project. With ninety minutes I could put some really good thoughts to paper, or even begin organizing my pictures.

No dice?

Sixty minutes then. I can grab a catnap or research that vacation we want to take. Sixty minutes is enough time to catch up with my sister. Sixty minutes is just enough time to clean out my email and reconnect with my social network.

Still no!

Okay, how about 30 minutes? Long enough to colour my hair or paint my toe nails a funky fresh colour for spring, that would be sweet. Maybe fit in some time on the elliptical or watch the episode of Whitney I missed driving my daughter to her boyfriend’s house. How about that?

No, huh?

10 minutes then, just long enough to finish a cup of coffee while it’s hot or crack the spine on that novel that has been collecting dust on the bedside table. Before I do that I should probably finish the last chapter from the book I managed to start 6 months ago, that will take 10 minutes.

Really? No?

Can we just slow the ride down a bit then? I’ll settle for that. That will have to do. I could hit the drive through, send a text, brush my hair, take the stairs, write a grocery list, send a picture to my sister so that she knows I’m still alive. I could dust that book or Google the trailers for movies so I understand what people are buzzing about.

Seriously…we can’t even slow it down?

Throw me a chocolate bar, that will have to do. I’ll eat it in the car while I wait for my daughter to come out of work. I promise to eat it fast and hide the evidence so that my kids don’t find out that I squeezed 45 seconds of ‘me’ time into my day.

That’s my go to when life gets way to busy and way too about making everyone else’s world go around.

What is your ’45 second break from reality’? I could use some new ones, all those chocolate bars are catching up with me!

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

As your last child attains milestones they close the gates of passage behind them. For parents this is always a time of reflection. When I packed up those receiving blankets for the last time I cried, when I changed my last diaper I did a happy dance. Recently we’ve been closing a great many gates. Most notably we now have a house full of people old enough, and occasionally mature enough, to stay home alone. This is a very big deal and every child or rather every parent reaches the moment in their own time.

How do you know if your child is ready and capable? Beyond the legal requirements of age ask yourself this simple question; can your child make cereal? I promise you that the first thing your child will do when you lock the front door is eat. If the idea of your child preparing a bowl of cereal provokes images that scare the living bejeebers out of you, neither one of you is ready.

In seriousness though, once you decide that your precious dependant can weather some alone time, there are some very serious lessons and tools that need to be discussed and made available.

• Make sure your child knows emergency basics. This sounds like a no brainer but think it through. Little things get missed. I failed to talk to my kids about the smell of natural gas and what to do if they smelled it, until the day they had to deal with it and they said “nobody told me!” Go room by room together, look for dangers and talk them through.

• Know the ‘NOs’. No Door, No Phone, No friends, No heat, No water. Door bells that ring go unanswered. Phones get answered with an excuse that you are napping or showering. Little friends are not privilege to the information that your child is home alone; loose lips sink ships. Now is also not the time for stoves, toasters, baths or showers.

• List the list. Know who is home in the neighbourhood. Know what family members or friends are available in case of emergency. Go over the list with your kids every time before you walk out the door. Don’t forget to give your list the heads up that you are heading out. Make sure all phone numbers are out and ready.

• Let them in on the details. You want your kids to tell you now (and when they are teenagers) where they will be and what time they will be home. Lead by example, return the respect; give them the details – Don’t forget to call if you are going to be later than you said.

• Start small in the daylight hours. A 15 minute trip to fuel the car or pick up some milk eases children into the process. Don’t start in the dark; darkness increases the fear factor by 150%. It takes some very confident kids a very long time to be comfortable home alone at night.

• Check for training. There are home alone programs in every area, offered by community groups, schools, police services, and the same organizations that offer babysitting courses. The piece of mind is worth investing in.
Lastly…
• Clean your closets. Do not overlook this important step….

True story: The very first time we left our youngest daughter home without us she was not really alone, she was in the capable care of her sister, a one year veteran of the home alone group. We were only gone to the grocery store; you could see it from our house. We were only gone 27 minutes. In those 27 minutes our youngest daughter managed to convince her big sister that the boogie man was indeed in our house. In those 27 minutes they deemed the situation an emergency, left the house and ran to the neighbour’s for help. The neighbour being a parent and a logical person calmed the girls, brought them home and checked the house for them. Yes, every closet, under every bed, the basement, the garage even under the dining room table. Any housekeeping indiscretions I had kept successfully hidden from my neighbourhood were launched into the daylight.

Note: If this happens to you, the very best you can manage is to call your neighbour, thank them profusely and offer to buy their silence.
Our last little one is preparing close the Home Alone gate behind him. After carefully reflecting on our errors the first two times around we have begun the training and the testing. We have also begun purging closets, organizing cupboards and sweeping out under the beds. You can never be too careful!

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

How do you feel about paying your kids? Are you for the practice or against? We have a pretty hard line in our home – Nobody gets paid. It is a rule based on fairness. Families are a team effort and while most often the parents carry the team everybody has a position to play. Everybody does something to make the house run. When the kids were little I used to put socks on their hands and charge them with dusting anything below my kneecaps. Did they like it? Maybe not, but kids that age will do anything if you sing it. For almost 8 years nobody talked in our house, we sang. Everything… ‘Who will set the table?”… “I will, I will… lalalala” and so on. Things got done because we made it fun. That works when the kids are little because their currency is ‘fun’.

By the time they get into school they come to appreciate actual currency, the paper kind that can be traded for goods, services and candy. They want money! They want it and the internal struggle begins. Do you pay kids for helping out around the house? Is allowance a good thing? Should allowance be connected to performance? I go to work every day and I get paid for doing a job. If I ask my kids to do a job for me shouldn’t they be fairly compensated? Perhaps, but I get paid to do jobs for people I don’t live with (much to their relief) I do not get paid to work at home. At last count in our home I currently hold 6 full-time positions, 23 part-time ones and a host of special consultation gigs. I know my family pretty well, there is no way they can afford me, so I work pro bono (Oh but if they could afford me…imagine.. ChaChing!)

We have deemed in our home that most things you do because they are required as part of caring for yourself, and being respectful of the people you live with, chores are the requirement of holding a position on the team. Rooms get cleaned and laundry gets washed, dishes get put in the dishwasher (on occasion) because you cannot live in filth or smell like gym socks and paper and plastic are environmentally irresponsible. The reciprocal effects of your efforts are having room to entertain your friends, friends who want to share your fresh scented company and an absence of salmonella and listeria.

For everything else my kids go to the bank of Mom. Yes, sorry to all those parents who claim not to be a bank; you are. Might as well think like one… If you want money from me, there had better be some in your account or you better have good credit.

My kids fill up their mom accounts with extra courtesies. Maybe you folded a load a laundry or watched your brother after school; deposits to the Mom bank. Maybe you want to go to the movies on Saturday night or want to join your little friends on a run to the corner store for neon green and blue slushies; withdrawals from the Mom bank. Help goes in, privileges come out.

It all works pretty well; the kids get to earn some privileges without my actually paying for their efforts to keep the house running smoothly. As far as cash money, they earn a respectable amount through birthdays, babysitting gigs, and odd jobs for people they don’t live with. Our son is the very best at saving up his cash money for big purchases. It is funny just how quickly they figure out that Mom and Dad are not shelling out for any item that could cause bodily injury.

I am sure that there are better, simpler approaches to the allowance dilemma, some work, some don’t, we have tried most on and one thing is certain; you have to use what works with your values and family. What really works for our family right now is the kids starting to get real life jobs; jobs with schedules and pay stubs, bosses and responsibilities. Jobs that encourage their own spending and improve the healthy bottom line of the Mom Bank. Now I’m not so much credit manager as I am financial advisor. If I do this new job right they might just be able to pay me for my pro bono work someday!

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

Seventeen years ago this summer I became a mom, I received many wonderful gifts and pearls of wisdom in those first months but none that resounded or made me laugh quite as much as a note from a very dear friend of my mother. It was a beautiful note penned in delicate hand, congratulatory like so many others. Perhaps my admiration for this wonderful woman made her words more precious to my heart, every single cursive flowing word. All, except those of the very last line. It said … “Your bathroom will still be there in 18 years.” What kind of advice it THAT?

What she meant was that it would still be there and still need cleaning! I thought the note was cleaver and insightful and genuine. What it wasn’t; was completely accurate. Oh sure we are almost at that 18 year mark and indeed I still have a bathroom, but it is not the same bathroom.

My old bathroom was shiny and sparkly. It had a towel bar for fancy lace trimmed guest towels and a towel bar for everyday use family towels. There was a dainty little dish of rose shaped soaps, it matched the dainty little toothbrush holder that was reflected in a crystal clear mirror. My bathroom had fuzzy matching mats in front of the tub and surrounding the toilet. My bathroom smelled like Tropical breezes and Windex. It had candles and rolled up facecloths, lotions, perfumes, décor and a cute little cover for the T.P.
[Please excuse me while I compose myself.]

Why am I giving you such an in depth illustration of my bathroom? Because it is gone, it is gone and recently when I received a request to address the domestic struggles of housekeeping avec children and significant others; my beautiful little bathroom was the first thought that came to mind. I thought about my bathroom and all the things that heartfelt note did not say.

It didn’t say that one day five people will use the bathroom. That of those five only two will fully complete the task of refilling the toilet paper, the others will all leave the room void of toilet paper, forcing the next user to plead helplessly into the air register for someone to stuff a roll through the door. Nowhere was the message that the space around my tub, which used to house candles and perfumed shower lotions, would be filled with 23 empty bottles of shampoo, & bodywash, dotted with cans of shaving cream a collection of razors, a plastic Pizza Hut cup and a ragged poof. I read that note a hundred times and I promise, it never said that my beautiful sparkling porcelain sink would be covered in alien globs of toothpaste or that I would one day find my feet glued to the floor via a dangerous mix of dampness and remnant hair ‘over’ spray.

Yes she said, ‘Your bathroom will still be there in 18 years.’ She failed to mention that the fancy lace trimmed towels would disappear to the rag-bin, with a perfect imprint of a 2 year old face in grape jelly. Leaving 2 empty towel bars, one where the guest towels used to be and the other on the wall just above the sopping pile of family use towels. Oh, and she never mentioned all the Saturday afternoons I would be wrapped around the toilet scrubbing walls, trying to conceive how a male who can knock a cap off a beer bottle from 15 feet with a quarter can miss aim at a target the size of the Bent Crater in relative comparison. She never said I would enter my bathroom some days holding my breath and leave wiping my tears, mourning the pretty rose soaps and the tropical breeze. I can on good day still see the dainty toothbrush holder in the mirror, mostly, it looks a little like the surface of the moon now where tooth brush spatter distorts its image.

Hidden among her sentiment, most certainly, was not the knowledge that my bathroom would still be there but that on a daily basis is would be transformed into a germ encrusted, cyclone disaster area. That no one would see the puddle of pee on the back of the toilet or the makeup smeared on the counter top but me (and my mother-in-law). Not a hint that my family would rest contently supine on the couch littering the carpet with new and unnoticed crumbs, marking the coffee table with sweat rings and salsa while I scrub and wash, hang and febreeze.
Not a word.

As we approach year 18 however, I am coming to understand that the message was not in her words it was in the gift attached. A tiny beautifully hand knit layette.

Her message was this; all things with children are temporary, the stages, the grief, the sleepless nights. They too quickly grow out of tiny knitted layettes and they will grow out of your house too. When that happens, your bathroom will still be there. Just easier to clean.

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

I’m going to be completely honest here and tell you that if you are dining in my space I am judging you. Sorry but it’s true. I have spent too many dinners with a kid leaning over the banquette picking his nose and yelling into my husband’s ear about how fish is gross and pickles make you burp. Many a fabulous meal has been ruined by a fellow diner picking his teeth with his knife, answering his phone, pilfering food off another’s plate or eating with his fingers. Miss Manners where are you?

I am so fed up with sitting in earshot of diners talking with mouths full of food and guzzling wine like Gatorade. If I can see what you are eating while you are chewing it, I am taking offence, I promise. Perhaps I’m a little over sensitive because we have been dining out a lot lately for one occasion or another. Maybe I’m over generalizing; I will admit that a vast majority of diners are well composed. A great many also possess manners that would disgust a troop of poo flinging monkeys.

In the interest of improving my dining experiences and the appetites of the many friends, I conducted a little informal survey of sorts and was offered the following…

• Fork to face not face to plate
• Sip not slurp
• Swallow first, speak later
• Lips tight – food out of sight
• Face your plate, sit and wait
• It’s a knife not a hacksaw
• A 10oz. steak is not a 2 bite brownie
• Bread and ribs are the only finger permissible foods – unless silverware is not supplied by the establishment
• It’s a napkin not a bib
• Exits from the body demand exit from the table
• It’s not a race – diner should take as long to eat as it took to reach your plate.
• Shut your $%&# phone off.

Oh I could go on all day, I got a lot of great frustrated responses, these just seemed to me the most indigestion inducing offences.

The number one complaint…(and I bet you can guess)…“kids who don’t have manners”

You know I’m talking about that booger eater dangling his cheese covered fork inches from your cashmere sweater. If you are wearing a cashmere sweater I promise you will get the table next to this kid, not the one over by the fireplace with the sweet ‘please and thank you’ children sitting nearby colouring quietly on their place-mats.

What makes the difference? Practice. Good manners don’t just magically appear in public, those kids and parents are practising at home, they are dining around the table, using please and thank you. Dad is sending kids to time out for flinging peas at their sibling and Mom is ignoring every comment made with a mouth full of macaroni. Many dinners are ending in tears and many are ending in folly but in defiance of how obstinate those kids can be, Mom and Dad are persisting, eating tums like after dinner mints and calling red wine a ‘dinner accompaniment.’ They are correcting and leading by example. Some parents (bless their table manner dedication) even offer gentle correction to little friends who stay for supper.

To these parents I say Bravo! Not only are you saving the dining experience for the rest of us but you are setting your kids up for remarkable futures. Futures filled with second dates and successful business lunches. You are saving them from diners like myself, one soufflé away from launching an ‘in your face manner intervention’ on the next guy who stuffs his mouth with bread and yells at a server to bring him another beer.

It’s going to happen; it’s only a matter of time.

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

Our kids are continually asking questions in our home “What did I do when I was little? What is something I used to do?” I get trapped every single time and it only takes Mike or I, in a brief second of ‘remember when’, to slip and mention someone’s former cuteness. All it takes is a casual comment like “I like your outfit, you’ve come a long way from those 3 weeks you wore a diaper on your head and those big yellow sunglasses.” That’s all it takes to get the barrage of memory recall underway. “What did I do Mommy? What did I used to say Mommy? How come you don’t remember what I used to do mommy? How come you can remember all those stories about Becky, Mommy? Don’t you love me Mommy?” (One day we are going to have a little conversation in our home entitled “Repression and its Benefits on the Parental Psyche”) I try to be patient, I completely get that one simple question leads to a battle royal of sibling rivalry and competition, what doesn’t?

Sibling rivalry is basic to human survival. We are born with the need to be number one. Battling for supremacy with our siblings is practice for becoming top of the real world heap; I read that in a magazine article somewhere. The concept makes perfect sense to me, until you apply the principals of sibling rivalry and combat to grown up life.

As an adult you could never get away with dumping a co-worker out of their desk chair, even if they deserved it. You cannot ram your cart into the ankles of the guy in front of you at the grocery store just because he is walking too slow and taking up both the aisle and your way around him. It might be nice to trade your coat at the hat check for something that works better with your outfit; but would you? Maybe the next time some person in the coffee drive through orders bagels toasted with 4 different cream cheese combinations somebody could get out of their car and pinch them in the face really, really hard. If you thought for even a minute that you could call your boss a baboon nose stupid-head without consequence, would you?

These thoughts cross my mind, I won’t lie, but I never act upon them. Somewhere between cutting up my brother’s comic books and bruising their kneecaps I developed a grown-up approach to interaction and negotiations. I began using my hands for helping not hurting. I grasped an understanding that my opinion need not always be outwardly expressed (sometimes I even follow that instinct). I have never kicked anyone in a bank line up to clue them into their turn at the wicket and I refrain from swapping out my garbage can for the neighbour’s shiny modern non-dented can.

Maybe I don’t have to understand how floating your sister’s toothbrush in the fish tank helps you learn tack and compassion but I do have a few questions of my own for the parenting gods.

When in the name of parental sanity does it happen? When does the tide turn? When does the switch get flipped that will transform my taunting, pinching, borrowing, name calling little angels into civilized negotiators? Will it happen? Why does it happen for everyone else? Don’t you parenting gods love me?

Does it happen?….I wonder, because I spent 40 minutes locked in a minivan this weekend with two of my children debating fiercely about the strength, odour, and vomitrousness of one another’s breath. 40 minutes! There was no quelling the debate, no rationalizing, no cease and desist order that would stop the name calling, descriptive word concocting, breathing in each other’s face that consumed the backseat and my last nerve. I get called on regularly to referee debates like our Sunday night feature; a raging teenage laundry battle at 11:30pm. My mental file of made up names and slams has reached 5,234 entries. At least once a week someone gets pushed out of their chair, gets hit with a cart, has their face pinched or their favourite sweater pilfered.

I’m not certain that the switch is going to flip and it all makes me miss those good old days of them wearing diapers on their heads.

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

Valentine’s Day is fast approaching and I urge parents everywhere to get real about your definition of Romance. I spent this past Sunday in the mall, my senses assaulted with a sea of red; roses, chocolates, singing stuffed gorillas, cards, jewelry, balloons at every turn. This is not the romance of the modern parent. If you’re looking for this I can’t offer any suggestions. The only thing I know about this brand of romance is that it will turn our home into a hormonal fallout shelter next week for teenage girls crushed by teenage boys who didn’t know the expectations were so high. The experience did remind me however that romance is not always clearly defined.

The romance I want all of us parental types to get real about is the committed kind. Let’s concede that pre-offspring-take-over romance is, for all intents and purposes, gone but not forgotten. You do remember it don’t you? Those Sleep in Saturdays spent spooning and basking in the joys on couple-hood and the remnant glow of a sleepless Friday night, the Impromptu getaways, candlelight dinners, romantic movies and all night conversations shared over red wine and Chinese food. I haven’t lost anybody have I? It hasn’t been that long; surely you remember tripping the light fantastic and stumbling to the kitchen scantily clad, seeking ice cream….

Back to today please, you have kids now, those days are gone! No sense sulking, there are diapers to change, lunches to make. The best you might do is to recapture those days in 20 years when the kids move into their own lives and you are left staring at a wrinkly stranger you once called lover. Won’t that be fun??? It might be if you can stay real about romance between now and then.

So many couples complain that their lives are devoid of romance. I want to point out that usually it’s not gone, we just don’t recognize it anymore. It’s not swinging from a chandelier after all, waving a purple feather boa screaming ‘here I am!’

I once heard the sentiment that ‘the best thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother.’ I have altered the saying a little. For as much as I would like to put all of the onus on my better half of 20 years, I know that if I’m going to get what I want, I’m going to have to take some ownership too. We have to love one another. This means having each other’s backs in the parental trenches, it means expressing romance with compassion more often than with passion. It means recognizing the gestures.

Romance is your husband feeding your toddler a steady stream of cheesies just to keep him quiet long enough for you to catch a 10 minute nap. It’s getting up before the alarm to start the morning coffee or opting for the action flick knowing you’ll be sleeping before the opening credits finish rolling anyway. Romance is being content that the closest you might get this week to a candlelight dinner is take-out sandwiches in the school parking lot together before an impromptu teacher’s conference. Catching your husband’s eye in desperation just as you leave shoe store number seven empty handed is a cry for romance. When he answers your plea by slipping you 10 bucks and pointing you in the direction of the closest Espresso Bar with an offer to meet you when your darling daughter has some shoes – That is romance! Congratulations… your romance is not gone! – you just didn’t recognize it wearing flannel pyjamas.

Romance is appreciating the bar of dark chocolate that mysteriously appears in your bedside drawer each week or dropping the kids at Grandmas of Thursday so that you can do groceries old school with a latte and conversations about the week.
Romance is folding socks, and other mundane actions that maintain the everyday connections. Acts of compassion that say “I love you – I care enough about us to put in the time and sacrifice now, so that in 20 years we’ll both emerge with our wits intact with a really great family and you’ll be ready for the wrinkly me that shows up at the door with an arm load of flowers and chocolates.”

That is romance in flannel pyjamas. If you happen to get a little Hallmark on the side, all the more power to you, you’re rocking your romance flannels in a pair of high-heels! If you can do it and acknowledge and appreciate the acts of compassion as acts of romance I promise, that when your wrinkly old lover shows up in 20 years you will want to greet him wearing that frilly little number he used to love so much.

Here’s to love, memories and singing gorillas!

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.

So you believe in supporting your community and you want your kids to develop a strong habit of giving. What’s that?… your kids can detect an extra 100 bucks in the budget with subliminal stealth and will blow a hole in their running shoes or loose a filling just to get their fair share. Good, your kids are just like mine – money sponges!

Families without bottomless bank accounts have to get a little creative in their efforts to support charity. We have to give things that don’t cost or better yet, use someone else’s money to make a difference. Lucky for us, there is no shortage of other people’s money to be found and free is only limited by your imagination…

• Spend your Points… It seems that every store has a points/reward program of some sort or another. Do your shopping, collect your points and spend them a few times a year on food bank donations. Any house hold with teenagers can practically feed another family with their points!

• It’s In You To Give… For the grown-ups in the house, one hour every 56 days can save 3 lives. It costs you nothing, is as easy as getting your car’s oil changed and really is tangible. I used to think only accident victims needed blood, until my friend got cancer, now I really understand the everyday need… and you get a free cookie!

• Pass it On… This is one that the vast majority of families do. As our kids out grow life we pass things along. Don’t forget women’s shelters and immigration programs, when you get new house hold items. Somebody setting up from scratch will really appreciate those towels that don’t match your bathroom anymore.

• Finders keepers… Your kids are going to protest this one, I promise. Found money is not your money. If you can’t readily identify the victim of loss, stick the funds in the first charity box you find. Yes, everything from nickels to sawbucks go in the box, there are no exceptions. Yes, there may even be tears.

• Save Paper… Many schools and churches collect grocery tapes and soup labels which they later submit to the retailer for cash. If your school or church does not do this, find one that does. My Gran used to stuff my mother’s teapot with her tapes for our school. I think she funded the new gymnasium.

• Give one free… When you run into that buy one get one free deal… Do it! There is always a home for free. Free socks can go the homeless shelter, free beans can go to the food bank, free $5.00 gift cards for coffee and sandwich shops can be handed to someone looking for a hot meal. Free gas (yes it happens occasionally) can be tucked quietly in the mail box of a family who could use a hand with medical travel expenses.

• Win – Win… Roll the rim, scratch to win, peel & play. Win a coffee, a doughnut, a smoothie, a sandwich, some fries? Keep those winning tabs handy in your purse or car to pass along. You’ll know who could use a smile or a hot drink or some nutrition.

• It’s about time… The most ‘free’ thing we have to give and very often the most needed is our time. Volunteer, there are no shortages of positions and it is surprisingly easy to volunteer as a family. Special events, festivals and charity events are a short commitment and love family volunteer participation. Choose an event with meaning to your family, it connects everyone to their job.

• Cha-ching… That 12 cents you get back from your large coffee everyday adds up to $43.80 over the course of a year. Put the 12 cents in the charity box every day and you’ve made a pretty good donation.

• Funny Money… Save those Canadian Tire dollars for the year. In December add it all up and take the family shopping for a toy (or toys – if you your husband has done exceptional collecting) Deliver to the local toy drive.

• Cash in… Taking the empties back to the beer store? Stick the proceeds into the charity box. Remember liquor bottles are refundable too. Some of us have an opportunity to make a significant impact!

• Spread the word… Don’t kid yourself, people are listening. If you hear about an event or charity that needs support, pass it on. Maybe you can’t fund a project but you can get the information to someone who is able. News travels fast, be part of the good rumour mill.

When you start looking, free opportunities to do good are everywhere! If you need help identifying them, ask your money sponges. They can smell and opportunity just as well as $100!

What ways have you found to make a daily difference with your family?

You can also find Michelle at her blog The Space Between Raindrops, sharing wisdom, gratitude and humour.