It's all... so... simple...

I hope Pea doesn't jump the gun.

Now that the Pod is back at work, life is... different. Instead of quietly sneaking out of the house and driving 45 minutes to work, my mornings now involve dropping Pea off at my Pod-in-laws, dropping the Pod off at the office and finally making my way to work. Each way is 1.5 hours.

Our refusal to buy a second car is the right choice, but the 3 hours I spend driving every day gives me time to think, to say the least.

Lately, I've been thinking "simplification". Reduce the commute. Get more sleep. Eat more efficiently. Spend less money. Blog more often. Get more exercise. Have more fun. And so on.

Earlier tonight, I had a Eureka moment... I was convinced that simplification was right around the corner, or in this case, just down the street. In what I am now calling a "severe moment of weakness", I pitched my foolproof plan to the Pod:

Me: Let's sell the house and move downtown.

Pod: What? Why?

Me: We'd be closer to work and remember how much fun we had when we lived downtown?

Pod: What about Pea?

Me: She can come too!

Pod: Thanks, genius. I meant life downtown would be different with a kid. It's not all pub nights and shopping sprees. Pea'll have so much less space in a condo... we went nuts in a condo, just the two of us... now we have a hurricane to add to the mix!

Me: We could get a 2-bedroom plus den. It'll be great!

Pod: And what if we are blessed with another kid?

Me: They can share a room, they'll be best friends!

Pod: You've thought of everything, haven't you?

Me: You know it! WOOT WOOT!

Pod: And if we have a boy? Don't you think they'll want their privacy eventually?

Me: Well...

Pod: We'd have to pay ridiculous condo fees for a bunch of amenities we'll never use...

Me: Right...

Pod: And what about breaking our mortgage?

Me: So we'd have to pay a few thousand in penalties.

Pod: Isn't that a little counter-intuitive to you?

Me: I guess...

Pod: And Pea would never be able to ride her bike... there's too much traffic and smog. And we'd have to go all the way down to the park for her to play, instead of watching her frolic in the backyard. And even then, there's a pervert on every bench downtown.

Me: She could ride her bike in the condo! And we'll get a sandbox for the balcony!

Pod: (Blank Stare)

Me: Ok, bad idea.

Pod: I don't exactly like the suburbs either, but we agreed that we want Pea to grow-up with a backyard to play in and space for us all to keep our sanity. Remember, the more things change, the more they stay the same. We'll settle into our routine and all will be well again. Give it some time.

Me: You are so wise.

So, I'm still looking to simplify, but I now realize that our life is no longer meant to make sense all the time. The only thing I can count on is change. And it's a good thing I took all those change management courses at work, because I'm going to need them.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't jump the gun.

(N.B. The above conversation has been embellished to illustrate my point... it's my right as a blogger.)

Now showing...

I hope the characters of Pea's youth don't one day falter in her adulthood.

We read to our little Pea. A lot. Every night we read her one or two books, and we also read to her before nap time. While I wasn't a big reader as a youngin', the Pod was a big book enthusiast and I am hoping Pea picks up where her mom left off.

For those that don't have kids, or who have moved beyond this phase of their lives, many of the books we find ourselves reading Pea are the very same ones we were read as kids. Goodnight Moon, Little Nutbrown Hare, countless Little Golden Books and many a Munsch tale are all prominent fixtures on Pea's bookshelf.

What boggles my mind is that we are beginning to see the characters from our youth coming to life on the big screen. Sure, comic books sagas have been made into films before, but I'm talking about the tales that define many a thirty-something's childhood.

Examples? Ok. Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are is scheduled for release in October and Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland will hit the big screen next year.

As I watch the trailers for these films (see below), I can't help but wonder whether the movies themselves will match the strength of my youthful imagination.

I also wonder if Pea will one day come face to face with the characters from the books we read to her today. Will Frisson L'Écureuil make a major motion picture one day? Will Pea get to see Little Miss Curious take on Little Mr. Tickle in a big screen Battle Royal? Who knows.

I'll let you know what my opinion is once I've seen Alice and Max on the big screen. My hunch is that I won't be disappointed.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope the characters of her youth don't one day falter in her adulthood.

Space... the Final Photo Opportunity

I hope Pea doesn't let a good PR opportunity cloud her judgment.

Forty years ago, the United States of America put a man on the moon. With his famous, albeit redundant words, Neil Armstrong proclaimed "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" and instantly made it cool to be a space geek. Grown men wept. School children dreamed of extra-terrestrial futures. Buzz Aldrin cursed his bad luck.

Today, as the world celebrates this major accomplishment in human history, many countries are also announcing their plans for future outer space exploration. Billions of dollars are being spent to research and explore the frontiers of our existence that are yet to be understood, so that we might have a clearer sense of where we are going and where we came from... personally, I'm all for it.

To do its part, the Canadian Space Agency and the Federal government cashed in on the hype of the first moon landing and announced a 'significant' contribution to the globe's space exploration efforts. The total spend? Wait for it... wait for it... an additional $110 million over three years for space robotics and technology.

Step back, Canada.

Granted, I don't know much about this kind of stuff. I'm no astronaut. I don't know what space robotics actually entails, although I do have an iRobot kind of scenario playing out in my head when I think about it.

What I do know is that it costs roughly 5 times that investment to send a television satellite into orbit. And we've gotten pretty good at sending satellites into orbit, so I imagine that's as cheap as it gets.

So I ask: what good is $37 million extra per year really going to do to the Canadian Space Agency?

As a country, we are constantly falling short on our commitment to help fight AIDS in Africa. There's a global climate challenge taking place right now on this planet. Our public transportation programs around the country are in dire need of funding. Every mayor of every city in Canada is claiming they don't have enough to do what Canadians need today. And so on.

So, when it came down to it, we chose to give the Canadian Space Agency what amounts to petty cash to get some good publicity, instead of putting that $110 million dollars to good use.

To infinity and beyond!... on a budget, I guess.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't let a good PR opportunity cloud her judgment.

Step by Step, Oooh Baby!

I hope Pea never ceases to excite me.

Think back to the first time you did something really exciting. Go ahead, I'll wait...

Maybe you're thinking of the first time you drove a car, or the first time you scored a goal playing soccer. Maybe it's that first trip to the UK, when you spent a week living the life of a Londoner without the worries of work weighing you down. Maybe it's the first time you kissed someone or the first time you had sex. More than likely, you're thinking of the first time you read my blog.

Whatever it is that comes to mind, the one thing that ties all of our thoughts together is that we likely wanted to do it over and over again to recapture that unmistakable feeling of happiness.

Today, my little Pea felt the joy of doing something special for the first time and she spent the whole day recapturing the feeling. All day long, she was walking.

She's walked before, but the Pod and I could always tell that she was nervous and scared. Today, we could see that she was excited and proud, no longer completely afraid of falling and hurting herself. This was an entirely new feeling for her.

And every time she'd take a few unassisted steps, the Pod and I would congratulate her with a big hug or throw her up in the air for a celebratory Daddy Rocket ride. She'd giggle and then we'd set her up again and watch her do it once more. It was a great day.

Maybe tomorrow she'll regress and look to us to cart her around the house or crawl to her destination. Maybe it'll be days, or weeks before she is brave enough to proudly walk on her own again.

If that's the case, I won't mind at all. The fact of the matter is that every day with Pea brings something new and exciting to celebrate and even more to look forward to tomorrow. Whether it's walking, or talking, potty training or university graduation, my little girl will never cease to thrill me in new and exciting ways.

She's what makes tomorrow worth looking forward to.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she never ceases to excite me.

What the hell happened here?

I hope Pea doesn’t let greed affect her business decisions.

Dear Tooth Fairy Inc.,

For the next 7-13 years, I will be telling my Pea that whenever she loses a tooth, your company will send a “Tooth Fairy” to fly in through her window and deposit untold riches beneath her pillow. I will keep up my end of this bargain – and pony up the money to be left under her pillow - because I believe it is an essential part of her creative development to believe such nonsense (for a relatively short period of time).

After all, if Pea is happy, I'm happy.

That said, I don’t think you are holding up your end of this arrangement.

The sole purpose of your business is to regulate the value of teeth. It has recently come to my attention that your company is seriously mismanaging the economic forecasting aspect of your business. This mismanagement has the potential to leave me and many other new parents with a debilitating and irreversible tooth-for-cash program.

I’ve heard today's going rate for a tooth can be anywhere between $15 and $20, depending on the size of the tooth. HOW COULD THIS BE? Twenty-five years ago, when I was a kid, a tooth was worth $1 MAXIMUM. Inflation alone would not bring us to these present day values, and I am unaware of an increased demand for children’s teeth. In fact, I do not believe children’s teeth have any value whatsoever, and as such a $1 reward is more than generous.

What’s more, this $15-$20 estimate is a current value. I cringe when I think of what a tooth will be worth in a few years, when Pea loses her first. Will I have to give her a Counterfeit Money Detection System along with a crisp $50 bill? I certainly hope not.

Madoff Investment Securities. Fannie Mae. Freddy Mac. All of the American Banks. These are but a few examples of what can happen when greed, corruption and corporate mismanagement take hold of a business.

I challenge you to reclaim your dignity, Tooth Fairy Inc., before the very people you seek to assist turn their backs on you.

Kind regards,
A Concerned Financier

CC: Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, The Walt Disney Company

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn’t let greed affect her business decisions.

Big Ups Ourson

I hope Pea doesn't forget Ourson.

My little Pea is a poor sleeper. She's a lot like the Pod, who needs to stay awake to the point of exhaustion so she falls right into a deep slumber when her head hits the pillow.

One of the things we did to try and help Pea sleep better was give her a 'lovey'; a soft item that she can hold close for comfort when she sleeps. For the longest time, this lovey was 'Ourson', an aptly named and adorable little bear that the Pod bought Pea for Easter.

Until recently, we were under the impression that Pea loved Ourson. They would play together in bed. Pea would whip Ourson around like a rag doll and from time to time hug and kiss him (albeit aggressively).

In hindsight, we were misreading Pea's signals. As it turns out, Pea doesn't like Ourson. She prefers more 'old skool' fare.

On a recent trip to the U.S., we forgot Ourson under a pile of blankets in the bed we had been sleeping in. It wasn't until we were an hour into our trip home that we realized Ourson was lying alone, suffocating under a pile of blankets, likely crying out for us and deeply saddened that we forgot him.

As much as that thought pained us - literally, I still get a little teary thinking of the poor little guy all alone - we decided it wasn't worth the trip back to retrieve him. We would soldier on without him until he could be shipped back to Canada.

To select a temporary lovey, Pea was placed in front of her plush toy stash and was allowed to pick anything she wanted. She reached straight away for Oopsie, a green Care Bear with a rattling tummy.

Watching Pea hug, kiss and squeeze Oopsie makes it clear that Ourson was an unwanted sleep aid imposed upon her by her well-meaning but clueless parents. Seeing how happy she becomes when Oopsie is around is virtually a slap in the face to our old friend Ourson.

In adult terms, it would be like watching your girlfriend make-out vigorously with another guy while she holds your heart in her hand and puts cigarettes out with your left ventricle.

It's cold, people. It can be hard to watch.

The good news is that Pea seems to really like Oopsie. In the end, that's all that matters. But we will need to make sure we teach Pea about the brave and valiant Ourson, who sacrificed his own safety and well being in an attempt to help her sleep better.

Ourson deserves as much.

I may not know what I want my Pea to become, but I hope she doesn't forget Ourson.