Posted by: Hannah | 06/20/2014

many cranky, much brave

One more week of school.

I am so glad. I’m tired of keeping track of reading folders, signing agendas, sunscreening the kids before they leave, coming up with lunches that don’t involve nuts, and trying to get children to sleep at an hour when they can still function the next day, despite the fact that it’s warm, sunny, and lovely outside until 9pm.

I’m tired of last-minute school things that cost me money. Two field trips next week? Money. Selling carrot sticks & dip for $2 per order as a fundraiser? Shoot me. Harry’s outdoor sneakers suddenly disintegrated around his feet with only three weeks to go so I had to buy a new pair because he still needs the non-marking indoor sneakers until June 30th? AAAAGGGGHHHH WHYYYYY.

Ron cried twice this week when it was time to get up for school. I just don’t want to go anymore! he wailed. It’s just the same thing over and over again, every day! It’s just colouring shapes and I already KNOW all the shapes and I just DON’T WANT TO COLOUR SHAPES ANYMORE!!!

I hear you, buddy. I don’t want to colour shapes anymore, either.


Now that preschool is over, we’re back to taking long walks to burn off the kids’ energy. Yesterday we went 3.4km. We’re working up to 4.5km, which is the round-trip distance to the lifeguarded lake beach just up the road. If we can make that trip once a week it should help preserve my sanity, and give the older kids a chance to bump into their friends from school.


I’ve had exactly zero response to the resumés I sent out. I’m a little disheartened. OK, well, a lot. I was hoping to at least get a “thanks but no thanks, please fuck off now”. Intellectually I know that when the dayhome closes it will be a few months before I find something, but emotionally I can’t help thinking oh my god, I’ve been out of the work force for too long and I’ll never be employable again except in retail. I’ll be one of those women who works at Reitmans, asking people if I can bring them another size and processing returns on crappy jewelry made in China. I borrowed $28,000 to go to university for nothing. 

(Note: There is nothing wrong with retail and when all the kids are in school it would make financial sense as long as I could work around their school hours. It’s not off the table. It’s just requiring a readjustment of my self-image.)


Louis is currently menacing the girls with a loaf of plastic bread. I don’t know whether to step in or to just let them fight it out, Lord of the Flies style.


We took the kids to the Halifax Citadel on Father’s Day. We stayed for FOUR HOURS. Every year I think “this is it, this is the year that Harry will refuse to do these things with us anymore” and every year I’m wrong.


Note that the jackets are miles too big, but that the hats fit. Giant melon-headed children.

There was a lot more to this post, but it was the ill-tempered whining of a woman surrounded by preschoolers while deep in the throes of a Shark Week-induced migraine. After careful consideration I deleted large swaths of it because oy, I hate listening to whining and I’m sure you do, too.

So! Funny story. Back when Gangnam Style was popular, the kids used to ask for it every day. If they cleaned up the playroom without too much chivvying , I’d oblige. Arthur & Daisy’s mom was horrified, because of the “hey, sexy lady” lyric. “We replace ‘sexy’ with ‘chubby'”, she said, in a move I’m still extremely puzzled by.

Anyway, Daisy learned from her parents (yes, the same parents who objected to the word ‘sexy’) that when she dances, she’s not dancing; she’s shaking her booty. I never bothered correcting her when she said it to the other kids. It seems pretty harmless, and generally if Daisy’s parents are OK with something, everyone is! Just the other night, though, Louis’ mom asked me where on earth he heard about a ‘booty’ and how to shake it. She was not impressed.

And this, friends and neighbours, is why I don’t censor much of what my kids say, as long as it’s basically respectful. My standards are not your standards. There is no rhyme or reason to why certain people might object to one thing but not another. And trying to keep up with it all will leave you in a world where it’s better to call an attractive lady “chubby” instead of “sexy”.



  1. Just as a thought about getting back into the workforce. I was a stay at home mom for six years, so I hear ya about how tough/daunting it can be. What I did was hit up temp agencies, and got my foot in the door that way. Temp agencies are always looking for good, intelligent, reliable people, and won’t bat an eye at the fact that you’ve been out of the workforce. This will give you some experience, fresh references and possibly your foot in the door when it comes to permanent jobs — I know several people who started in their jobs as temps and were so good that they ended up being hired on full time (including someone in my office). Just a suggestion that I wanted to pass along. 🙂

    • Thank you, that’s a really good tip. I will keep that in mind, for sure. I’ve wondered about temping but never talked to anyone in my position about how it worked for them – so I very much appreciate your perspective.

      • Oh! I second that. I have a friend who works in HR and she was a SAHM for a while. When she went back to work it was through temp agencies, and before you know it she had a reputation as an efficient, reliable person. Now she has a FT job (kids in school, and her hours are flexible). So I highly recommend that route.

      • Definitely a good suggestion! When I moved back from Belleville I did temp work through super temp until I got my current job.

        Spending all that time and money on university and not being able to find related/challenging work is really discouraging. Believe me, as I clean-up after people all day, and direct them to the greeting cards, I question the choices that lead me to this position. There’s always hope that something better will come along though and in the meantime, something is better than nothing!

  2. I . . . don’t understand the substitution of chubby for sexy. But then Youngest has already been exposed to quite a lot of music that is likely too mature for her. The perils of having a brother six years older. I figure if it’s not sexist, racist, misogynist, etc, I’m not going to worry about it.

    Every year Oldest grows out of his pants about a month before school is over. Every. Year! At first I bought him new, longer pants so he wouldn’t be wearing floods. But then he would outgrow the damned new pants by the time school started again so I just gave up. That kid has spent every May and early June in floods or shorts since 3rd grade and I do not care. I would be extremely irritated if we HAD to buy him something like nonmarking shoes in the last two weeks of school.

    • His pants are all too short as well, but I just said “meh, wear shorts or show some ankle, I’m done”. So I hear you. What is with the June growth spurt? So inconvenient.

  3. I’m sorry you didn’t get any responses. Have you considered contacting some of the places you sent resumes to and asking about it? Most places are pretty friendly about it, as it’s standard practice these days. You may get some insight into what people are looking for and some key words to squeeze in (you know, whatever lingo they want to see these days).

    Also, I third the temp agency idea. I know several people who’ve gotten good jobs out of temp agencies and one who’s excellent reputation preceded her when she moved to the states (as in, they called their branch in the area she was moving to, put in a good word, and gave her a contact).

  4. Oh, poor Ron! And poor you. Hunting for a job in Nova Scotia is terrible, so don’t take it personally. You WILL find a job eventually, but it may take longer than some other province where people with intelligence, skill and education are actually snapped up. Meanwhile it seems like the more educated a friend is, the harder a time they have finding a job in NS. The jobs are there, though, and you are awesome, so it will happen eventually.

  5. I used to run karaoke afternoon for golden time and a reAl favourite was Don’t stop me now by Queen. Well I had to hurriedly censor the lyrics as I didn’t want the seven year olds going home asking awkward questions. Instead they went home asking, “Mum, what is a SOCKS machine?”

  6. SO hear you on the school thing – with spring baseball all week and tournaments every week-end to get ready for summer baseball, poor Angus is exhausted. He got home from Montreal last Sunday night at ten and I told him to sleep as long as he wanted to Monday morning and I’d drive him in to school whenever he wanted. That’s right – we’re letting him skip SCHOOL so he’s not too tired for BASEBALL – maybe I HAVE become like those crazy U.S. baseball moms. 🙂 And hoo boy, those booty/sexy haters be trippin’. Get some real problems, people.

    • I let Harry skip school for baseball one Friday – it was a long, slow game and then Michael had some errands to run on the way home, so by the time he got home and managed to wind down enough to sleep it was almost 11pm. So I’ve become one, too! BESTIES!!

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