A guide for families watching the Tour de France together for the first time
It’s been a difficult year for the sport of cycling: the news about Lance Armstrong’s doping scandal was nearly unavoidable for months. A lengthy investigation, a weepy appearance on Oprah, an admission that his multiple Tour de France victories were all tainted by doping. But the 100th Tour de France cycling race began Saturday June 29th, 2013 and all the bad press about Lance doesn’t dampen my enthusiasm for the Tour one bit.
What international adoption has meant for our family of three
My husband and I are nearing the end of a four-year-long adoption process. I met my daughter while volunteering in a children’s home in the summer of 2009, and we have been working through the red tape to get her here with us ever since. International adoption has its own unique joys and challenges. For my family, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
3 reasons why LeakyCon might be the king of all geek cons and considerations for the future
I mentioned LeakyCon a few weeks ago in a round-up of summer cons that would be great to take your teen to — and boy, was it ever. This was my first year experiencing the pure, unadulterated geek fest that is LeakyCon, and it didn’t disappoint. What began four years ago as a small meet-up of Harry Potter fans has blossomed into a series of days that are truly special. I started reading Harry Potter 14 years ago, and there was nothing like this back in the day. No way to easily connect with people over the internet (there was no Tumblr! Twitter! Not even Facebook!), no way of being able to share the serious feels I had about the series with others unless they were a) my friends and b) actually interested in the books. Basically, I spent a lot of time talking with my then nine-year-old brother about Harry Potter, because no one else I knew really cared.
Pain, impermanence, and how much I miss my foster siblings
My parents have been foster parents for the past 12 years, and by extension my siblings and I have been foster siblings. It hasn’t always been easy — there has been joy, lots of pain, and laughter. Over the years we have had over 80 children. Some for a night, some for a weekend, some for a few months and some for years.
I knew breastfeeding might be hard, but had no idea weaning would seem impossible
I’ve come across the advice “If mom isn’t happy, then do something differently,” but that’s not all that helpful in the long-run. I’ve found a few gentle weaning tips online, but the prospect of a few more months of diligence and consistency seems daunting and exhausting. And my friends aren’t much help, either. While they’re in various stages of breastfeeding, we’re all trying to figure out when it’s right to stop breastfeeding and how to go about doing it.
Parenting sweet spots: spontaneous “I love yous” and eating raw broccoli
Right now we’re in the midst of what I like to call a “parenting sweet spot” — those weeks or months in which there aren’t any major behavioral problems going on, most-to-all of the balanced meals are being eaten, and my child’s general disposition is one of a curious, sweet, and incredibly polite little boy. To me, these sweet spots are evidence that the hard work you put in weeks or sometimes years prior has paid off: your kid has actually learned something from you, and that something is good.
Learning to run the relay that is special needs parenting
I think having a child with a disability is similar to learning how to run. We line up and listen to a whole lot of people tell us what we should do. Sometimes we hear them. Often we don’t. They are usually talking from their own experience anyway and only slivers of what they say will have real applicable value to ourselves. Then we run: we try and try and try and try.
Why it’s awesome to raise a city child
My family was never really suburban in the traditional sense of the word. We went downtown often, attended lots of theatre and ate in interesting restaurants. But it was always a long schlep to get anywhere. We needed to leave the house an hour before any dinner reservation. And I always had to make sure to catch the last TTC ride home, curbing late-night teenage adventures. I hated walking across the deserted parking lot of Finch subway station to retrieve the family car and drive the rest of the way home. It was too quiet. I always preferred the noise and bustle of downtown to the eery silence of deserted suburbia.