A run for the (northern) border

Saturday, we hit the road to head up to Canada for the night. We do day trips up pretty often, but decided to make a night of it to celebrate my birthday.

We spent the morning cleaning house while rocking out to some music, because it's always nice to come home from a trip and just unwind in a clean house. The music makes the time go faster and the kids think something super fun is going on and can't wait to get in on it.

Case in point? Ava: "Can I have a towel so I can clean?"
Me: "Absolutely! Here's a spray bottle, gloves and towels. I already swept. Can you do those spots on the floor while I do the bathroom and I'm mop when you're done?"
Ava: "Sure! I'm helping! I can do it myself!"

Yes you are and yes you do. Next up? Getting her brother in the act. Once he's walking, we should be able to get him in on the dryer unloading, as we did with Ava back when she was just over one.

jkdn

So, with the cleaning out of the way, we hit the road and discovered snow-dusted roads north of Bellingham. I was not prepared for this. I didn't even bother to check the weather report. I just always assume it will be 40-55 degrees and I will be cold. I dress and pack accordingly. I was not expecting temperatures in the 20s-30s. Still, my standard layering protocol was sufficient for me and the kids and I figured we could always buy anything critical that we might need, because if anyone has cold weather gear, it's Canadians.

The drive was lovely, leisurely and provided the usual great conversation and laughs. More than once, Ava started giggling, unsure of what we were laughing so hard about but wanting in on the fun. She and Dylan both alternated sleeping and staring out the window at the snow-dusted scenery. They have their moments, but in general, they're awesome travelers for the 3 hour or so trip.

We arrived in Vancouver to find frigid temperatures, but a cold, clear night. After getting settled in our hotel, we stretched our legs then bundled the kids up in the stroller and hit Robson Street for a little early-evening shopping.

As usual, J. found two excellent pairs of boots with ridiculous sale prices. Honestly, the guy could be blindfolded and dropped in any country in the world and within 30 minute find the most stylish clothing available on clearance. Fortunately, I enlisted him to put his bizarre gift to work for me this trip, with some success.

But I went looking specifically for boots and came home sorely disappointed. Part of my problem is that I basically despise almost all the women's shoes we saw because they're either ridiculously priced or this bizarre porn star chic style that seems all the craze. I mean honestly, I love a 2"-4" heel, but the 6" platform stiletto? All of them? Really? That's what all the women are clamoring for? C'mon designers, stop already.

I know the platform means it's only a 2" - 4" feel, but get real. I'm often traipsing about with two toddlers. Those make about as much sense for me at this stage of my life as wearing anything Lady Gaga has ever worn. I could do it. But it wouldn't be pretty or practical: two things that are essential these days.

Finally, as the kids' witching hours approached, we headed back towards the hotel in search of dinner. We spotted two possible restaurants but they were above the street up steep flights of stairs with no elevators in sight. With a double stroller to manage, J. said, "There's got to be an elevator." I asked, but no dice. "Maybe that's why it's not called the Canadians with Disabilities Act," I offered, referring to the ADA, which has made wheelchair and other access standard in the states. Curb cuts and elevators are so de rigeur in the states, it was hard to believe there was no wheeled access to those places.

I saw another likely spot a block away. Squinting towards the sign, I asked, "Think that one's kid-friendly?" J.: "Nope: there's a Bentley in front." True dat.

We kept walking and finally found a spot called Joey's just off Robson. Although it definitely had a hipster, black-clad everyone and none-of-the-loins-on-these-premises-have-ever-birthed-offspring (at least none that I know about)-vibe. But the staff was totally welcoming, gave us a great booth overlooking the action in the kitchen through a window next to our table (the chefs and waitstaff played peekaboo with Dylan as they walked by on the other side) and even let us park the stroller behind the check in desk.

The entryway featured this see-through wine rack room divider, which, though cool, only made me think, "That would be awesome for displaying shoes." At last count, J. has more than 80 pairs of sneakers. Yes, really. I think we've found a solution to his storage problem.

The food rocked, but we had to finally get it to go when the meltdowns started. It was past nine though, so we were far from surprised and had just been pushing our luck, along with the stroller. Back in our room we fueled up and turned in to rest up for round two the next morning.

We found a great breakfast spot where Dylan snuck food off Jason's plate while his sister distracted him...

After more window shopping than actual shopping with Dylan fast asleep as we wheeled the stroller through malls and down Robson, we found a nice outfit for me and finally hit the road back to the good old U.S.A. in the early evening.

All in all, it was another lovely Canadian getway and a nice low-key, laugh- and family-filled birthday weekend.

Dylan: Afro-powered Speed Racer

We're headed to Vancouver, BC for an quick overnight trip.

When we stop in Bellingham for snacks, J. runs into the store and 11 month old Dylan, rocking a major 'fro, comes up front to practice for his learner's permit test in 14 years.

Yikes. That used to seem a really long ways off, until I realize that it's just 12 years away for Ava, who took the wheel in the same way at 10 months.

Hair as a biological weapon

Given yesterday's post about all the hair goings on at our house, I was reminded of some hair hullabaloo earlier this year here in Seattle. Charles Mudede, a writer for The Stranger newspaper, wrote a column about a situation involving his bi-racial daughter, her hair products and a teacher's alleged physical sensitivity to the smell of it.

As I wrote about the debacle at the time in a Facebook comment:

Jay-zuss. So. Poorly. Handled. By the teacher and the parents. Why isn't anyone thinking about the child, her feelings, and her classmates and what they're learning from this? About how deal with difference? (They've learned to push it away. In a really distracting and obtrusive way.)
About how to handle an uncomfortable situation without making someone feel bad? (They've learned a child's feelings don't matter. Only the adult's/teacher's.)

Why didn't the teacher just say "I'm feeling a little warm/dizzy. Let's open a window and the door and create a cross-breeze." Then she could broach the subject - delicately and discretely - with the parents later.

All kinds of teachable moments being missed in all this.

At the time, reading about that girl left me totally worried about my little brown girl and her gorgeous hair and attendant hair products as we prepared to send her off to play school.

Hair affair

Hair is big around here. Both kids were born with full heads of hair, which my aunt says runs in my side of the family, and J. has had a catalog of coifs over the years, ranging from the current short, clean cut 'do, which he's growing out, to twists, braids, puffy afro and more.

I'm currently sporting a long, relaxed hairdo down to my shoulder blades, courtesy of two semi-close together pregnancies and related hormones, and the retirement of my longtime stylist. She was originally from Canada where apparently the word "trim" means cut off an inch and a half, thereby negating efforts to grow it out.

I've written before about the process of managing Ava and Dylan's hair day to day. Now Dylan's trying to comb his 'fro just like dad.

And this week, Ava asked for her hair to be blown out instead of styled wet.

Diana Ross-esque results below.

She was so busy dancing around and twirling it was hard to catch her on camera. Note to self: learn to use sport mode on camera. Also: replenish supply of headbands and save blowouts for weekends. Because the next day, after spending the morning playing at school outside in the wind, her hair looked like a rat's nest. A very, bouncy, rat's nest.

Parenting to-do list

We had our first parent-teacher conference today with Ava's play school teacher. At one point, she used the phrase "exceptional girl" with no caveats. She may have been blowing smoke, but I'll take it. And I will keep it in mind when Ava's being exceptionally cranky and exceptionally annoyed with her brother.


All in all, Ava's loving her class and classmates and comes home every school day to regale us with tales of all the great fun they had outside and who did what. I think the school and its play-based philosophy and diverse students and parents has been a great fit for her and us. We like what she's learning there and it matches and reinforces our family philosophies around independence, personal responsibility, fairness, kindness, politeness, friendship, and contributing wherever you are.


But it also reinforced our resolve to do whatever is required to raise Ava and Dylan to be productive members of society by hopefully modeling good behavior towards them and each other, and providing the guidance, structure and freedom in the correct balance to parent them successfully.


It reminded me of a great wee-hours discussion J. and I had over the summer precipitated by a news update on a local 10 y.o. gang-affiliated attempted robber and his sibling accomplices who robbed a 17 year old on a public transit bus. Egads. What happened (or didn't) in his 10 short years on the planet that led to the series of poor choices he made that day?


We had a wide ranging discussion about what we are trying to instill in our kids now to keep them on the straight and narrow. We want them to understand that there are consequences for negative actions, unlike the parent of an elementary school student taught by my friend, who informed her that they don't believe in consequences at their house. Huh. Wonder how that's going to work in the real world, seeing as how pretty much EVERYTHING there has consequences?

Topics we covered included how we can teach them to value themselves (so they'll know how to spot others who try to devalue them), dealing with and avoiding frien-emies, how we can demonstrate the value of persistence and hard work, how we can never demonstrate too much what positive, supportive love is so they don't go chasing some poor approximation of it, how to be leaders not followers, being and spotting a good friend, trusting their gut, standing up for what's right even when it's hard, sportsmanship when you're the star AND when you're not, dealing with peer pressure, being considerate of others, trying to live a moral and compassionate life: you know, the things that seem to have fallen out of vogue in some circles. That's a laundry list, and it's of course incomplete and we may not cover every item every week. Still, it's something to strive for. Which leads to another bullet on the list: setting and meeting goals.

Man, this parenting gig is tough but important work. But we're hoping that by doing the heavy-lifting on the front end and throughout their formative years, we won't see either kid in a news story like the one above years down the line.