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“You need to lay off your kids!”(he was referring to my yelling at my kids during a water polo game) is what an eighteen year old lifeguard told me several years ago at our community pool.  That statement although very unwelcome at the time (what does this young punk know about my kids and parenting?) was a HUGE wake up call for me and thankfully led me to make some important changes. 

  lice 2When I was in grade school, I had very long, thick hair. I would love to wear my hair in pig tails and then a pony tail and if the mood was right, I would even braid my hair. As I hit my teen years in the eighties I was not immune to the influences of pop culture (who could resist Wham?!?) and my hair went big and a lot of hairspray was used. All that to say, with the exception of a few years of short hair à la Princess Diana, I never had issues with my hair. Fast forward to being a mom of two kids. I noticed a change in hair culture when my kids started to go to day camp. My daughter came home from her first day and announced with a huge smile that she was lice-free! What? Stop everything and hold the phone.

I am so happy. So, so, so, so stupidly happy with my life right now, and changes that I’ve made. I think, as humans, we generally have pretty strong feelings about change: hate, love, fear, excitement, to name a few. When we’re unhappy, we crave change and...

My daughter is my first-born, and as with all mothers of firstborns, I didn't know any differently. I knew she was a hard baby, that was evident-- she was the type of baby to make a fool out of sleep training, a baby who learned to fake cough at 12 weeks for attention-- but I had no idea what I was up against until her emergence into toddlerhood coincided with the birth of my easygoing son. Not only did it strike me that not all babies are that exhausting, but I also came to understand what it meant to have not just a toddler, not just a hard toddler, but to be the parent of a strong-willed child.

[caption id="attachment_22762" align="alignleft" width="258"]blog pic Sidra[/caption] As we round the corner into another season I am hesitant to put away my white skinnies and favorite rompers. I lovingly wear each of my favorite summer pieces one last time and start to move the merchandise around for what's to come. The lure, however, of Fall's rich color tones and awesome looking boots is hard to ignore. Northern living.

I hate September. I hate the tinge of cool in the air that reminds us fall is almost here. I hate the change of routine; from the easy, schedule-free, long summer days to the frantic return to morning alarms, carpool, work and extra-curricular mayhem. I hate that September reminds me of the last days of my father’s life. September, to me, represents endings, not beginnings.

It always feels like I’m trudging through quicksand, desperate to stay afloat and make it to October when the routine settles and I feel like I can breathe again.

[caption id="attachment_22720" align="alignleft" width="243"]unnamed-2 Helena Levitt[/caption] Helena Levitt is a Montreal actress who is currently rehearsing a play called Aftermath; a production that is produced and directed by The Waterworks Company founders Rob Langford and Tracy Houston. It is a one-woman show about the true story of feminist activist Andrea Dworkin.

In her own words, Andrea shares her story about being drugged and raped in her Paris hotel room. Given what is currently in the news with Bill Cosby, it is a very timely piece of theatre.

A couple of weeks ago my husband and I bid farewell to our night nurse (I’ll call her “Mrs. Doubtfire”) and I have been intermittently teary-eyed since. She had been with us since April and helped us tremendously with our now 5-month old daughter. Not only did she allow my husband and I to get 8 hours of sleep every couple of nights, but she also gave us something that new parents so desperately need: reassurance.

2015 is only half over and yet it has been a rather trying period for me (as was most of 2014), both personally and professionally. Although many people would actually not have a clue the extent to which my resilience has been tested, but it has been. It’s funny because I mastered the art of the “all is well” nod and smile that truthfully it would not be obvious to a sole. I don’t even know if those closest to me understand the depth of my trials and tribulations.

Here are some great reads to get you through the last few weeks of summer! The Truth According to Us by Annie Barrows Refusing to marry according to her senator father's wishes before taking a job with the Federal Writer's Project, Miss Layla Beck boards with an...

Hey everyone!!!  I know that it has been an insanely long time since I wrote, but I had a baby and life kind of got crazy! I figured that since I had a baby, my first blog after returning should be about NURSERIES. [caption id="attachment_22422" align="alignright" width="300"]...

Hello lovelies! [caption id="attachment_22365" align="alignright" width="300"] Gondola ride in Venice![/caption] Sorry it’s been so long since my last post, I was away in Europe for a couple weeks! We had such an amazing time visiting places like Paris, Monte Carlo, Amalfi, and more!  I figured since it...

I never met my real grandfather. My dad was the oldest of three boys. He was six when his father died, at 32 years old, of a brain tumour. My grandmother was left with three children under the age of six, no skills to speak...

What would you do if you were stranded on a boat with 39 fellow passengers from a shipwreck and then convicted of murder after being rescued? Grace Winter is only twenty-two, both newly married and then quickly widowed, when the ship Empress Alexandria sinks with her husband...

“Dear Mommy and Daddy, Now I only cry at night. I miss you so much that it hurts inside of me.” That was one of the letters that I sent to my parents during my first summer at sleep-away camp. Clearly I was a homesick camper,...

young joe isaacMy brother came out to me at the height of both of our darknesses. Post-graduation from University, he knew little of his way forward. Still living at home, aimless on the job front, forced to countenance the evil of conversion therapy, certain of his sexuality but afraid to come out, he let me step into his closet so we could walk out together.

Do You Know Liz? I really don't know Liz that well. Although, I feel like I've known her since she was 7 years old. How is this so? Liz's father was my doctor. From the age of 17 until his passing, he was my gynaecologist. More so,...