I can' think of the last time my kids sat down and drank a glass of white milk. I'm not sure it has ever happened once they moved on from the bottle. I'm sure it's my fault because I can't think of the last time I had a glass milk that did not have a shot of espresso in it. But at least I have an excuse because I am lactose intolerant.

But they will drink chocolate milk. And I am at peace with that. Because chocolate milk has all the same nutrients as regular milk plus sugar. And unlike some parents I do not demonize sugar, meaning I understand that you don't want your kids to fill up on sugar but I also do not limit it to the extreme. Giant caveat: I do not buy the commercial chocolate milk which is loaded with sugar and is highly processed, I buy the reduced sugar Nestle Quik so I control the amount of chocolate syrup that is going into their milk.

But then, I saw that there is a battle over stocking chocolate milk in schools in P.E.I and in the U.S. So I called well-known nutritionnist, and MSN writer, Rosie Schwartz to ask her: Am I wrong in giving my kids chocolate milk?

Understatement: this is a busy time of year.

So I just want to know, how come in the midst of all the present buying, socializing and ineveitable sick kids do I have to spend hours in the kitchen baking? Because I said I would. Because I only have so many skills and making an OK tasting cookie that sells out at a bake sale is one of them. It's not the most marketable skill in the world, but it at least in the strange world of parent council politics I got something.

Combine my mediocre baking skills with my status as token Chanukah celebrant and you get a mother who gets called in every year to explain this mysterious holiday to a class of JK/SK/grade ones and so on. (By the time my son was in grade three, I told him he was on his own.) But kids don't really like latkes, and since they are so labour-intensive I will leave them to my mother to whip up. To take up time and make all the non-believers love Chanukah, I bring in star and Menorah-shaped cookies (and on Halloween I bring pumpkins, and on birthdays I bring letters or just more stars).

I know that this is the time of celebrating and looking forward and I don’t want to be a downer. But do you have a will? Because if you don’t then put it in your New Year’s Resolutions List.

If you don’t have a will because you don’t think you need one, you are wrong. Everyone who has some assets and/or kids needs to have a will. No one expects bad things to happen but they do, they happen to neighbours and friends and they could happen to you. And you don’t want to make the situation worse by not leaving clear instructions (like Michael Jackson did to his kids).

You know those two women at the school holiday concert. The ones who are chatting and laughing? That's me and my friend. I'm sorry if we are disturbing you, it's just that school concerts -- well, they are bad, and hot and uncomfortable and I always have a squirmy toddler/preschooler on my knee who needs to pee.

I know its sacrilege to diss the school holiday concert. But come on, except for those four shining moments when your child is on stage and the world around you stops, the whole experience is quite painful. And I don't want to downplay those moments when you see your child singing/acting/playing instrument or in my case just mouthing the words on stage. Because seeing your kids on stage, no matter how goofy the song, will always bring tears to your eyes. It's just the rest of the time in the crowded, badly lit gym, listening to other people's children that is so bad. Most parents spend a few minutes during every concert doing the math and come to a similar painful conclusion -- I have at least 12 more in my future.

The thing is the holiday concert is a huge deal around my house because my son Aaron hates being on stage. And I don't mean hate like he doesn't like it, I mean HATE like he can barely cope with the idea of it. He has an irrational fear of performing. And I have told his new school this year, as I told his school last year -- I don't care if he is in it or not, if need be find him another job so he can contribute to the show in another way. Because for a few days leading up to the show his fear starts to interfere with his life.

The best gift I ever got my husband was when we were living in our first apartment. While he was at work I had a cleaning lady come over and clean the apartment from top to bottom. When he walked in the door and smelled the lemony cleanliness he literally leapt with joy. He ran all over yealling, "Maria was here? You had Maria here?" Even then, he knew that I was not capable of getting the apartment even close to clean.

Fast forward 15 years and I am in the small appliance store getting new vacuum bags. A random man turns to me and says: which one do you have? To which I answer, I don't know, I never use it, my husband bought it." The man behind the counter looks at me and says, "Your  husband bought it? You have a one in a million!"

And don't I know it.

I dread this conversation which I have had in some form or another with my two older kids:

“Mom, why doesn’t Santa come to our house?"
“umm… because we celebreate Hannukah and Santa only goes to houses that have Christmas.
“But why? The teacher/commercial/movie/well-meaning store person said that Santa would come to my house if I was a good boy. And I’ve been good.”
“We have Hannukah.”
“But I want Christmas and Santa, and a tree and pretty lights on the house.”
“Well. We have a Menorah which we get to light for eight nights in a row! And get presents and dreidel?”
“HEY! I get it, Santa isn’t real is he? I mean how could one person go around the world in one day and carry all the presents! Now I understand why Santa doesn’t come to our house. Wait until I tell my friends!!”
“You got it. Umm, hold on buddy. You can’t tell your friends… hey, come back here….”

Groupies, Tiger and Sex, Oh My! The Eye of the Tiger etc. etc.... I could spend hours thinking of amusing titles, as I am sure could you. But the truth is behind this messy, ugly story are two people and two kids, and no one is better off today than they were a week ago (except maybe the girlfriends who are enjoying their 15 seconds right now).

But such is billion-dollar celebrity. And even though I don't think that I have a right to know who Tiger is messing with in all his ports of call, now I want to know. And wow, its hard to hide from all the news stories. We had to explain to our 9-year old, who absolutely adores Tiger, that his picture was everywhere, not because of his golf prowess, but because he had been "spending time with women who aren't his wife". I hope that doesn't give Aaron anxiety next time his dad travels.

I know that people want to believe in the Tiger fairy tale -- he is the best athlete the world had ever seen; a humble and intense man; a loving husband with a silent, beautiful wife. But professional athletes are men with big egos (not unlike politicians), who have been groomed since childhood for greatness and have been given whatever they want for years. So of course, women are part of the package. It's not an excuse, it's just a (sad) reality.

“What national or international event defined your university experience?” asked one of my favourite professors at our undergraduate celebration dinner in 1992. The men at the table gave a variety of answers but almost every woman gave the same response – The Montreal Massacre on December 6, 1989. 

I was in my second year at Queen’s University and I was still trying to figure out my politics when Marc Lepine marched into the Ecole Polytechnique and gunned down 14 women just because of they were women. And because of him, I found a belief system.

Dear Mom of Two Boys at the Little Kids Haircutting Place:

I just wanted to convey some thoughts to you after watching your stressful day getting your two sons' hair cut.

Yes, your younger son Dylan was being a little aggressive in the ball room, which was a bit annoying but I think that yelling at him and saying to all the parents within earshot “I just don’t know what happened to him, his older brother is such an angel!” really helped the situation.  I know it was an off-the-cuff remark, one we all think and say sometimes, but your constant comparison of the two boys was definitely not helping the situation. Nor was your berating of son number two, while he got his hair cut. If you remember almost all kids under the age of three scream while getting their hair cut off in some kind of Samson-like genetic memory.  In fact, I don’t think you really set him up for success by threatening him to not cry even before he got into the chair. Taking your kids to get their haircut can be similar to parenting at the dentist – full of pitfalls, hysterical tantrums and general humiliation. But I think if you find yourself always wanting to favour one child over another you may want to check out some parenting books, like Siblings Without Rivalry.

Anyways, I am sure you were just having a bad day – God knows we all treat our kids in ways that in retrospect embarrass us and I hope that life gets a little easier for you. In the meantime, there is a great service called Haircuts on Wheels, where they come to your house and cut your  kids hair. That way no one can hear them scream.

Yours Truly,

Emma

And letter #2:

I went to this beautiful coffe & play place yesterday where the toys are all wood, the food is all organic, the beans are all fair trade and the babies are named Fisher, Penny and Oona. It's the kind of place that is cropping up in lots of urban neighbourhoods where new mothers can go and feel safe that their infants won't be polluted by anything outlawed by Health Canada, or Dr. Sears.

And I was so jealous. All those new moms relishing each and every stage of babyhood: the hours their babies are sleeping, what rituals they use at bedtime, which bouncy seat is best, which organic cream works on eczema. Their earnestness is touching. At some point some of those moms are going to be third-timers and they will look back and laugh at their fear of dirt and plastic and all things that are not made of bamboo.
Click to see a movie trailer of crazy cute babies