Happy Father's Day, McHotty

Three years ago I wrote a tribute to McHotty. I talked about what a wonderful father he is: how loving, patient, hardworking, and kind. Oh, and hot. After three years (which haven’t always been easy) nothing has changed (with the exception of some grey hairs). McHotty, you are the best husband and father two lucky ladies could have. This boy that’s coming in a few weeks is a lucky boy indeed.

Happy Father’s Day, honey. We love you. Julie and Cakes.

The Absentminded (but sweet!) Husband

The other day I stepped into the backyard to do some reading. My mom had taken Cakes to the park, and McHotty was off to the gym. I was excited about a couple of hours of peace and quiet around the homestead. I got comfy on the patio, but a few minutes later had to pee. I impatiently went to the door. And it was locked.

I was locked outside, shoeless, braless and having to pee. I peered through the house to the front door and it was locked too. McHotty absentmindedly locked me out of the house. He’s usually gone more than two hours when he goes to the gym. Fuck.

Knowing my mother ALWAYS forgets to take her key, I decided I better figure something out (I could see Cakes’ diaper bag sitting on the counter, meaning they had no snacks, drinks or extra diapers). Luckily I had my cell phone with me (only because I had forgotten my watch up north and I needed to keep track of time). So I called my neighbours, and got their voicemail.

“Um [sheepish tone] we’re locked out of the house, and I don’t know the name of McHotty’s gym. Can you look in the yellow pages and call me back with the number?”

I left this embarrassing message on two neighbours’ voicemail as well as my mother-in-law’s. I don’t have many numbers in my cell phone as I rarely use it, and was running out of people to call. But since I used to work with k-girl I remembered her office number and gave her a call. She quickly hooked me up, and I called McHotty at the gym with a very curt request that he “get his fucking ass home”.

Luckily, he had given me these the day before (for our fourth anniversary):



How can you stay mad with those on your table?

Parenting Styles, Part Deux

I’ve told you before about McHotty’s laid back parenting style. How he gets through the grocery shopping by letting Cakes eat whole, unwashed grapes. Well, nothing’s changed. They returned from shopping yesterday and we had the following conversation:

MM: Hi guys, how’d the shopping go?

C: Buddy!

MH: Fine, she’s really good. You just have to be fast.

MM: Did you remember the snacks? I forgot to restock the diaper bag.

C: Buddy, please cracker?

MH: I didn’t bring the diaper bag.

MM: [afraid to ask] Did you let her eat grapes again?

MH: No, she ate green pepper this time.

C: mmmmm!

MM: Did you pay for it?

MH: [indignant] Yes, we did. I took it from Cakes and gave it to the cashier. She scanned it and gave it back. No problem.

M: [incredulous] She scanned a half-eaten green pepper covered in drool?

MH: [puzzled look] Yeah.

C: Buddy, please cracker?

Those Things You Do

There are so many sweet things you do that make you such a wonderful father and husband.

Cakes exclaims, in her loud demanding tone, thirty times a day, “daddy!” to which you reply every time in that same soft patient voice, “yes Cakes?”

You had to work again this weekend. Before you left, you made me a huge bowl of tabouleh and offered to make a pasta salad too. You also gassed up the car and stocked up the beer.

You support me in my dreams and ambitions that are, thus far, not making us any money.

You know Cakes just as well as I do, and you can look after her just as well as I can. I trust you one hundred percent when you’re with her.

When you put Cakes to bed you read I Can Read With My Eyes Shut not once, but twice. Not only do you do that, you also look through the photo albums and let her run around naked for a while. You’re never in a rush.

When we go to bed at night, you can’t walk by Cakes room without looking in on her, though we don’t hear a peep and we know she’s fast asleep.

I see the adoration in her eyes when she looks at you and I’m so happy you’re her father.

Happy Fathers’ Day, McHotty. You’re the best. We love you.

Getting to Know McHotty

Niloc tagged McHotty with a meme for the men folk. When I nagged asked McH nicely, he stepped up to the plate:

What was your first car and what about it made it so great? (Do I bother asking what their dream car is?)

I had a Ford Contour, it was cheap, had a sunroof and a CD player (cutting edge at the time)

What is the most played song on your iTunes / WMP or whatever you are listening to music on your computer with? And… Name five bands that made a big impression on you but never made it big on the charts.

Metric – Patriarch on a Vespa, Midnight Oil’s later albums were their best, but never did very well. Lets not kid ourselves, I was never cool enough to be really knowledgeable about indie bands.

Do you know what end of the hammer to hold? What was your last project around the house?

I am an IKEA machine.

What is your best method for avoiding chick flicks?

Don’t have the problem, one of Metro’s all time favourite’s is Kill Bill

Who’s more of the techno geek in your house? This can apply to tools, toys, gadgets, geeking at home on the computer or anything else that might apply.

No contest, Metro, I can barely turn this TV/typing machine on.

What are three things that are a part of your life that you would never see your own dad doing?

Participating in circle time at the drop-in, being the primary cook and grocery shopper and taking an interest in the house-plants.

What’s the last “Dude! I just got a _______ from _______” thing that you really didn’t need but bought anyways?

I dislike shopping and clutter. As well, I am hard core when it comes to budgeting, so there is nothing that falls into this category, nothing.

What is the wildest / craziest / dangerous etc… thing you have gotten away with?

Throwing live hand grenades while in the Army.

It’s not a dude meme if it doesn’t include something regarding the opposite sex. When was the last time you experienced a true head turner? Where you couldn’t help but take that second glance at someone. Remember to be creative in your response. It will get you in less trouble.

Metro here. McHotty (wisely) didn’t answer this one, but I happen to know he has a thing for Addison Shepherd. That’s OK, I have a thing for her too.

I won't tag anyone, but feel free to help yourself!

Parenting Styles

McHotty is awesome with Cakes, but he is a little more easygoing than I am.

Case in point—he and Cakes returned from the grocery store today and we had the following conversation:

“How’d you make out, was she good?” I ask.

“Yeah, she was great!” McHotty answers.

“How the hell do you get her to sit still the whole time!” I respond, enviously.

“She doesn’t. She stands in the cart.”

Silence.

“And she eats the grapes the whole time,” McHotty adds (not noticing my ire).

“Whole grapes? Unwashed?” I ask, incredulously.

“Um. Yeah,” says McHotty, sheepishly.

Love is Having to Say You're Sorry

I had been a little annoyed with McHotty for a few days. It started with his shopping for Valentine’s Day at the grocery store for the second year in a row. My irritation increased when McH forgot the toys on our trip up North on the weekend. So, yesterday, when I asked him if he noticed he had a huge pile of dirty laundry, though Cakes’ and mine was all washed and put away (perhaps there was a connection between this and the pile of his clean laundry, washed last week but hitherto not put away) he realized I was getting downright pissy.

He went out to get us some Stilton for the soup (yes, the soup book is still rocking) and came home with these:



And this:




Yesterday also happened to be Wednesday. Coincidence?

McHotty

We spent the second Saturday night in a row watching Season 2 of Grey’s Anatomy. They just introduced McSteamy—wow. I think he’s even hotter than McDreamy.

McDreamy/McSteamy sandwich anyone? I'll take mine with side of chocolate.

Anyway, the interns have inspired me to give my dear husband a better alias. So, the husband formerly known as Big Papa will now be known as McHotty (when I’m annoyed with him it will be McHusband).

The New Aphrodisiac

This is what used to make me horny:



This is what makes me horny these days:



Yeah, baby!

Big Papa Guest Blog: I Love My Job

Big Papa is filling in again while I finish up the last term paper. The end is in sight my friends!

Being a firefighter is probably the best job in the entire world. I honestly can’t think of something I’d rather be doing. There are things I would like to try for a while, maybe a Millwright, Carpenter, Fighter Pilot, Construction Manager. Firefighting would still be my first choice though.

It’s a good job because you get to help people, usually when they’re having the worst day of their life. On most occasions you are able to help them and they appreciate it. As well, everyone loves you.

Girls smile and wave when you’re going by on a call and you’re trusted by everyone. I have been asked more unrelated questions from how to best renovate a room, diagnose the problem with a car, where to go for dinner etc. People trust you implicitly whether you have the slightest bit of knowledge about a particular subject or not.

As well, I find the job exciting. For me, working a big fire can be thrilling. I like the controlled chaos (and sometimes uncontrolled) of conducting searches, charging hose lines, and raising ladders. For the most part, in Toronto, we run a good fire. We usually can save the house, but if we can’t, we save the block and the houses next to it.

The job is not perfect. It is unionized, so the best guy is not necessarily the guy in charge, we don’t all love each other, it can be boring and the bureaucracy maddening. It can also be gruesome and tragic. However, if you can understand that you did not create the situation, you did your best to put things right and that’s all you can do, then I would recommend it.

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Dudes, thanks to you I have made it to the finals of the Canadian Blog Awards in the Family Blog category! Hooray! That rocks. However, the downside is I will have to keep nagging you every day to vote. Voting starts tomorrow until the following Friday. You can vote once per day here! Thanks! You're the best. Oh, and while I'm nagging...Sunshine Scribe is on vacation this week so I will take the liberty of reminding you to vote for her in the Best Blog Post Series category for her wonderful Flashback Fridays.

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Check out Crazymumma's new column at Mommy Blogs Toronto.

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I am sick AGAIN! I feel like I’m dying. I have been sick more this fall than I have not been sick. WTF?

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One last thing before I stop procrastinating….I just had to make my own South Park character. If you are putting off doing some work, I highly recommend you do this.

Big Papa: The Single Mother

Big Papa has kindly stepped up to the plate while I toil away at term papers.

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Cakes is 18 months old and I am still not exactly sure what hit me. There was a time when I could sit on the couch and watch TV, sleep in, go out with the guys for beers, and have the freedom to do whatever, whenever.

As we all know, those days are gone. At the end of the day, instead of enjoying a glass of wine, I need a glass of wine. Yet, I have it so easy compared to most, especially the single mother.

When I am home, I have Cakes for half the day. The other half is usually taken up with an errand, or something on the “to do” list, but there is usually some “me” time in there somewhere. What does a single mother do? How does she cope?

Not only single mothers, but moms who have husbands who are away a lot, or don’t cook. I often wonder how my mom coped raising three kids, and doing all of the housework?

As well, we have the added advantage of a secure income, which will allow Metro Mama to stay home, and be a career student! We’re not going to be moving to Forest Hill anytime soon, but the bills get paid and there is food on the table.

What about someone less fortunate who does have to worry about that, or who might get laid off, or has to work a couple of jobs, so ends can meet? I can only imagine what that is like, and my hat goes off to them.

BP

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It's me, metro again.

Check out the new and improved Mommy Blogs Toronto. The brainchild of Catherine and Tania, the site will feature regular columns from several local bloggers.



My column, Mom About Town will explore the city’s cultural offerings, deciding what works with baby, and when to leave baby at home. I’ll also talk about books, film and lots of other good things.

Check out my first post, Brunching with Baby and share your best brunch spots.

Wedding Story

On September 6, 2003, Sean and I made it official.

It was a small wedding in his parents’ backyard in Kingston. The site was spectacular and it was a perfect sunny September day:



We said our vows (which we wrote) between the two magnificent willow trees. The groom was handsome in his uniform:



My mother-in-law’s talented book club provided the gorgeous flowers:




I can’t document an event without a picture of the bar:



We swayed to Etta James’ At Last for the first dance and later, we shimmied to You Can Leave Your Hat On:



The night was straight out of a fairy tale. The full moon came out and shone a spectacular display on the water--an auspicious beginning to a new life:



Happy Anniversary, my love. May there be many more.

Big Papa Guest Blog: Buying the Ring

BP has the blogging bug...

Proposing to Jewels was pretty much a formality from my point of view. When she decided to join me in Toronto the deal was done. The question became, when was the wedding, not are we going to get married. To that end, we had looked at engagement rings, and I had a good idea of what to get. I thought that left me well prepared to go out and pick one up. How wrong I was.

I found buying a wedding ring extremely difficult for a number of reasons. Firstly, I hate shopping, for anything. Secondly, I knew next to nothing about jewellery. To compound the problem, there was no way to educate yourself.

For example, if I were to buy a car, I could talk to the guys at work about what they drive, read the paper, the internet and in the end probably get something that is right for us. Talk to a dozen firefighters about what kind of wedding ring to get, or where to get it? They’d run you out of the hall!

As well, how do you know one jeweller’s diamond is better then the others? Even looking at diamonds through a microscope, I could not often tell the difference from one to another, then what size do you get, and with what ring? I started to get stressed.

In addition, the guidelines they would give you were 2-3 months after tax salary (I didn’t spend that much). To be dropping that kind of money on anything would stress me out, to drop it on something I did not really understand was terrifying.

The last wrinkle was the sales people; it was just like buying a used car. They would give the “A diamond is forever” line, as well as, “its important to show how much you love her” with a high quality diamond, which by the way starts at $10 000. Oh and here was the real killer, they wanted 8-10 weeks to manufacture the thing, which blew my proposal plans right out of the water.

Then there is the whole values clash I had. The only time I paid any attention to rings was when I was buying one. You could walk into my house with a boulder on your hand, and I would not notice. I’d rather use the money on the down payment for a house, or a trip, but this purchase was not about my values.

I want Julie to be happy, I am fully aware the size and cost of a ring has little to do with how much you love someone. However, I don’t want her to go out with her friends and have some crappy little ring, she’s embarrassed to wear. As well, we’re not moving to Rosedale anytime soon, but we’re not poor either. We can afford something decent. But what is decent?

This is a decision only I can make. I can’t say “hey Julie, we’ve got the wedding, honeymoon, and I’d like to buy a house soon. As well, the car has three tires in the grave and you want to finish school. How much do you want me to drop on the diamond?”

Big Papa – last of the romantics

In the end, I found a nice little jewellery shop, run by a mother and daughter, who were not too pushy, and not far from our apartment. They had my ring ready in about 10 days. The number of carats on Julie’s diamond, I can’t remember, but the ring itself is white gold. The sad part for me was that it was not a “magical experience” giving Jewels the ring; it was a fucking relief I finally purchased the thing.

BP

Untimely Proposal

It was fall of 2002 (two years after I met BP). The previous spring, he had landed his dream job—in Toronto. I had quit my job and left all my friends to move with him to a city I hated (at the time--I love Toronto now). We had lived together for about 6 months and things were going well; we’d discussed making it official. I was thirty and the clock was starting to tick; worse, I was feeling slightly insecure in the relationship.

Thanksgiving weekend, we went to Kingston to see his family. Thanksgiving is his favourite holiday and his parents’ spot is one of his favourite places. I was certain he would propose.

I was on tenterhooks all weekend, anxious for the big moment. I rehearsed my acceptance in my mind. It was a beautiful sunny day; finally, he asked me to go for a walk. Hooray!

Nothing happened.

The rest of the weekend was uneventful; we returned to Toronto; I was pissed.

I brooded for a month.

We returned to Kingston a month or so later, for American Thanksgiving (my sister-in-law lives in Boston so we celebrate both holidays). I was still bitter.

Saturday was a cold, rainy, rotten day. I was reading my book and Papa was pacing around.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked.

“Look how shitty it is outside. I’m trying to read my book.” Leave me alone.
More pacing.

Ten minutes later…

“I’d really like to go for a walk. Sure you won’t come?”

Sigh. The sooner I go, the sooner I can return and read my book in peace.

We set off for our stroll. A few minutes later, my built-up frustration erupted. I asked him if was ever planning to propose; I told him he better not be planning to do it at Christmas-time (I hate Christmas and had never wanted a holiday proposal). He didn’t get many words in edgewise.

Finally we arrived at the scenic park we usually visit to sit and chat. By then the wind was really howling and the rain had picked up. We walked down to the magnificent large rocks that jut into Lake Ontario.

I still didn’t have a clue.

He pulled out a diamond ring and asked me to marry him.

My rehearsed speech flew out of my head and I just said, with delight and relief, “yes.”

We returned to the house and his mom just happened to have a chilled bottle of champagne. We celebrated, joyfully.

It turns out my instincts were correct—he’d planned to propose the first weekend but the ring wasn’t ready in time. I bet he had no idea it would cost him that much grief.

All’s well that ends well.

Coming next…the wedding!

Big Papa Guest Blog: He Said, She Said

For my anniversary present I asked Big Papa to write the story of how we met (before I showed him my version). Here it is…

I first caught a glimpse of my future wife from the kitchen window of my upstairs apartment. There was a light rain; she was rushing to carry a box from her Dad’s truck into her apartment. Jewels had a slim figure and thick red hair. I could not tell much else about her and did not see her for a couple of weeks afterward.

However, I did hear her; Jewels is quite the partier. I listened to her now familiar laugh late at night, when her friends were over having drinks. At times I wished they would all go to bed. Other times, I thought I should just go over and introduce myself.

I never did, because as much as I hate to admit it, I am shy. Luckily Julie had also seen me and was arranging an encounter. We met in the driveway when I arrived home from work, she was washing her car (this would be the first and last time she ever did this). I remember her making it clear the guy she was living with was just a roommate, and when I suggested we get together for a beer, thankfully she agreed, but when?

Here again I ran into the shy problem. It was a nice Saturday, maybe a week later? I knew she was home and it would be a great day to have a beer. I could not work up the nerve to go ask her. But here is the thing, to get to my apartment you had to unlock the downstairs door, then come up the stairs to my door, and there was no doorbell. That day, I had purposely gone down the stairs to make sure the door was propped open, so if she came over she could come up the stairs to my apartment door, which I also left open.

Sure enough, like a lobster entering a trap Julie came bounding up the stairs maybe an hour later. She was wearing her jean cut-offs. We went over to her place and I think I brought the beers. She made me a ham sandwich and we shot the breeze for the afternoon.

What we talked about I cannot really remember, but we were having a good time. In the evening some of her friends joined us and we went to the Red Dog tavern, which is a real institution in Peterborough. We kissed at her apartment door; in fact we went a bit beyond that, and we agreed to meet the next day.

I just remember on the Sunday we had Chinese food, and we have been together ever since.

Big Papa

I Married the Boy Next-Door

Big Papa and I are celebrating our 3-year wedding anniversary on Wednesday; we’ve been together for 6 years. Leading up to the milestone, this blog will be all about romance, starting with the story of how we met…

I was twenty-seven. I’d just decided I needed to make some big changes: I sold my house and moved into an apartment; I decided to go back to university. I was spending lots of time with friends, and having a pretty good time, but I was getting tired of sleeping with my two cats.

About a week after I moved into the apartment, I was sitting in my tiny backyard with a girlfriend, enjoying a cold beer. We heard someone at the door of the apartment next to mine, on the other side of the fence. We surreptitiously peered over and discovered, to our delight, my next-door neighbour was a hottie. He looked like he was returning from the gym—all sweaty and sexy. We ogled and giggled, then returned to our pints. I told my friend I would get busy and meet my new neighbour post haste.

The next night, I paid attention and noticed he pulled in to our common parking area at around six-ish. The night after that, I left my groceries in my car, planning to go out and retrieve them when he arrived. He was late; my ice cream was melting; I wanted to change into my track-pants and veg on the couch, so I gave up—that night.

The next night, I donned my shortest shorts, filled a bucket with hot soapy water, and started scrubbing my car (a first). Bingo! A few minutes later, he pulls in. He parks, and shyly approaches me and introduces himself.

“We should have a drink sometime,” I simper.

“I’d really like that,” he replies, sincerely, in his beautiful, quiet manner.

Holy shit! A hottie who doesn’t know he’s a hottie. He’s actually, gasp, shy!

Luckily, I am not so shy. Although I had never asked out a man before, the very next night I was, again, enjoying a cocktail outside with a friend. I told her about the exchange the evening before.

“Invite him over; I want to meet him,” she orders.

I think for about two seconds. “OK!” (She’s a lesbian; therefore, not competition.)

I knock on the door and he answers right away. He’s glad to see me! He says he’d love to join us, selects a nice bottle of red from his counter, and follows me to my place. The three of us enjoy the wine; then we take him to my favourite watering hole, The Red Dog tavern. We dance all night to a rock ‘n’ roll cover band and get home at 3 am. Outside my door, we kiss for about an hour--a little sloppy and wet, but wonderful.

The very next night, we did Chinese take-out and movies. We were pretty much inseparable after that. It was kind of awkward at first, dating the boy next-door—you’re never sure how often you should stop by, or if you should phone first. A couple of friends said I shouldn’t “shit in my own backyard”.

I’m glad I didn’t listen.

Coming next: how Big Papa proposed.

It's All About Big Papa This Week

Today is BP's birthday.

Happy Birthday, Big Papa!

Today I was forced, for the second time in three days, to eat and drink way too much in celebration of the pater. Life is tough.

We started the day, again, in fine style with fresh, baked goodies.

Cakes and I had a playdate with our really good friends who we haven't seen in a while, freeing Big Papa to spend the morning as he chose.

We took BP for a nice lunch on Kubo Radio's new patio.

We helped the neighbour assemble his new patio table - to thank us, he brewed up a rum slushie and we had a birthday toast.

We had another lovely dinner, courtesy of St. Lawrence Market: filet mignon, baked potato with fresh chives and portabello mushroom. Washed it down with the Wolf Blas Green Label 2003.

I could get used to this. Tomorrow is the longest day of the year. Cause for celebration, I say.

My Husband the Metrosexual

Saturday was our neighbour’s birthday and Big Papa’s is Tuesday. Said neighbour told him all week they had a date Saturday afternoon. At the assigned time, four of them called on BP, piled into their Beemer, and went for manis and pedis!

I never thought I’d see the day. Now if I could just convince him it's OK to wear capris.

We had a fab Father’s Day. Cakes and I were up early. We were at Bonjour Brioche when they opened to buy some croissants for breakfast (the BEST croissants in the city, by the way).

We gave Cakes her new sand and water table to keep her occupied while we had a leisurely breakfast on our newly assembled patio furniture.

We showered BP with presents. New CDs (Kaiser Chiefs and New Pornographers) and an ACDC belt buckle. Big Papa, who is actually far from a metrosexual (a lot of his clothes come from MEC) has a penchant for outlandish belt buckles.

We spent a lazy day around the house sipping iced tea and taking turns reading the paper.

Cakes retired at 7. I made Big Papa dinner and we dined alfresco: mixed greens with blue cheese, walnuts and pear; rack of lamb, green beans, and red potatoes with fresh chives from the garden. We quaffed a nice Bin 555 Shiraz we’ve been saving for a special occasion.

Our neighbours, who were also drinking wine in the backyard (still no fences), invited us over for dessert. They served us a wonderful ice-cream-and-boozy- fruit concoction. We brought a cheese tray with some cheeses we bought at the new shop that just opened in the ‘hood, the Leslieville Cheese Market. The cheeses were fantastic.

Now, I need to come up with something for Tuesday. I also suffer from having a birthday right next to another holiday (my birthday is Dec 31) and I don’t want Big Papa to get ripped off. I don’t know if I can cook twice in one week so I’ll have to come up with something different.

A Tribute to Big Papa

With Father’s Day fast approaching, I though it timely to sing the accolades of Big Papa.

BP spends a lot of time with Cakes. He’s never too intimidated to hang with all the mamas at the park. He does his share of night duty. He is patient, attentive, and so loving with her (and me).

BP does 90% of the cooking and grocery shopping. I would eat pasta every night if it weren’t for him. When I do cook, he finds something good to say about my efforts.

BP notices when I have cleaned the house and always praises my work. He thanks me when I finally do the laundry (he’s often wearing his satin Christmas boxers by then).

Big Papa is good with money but not cheap. He cares little for material things. He doesn’t mind owning an eight-year-old car (and having to bike to work because I’m using our only car).

BP was so sensitive when I was trying to decide whether or not to go back to work. He would have supported either decision (but was happy I chose to stay home).

BP is thoughtful, smart, kind, compassionate, passionate, and indulgent.

Big Papa is a hottie.

BP has patiently assembled many items from Ikea.

Big Papa is dedicated to his family and his work, but his family comes first.

Big Papa, if you’re reading (I know you are), we love you and Happy Father’s Day!