Author: Jan Moyer

Embracing my inner child since 2005.

The Future is NOW

My children, it is true that we live in an amazing time. But sometimes I ponder what the future might hold for us. What wonders could be just a few years away?

For instance, sometimes I like to imagine that in my lifetime we will have the ability to create some sort of mechanism that allows you to suspend a towel off of a bedroom floor. Maybe it will be on the back of a door, who is to say? I’ll leave that to the engineers.

Occasionally I like to dream of a time when we won’t have to eat food with our bare hands. I admit it is hard to wait, but I’m sure scientists are on the cusp of discovering the right formula to forge a device that allows us to deliver food directly from our plate to our mouth. Call me fanciful, but I think that could happen any day now.

If you’re like me, you might be wishing for an appliance of some sort that washes dishes for you. Wouldn’t it be amazing if all we have to do is load the dirty dishes into it and *poof* all the hard work is done? The dishes would come out clean with minimal effort from us. Sounds a bit far-fetched, but so did space travel, didn’t it?

So close.
So close.

When a drink spills on the floor it is such a hassle. You have to walk around it until it eventually dries up. But I have faith that one day there will be an absorbent material that can swipe up that mess in one go. I believe we have the technology, it just hasn’t been maximized yet.

If they can make a phone that allows you to hold the world’s knowledge in the palm of your hand, surely we aren’t far away from an apparatus that will pick up carpet debris with a suction action? And why stop at carpet? Perhaps this miracle-of-tomorrow will also be able to suck popcorn and dried gum from between couch cushions? Heady times ahead. Heady times, indeed.

I envy you kids, what a time to be alive.

Local Mom Disowned by Neighbours, Feels Bewildered and Betrayed

A Kitchener mother of two has been blacklisted by her neighbours and wants answers.

“One day we were sipping our soy chai lattes at the park, the next day I was pushed out of the group. I saw them scurry away after the school drop-off. They all claimed to have errands and appointments, but thirty minutes later one of them Instagrammed her banana bread and I could see the cluster of them in the reflection on her microwave. I just don’t understand what I could have done to upset them.”

“I thought we were friends,” said the confused mother.

Sources close to this baffled parent tell a different story. According to moms on the playground, this ostracism has been imminent for months.

“Just last week at a playdate she proposed handing out fruit cups decorated like jack-o-lanterns and bananas with ‘Happy Halloween’ scribed on the peel,” reports one exasperated mom.

Her former cardio-walker partner adds, “But the final straw was the plastic ring comment.”

She goes on to explain, “After we talked her out of the fruit and vegetable candy substitutes, she announced that she was handing out plastic spider rings instead of candy.”

Despite protests from her fellow parents that an overabundance of plastic rings and Halloween-themed pencils are more of a nuisance for moms and dads than dealing with a sugar high, this deluded mom suggested that parents could repurpose these trinkets.

“They could make a really fun mobile or maybe some DIY hair accessories.”

The other moms say that reentry into the group is possible, but that they need time to heal.

No Candy? No Thanks.

I love Hallowe’en. The candy, the costumes, connecting with neighbours, the candy.

But there is a darkness around this holiday and we can’t just pretend anymore. I know, I know, we can choose to focus on the fun and light-hearted side of All Hallows’ Eve, but some things cannot be ignored. PURE EVIL CANNOT GO UNCHECKED.

Let’s shine a light on this sinister interloper who tries to spoil this holiday every year. For the sake of the children, we need to work together to take back Hallowe’en. For the children.

It might seem harmless at first, perhaps even a nice substitute for some other elements of trick-or-treating, but I assure you, it is not. It’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing is what it is.

Halloween-themed plastic rings.

Oh, here, let me wear pure evil on my finger.
Oh, here, let me wear pure evil on my finger.

Rest assured, I hear your points in favour of these trinkets:

They are a great alternative to all that candy.

No one is allergic to plastic jewellery.

Parents appreciate candy-free options.

And here is my well-thought-out response:

Why?

True, but not a selling feature.

Parents appreciate having candy to steal after bedtime.

Bear with me as I deep dive for a moment. This is holiday that’s main purpose is to promote binge-eating chocolate, chips, and candy. Why would anyone want to interfere with that? Besides, you have to walk door-to-door, burning so many calories that it all evens out (don’t worry, if you believe hard enough, that’s mostly true). You know what else is nut-free? Money, McDonald’s gift cards, all those candies that say “nut-free” on the package. It’s covered.

A stash of candy will eventually disappear, but you know what never goes away? TINY PLASTIC RINGS. Children do not forget and they are miniature hoarders. They might forget the number of fun-size Twix bars they had, but they always remember how many spider, witch, and jack-o-lantern rings they own. Can’t eat those, Mom and Dad. You can’t eat those.

Some parents might appreciate candy-free options, but they also appreciate not stepping on small plastic rings in a darkened hallway. And here’s a fun fact: you cannot vacuum up a plastic ring, even if you run over it a several times. Even if you pick it up, turn it over, push the little spider legs down, then drop it back on the floor and try to vacuum it up again (I would imagine).

So let’s leave Halloween as nature intended – high-fructose, fun-sized, and delicious.

_____________

P.S. Fruit is also not a treat.

Make it Together

Sometimes I make things with the boys, sometimes I don’t. I wrote a piece about the balancing the desire to do things together and the practicality of making it happen.

Honoured that “Make It Together” has been published on “What The Flicka” as part of a theme for guest editor Sarah Michelle Geller. You can read it here.

Thanks to all the regular readers and welcome to new ones.

If a Kindie Sees an Ambulance

Inspired by real life events (everyone is fine) and the beloved series of books featuring animals with insatiable and irrational desires for things like donuts, pancakes, and muffins, I decided to try my hand as an author of children’s books. Here’s the working draft of my first manuscript. I might turn it into a play, I haven’t decided yet.

———————images

If a kindergartener sees an ambulance in the school parking lot, they will immediately jump to the most extreme scenario.

Kindie (spotting an amubulance through the classroom window). “Someone is dead.”

Me. No one died.

Second Kindie. Someone is DEAD?!

Me. No one is dead.

Third and Fourth Kindie (as they rush to the window). Who died?

Me. No one is dead. They are here to help a student and give them medicine.

First Kindie: Well, SOME people are dead.

Me. (exasperated look)

First Kindie (whispering, head down). Well, they ARE.

Me (more forcefully). The ambulance is hear because teachers did the right thing and called for help to make sure everyone is okay. It’ll be fine. Oh, look! See? There’s the student sitting up, they’re going to be fine. Firefighters, police, and ambulance drivers are our friends. It’s fine, but if you feel anxious or have some questions we can chat. BUT EVERYTHING IS FINE.

Second Kindie. One time I had to get stitches at the hospital. I was bleeding.

Third Kindie. Is the playdoh open?

Second Kindie. Joey picked his nose. I SAW him.

Fourth Kindie. So, who died?

(Scene)

Create Your Own Village

This post has been on my mind for months and I finally put it into words. Honoured to have it posted on BonBon Break (a new community I am excited to join). Click here to check it out and while you’re there, get inspired by other posts. Stay a while.

A big thank you to all the friends, neighbours, and coworkers in my life who inspire and encourage me. And thank you to this month’s theme sponsor, OurPactApp.

What Are you Doing?

Ah, teaching kindergarten children. Is it rewarding? Yes. Fun? Absolutely. Challenging? At times, yes. Energizing? You betcha. Draining? For sure. Worth it? Without a doubt.

Do you ever wonder what it’s like to work with small children every day? Here you go.

___________________________

Student (to me as I stamp letters with a classmate). What are you doing?

Me (thinking it is pretty obvious). What am I doing?

Student (smiling). What are you doing?

Me. What am I doing?

S. What are you doing?

M. What am I doing?

S (giggling). What are you doing?

M. What is in my hand?

S. What is in your hand?

M. What do you think I am doing?

S. What are you doing?

M (gesturing directly at the stamps and paper and classmate). What does it look like I am doing?

S. What are you doing?

M (weeping quietly). Stamping. His. Name. With. This. Stamp. In. My Hand.

S. Hahaha. What are you doing?

M. Go find a centre, honey.

S. Bye.

photo 2

Let Me See Your Hands

“Let me see your hands,” she said as she held out her own to me. As she cradled my twelve-year-old hands in hers, my cousin went on to tell me how they looked like my grandmother’s. She gently stroked my fingers and described how kind and gentle my grandma was, how she spoke with her hands flying, the quiet presence she maintained in a loud and rowdy clan.

Grandma was the matriarch of a family of eleven. She had her share of losses and heartbreak, but anytime someone shares a memory of her, it is always one of admiration and fondness.

Hands.

I’ve been thinking about hands a lot lately. As I clip our boys’ fingernails, I see how much they’re changing. When I type out a new post my own hands catch my eye and I notice the freckle on my left ring finger and how it is slowly fading as I age.

Holding my mom’s hands during church and examining her rings, her fingernails, all the spots and imperfections. She hated her the age spots, but I carefully traced them and memorized the uniqueness that was hers. I can close my eyes now and picture how her hands looked and felt to five-year-old me.

Hands.

Adolescent me spent Tuesday nights watching “Growing Pains” and “Who’s The Boss” while carefully painting my fingernails. I took meticulous care of each one. Filing, buffing, and pushing back cuticles. These were my glory years – before the endless handwashing, dishwashing, laundry, and scrubbing that came with adulthood. I believe my last manicure was just before our wedding. My nail maintenance is mostly done at stoplights these days. My hands reflect who I am.

You have your grandma’s hands.

Tell me I have tiny fingers. Say that they look like little sausages. Tease me for being a hand-talker. That’s okay. I have my grandma’s hands and I will always be proud of that.

Hands are for helping.

Lend a hand, please.

Did you wash your hands? With soap? Let me see.

Hold my hand, it’s a busy street.

Recently I held my hands up to my oldest’s and noted that mine are not much bigger. Those tiny fingers that curled around my pinkie as I cuddled my newborn are now becoming little man hands. Soon he will have outgrown me.photo-2

So I will quietly slip my hand into his and hope he holds it, just a little longer. Because I’m not quite ready to let go. I want him to memorize my hands, trace my emerging age spots, know who I am.

Let me see your hands.