Letters to Santa

by Anne

Dear Santa,
How are you? How are the reindeer?
This Christmas I would like a giant pack of Pokemon cards.
Could you also bring a toy to a little child who does not have lots of toys?
Thank you, biggirl.

We wrote and sent our letters to Santa today, and in the spirit of teaching my girls about giving I encouraged them to ask for two other children as well. It is a heady idea for our little ones, the fact that there are families out there who struggle to make ends meet. Families who have so very little when we have so very much. But they need to learn because this is the world that they will inherit and they have to find a way to change it.

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I am not a Merry Christmas ho ho ho type of gal.

gee. (Bet you were surprised.)

My history with Christmas is…. sigh…what else is new…. complicated.
Family stuff you know. Alcohol, extramarital affairs. Etcetera. I am totally Grinchy-poo when it comes to this season of giving. I resent having to buy gifts for people because the holiday says we must. I hate the irony of so many hungry and homeless and sad and lonely, and here we all are gaily jingle belling along. That said, I of course love giving to my children and my husband. I love the smell of the tree. I love the time off as we all get to sit around and play, read, talk and of course eat. I love Christmas lights. I love it when it is snowing.

And there are some magical Christmas moments, I am not all doom and gloom.
When I was little, we would leave out cookies and milk for the Jolly Old Man, and carrots for the reindeer. And in the morning there would be nothing left….maybe some crumbs. And, a letter of thanks would be left from Santa. I loved those letters, the best ones had been written by my brother as he ate the cookies, drank the milk and crunched the carrots after I had gone to bed.

So one tradition I have brought to this house is the snack for Santa. And every year he leaves his note of thanks to my girls for the little meal. Last year he even left a ‘bootprint’ on his letter, made by Mr. Crazymumma from the soot in our fireplace and an old workboot. And this year the letter from Santa will also tell them that he brought two toys to two other children. It is a new tradition for our family and I hope that the girls learn the joy of giving and not just receiving. I hope that they learn how blessed they are to have parents who love them beyond comprehension. A warm home, full tummies, toys, and laughter.

Happy Season to everyone. May your holidays, however you celebrate them, be filled with joy and laughter.

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Anne is a self-described obsessive, fairly high strung 40-something, rock and roll wannabe, art making, grilled cheese mummy queen. Born and raised in Toronto, married with two children. Been through hell and back, and lives to tell the tale.

Humble Pie

by Crazymumma

When I was pregnant with Big Girl I was full of high ideals. My child would never watch TV, never eat anything but organic food, snacks would always be healthy and wholesome. I too would be purrrfect. A smug smile of satisfaction would be on my face as I floated, effortlessly through every day reading books, making crafts, playing and interacting in only the best ways. Our house would be full of light, music, and giggles of joy from all who entered.

Ya right. Then I had my baby. And I started to bake my own Humble Pie.

As I nursed my new baby, I would watch dustballs roll across the floor, and then stick to something on the way. Laundry and cleaning the bathroom became impossible tasks. And although I felt a deeper than deep love for my child, I did not feel the radiating joy and perfection I thought I would. And lets not even get started on the impact a child can had on my relationship with Mr TransAm.

I can say that my food ideals I stuck to for the first two years. But TV crept in by year three, as did sugary treats. And organics are very expensive. I am proud to say that there was lots of reading and crafting. And it was great. Really, I am not being sarcastic.

Then along came Little Girl. She probably had her first lollipop soon after her first spoon of rice cereal. She watches way too much TV with Big Girl. I did and do not read to her as much as I would like, I do not make crafts with her as much as I did with my first child. Lots of ideals slid. My expectations of personal perfection lowered themselves without any trying on my part. My perfect little dream world slowly slid away. The Humble Pie was now fully baked.

We can create a private hell for ourselves when we do not meet our personal expectations as parents in today's society. One can only do so much and these days the pressure to do things correctly is huge, and I am prompted to wonder if it was always like this. I had to let go of so many ideas of how I was going to parent, as well as embrace the lack of control I had over who my children are and how they make me react.

There was a relief in letting go of the impossible standards I had and accepting that I could not control every moment. It has made parenting more enjoyable, certainly easier. And I enjoy my children more, because I worry less about the small things, and can focus on the bigger picture.

But I had to eat alot of that pie, and I think I will always have one baking in the oven.

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Anne is a self-described obsessive, fairly high strung 40-something, rock and roll wannabe, art making, grilled cheese mummy queen. Born and raised in Toronto, married with two children. Been through hell and back, and lives to tell the tale.

Trans Am Love

by Crazymumma


Trans Am-driving mama trying to strike a balance between family, making art and getting back into shape.


Crazymumma has been doing the Stay at Home mummy thing for almost ten years, and is only making art again after a long hiatus. She is also packing a few extra pounds.
Add to the mix two extremely talkative girls, one a tween and one a five year old. As well as a husband who likes a lot of loving, a fish that will not die, a hamster, a cat, and a big old dusty house and you have one busy woman.