The gift of a nearly perfect, delightfully average, happy child.

It's spring break and I spent a near perfect day with 6 near perfect children in near perfect weather listening to near perfect moments of silliness and insight and giggles and inquiry and problem solving and bravado and warmth and ...... and ...... near perfect kids being nearly perfect.

Because perfect children, just like perfect moments don't exist ..... and in the mythical Unicorn-like moments they do? They are very very boring.

Perfect, like many things, doesn't exist and shouldn't exist.

One of the many troubles of being attached to an anxious mind and a very soft heart is how frequently that mind is set a spinning and how easily that heart is broken. And tonight, a stranger broke my heart and tore apart the near perfect serenity of my almost perfect day. She, innocently and with honest sincerity, posted a call for advice on her "gifted child". This Mom, I'm sure full of angst and earnestly wanting to do the best as a Mother, had her 6 year old child privately tested and lo! her child is "gifted" .... 99th percentile of something or other in the smarts department and juuuuuust a hint of ADHD..............

O-O <------------ this is my face. This is my WTF face. This is the face I make right before I COMPLETELY lose my shit. It's the face I'm making right now. But before I begin said loss of shit, I MUST say "I don't know what to do about this!!!" I feel awful for today's parents being scared into being scared that they must have a 6 year old evaluated and tested and ranked, and I feel awful for the enormous pressure being put on children to be a very perfect at everything and sit still while doing it or else people think they have ADHD .............. because I gotta tell you, 'gifted with a hint of ADHD' sounds like every 6 year old I have EVER met. At that age, hopefully, every child is a cerebral synaptic tornado of learning and growth and terrible at sitting still. A 6 year old's whole job is to be a terribly restless, brilliantly absorptive, and sensationally global in every thought, sense, and emotion. They are perhaps all "gifted" but due to their being 6, should we really even begin to try and guess that? At 6 they are, after all, just a doughy, sticky, curious ball of potential ....... and their destiny unwritten. Their future is wide open and I would never want to hang such a weighty label on a person so small. It seems to me one must wait a very long time and measure all the experience, knowledge, love, friendship, creation, triumph, loss, breadth, and depth a lifetime can offer before one can sum up their "gifts". It just seems to me, at 6, they're not anything. Not yet. Why must they be ANYTHING just yet?

Sigh.

I must say again "I don't know what to do about this". I don't know about a world so determined to rank children. To set them on a ladder and push them up the rungs before they're ready, to throw them into the tepid pot of water before it starts to boil .......... so they never think to jump out*. I don't know what to do about a world that expects so much achievement from children but doesn't even bother to think about expecting happiness, or balance, or fulfillment? I don't know what to do about a world that demands children learn early how to achieve but not how to live.

Sigh.

When you first held your child, you exhaled a long held breath and whispered a thanks to the Universe for delivering this child into your arms. Healthy. Breathing. Yours. And in those first moments, did you picture a future in which that child would be graded, ranked, evaluated, pushed, and ultimately celebrated as successful ..... or what? At what point is that measure of perfect success or achievement realized? Or did you simply breathe in a sweet puff of that baby's exhale from that near perfect being and wish him or her a near perfect life ... long, and peaceful, and happy?

Ah. Yes, you remember now .......... don't you?

Please resist the urge to compare, rank, evaluate, or even unravel the mysteries of the gifts your child holds inside them. Please. Unless your child is having a specific challenge, don't push. If there are areas of their development they are struggling with, help them of course. But don't make it a habit to push a child in directions they are ALREADY going. If they are bright, then they will be bright without you piling on advanced programming and accelerated syllabi. Educate yourself on appropriate developmental milestones for not just their intellectual growth but for their social/emotional well being, fine motor, gross motor, ways of knowing, and resilience. Consider them all important. You will probably discover it's more important for a 6 year to be able to make and keep a friend than to make the perfect letter 'e'. Worry less about the stuff they could 'potentially learn early' and more about all the many things they might fall behind on, or miss out on, or worse of all fail to take pleasure from if they aren't given the chance to try.

Our school system here in Canada isn't perfect. Never has been, never will be. But it's based on this beautiful and noble idea that if we give every child the same well rounded knowledge and experience then they will come out the other side happy, and knowing enough to know a little about everything and a lot about who they are. It's a dream ....... a goal ......... an important solution to this problem of balancing a future full of open doors with a slow enough pace to enjoy and appreciate what's behind each one. We know a school aged child's mind won't be ready to see that, so maybe the gift is teaching them nothing more than to be curious enough to open lots of doors and wise enough to figure out the ones to walk through. Send them to school. Just school. Let them fail and pass, let them make friends and lose them, let them take piano and quit piano, let them get bored and then curious, let them lead and get lost, let them teach what they know and struggle to learn what they don't. You can't expect to find a school or program which will perfectly fit your child any more than your child will ever perfectly fit a school or program ....... kids are each too unique for that. Don't worry about the gifts you're supposed to know they have, you can't know what they don't yet. So instead try your best to give them the gifts like curiosity, resilience, appreciation, honour, friendship, engagement, contentment, and happiness. Don't worry, you won't be perfect at it. Parenting is really hard. I mess up daily. I make a huge regrettable mistake weekly at least. I hope there is a gift in that too. We keep going. Our goal is 'delightfully and happily average' and hopefully they will be perfect at that.

"All kids are gifted; some just open their packages earlier than others." ~ Michael Carr

"I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious." ` Albert Einstein 

*Refers to this: http://awesci.com/the-old-tale-of-a-boiling-frog/

Can Edmonton DRIVE change? ** Caution I swear a lot in this one **

Over the years, I have spent a great deal of time on traffic safety. I have joined committees, written articles, participated and promoted the now defunct ‘Edmonton Pace Car’ project. I’ve bitched, whined, moaned, and shouted. I’ve attended conferences. I’ve flipped the bird (or many thousands of birds). I’ve donned a dayglow orange vest and attempted to be part of a safety patrol. I’ve lost my shit and all my composure and retired the dayglow orange vest because I’m really not nice enough or mature enough to do safety patrol. And I’ve given up completely on the people of Edmonton to do what’s right.

Edmonton. I have lost faith in you. Utterly. Completely. Entirely. But I want to have faith in you again.

Somehow I believe our cars have made it ok to let our hearts go cold and unfeeling as those prisons of steel and glass we encase ourselves in to get around. Each and every day thousands of perfectly nice Edmontonians climb into their vehicles and become assholes. Yeah I said it. There are thousands of people each day who climb into their car and become “drivers” …. Mindless, selfish, aggressive, disobedient, rude, uncaring “drivers”. There might as well be a cactus behind the wheel for they are just as prickish and incapable of humanity. And, the thing is, it’s possible to choose to be otherwise. We can choose to retain our humanity behind the wheel and it will only cost us a few minutes each day.

Before you let fly the barrage of impotent, and frankly stupid, excuses for terrible behaviour behind the wheel please peruse the list of rationale retorts I have provided below.

1.       Yo, Ghandi, even if you don’t “like” the speed on a given road or feel it’s “too slow” it’s still the law. If you feel strongly about it, work to have it changed. Speeding down said road isn’t a noble act of civil disobedience. You’re not MLK just yet heavy foot. But before making the complaint to get that 50 zone changed to 60, maybe take a good look at the roadway in question. Are there lots of crosswalks? Are they light controlled? Are there parks, schools, or services for children or elderly in the vicinity? Is it a long, largely uninterrupted stretch of road that people can accidentally pick up too much speed on? Maybe “I just feel like I want to go faster” isn’t actually a good enough reason. Before you plan the sit-in, please ask yourself if you could just give 3 extra minutes to the cause of ‘greater human safety’ and just slow down the teeniest bit?

2.       Hey, Schumacher, that’s super cool and all that your kick ass driving skills are such that you can do Mach 10 down that road and still stop for every crosswalk, and see every runaway soccer ball, and dodge every bicycle. You must feel so proud. If you’re done stroking yourself, I’d like to point out that not every driver is of your calibre. Some drivers may be just new. Some drivers may be a little older and their reflexes not what they once were. Some drivers may be a little more nervous of bad weather, or unfamiliar with our roads, or experiencing high traffic volume for the first time. I would never advocate for anyone unfit to drive to be driving, but let’s just say not every driver possesses your god like reaction times and infallible decision making. For us mere mortals, things happen very fast even when we are our best most alert selves. And maybe, and I’m just thinking out loud, just maybe not everyone is such an arrogant blowhard and actually have a sense of their own human limitations. Maybe speed limits are not actually there to inconvenience YOU but to set a reasonable, common sense standard to hopefully ensure that PEOPLE get where they are going safely?

3.       Seriously, Burt, I GET it already. You’re in a rush. But this isn’t Cannon Ball run and it wasn’t yesterday or the day before either. Also, it still won’t be tomorrow so stop trying to explain why you’re riding my back bumper like a dry humping Shih Tzu. Unless you have a human heart in a cooler and need to get it to the hospital for transplant, you don’t need to go faster than traffic is flowing. Get off my ass. I give no shits for your opinion on the matter and trying to bully me into going faster than the speed limit is just that, it’s bullying. It’s not a nice way to be. And people who do it, statistically do it often. I know you think you can handle it, yet, year after year in Alberta, the cause of about 1/3 of casualty collisions is reported as “following too closely”. Your impatience could kill someone. That kind of impatience often does kill someone. Back off, turn up the tunes, enjoy the ride or learn to take a bus. YOU arriving 3 minutes sooner than everyone else doesn’t win you anything. https://www.transportation.alberta.ca/Content/docType47/Production/AR2013.pdf

4.       What’s that you say Hermann Maier? “I’ll just go around you, and around the next guy, and the next too, until I slalom my way to certain victory!” Erm, fine dude, except this isn’t the friggin’ Super G and your pathologically frequent lane changes are a menace. Each time you change lanes you take a risk. You make a snap judgement at full speed (or maybe even above speed for the road way) and the whole process is on you. Changing lanes 9 million times in a 15-minute commute to end up at work 2 ½ minutes earlier makes you a speculative plunger, not a high roller. And an asshole by anyone’s definition, because you’re not just betting your own safety or property. Apparently human error is responsible for at least 90% of all accidents (I googled it). Here’s just one article. http://cyberlaw.stanford.edu/blog/2013/12/human-error-cause-vehicle-crashes This stat doesn’t say much for us human beings in this department does it. This ain’t the Super G ………. It’s more like Roller Derby, and most of you just aren’t ready to change your name to Iron Maven. Pick a lane, handle your shit, the view ain’t any better in front of me than behind me. Driving isn’t a shell game, a race, or a derby. You can’t pick the fastest lane, and you can’t keep infinitely playing the odds and winning ……….. and I’d bet YOUR life on that, but not mine, so PLEASE slow down.

5.       Oi Vey Jordy. I know you have those amazing 22^nd century visor glasses and all, but can you really see through that frosted up windshield and that foot of snow on your hood blowing a blizzard into the windshield as you drive? Let’s take a moment to ensure our vehicles are ready for driving, BEFORE fucking driving. Buy a windshield scraper, and a brush. Use them. I wasn’t aware that needed to be said, but there you go.

6.       YooHoo! Doc McSteamy? Doc McHottie? Doc McStuffins? Pardon me, but are you phoning in that heart transplant to the Mazankowski? Oh, no, you’re just talking to your Mom about your date last night, or to your friend about your other friend’s dry chicken dinner, or to your bud about the game? …………… GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE!!!!!!!

7.       Oiy! Carnac the Magnificent! I love that when you peer into that crystal ball of yours it tells you that you will pass safely and those aren’t the droids you’re looking for ……. No, wait, no I don’t. I think you’re a defective asshole for thinking you can predict the future. When you blast past that kid on his bike and just “see” that he won’t skid or stop or veer …… you’re an asshole. He’s 10 and he needs you to anticipate his 10 ness. When you approach the lady in the crosswalk and time it just to pass behind her as she passes, without anticipating that she may trip, fall, stop, turn around, drop something, or that a person (you didn’t see) may cross into the space you are gunning for, then YOU are an asshole. Plan to stop. If they cross quickly and the crosswalk is clear then it’s your lucky day and go forth you fortuitous crumpet you. But plan to stop because you can’t predict the future and “I didn’t think your 8 year old, in the clearly marked crosswalk, was going to drop his soccer ball and stop” is not going to comfort any grieving Mother. In fact, say that, and I’d plan on sleeping with one eye open until the end of your days ………. I’ve been in several crosswalks where someone almost mowed down my kid, because they “timed it wrong” and those drivers better just be glad I don’t have lasers for eyes.

8.       For Pete's sake Han, this isn’t the Kessel run. No one gives a crap if you made it in 12 parsecs or 14. I shall repeat. No one gives a shit. Let’s call driving no faster than the posted limit on main roads and even slower on side roads the ‘handshake’ deal among those who care about others. It’s the unwritten agreement between those who actually have hearts and feelings about others. For no other reason but that ……. They care. Refusing to keep that covenant does not make you a hero, or a rebel, or an outlaw …… it just makes you an asshole. If I said it once, I’ve said it a thousand times, if you think of yourself as a nice person and then get behind the wheel of your car and act like an asshole, then you are not actually a nice person. Because behind the wheel of your car is where people actually get killed. Over 2000 people each year die, and over 160 000 are injured in Canada because of drivers …… and each one is arguably preventable. https://www.tc.gc.ca/media/documents/roadsafety/cmvtcs2012_eng.pdf

9.       Oh Pinocchio! Jiminy can’t be in your pocket every second. My favourite (sarcasm font …. In bold Italics ….. and font size 72) excuse is “if it was such a problem then the police would stop me”. Ummmmmm, if you need your own private Police officer to follow you around every where and help you decide right from wrong then we have a pretty big problem. Can you imagine the court cases? “Your honour, I was unsure if stabbing that old lady and then placing her in my freezer while I went to cash the cheque for $11 dollars written to her grandson that I found in her purse was allowed. But no one showed up in a uniform to stop me, so it must have been ok.”  If you have a driver’s licence then you shouldn’t need anyone to tell you parking in a crosswalk is wrong, or speeding in a school zone is wrong, or failing to yield to pedestrians is wrong, or gunning down residential side roads to save 3 minutes is wrong, or tailgating is wrong, or any sort of behind-the-wheel-asshattery is wrong. If you need policing to drive courteously and well, then you shouldn’t be driving. It’s a privilege, not a right.

10       “Ummm Marie Antoinette wants you to eat cake because that’s how much she cares ….. you know, about the little people”. Look, self entitlement is ugly. And having an obtuse sense of privilege is down right disgusting. Knock it off. Edmonton seems to have an overabundance of people who believe their time is more valuable than everybody else’s. They get in their cars and expect the seas of traffic to part, parking spaces to materialize, other cars to move out of their way as they swerve dialing their phones or applying their mascara. They expect the royal treatment, but afford it to no one else, because no one else is deserving I guess, and because if EVERYONE drove like that it would be anarchy. Those who drive like they own the road can do so only because others have decided the roads belong to everyone. And it isn’t fair or right or OK. The psychology of entitlement is not encouraging. It’s a tough mindset to overcome but it is possible. https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/in-practice/201303/9-types-entitlement-tendencies-and-how-overcome-them A big part of recognizing entitlement is realizing that you don’t think rules apply to you ….. that somehow you are special. And each time put yourself ahead of others and it pays off, that reinforces your viewpoint. This is a scenario that perpetuates itself so beautifully when we drive. If you break the rules more than anyone else, then you get ahead, and it’s their fault for not being important enough or strong enough or brave enough to follow suit (or at least that’s the rationale they use to make it ok). It’s dangerous. If I stood in the middle of my street and fired a high power rifle down the road each morning, I would be unlikely to hit anything, but playing those odds knowing how dangerous it could be would make me a monster, wouldn’t it? Is the selfish and dangerous behaviour only bad when something bad happens, or is it always bad? I know how I answer that question, how do you? I guess how you answer it may say something about the person you really are or the person you should strive to become.

Roads belong to people, not drivers, and certainly not cars. People. If we could just put ourselves in that frame of mind, just think how much nicer our roads would be, how much safer, how much more pleasant, and how much nicer …… and truly only a tiny teeny bit slower.

I feel like I’ve been writing about this same subject for my whole life, and that I watched people get worse instead of better for my whole life. Edmonton, I’m about to give up on you. I’m about to vote Trump, and get truck balls, and drown some puppies …………. No, just kidding. I couldn’t be such an asshole ……….. wanna join me in not assholing? Please. Please join me in the “just don’t be an asshole” movement. There’s no prize. There’s no cookie. There’s just the hope of a city to be proud of.

The birds and the bees our way.

We’d hit the open road, more or less on time, and deeply puzzled by how the van had become so overflowing. Car trips with children, are at best, an exercise in hope and delusion. Yet there is no better way for a family to bond, laugh, discover together once stripped of schedules, routines, and creature comforts. Families grow together on road trips, and growing isn’t always pain free.

Our 2 kids were still small on this trip. Our oldest only six or seven. And we had just begun to understand just how much he (like every child) is capable of understanding. I am an educator but the wisdom and capability of children never ceases to amaze me. Overall our parenting style could best be described as a mix of ‘crash position’ and ‘going on gut instinct and figuring out how to pay for the therapy later’ So when his little voice, still so high and sweet and ringing out like bells, asked “Mommy, where did I come from?” I was caught off guard. I was flooded with bittersweet emotions. Wasn’t he still too young to hear this? Is lying about this a kindness meant to create wonder and joy, like Santa or the Tooth Fairy? We had never held back, he knew about pregnancy, he knew there was no stork, he knew the vocabulary like penis and vagina ….. he was obviously searching for more. I looked over at my husband, this man I loved so much, to find him trying hard to suppress a grin and pretend he hadn’t heard the question.

“Well” I stammered, “you know a man fertilizes an egg in a woman’s body and if conditions are right that fertilized egg can grow into a baby.”

“Yes” he said.

“OK, so a man and a woman can have sex, that’s what they do to fertilize the egg, and have a baby. It takes about 38 weeks to grow a baby in a woman’s uterus and then it is born through her vagina or sometimes a Dr has to cut into her body and take the baby out, that’s how you were born.” I was failing him, I knew it. There was so much more to say, so much more to ensure he understood the world as it is and could venture into it kindly and with empathy. “But when people don’t want to have a baby, there’s things they can do so they can still have sex and not have a baby. Because it’s nice to have sex. It feels nice. So people don’t just have sex to have babies.”

“Okaaaaay” he says.

I am now outside my body looking down at this woman trying so hard to impart a meaningful lesson to this boy’s earnest question. She continued on “but if someone wants to have a baby but can’t, or doesn't want to make one in their own body, they can adopt a baby. We have many friends and relatives who are adopted. Sometime a couple can’t have a baby, or sometimes a man or a woman would like to have a baby but don’t have a partner they want to create a baby with. Sometimes two men are a couple, and love each other, but their bodies aren’t able to make a baby together so they adopt a baby. Sometimes two women love each other and do the same thing, or they find a man to help them have a baby from one of their bodies. There’s so very many ways to make a family. Some families have one parent, some have two, some have step parents too. Some families have two moms or two dads, and some families are just grown ups and they don’t want children. There are MANY ways to make a family. But YOU, and your family …. We made you and your brother with our bodies. That’s how we made our family. I just really want you to understand that is not the only way to make a family.” I have poured as much love and honestly into these words as I could muster. I wish we had had a book, or a website, or a big cozy couch to curl up on as I shared all this, but we were in the car and this now and forever would be the place he took this step in his understanding. I hoped I had ‘nailed it’.

I looked over at my husband, this man I love, and he turned his face to me with the same perplexed, stunned, horrified look he gave me when our son, this same boy, first filled his little yellow sleeper full of poop all up the back and out the neck, and all down the left leg into the toes. His eyes, however, I’m pretty sure said “you nailed it.”

And what of my son? Had I overwhelmed him? Had I said too much? Enough? Was he understanding the over arching truth I was trying to convey? Was he ready to carry all this?

“Umm, Mom.” He said, in that sweet, light voice which still rang like bells. “Mom, Thank you. But what I meant was …….. I mean what I was wondering was ……. WHERE was I born?”

“Oh” I said. I am back in my body now and it weighs 9000 pounds. I am registering my husband’s laugh that he is trying to pass of as coughing and choosing not to hear or even look at him. “Victoria, honey. You were born in Victoria.”

“OK, thanks. I couldn’t remember.” He replied. His face so sweet, his heart so light, his world so unchanged ………… maybe I had managed to teach him all that, without saying all that, after all? My pride was only slightly bruised, and my heart was very full. Road trips are a place for growing together, or maybe just realizing you have already been growing that way all along.

Everybody poops

I sit on my kid's elementary school's parent council. We do a lot of good work raising funds to support kids, planning projects to support kids, supporting the staff and teachers who support kids. We plan some important things. We plan some fun things. We have some great successes. We have some failures too. We laugh. We think making the school a better place for kids is worth doing and we know that looks like a lot of different things. We try. We are not perfect.

Now, there is someone in the community saying we did not hear them when they asked us to "educate parents" about Bill 10 (the already passed Provincial Bill allowing for Gay-Straight alliances) and the newly proposed Provincial guidelines for best practice (which would create a province wide set of guidelines to help schools protect and respect students with diverse sexual orientations, gender identities, and gender expressions). They are bad mouthing our school. This person felt we should be "sharing" this news, even though we have never shared such information before. This person said they were sent to us by the Alberta Association of School Councils but the association will not even call us back to explain why they would want small volunteer based school councils to interfere with provincial politics. This person seems to think that their right to provide 'feedback' is somehow being trampled upon, and that we are failing in our duties by not championing the conversation around these policies. This person came loaded with a lot of fear based interpretations about unsanctioned adults suddenly having access to small children and kids starting clubs on ANY issue in an attempt to disguise the real reason they opposed. But that's no reason to fail to advance the rights of Alberta's LGBTQ population and expand our collective sense of what diversity looks like. This issue is about advancing human rights and that's not open to the court of public opinion. If we raise a flag (even at the urgent request of someone else) on this issue we risk singling out the very people this legislation is in place to protect; if we raise this flag we risk risk hurting them.

When I lived in Victoria, I subbed and volunteered frequently at a school called George Jay. The school was built in 1909 and named after the man who fought so ferociously in FAVOR of segregated schools, and who succeeded in pushing 100s of Chinese (and a handful of First Nation) students out of his namesake school (and all Victoria schools) in 1922. In fact, the September he won his motion (after getting himself re-elected School board chair), he had principals gather and publicly march the Chinese children to a dilapidated old "school" and there they were left ...... (http://chinatown.library.uvic.ca/chinese_public_school and http://www.openschool.bc.ca/bambooshoots/teacher/gr10/resources/L3/Story%20Sheet_Victoria%20School%20Segregation.pdf) And he had the public's approval every step of the way ...... but that does not make it alright.

About 20 years ago, this almost forgotten ugly bit of history (just one of so many, many ugly bits) resurfaced and there was brief talk of renaming the school ............ I still think they should have removed this man's name from the building forever. But a brilliant piece of truth was gleaned from it all, and that is 'what we hide, we forget'. And we must never forget what this man did, or else we risk repeating it. (As a wonderful side note, George Jay school is a thriving inner city school which boasts more diversity than perhaps any other school in the city ....... and old George Jay would have hated that. So somehow, perhaps, it is very fitting that the name stay).

So, what now of Bill 10, the bill passed in March and allowing for Gay-Straight alliances? And what of these new guidelines about to be enacted provincially which will simply institutionalize a wider range of 'ways of being' and allow for a more respectful environment for kids and staff who have previously been marginalized or worse? Well, on a personal note I’d like you to know that gay-straight alliances were already always happening. But before now they often were happening under bleachers, and just off school grounds and there was smoking and talking and laughing and much angst. It was always a bunch of marginalized straight girls, and a bunch of gay or bi or questioning boys, and a few really butch lesbians who were just so fucking cool. And they were always groups where kids could find safety, and the straight girls' Dads never minded (because it’s virtually impossible to get pregnant hanging out with a gay boy at school). The thing is NOW, these kids can meet and gather AT school, and a teacher can pop in and see if they have questions or need help or support. And now that can all happen and the school won’t and, more importantly CAN’T tell that young questioning, 2 spirited, or gay person’s parents what they’re going through (but if they want a safe way to tell them, the school can find someone to help, and if their family rejects them completely, the school can find services to help). Before ……… sometimes those kids just killed themselves.

And as for those non gender specific washrooms? Those devil pits of rape and assault and immodest display and dirty tom peepery? What if we just asked, and expected, everyone to use a bathroom for what it’s for and nothing else? What if we stopped body shaming? What if we stopped equating nakedness with sex? What if we stopped equating the presence of our various bits of genitalia as predetermined sexual invitation? What if we stopped trying to shove everyone into defined little boxes and then being surprised when there’s more than 2 boxes? What if we just set the bar high for behaviour and respect and stopped trying to set a bar at all for identity? What if we just let kids find their way, safely, and with respect? What if? Honestly, please remember that you don't have to exactly understand or completely empathize with something to know it can't hurt you.

So we, here at your school council, would like you to know that this is happening. https://education.alberta.ca/media/1626737/91383-attachment-1-guidelines-final.pdf Right now. And it is, apparently, our "duty" to inform you of this, even though we have never, ever, never ever,informed you of a single other bill before. So there you go. But just so you know, Edmonton Public schools has boasted policy in line with ALL of these guidelines since 2012.

https://www.epsb.ca/ourdistrict/policy/h/hfa-ar/ and the sky has not fallen and the kids are ok. And I couldn't be prouder to send my kids to them. So there ya go. 

At the end of the day, everybody poops. Everybody needs to use the bathroom and the rules for considerate, respectful, and safe bathroom use HAVE NOT CHANGED. Don't let those, who hate, scare you or fill your mind with doubt. Bathrooms are for peeing, pooping, and maybe a little small talk ............. and in the end I don't care who saves me from walking out the door with TP on my shoe. I just hope that they do.

Why women in Canada should argue in favour of another woman’s right to wear a Niqab to her Canadian Citizenship ceremony.

1.       We celebrate our multiculturalism until, sadly, we don’t. Traditional dress has long been a celebrated part of the Citizenship Ceremony. And it’s explicitly allowed. This isn’t the Oscars …… people get to dress themselves. http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/resources/tools/cit/ceremony/dress.asp

2.       Defrocking is oppressive. In our long a sad human history of conquering, enslaving, dehumanizing, and exterminating each other (over cultural, ethnic, religious, or geographical differences) women and children usually bear the worst of the humiliations. History is rife with the kidnappings, rapes, and murders of women. Women being used as fodder. Women being used as human shields. And then there’s all the defrocking we do to a conquered woman. Women prisoners are often stripped, and forced out of the familiar and safe comfort of their own garb. Often their hair is cut violently. Both are often done in direct violation of her beliefs and sense of modesty. Some of those humiliations may even make it impossible for her to ever return home. Forcibly defrocking a women is not liberation. It is an entirely new kind of oppression.  

3.       The public humiliation of women as a means to send a message is not ok. Within a culture women are often publically humiliated to send a message about the “norms” of society and noncompliance. Scarlet letters, stonings, town square barracks, public burnings and hangings …. All over things such as affairs, infidelity, pregnancy out of wedlock, abortion. But the man? Nope. Dragging a women out into the public eye and humiliating her for being different is a very effective tool. It’s cruel. It’s unfair. It is misogynistic. It is very very common throughout history and in most cultures. Common but certainly not OK.

4.       There is no “us” without “them”. Canada may have been founded philosophically by the French and the English, but they’ve never ever been the only game in town. The First Nations were here for Millennia before the English and the French. The Norwegians/Vikings too. Slaves were brought. There were Canadian slaves for a long time….. look it up. (And we enslaved First Nations people).  And although they were mostly of African origin, they represented a wide range of peoples. Canada may have been the infamous final stop of the underground railroad (and Canada had laws that no escaped or emancipated slave could be re-enslaved) but slavery wasn’t abolished until 1834 (in the states is was 1827). There is no real way to be sure of the number of people from non- French or non English backgrounds at the time of Canada’s birth in 1867 ……. But there was never an “us” without a “them” who were summarily dismissed and ignored. The notion of speak like us, dress like us, act like us, look like us or you will never belong and never be included is rooted in our history; and it is nothing to be proud of. Canada is full of stories about kids not fitting in because they were brown, because of their accent, because of their beliefs. It was conform or die. Many of them did. A first generation Canadian child growing up in my time was ashamed of their culture, hid their culture, lied about their culture, was called names because of their culture. Do you want to know why there were so many people from so many cultures around my parent’s holiday tables? Because my parents had the infinitely deep wisdom to accept all cultures. To value those differences and have curiosity about people's experiences. My parents felt honoured that they would share all those beautiful differences. How exceptionally lucky I was to grow up in that. How amazingly lucky we all were to meet all those perfectly perfect Canadians. How very simple it truly ended up being to make sure everyone felt safe and accepted. A Muslim friend I grew up with recently reminded me that on the morning of 9/11 my parents stood helplessly watching, just like most of us did. And in the absence of anything they could do to help anyone actually really involved, they did the next best thing. They dropped in on their Muslim friends and neighbours just to make sure they were ok. My parents sensed there would be dark days ahead, baseless assumptions and accusations, and a real tangible erosion in acceptance. So they invited themselves over for tea ……. Just to say “I see you for you. And I like who I see.”

5.       If it cannot be demonstrably proven as harmful then it is harmless. Regardless of how I feel about a Niqab. Regardless of how little I understand. I cannot truly say that it harms me. I cannot truly say that it harms her. So it is harmless. Let’s ALWAYS focus on behaviours and not attributes. We absolutely have a duty to define Canada by a set of corresponding rights and responsibilities. We absolutely have the obligation to support our most vulnerable and uphold equality as our most important value. We absolutely must stop all behaviours which harm others …….. but this is just an outfit. Let’s be really careful not to make the Niqab the visual equivalent of the KKK hood or the Hitler moustache. Because, let’s face it, very few of us understand it enough to cause it to be such an enduring symbol of female oppression.

6.       Old habits die hard. Let’s just simplify things a bit. My childhood neighbour wore a wig every day of her life (despite her being a beautiful person – inside and out) …. Almost to the end. She would have felt naked without it. My Mom permed her hair into the same haircut for over 40 years until her children and her friend who cuts her hair finally said “ENOUGH!!”. She still says it doesn’t feel like “her”. Anytime I ever try to dress up I end up near tears, saying that I’m “turning in my girl card as I fail at being a girl” and stuffing myself into yet another grey pair of slacks. Sometimes we wear what makes us feel comfortable. Sometimes we stick with what we know. It’s not a predictor of our worthiness or compatibility or ability or values. Sometimes it’s just about what makes us feel comfortable.

7.       There are many kinds of masks. The CCTFA (the Canadian Cosmetics, Toiletry, and Fragrance Association) reports that they are a 9.5 billion dollar industry in Canada. 9.5 BILLION. The Canadian Cosmetic and Esthetic surgery industry refuses to keep statistics. But it is unarguably a multi million dollar industry. Hiding the reality of who we are and what we look like is not exclusive of the Niqab. There is a conversation to have here. It’s important. Don’t be afraid to acknowledge it.

8.       People evolve. The beauty (the exquisite undeniable beauty) of a multicultural society is that it is not locked into anything. It has evolution and diversity built into its nature. When we draw some kind of arbitrary line in the sand loudly proclaiming “this far and no farther” it had better be important. It had better be about something that matters. Because if it isn’t important and it can’t be proven to fundamentally protect a person or group in need of protection, it’s going to get trampled over. Greeting the new women of Canada with the message “buckle up and ride hard because we have rights here” is very different from “I have arbitrarily and without understanding chosen this piece of clothing as a symbol of your trampled upon rights as a woman and I demand you give it up”. Let’s focus on the actual actions and subversions of women within a culture, or a family. Those we can define ….. but a hat, a veil, a dress and what those mean, not so much. The bottom line is that it is highly unlikely that the future generations will keep the Niqab. It will fall away as the subsequent generations find their place within a multicultural life that their parents didn’t know. Beautiful. But along the way, is it really so bad if they finally push back and keep the parts they love? The beautiful difference, the fabulous stuff they have to offer ….. or is what a Canadian looks like locked in? We too can evolve to accept more beautiful difference. Remember when the sky was going to fall if a Mounty wore a Turban? Turns out that it looks pretty darn fabulous and not a bit unCanadian. 

9.       Take a step back and see where we’re at, as women, in the here and now. Women don’t exactly have it all figured out here in Canada. Women in Canada earn, at best, 82 cents for every dollar a man earns in the exact same position and with the exact same education and experience; according to 2008 data. Our own official government data says 2008 data paints an even bleaker picture when broken down by position and full time vs. part time. See for yourself: http://www.parl.gc.ca/Content/LOP/ResearchPublications/2010-30-e.htm Many fear we have slipped; some saying even as low as 68 cents on the dollar but our current federal government has assured we can’t know by cancelling detailed census taking. In Canada 80% of sex crime victims are female. 1 in 4 Canadian women will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime (5.7 out of every 10 aboriginal women). Women make up roughly 50% of the population but are only 25% of the MPs in federal government (Afghanistan has 28%) http://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SG.GEN.PARL.ZS . Studies show that the vast majority of single parent households are headed by women and that at least 21% of them are raising their children in poverty. Women account for 60% of the minimum wage labour force and 70% of the part time work force. Anecdotally any working woman can tell you about the wedge being pounded in between full time vs part time. It’s rarely a choice. The lowest paying jobs only offer part time even if you want more. The better paying work only offers full time even if you’d like to have a little more balance between home and work. Mothers are allowed to the table only if full time; on an increasing basis the story is play with the big boys or go home and Mom … you don’t get to be both. Women with children consistently earn less than women without and have access to far fewer benefits. There are infinitely more measures of gender inequality here in this Nation. I have purposely NOT provided links because I want you to really look …… you won’t have to look long or hard. Just look at the roar of apathy over calls for meaningful inquires into the shocking number of missing and murdered First Nations women. Women aren’t celebrating equality yet in Canada and won’t be any time soon. Immigrants have nothing to do with our unfortunate gender gap and dismal record on the rights of women. Nor does one lady in a Niqab. We have done this all on our own.

10.   It’s just the right thing to do. Because there are far more important issues. Because there are real people really hurting. Because accepting this woman, who has chosen here above everywhere and anywhere else as her home, exactly as she is the right thing to do. And the right thing for her to do is to be the best, kindest Canadian she can be; and that has nothing to do with what she is wearing.

The NOISY neighbours.

To my parent’s neighbour,

Today, Sunday August 9^th, you came over around 5PM to let us know that the sound of our work was disturbing your family dinner. Now, you COULD have said the sound of our blade cutting brick was making it hard to enjoy a special family time and politely asked if we could stop. But that is not what you did. No, what you did was storm out of your family dinner to round the corner and pound on my parent’s front door and ring the bell repeatedly. We are sorry we did not hear you but we were all out back working. My son heard and ran to get the door but was so frightened by your behaviour that he ran back to get a grown up (which was the right thing to do). You then stormed over to the side gate to take a piece out of me.

 “It’s very loud…………”

“There’s a Sunday bylaw…………….”

“You’re disturbing our dinner……………”

I mumbled something about trying to finish my parent’s patio. I let you say your piece. I watched you storm off. And we stopped. We had worked very hard for many days and we were almost, at long last, finished. Many kind neighbours had been by over the days to help. It had become a neighbourhood project, and we were almost done. But of course we stopped. My parents felt bad. Then they, we all, felt hurt. Then angry.

And now? Now I just feel sad for you. You missed one heck of a chance to be a good neighbour, and to meet about the best neighbours a person could have. They ARE loud neighbours. Not just while relaying a backyard patio but all the time. They, my parents, have a big loud noisy life. And YOU could have been invited into it. See, my parents invite everybody IN. Into their home, and into their big LOUD messy busy noisy life. Over their 38 years in that house they have toiled to turn it into the home everyone can go to.

Growing up I hardly remember a time we didn’t have "company". Friends, family, even strangers have always found a welcoming roof over their heads, a warm bed, and full bellies when at my parent’s home. Sometimes they stayed a day …….. sometimes a year. They have hosted travelers from all around the world; weary strangers pointed in the direction of my parent’s home have found welcome and left as friends. They have always been a safe refuge for anyone needing a little support. They have a way of making everyone feel safe, supported, and welcome.

I think you really missed out on meeting them. Those noisy neighbours of yours. My parents. If you met them you would know that there is always room for one more at their table. That my Mom can roll out an amazing meal for 50 and make it feel like a small family dinner. That my parents can turn neighbours into family. That my parents have participated actively in the lives of the people of this community for 38 years. That my Dad has every tool and if you need to borrow it he will often follow you back home to help you use it. That my Mom bakes the best banana muffins. That my Dad knows more about the history of popular music than anyone I’ve ever met. That my Dad’s list of organizations he has volunteered his financial expertise for is very very long and still growing. That my Mom has the most beautiful and wild garden. That my Mom takes more people to the hospital than most ambulance drivers, because SHE is who people call first. That their home, for 38 years, is ALWAYS full of children. That dozens and dozens (and probably dozens more) of neighbourhood children have learned to swim in their pool. That my parents have this wonderful weird way of becoming surrogate parents anytime it’s needed. That they get back every good thing they put out and have this wonderful grateful, happy outlook on life. That they have great neighbours all around them. That they always think things can be made better for others and they are willing to help. They have joyfully shared in the ‘growing up’ of so many neighbourhood families and my parents always feel so honoured and blessed by it. That everyone in the neighbourhood knows they can call my parents at 3AM and find help if they need it. That they have been present in the lives of their neighbours through illnesses, births, tragedies, weddings, divorces, and deaths. That my Mom’s nursing background and exceptionally intuitive skills have been called into action, more times than anyone can remember, for everything from cuts to breaks to strokes. That my Mom and Dad have sat by and with neighbours on their death beds. That they have made sure the best care was given and the families felt safe and loved ………… because neighbours can be family too.

You should have come over and just asked ………….. because then you could have MET them. And they could have MET you. They are great neighbours. They are noisy GREAT neighbours.

*And for the record. The local Sunday noise bylaw and construction bylaw both say 7PM. We checked with 3 Police officers and a bylaw expert. One lives across the street from my parents. He’s their neighbour.

Can we just PLEASE stop freaking out over boobies and breastfeeding?

Good for this woman (link to her story below). I love what she did and said. I would only add (and it's not the first time I have said it) ..... CAN. WE. PLEASE. GET. OVER. THIS. Boobs and Babes are natural. If a woman chooses to breastfeed, then we should support her. If she doesn't, we should support her too. But a boob has never, ever, never burned out someones retina. It is not dangerous to look at, it is not Medusa. A boob can not turn you to stone. And NO woman feeding her baby should ever feel ashamed of her booby. If she CHOOSES to cover up, that is fine, but it should not be out of shame. It's just a boob folks, nothing to see here. I saw one in the mirror this morning, in fact I saw 2. Lucky me, to have kept both when some women face such serious health scares that they lose one or both. They were looking a little rough, were looking every bit their 42 years of age, were looking like they'd spent almost 4 years feeding babies, and they were looking pretty fiercely proud of all that. The world has never once failed to spin on her axis when anyone else saw them either.

Seriously, CAN WE JUST GET OVER THIS? I am proud of this woman. I am sorry if she felt even a moment of shame or self doubt because of that man. He had no right to judge her or her booby. I'd LIKE to say that all of this stems from some sort of misogynistic societal bias that boobs are only to be seen when perfect and for the pleasure of others ........... but that's only just a tiny part. It's honestly the, so called, first world's horrifyingly immature attitude about sex and willingness to view prudishness as morality. Somehow we have made sex, intimacy, and our bodies so ridiculously shameful that we think anything remotely related should never be brought out into the light or celebrated or VALUED. It's bad, and disgraceful, and unclean, and should only happen in dark, secret places .......... but bad things can happen and do happen in dark places. Now, I'm not advocating public fornication ......... but can we start evolving into human beings, who embrace their bodies, appreciate beautiful moments of human intimacy (like a Mother Breastfeeding her baby), and make wildly empowered, and respectful decisions about their relationships with their own bodies and the bodies of others - so we can have healthy, enlightened, and happy physical and sexual lives. Full and rich with comfort, and a profound knowledge of the value of touch, physical intimacy, and sexual enjoyment - and the gift of knowing most of the intimacy and love we crave and need (to be fulfilled human beings) isn't actually sexual at all ..... that part is just a bonus.

And in closing, might I simply add that everyone who continues to compare the "natural act" of breastfeeding to the "natural act" of peeing and pooing, as an argument against breastfeeding in public, deserves having someone leave a giant turd in the middle of their dining room table while they are eating ........... you know, to help them see the difference.

https://www.facebook.com/conner.kendall/posts/993428820669198:0