Samantha Bailey

Need a Break? But How...

2011-05-31T16:27:00.000-07:00

Ring, ring.

Me: Hello?

Friend: I need a break!

Me, sighing: I know.

Friend: How am I supposed to get a break? My baby won't nap unless I'm walking, my hair is actually two tone now, I've been wearing the same clothes for three days, and I have no one to look after the baby. I just want an hour! One freaking hour!

So, as I have mentioned, I am lucky to have some incredibly special mommy friends. Some old, some new, and all very important to me. And we all need a break sometimes. Man, do we love our kids, but the transition from all night party girl to dinners and movies to nothing is a huge lifestyle change. It is all worth it, and what makes us all get up again and again and again through the night is our children. But sometimes, we just need some time to ourselves.

I've had the same circular conversation with my friends for years. With the skyrocketing cost of childcare, busy friends and some with no help from their families, how does any mom get a minute to herself? I am so lucky to have my parents living around the corner. Once a week, they pick up my son from preschool and also take my daughter for a few hours here and there so I can do some work, become a "natural" blonde again or just grab a coffee and read a book for a little while. Most of my friends aren't so lucky. Some don't have parents, some have parents who live far away, and some just don't have that kind of relationship with their families.

So I decided to do some research. With all of the delicious stuff online for moms, I knew there had to be some solution. And lo and behold, there is! Launching in June, sitswap.ca is (http://www.sitswap.ca/) the answer to the problem almost every mom faces at some point in her child raising years. Sitswap.ca is like match.com for moms: an online community of moms who can build friendships, find other moms in their neighbourhood, and eventually, exchange babysitting. And we can go and do whatever--get a relaxing massage, go shopping and actually try on clothes or unbelievably, see a movie. During the day. Alone.

It sounds a bit sketchy at first, I'll admit. It is extremely hard to trust anyone with our kids. Before I let anyone near the two most important little people in my life, I thoroughly check them out. I researched the hell out of my son's preschool, and I have seen inside the lives of the new people I've met. But everyone you meet is new in the beginning. To find more people in my neighbourhood, who perhaps are like me, simultaneously working from home and being a fulltime mom, would be awesome. And to meet online? It's kind of exciting to see who I might find.

For all of the moms who can't find babysitters, can't afford the almost $2000 a month for daycare or are at the very bottom of the never ending subsidy list, sitswap.ca is revolutionary and timely. This Toronto-based website will bring together moms and kids and create the village that it takes to raise great children. Because their moms will be happy. And there is nothing more important than that.

Mommy Friends

2011-05-23T08:04:00.000-07:00

I have got to be the luckiest mommy on the planet. When I was on mat leave with my son, now four, I had a couple of close friends who had also had babies at the same time. But big hot guy had just finished his Phd, and we were waiting for the best job my brilliant rocket scientist could get. So, we lived in an apartment in a very swanky part of town and didn't have a car. I walked everywhere I could because negotiating public transit in Toronto with a giant stroller does not a good day make so I needed to find some friends in my area. Friends to have coffee with, walk with and talk with. But, when you're long out of university and have worked the same job for many, many years, it's not easy to make new friends. People you can really connect with. It actually brings up old insecurities and the anxiety you feel the first day of highschool, wanting to find people who will like you. And who are just like you. I trolled parks, coffee shops and drop in centres, but in that pricey neighbourhood, I ended up meeting mostly nannies. Lovely women, but not quite whom I was looking for.

I finally met a group of moms, and though we hung out every week and enjoyed each other's company, there was only one woman I have kept in touch with. Luckily, we now live on the same street, and if it weren't for that klatch of moms, I wouldn't have met her.

But when I went on mat leave with my daughter, I just happened to do it at the same time as a few very close friends and my very bestest friend in the world. Plus, my mom, who I count as one of my dearest friends, lives around the corner from me and is great fun to hang out with. It has been amazing. These women know me through and through. I never have to explain myself or apologize for anything; they get me. And I get them. I fiercely love them all.

But there is one mom who is new to me. A mom I happened to meet on the street when my baby girl was only two weeks old, and she has become one of the first people I'd call if I needed something. We have walked for hours together, sharing our lives and the love of our children, and I trust her completely. This woman, whom I would never have met if not for the very cute sunhat my daughter was wearing and she asked about, is someone I would leave my children alone with and would know they were getting the best care.

As we get older, it's hard to invite new people into sharing our lives. But if we do open the door, we may find someone incredibly special and wonderful. It just takes a little trust and the natural instincts that being moms has given us.

Remember Me?

2011-05-20T09:15:00.000-07:00

Um, yeah, I disappeared again. Between constant diaper changing with one kid and getting the other one out of diapers, I have been busy. It's all been amazing, but since my baby girl stopped sleeping at night, I stopped writing. But now, well, not only am I writing again, but I've started my own business. Yup, it's true. Perfect Pen Communications, a full service writing and editing company, is now open and running at full force. Exciting? Absolutely. Scary? Indeed. And it's only taken me 38 years to discover what I really want to do. Or maybe it was the full support of big hot guy and my family and friends that made me realize I can actually do this. So I am.
The question is when do I work? I have two kids, one in preschool and one at home with me. Ah, the beauty of naptime and nighttime. Thank goodness all of my favourite shows are wrapping up (although I might have to take some much needed breaks to watch the Bachelorette), and I can spend the hours between the kids' bedtime and mine working. Writing. It's a dream come true.
Stay tuned for all of the fun that is about to ensue...

A"Rated R" Night

2010-09-23T06:42:00.000-07:00

No, big hot guy and I didn't have a date, and we didn't have "quality time" together. But I did have a most exciting encounter one night last week. Anyone who knows me knows that I'm quite interested in celebrities. Okay, okay, I'm obsessed with the glossy covers of celebrity magazines and the myriad of gossip sites on the Internet. I love to know about people's lives, and famous people, well, they're the best. So, imagine my glee when I went grocery shopping (this is how I spend a few hours to myself in the evenings) last night and saw Justin "Rated R" Rego standing at the checkout. Now, for those of you who didn't watch the most recent season of the Bachelorette, you have no idea who Justin Rego, a onetime wrestler with the silly name of "Rated R", is. But, he was the villain, the guy with girlfriends back home and for awhile there, the most hated man in America. Normally, when I see someone famous (it happens once in awhile), I stare, gawl and stalk. Well, except the time I chased Kiefer Sutherland down the street, but that's a whole other story. Anyway, I couldn't resist so as he was buying wine (my grocery sells wine--it's awesome), I sidled up to him and said, "Um, excuse me, were you on television?" Such a cool opening line, I know, but I didn't know what to say. He smiled (and wow, he is as hot in person as on TV) and said, Yeah." So I asked, "Is your life a living hell right now?" Trying to build communication based on shared understanding and sympathy. And we talked. For a good ten minutes. In fact, I think I was the one who said, "I'd better get going." He was very personable, clever and great for TV. He knew just what to say and how to say it, and he's much nicer than he appeared on TV. It was a very satisfying experience, and I think I might go grocery shopping tonight and see who I happen to run into...

It really does take a village

2010-08-17T11:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, so having two kids is awesome. Exhausting, exhilarating, hilarious, frustrating, and so, so busy. But the big hot man and I had gotten ourselves into a pretty great routine and work very well together as a team. So, what could go wrong? My boobs apparently. I had somehow escaped it with my son, but two months into having a daughter, I got what someone once told me they wouldn't wish on their worst enemy: mastitis. And everything you've ever heard and read about it is true. It is hell. Pure evil hell. Searing pain, chattering teeth, chills, and no energy to do anything, except of course, breastfeed. Because breastfeeding is really the only way to get rid of it and how I got it in the first place. And what is the most important thing to do to heal? Bed rest. Ha, ha, ha! I nearly fell off the chair laughing when the doctor told me I'd have to spend at least the next two days in bed or risk serious consequences. Um, two kids, a messy house, and usually tons of energy to spare...I don't know the meaning of bed rest. Oh, I used to when I could sleep in until noon, take a shower and go right back to bed to conserve all my energy for all night partying. But now? How? Reinforcements. And a truly amazing husband. And mom.

While I slept away the raging infection, my big hot man took care of both kids with minimal crying (from all of them), cleaned the house, built a BBQ and continuously asked, "Can I get you anything?"

Big hot man and I have been together almost fifteen years, and as corny as it sounds, I truly fell in love with him all over again. And my mom? The woman I swore I'd hate forever when I was a teenager? She came right over and helped out too.

So many people raise kids on their own or with minimal help, and I am so lucky. I could do it on my own if I had to, but I'm so glad that I don't.

Stage Fright

2010-08-10T08:24:00.001-07:00

Something that surprises a lot of people is that I have terrible stage fright. Yes, it is a bit funny considering I'm a teacher who stands in front of at least fifteen different groups of strangers every eight weeks and odd since I'm a writer who is desperate to get her name out there and get published. I have a blog that I've barely told anyone about, books I've only let agents and very close family and friends read, and a secret facebook account. What am I so scared of? That I suck. I don't want to suck in front of people. I like being good at what I do, and if only a few choice people are privy to it, I'll get less criticism, less rejection and less of the feeling of being, well, less. Having strangers critique my work is fine because I have nothing invested in them, and they reject people all the time, and looking like an idiot in front of my students is okay because I manage to charm my way out of it most of the time. And if I can't, they live all over the world, and I'll never have to see them again if I totally screw up.
But I need to change. I have kids now, and I want to teach them to go after what they want with everything they have in them and who cares if it's not perfect or someone doesn't like it. I want them to live thier lives to the very max so I'm going to do it too. So, here I am, mistakes and all. You'll get to hear my crazy musings, read some chapters of my novels and maybe, just maybe, be able to witness my dream coming true. As my dad always told me and I now tell my kids: you can only try your best.

The Art of Meeting Strangers

2010-08-03T14:02:00.000-07:00

I have a talent, and it's one that my friends and family find amusing and quite frankly, a bit odd. I am very, very good at meeting strangers. Crazy ones, funny ones, and rarely, but most importantly, useful ones. Last week, I lucked out. My almost two month old daughter and I have recently been frequenting the cache of Starbucks in our area, as one does with a newborn. Go to any local coffee shop, and you'll find yourself tripping over strollers, hurdling over diaper bags and averting your eyes from a whole lot of naked breasts. Anyway, armed with my baby and laptop, I sat down in a comfy seat and began to write. A man sat down across from me and made some sweet comment about my daughter. Now, most people would smile and bend their heads back towards their work. Not I. I am awful at ending a conversation and worse at not engaging with someone who's sitting directly across from me. Now, most of the time, the stranger and I will chat, and inwardly, I'll be groaning about the lost time. Not this time.
Within ten minutes, the stranger at Starbucks had me running my own successful business and being a published author. I was staring at my books on the shelves at Indigo, spending my days in front of a bay window writing, and all it took was someone making me believe in my dream again. My strange and rare talent led me to a job coach, an inspirer, someone with his own very interesting life story and exactly who I needed. Life is extraordinary, and we can do anything we want with it, but sometimes it takes an odd encounter with a complete stranger to remind us of that.

A Totally New Life

2010-07-14T18:50:00.000-07:00

Yes, I'm back. And where the hell have I been? Well, it has been quite the year. In fact, since I last posted, I got pregnant, bought a house, puked incessantly, moved to said new house, puked incessantly and had a baby girl. Just a few things. So, I've been busy. But now that the vomiting is over and done with (the next time will be a result of too many G&T's instead of tracking my ovulation), and our house is somewhat sorted, I'm able to get back to what led me to begin this blog in the first place: writing. And oh how I've missed it. I haven't been able to write a word in a very long time, and I'm aching to get back to it. I was actually going to start tonight while my 3 year old son slept soundly in his big boy bed, and my baby daughter snoozed in her bouncy chair. And I was excited to continue tomorrow while my son is at preschool and my daughter gurgles and coos at me. Then my son puked all over me, his dad and the living room floor. And it hit me. I have two kids. And tomorrow, instead of writing, they will both be home with me. And I will frantically try to stop my sweet son, who adores his new sister, from kissing and spreading his pukey germs to her, my tiny newborn, and I will have my tiny newborn attached to my boobs while trying to keep my son entertained. But you know what? This is the happiest I have ever been. Ever. I have two amazing kids, and the writing can wait a couple of days. Being their mom can't.

Starbucks Etiquette?

2009-09-18T13:52:00.000-07:00

Every morning before work, I head to my local Starbuck's for a coffee. I stand by the milk and sugar counter, waiting in line for all the slow deciders to figure out if they want cream or milk. And every morning, it's a dance. A fine ballet of what I call the "Starbucks Reachover". When can you extend your arm across the person standing next to you to grab the sugar, then the stir stick, and finally, the blessed top? How many times can you say "Sorry" and "Excuse Me" in a two minute span? Is it a Canadian thing this passive aggressive waltz to get your damn coffee and get out of there? Are Americans pushier about filling their coffees and making their way out the door? Maybe there should be an assembly line next to the cash register to make the whole sorry process go faster. Pay for the coffee, go to the milk station, then the sugar station and grab your stick and top by the door. Or maybe Starbuck's, for the hefty two bucks they charge for a grande coffee could deign to add all of that stuff themselves. Just a thought.

Can I Get On Mr. Schmidt Today?

2009-09-14T15:33:00.000-07:00

Oh, yet another hilarious day in the life of an English teacher. My business students and I were taking up a piece of work about telephone language, and as usual, a single preposition can turn into a proposition.
Me: Okay, what's the answer to number 1?
Students: Pick up the phone.
Me: Great. And the next sentence: I need to get___________Mr. Schmidt immediately.
Student: I need to get on Mr. Schmidt immediately.
Well, no, that's not the answer in the book, but perhaps if Mr. Schmidt looked a lot like Brad Pitt...

Thank God He's Not Ours

2009-09-05T15:39:00.001-07:00

My husband, son and I were on the ferry to Centre Island. The sun was shining over the shimmering water, and we were having the best time. My son had his face plastered against the glass, yelling "Look, Mommy, a boat!" at every water vessel that passed. Bliss. Until a piercing scream broke our calm. The child next to us was screaming his head off, trying to escape his stroller, while his parents tried valiantly to appear nonchalant at the major tantrum that was unfolding before the hundreds of people on the ferry. My husband and I looked over and smiled at them, with a look meant to convey sympathy and a shared understanding. But the second the couple turned their heads, my husband and I traded smug, knowing looks. What were we thinking? Thank God he's not our kid. And as I let my gaze travel over the other passengers, I saw many, many other parents exchange the same looks with each other.
Why is it when another child is having a tantrum we forget the horrible meltdowns our own kids have had in public places? Because for that brief moment, when our kids are doing everything we say and looking cute at the same time, we forget. We forget the screams and tears in the grocery store because we can't open the ice cream right away, the middle of the night call for mommy and daddy, and the food strewn all over the house. This is probably why we end up having more than one child. We forget all of the hard stuff and only remember the sweet scent of baby hair after a bath, the tight hugs and soft "I Love You"s. And as I held my son on that ferry, I kissed the top of his head and thought, "I'm so glad you're mine."

Of course she's not pregnant..she just looks it

2009-08-27T14:23:00.000-07:00

Why oh why will I never learn to keep my mouth shut? Perhaps because my mouth is bigger than my entire body. But I knew it. I knew it before I said it, I almost didn't say it, but then...I did. I was having a lovely Saturday morning in the park with my son and a couple of friends. Swinging back and forth, my son was giggling and happy, and I started chatting to the dad next to us who was also pushing his giggly son. We talked about sleep, childcare, and all the other things that bore everyone except those with children. I noticed his wife chasing their other son and looked carefully at the giant swell of her belly. I subtly checked out her boobs and yup, those were quite biggish as well. I looked at her stomach again, just to be sure, but there was an unmistakeable bump. A six month bump to my expert eye. So I did it.
"How old are your boys?"
"Three and one."
"Wow, and another one on the way?"
Silence. No. Please no. "No," he said, shifting uncomfortably and looking around wildly to make sure his wife was nowhere within earshot. "Just the two. Three would be too much."
"Oh yes," I agreed enthusiastically, nodding my head up and down until my son looked at me like I was crazy. "Three would be too much."
Not pregnant. Not trying. Just not.
Never again will I ask that horrible question unless I am standing in between a woman's legs and can see the head emerging.

Why Pronunciation is Important

2009-08-10T06:29:00.000-07:00

As an English teacher of international students, I laugh every day. The miscommunication that can occur when attempting to make themselves understood can be both hilarious and embarrassing. But they usually laugh along. A few years ago, one of my students told me the following story, and it is one that I retell often.
This female student had gone to the movies and wanted something to drink. So, she went to the concession area and patiently waited in line looking at the long list of options, half of which she understood. So, she decided to go the easy route and order something she'd had lots of times before. She got to the counter, smiled shyly at the young teenage boy, and said,
"I'd like a large cock, please."
The boy, taken aback, smiled hugely and said, "Pardon me?"
"I'd like a large cock, please," she repeated louder, wondering, I think, if perhaps her quiet voice hadn't been heard.
"Um, how large?"
"Very large."
"Huge?" asked the boy, now trying to control his giggles.
"Um, yes."
They stared at each other for a moment when it dawned on him. She wanted a Coke. And when she told our entire class the story the next day, I suggested that next time she order a Pepsi.