The Second Class Citizens Foundation

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Creeping on my mom and spawn

You are the apple of your parents’ eyes. They love you unconditionally. They have tucked you in and kissed your boo-boos. They have ooh-ed and aah-ed at each one of your accomplishments. They love you more than they love anyone else. Continue reading

The Neanderthal I Did Not Marry

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That is an onion ring. And the disdain on his face is real.

I don’t think I can go on much longer talking about parenting without talking about who I am doing this with. You know, the ying to my yang, the thread to my needle, the mashed potatoes to my gravy, the fish to my chips, the chocolate syrup to my brownie. Mmmm….brownies…urghghghh. Wait, what was I talking about? Continue reading

Mommy’s Hips Don’t Lie (they only jiggle)

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Every morning, as I get ready, my daughter stares at me while I do my makeup. She stands next to me while I put on mascara, with one eye closed and my mouth open (because everyone knows that it’s a natural reflex to have your mouth open when putting on mascara) and some days, she asks me, “Mamma what’s that?”, and I say “Makeup” and then she says, “Why are you putting that on your face?”. Continue reading

Apartment Therapy

 

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I recently read an article about a woman in the States who lives in an apartment building with her toddler and found a less than pleasant letter on her door telling her how she was a horrible person for raising a child in a tiny apartment and how she probably should not have reproduced.

This one hit home for me.  Continue reading

The F-ing Milestone

Our child finally made it to a key milestone. It’s the moment every parent awaits breathlessly, keeping their eyes and ears open, hoping they’ll be around when it happens. And when it finally does, you wipe away tears because you’re suffocating on your own laughter, and will likely pop a vein in your head trying to do the “disappointed parent” face simultaneously.

Our spawn dropped the F-bomb. Continue reading

First World Parenting – Part 1

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My husband and I are Canadians of Pakistani origin and have lived most of our lives in Canada. However, we still have extended families back home so this past December, after almost a decade, we decided to make things interesting and book a 14 hour flight with a flu-stricken child that took us half way around the globe to the land of tandoori chicken, chai, and at least half a million relatives. Continue reading

Garlic and Robots

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I have a common and easily identifiable disorder known as Anal Retentive Disorder. It’s almost as common as a runny nose but harder to cure. How do you diagnose it, you ask?

Does organizing your child’s toys by type/category provide you satisfaction like no other? Does an unruly spice cabinet make you queasy? Do you arrange your perfumes/colognes on your dresser by height? Do you feel the need to organize and plan every detail of life? Then you have Anal Retentive Disorder. Continue reading