If you’re a parent — or you have friends who are parents of school-aged children — then you’ve likely fallen victim to incessant back-to-school banter.
Bianca Bujan Tweets
After a school year filled with phased-out sports days, gradeless report cards, and scoreless soccer games, it is refreshing to expose my children to the life lessons that can be learned from watching the Olympic Games.
When I was nine, I had a pink diary that kept my secrets safe with a lock and key — or so I thought.
Becoming a parent not only changes your body, your sleep patterns, your familial status, your social life, your relationship with your partner, and so many other aspects of your life, it changes you as a person — whether parents like to admit it or not.
As soon as school’s out for summer, schedules and routines seem to go out the window. It’s alright to loosen the reins and let them run free during the summer months, but it’s important to remember that kids still need their rest. Longer days and shorter nights make bedtime routines next to impossible for parents.
Social media seems to be swirling with reminiscent posts lately, comparing modern-day parenting practices with those of the ‘70s and ‘80s. And I get it, I grew up in that era — the one that would now be resentfully referred to as free-range parenting.
There’s nothing more embarrassing for a parent than dealing with a toddler who has spontaneously rag-dolled onto the floor in a public place — wailing and flailing uncontrollably before the eyes of judging onlookers.
All kinds of parents exist on the playground — the ones who play alongside their kids, the ones who perch and play on their phones, the ones who hover nervously as they track their child’s every move, and the ones who turn a blind eye to their kid’s adventurous antics.
The 2016 ParticipACTION Report Card on Physical Activity for Children and Youth has been released and, once again, Canadians received a failing grade when it comes to our children meeting the optimal level of active play.
The role of “father” has evolved significantly since the suit-toting, cigar-smoking, hands-off days of the 1950s dad. Back then, dads were known more commonly for their professional status than their involvement at home. They still loved their kids.
Some of my fondest childhood memories are of the weeks spent at summer sleep-away camps. I can recall my heart racing as I waved goodbye to my parents and headed to my designated cabin for a week full of adventure with newfound friends.
A great divide exists between parents about extracurricular activities for children. There are the sports parents and then there are the dance parents.
It’s 10 a.m. on a Thursday morning, and I’ve already picked out my outfit. I know what my drink of choice will be, and I’ve scoped out my appetizer, entree and dessert selections from the online menu of the planned meeting spot.
Raised as an only child, sibling rivalry has always been a mystery to me. Now that I’m a mom of three and witness to sister-brother brawls on a daily basis, I’m more mystified than ever.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I was almost as excited about having a year off work as I was about having a new little human grace me with her presence. I was working in a full-time corporate job, and had created a list of lofty plans for my “time off.”
Everyone seems to be all abuzz about finding the “perfect gift” for mom, splurging on jewels, knick-knacks, and marked-up florals to show their mothers — and the mothers of their children — how much they care.
It’s been almost 20 years since my last homework assignment, yet I still have nightmares about the mind-numbing math equations, tongue-twisting spelling words and Encyclopedia-quoting essays of my youth. Now that I’m a parent to school-aged children, the homework hassle is slowly creeping back to haunt me.
I took my three young children out for dinner by myself the other night, and was pleasantly surprised when the server took our order and each of my children responded respectfully — making eye contact and saying please and thank you.
It’s so easy to get stuck in the crux of comparison — especially when you’re a parent. From the day a child is born, the prodding begins. “Is she walking yet? No? My daughter walked right out of the womb.” Or, “Is he talking yet? Oh he can only say ‘Mama’? Cute, ya, my son could name all of the provinces by the time he was nine months old.”
As a mom of three with a fairly robust roster of mom friends, I can say that I’ve been to my share of baby showers. In the traditional sense, they usually begin with the girls-only guests playing “guess how big the belly is” and “guess the baby food flavour” games.