Rebecca Eckler is one of Canada's most talked about newspaper columnists, the author of Knocked Up: Confessions of a Hip Mother to Be, which has been translated into nine languages. Also the author of the bestsellers, Wiped!, Toddlers Gone Wild, and Rotten Apple, the first in a YA series. Random thoughts on life in the competitive world of modern mommyhood. Blog will be loved by trendy mothers who still feel, or often feel, that the most important word in "mommee" is ME!

Friday, September 29, 2006

It's My Party and I'll Invite Who I Want To...

Well, the preparations for The Dictator's 3rd birthday party are coming along. Slowly, but surely.

I was stunned to read a comment from a reader, a teacher!, who said it was pretty stupid to invite a TEACHER to one of their pre-schooler students birthday parties.

To which I say, "WTF?"

I mean, give me a break. First off, it's a party *I'm* throwing to celebrate my daugher's birthday, the greatest day of my life. Which means, I'll invite whomever I want to invite. If I want to invite my dentist, I'll invite my dentist.

The point is, just because you receive an invite, doesn't mean you are obligated to attend. Ever.

How easy is it to say, "Thanks! I'm out of town." Or, "Thanks! I have an appointment I can't miss." Or, "I'm sick." Or, "I have to wash my hair."

There are a million and a half ways to get out of going to a party. (Though, for some weird reason, I can't help but think someone who gets offended at an invite doesn't get many invites. Am I wrong?)

And, actually, I don't agree that all teachers wouldn't want to go to one of their kids parties. First off, there will be a bar and bartender. Second, it will be catered. Third, why wouldn't a teacher want to get to know parents out of class?

Also, I'm sorry, but hey, you get to see the inside of my house! And you could get your face painted! And maybe a lootbag!

Also, she's quite young this teacher. Why wouldn't she want to meet new people?

Heck, drop by for 20 minutes even. Heck, don't come. Whatever.

The point is, I don't think it's stupid at all to invite a teacher. My daughter likes her teacher. And why shouldn't I show appreciation by saying, "You're a part of my daughter's life. She loves you. I would like you to be a part of her celebration."

And, if the teacher doesn't want to come, well, the Regrets Only number is right there on the invite.

P.S. I pray that you are not my daughter's teacher who wrote that stupid comment. If you are, well, you're still invited.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Oohhh, Belinda....

I feel I need to comment on the whole Belinda Stronach/Tie Domi affair.

Not that I even really knew who Tie Domi was. Nor do I really care about Tie Domi. Not that I really care about Belinda and what she does in her spare time either.

But I do have some thoughts on the whole matter. Male writers just do not get it.

And, yes, I've been following the story like I used to follow the good ole days of The O.C. when it was actually good.

Male writers just do not get what Belinda sees, or saw, in Tie. I completely get it. Maybe because I'm a woman. I can smell people like - make that women like - Belinda a mile away.

She likes Tie, or liked Tie, because he made her feel very smart and very pretty. It's as simple as that. He made her feel like the powerful one in the relationship. She was smarter about politics, she had more money, she was better looking as a woman than he was as a man. Women like Belinda like when they are made to feel that way.

Ok, now moving on to why I can't help but feel less respect for Belinda, even though I really do believe that there is a complete double standard, as Belinda says.

It's true. She's right. A man who was caught in an affair would never be put under such a microscope as Belinda is. No one would think a man in an affair would not do as well at his job.

And, of course, how come no one has really come down hard on Tie for the affair. Hello? As I said in the whole Tori Spelling affair, it takes two to tango. Why does no one just come out and say that Tie is the bad person?

Well, his wife (soon to be ex) kind of did that. And good for her. Obviously their relationship had major problems. And obviously she was pissed off.

Here's my problem with Belinda now. I kind of think she's not too smart. I mean, really. You know the dude is married. You know you're a public person. You know that, if you hang out with someone and walk hand in hand with them, it's going to raise eyebrows.

What was she thinking? I don't think she was. I actually think she didn't care. And that's what kind of disturbs me.

It also disturbs me because, for some reason, I think she likes the drama of it all. I don't think she's embarassed by this whole thing. I think Belinda likes seeing her face on the front page of the paper, no matter what the reason.

I don't really believe that this affair is the thing that's going to bring her down. I don't. People kind of have short memories. They'll be like, "Didn't she have that affair with that hockey player? Didn't she have that affair with Bill Clinton?"

I also believe that the only way to get out of this messy affair is for her to end up with Tie. If it's true love, well, you can't argue with true love.

I don't think it will last though. It's kind of one of those, "Becareful what you wish for," things.

Why isn't Belinda smart enough to see that?

Of course, this is what I'm reading into it.

Is the O.C. starting soon or what?

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

I'm back and happy and planning a party.

I have a lot to write about today, since I've been so not a very good blogger lately.

After my shit couple of weeks, I feel good about life again. Things are falling into place again. And, you guys, well, you really made me feel a lot better. Thank you.

And the person from Tag, who offered me a new watch, after the nanny thief incident, well, I really love you.

There were some of you, whose posts I chose not to post, because well, you were kind of mean. I know - how could I not? - that a lot of people have way worse things they go through than I do and did.

But, come on, we all complain about our lives sometimes don't we? Complaining is what we do. It's a sport, a hobby. And if I can't complain on my own blog, who can I complain to?

I went to Arizona last week, because, well, I felt I needed to get away. It did it's trick. I feel rested and happy. And I'll write more about this tomorrow, but I honestly now can see that I could be happy not working at all. I think.

I went with The Dictator and The Fiance joined us for the weekend. It was so nice to spend all day and all night with The Dictator. She's turning into a real person who I can have conversations with - until a bee flies by. Or she sees an empty cup. Anyway.

I didn't feel guilty at all taking her out of school. I mean, she's three.

She now says things like, "Mommy, are we going to the club today?" I know. I know. But it's not annoying when it comes from the mouth of a three year old. It's adorable.

The Dictator is now also all about the pee-nuth. She walks around saying, "I'm a girl. You're a girl. Daddy is a boy. He has a pee-nuth."

When she sees The Fiance in a bathing suit, she figures it out. "I have two pieces. You have one. You're a boy. You wear nothing on top," she'll say to him. "Mommy has two pieces too."

The funniest was when The Fiance was leaving the Arizona house. He was being picked up by the driver. The Dictator and I were outside as well, waving good bye to him. We were leaving the next day. She called out, "Daddy! You have a pee-nuth?"

How's that for a goodbye? Even the driver was like, "What did she just say?????"

I'm also in the midst of planning The Dictator's third birthday party. We went to a birthday party a couple weeks ago for a boy in her class. It was quite the event. The mother told me she planned it for six months. She also sent out thank you cards afterwards. How can I compete?

I have two weeks to plan The Dictator's party. I'm going to shake it up a bit (Since how many times can one go to Adventure Zone without losing their mind? - well, probably a lot.)

I'm going to have it at the house. I'm going to invite all the parents and even The Dictator's teachers. I'm going to have it between cocktail hour (4 p.m. to 7 p.m. - would that be mocktails for the kiddies?)

I'm going to have clowns, face painting, a caricturist. Some dude is coming over to put up helium balloons everywhere. I'm going to have it catered too for the adults. (the kids will get pizza.)

Here's the thing. I've realized I need to make an effort in meeting the other parents of kids in The Dictator's class. I figure the birthday party will be a good place to start doing that. I figure, too, why shouldn't parents have fun at a children's birthday party? Is it wrong to have a bartender?

I'm going to pay for it all with a smile. And thank god birthdays only happen once a year.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Know a Spell?

For changing my luck?

Seriously. I've been in a bad state recently. I can't shake it. Bad things keep happening to me.

Rather, people keep disappointing me.

The fiance always says, in not so many words, that I do not live in reality.

He's been saying this for years. Basically, that I expect to much from people and the world is a shitty place. Of course, he's a lawyer and that's a very competitive industry with a bunch of not-so-nice people who can argue very well. Maybe it is shitty to work in a law office.

But I work by myself...

Anyway, OK, maybe its true that I expect a lot from people, but I don't think so. And I'm still in a shitty state whether I have expectations or not. And I don't think they're high expectations just, you know, common courtesy.

So many little bad things have happened to me lately that I can't help but start to think it's me. It's me and my luck. Yes, these are little things, but they all add up you know? They all add up to me being in a shitty, depressed state. I hate being depressed.

First, the nanny-thief incident really affected me. I've been depressed about that for days. I know I should be happy that I got my stuff back, but still...I feel like I don't have a good grasp on humans. My judgement is all off.

Then a friend of mine was very rude to me, calling me and then basically hanging up on me when someone *more important* (more important than me? What the fuck?) walked up to him. It was so rude that I refused to take his calls for a week.

I mean, you can't talk, then don't call until you have time! Ok, I know this is all lame, but it disappointed me.

Then another friend disappointed me because I always thought they were so confident, so successful, had everything, but then they leave a message basically asking me if I thought they were awesome. Does this make sense? I mean, who asks a person if they think that they are awesome?

It disappointed me because, though I know everyone has bouts of insecurity, I just didn't see it coming. Is the whole world insecure? I mean, that sucks.

Then my friend is going through an awful break-up and I tell you, I'm stunned by human nature and how awful this man was to her. It depressed me too because my friend is so depressed and this guy was such a jerk. It depressed me, because I think I have a fairly good handle on men, but this story just freaked me out. I had never heard of a man being so mean.

Then, another person I know, I think is lying to me about something and I can't deal. Rather, it's not so much a lie as just not telling the truth and I don't know how to deal with people like that anymore. Do the games ever end?

So, in the past two weeks, I've had a thief, a rude person, a maybe-liar, a very insecure person. a sad friend, and I can't help but think that something has got to change...

So, if you know a spell where I have to cut off a chunk of hair and mix it with some spice and say a spell, let me know...

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Nanny Thief

Sorry, I've been away. I've missed you! I was covering the film festival for Maclean's magazine.

And a completely weird thing happened to me, and not in a good way. I'm still in shock.

I travel back and forth from Calgary to Toronto all the time. Nanny Mimi, who is like my sister, used to travel with me. But now she's getting married and it's unfair to ask her to travel so much. I mean, she wants to spend time with her future husband and plan her wedding.

So when I go to Toronto I have a part-time nanny, who lives in Toronto. Who I really, really liked.

She was friggen stealing from me!

I realized there were a few things missing, namely a Prada purse, a brand new Roots purse, a pair of Puma sneakers, in the last few weeks. But I thought, 'OK, this is weird. But maybe I really am that disorganized."

In my heart, I knew I wasn't that disorganized. I loved my Prada purse. It was new-ish, a gift from the Fiance. And I knew I left it *right* there on my bedroom dresser.

I'm pretty busy too. So when I'm running around and can't find something, I just don't have the time to really look for things.

But then there was a film festival party. I had just bought a new Theory dress two days before this nanny came over. The tags were still on the freaking thing.

As I was racing around to get ready, I suddenly couldn't find the dress. I knew, at that moment, that she was stealing from me. I mean, I had just bought the dress two days earlier. I had hung it in my closet. Like I said, the tags were still on it.

Even in my totally disorganized state, I knew that I wasn't that disorganized.

I called the service which had first set me up with his nanny. I felt awful, because I was 99 % sure the nanny was stealing from me, but there's always a nagging doubt left that maybe, just maybe, the things were somewhere in my place.

And I know people are hard off and I feel for people who are. And who likes to accuse people?

I wasn't wrong. The head of the nanny service called the next day after I told her things were missing. She had told this nanny that I had had a camera in my place and saw her taking things. The nanny gave her back my stuff. Thank God.

Not only did I get back three designer purses, I also got back my jewelry box. Yes, the nanny had stolen my jewelry box!

I wouldn't have even known it was missing until I was going to look for something, like, um, the pearl earrings that were in it, the gold bracelets, my grandmother's engagement ring.

I'm fucking pissed off. I treated this nanny so nicely. And I'm not just saying that. Really. I gave her a ton of extra money for her mother, who needed a heart transplant in the Philippines (Who even knows if that is true?)

If it was dark, I would pay her $40 cab rides home. I gave her a ton of clothes that were old. I really really liked her.

I actually not only feel completely used, but so fucking stupid.

The head of the service told me I have to decide if I want to press charges. Which I do not.

I just can't believe it. I mean, if someone wants something that bad, then fucking take it. Or at least that's sort of how I feel if I leave ten dollars lying around, or you take toilet paper, a box of Kleenex, some food. If it means that much to you, and you need it, than take it.

But I don't believe that now. I believe that people should NOT fucking steal. Also, this nanny lived with her sister in a house. She may not have so much, but she definitely has a lot more than a lot of people.

I just want my things back. The Tag watch, I want it back. And who knows if I will ever get it back. Who knows what else is missing that I won't realize for a long time? I mean, I don't exactly keep inventory of MY things.

The weird thing is, this nanny wants to talk to me, to apologize, I guess. I don't want to hear it. I just want to move on.

I want to forget all this badness. I'm so grateful that The Dictator is OK. I suppose, too, that just because this nanny was a thief doesn't mean she wasn't taking care of The Dictator. Or at least that's what I need to believe.

I still believe in the goodness of people. Because I need to.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

First Day of Skool

Ok, it's done.

School is hard. Not so much school for an almost three year-old, but the preparation in getting an almost three-year old to school on time.

School starts at 8:20 a.m. I know, 8:20 a.m.!

Which means in order for The Dictator to get dressed and fed and to school, we need to get up at 7 a.m.

I swear, it was like Grade 10 all over again. In my head, when the alarm went off this morning, I was like, "Um, really. Is it THAT important that I go today? I mean, we could miss this one day, right?"

I always knew, when I was a student and going to skip school, the night before. I remember one year, not that this is something I'm totally proud off, but the number of classes I skipped a few of the semesters was actually higher than my over all percentage.

It's only amazing because my average was in the mid-to-high eighties. I'm not bragging that I was an A-student. I'm only bragging that I was an A-student who skipped so much school.

I mean, my parents couldn't get THAT mad at me, because I was still getting the grades. It would have been really very wrong of them to be like, "You're only getting an 87 per cent!! GO TO SCHOOL!"

But times, I understand, are very different. And no longer is an 87 per cent good enough.

But I don't have to worry about that for a long time.

The point is, of course, we couldn't start skipping on her FIRST day of school, even if it was pre-school. No, that would have been kind of bad.

So we made it. And, you know, the teacher (Am I supposed to call her by her first name? Her two last names?) was very sweet and there were a few kids from The Dictator's camp there, so for all I know, The Dictator thought she was at camp.

The entire day I've been pretty emotional (And, no, I got my period last week.) It was all because my daughter is a girl now. A big girl. A big girl with invisible friends and invisible dog friends and invisible cat friends, but whatever. She's grown up.

And, she got her first birthday invitation today, handed to me by a mother who was very nice. I felt for the mother. Obviously, she didn't know any of the kids name's in class, so she just, I don't know really, gave out a few invitations.

I'm also sad too because I'm heading to Toronto for the Toronto International Film Festival. I will be blogging for Maclean's magazine daily on the party-scene. So check it out (

How can I complain about parties? Well, I can't really. But most of them don't start until 11 p.m. and, well, I'm now a mother.

You know how I know I'm a mother? Well, tonight, in order to get The Dictator up at 7 a.m. again tomorrow, I'll be going to bed at 7 p.m.

Hope your first day of school went well! Goodnight ('s only 4 p.m. I have to stay up a bit...snooze.)