Here’s a Picture of a Shaved Llama

Leave a comment October 6, 2015 drworobec

I’ve got writer’s block
Nothing’s coming to me,
So a poem you will get
With a cadence of three.

I’m not sure what to write,
What to say, what to mention,
When there’s so much to say
But a bit of apprehension.

This blog is professional,
Part of my job you might say,
So I’m a bit censored
With my opinions today.

There’s much I could tell you
About Harper and such,
But if I go down that road
It might be a bit much.

And with kids in the media
Being killed by a drunk,
My rage is turned up and
My filter debunk.

So I have to be careful
About saying too much.
It is for this reason
A private blog may be clutch.

A place I could vent
One hundred percent truth,
To know it was me,
Well, you’d have to sleuth.

But that’s not the case,
Only one blog have I,
So from me this week,
These words are my try.

I do have a list
Of all-drafted posts,
And yet none grabbed a hold
And moved me the most.

But you’ve seen a few poems
From me over the years;
There was one right here
And one to say cheers.

But this week, I’m empty,
My creativity gone,
And I find from a poem
An idea may spawn.

Stay tuned for next week,
It may be something quite foul,
Or perhaps I’ll just show you
What’s making me howl:

Thanks for reading along,
My nearly 400 words.
Your brain might be fried,
Your eyes nearly blurred.

If you’ve been here from the start,
In 2012 May,
You’ll know that I’ve published
Every single Tuesday.

That’s 178 times
I’ve shared things with you,
And I so appreciate
That you’ve been here too.

I’ve gone from just a few readers
To five hundred a week.
I love the input you give,
And even the critique.

I write about what’s important,
At least in my mind,
And there’s no more authentic
A blog you will find.

Except for that private one
Mentioned above,
And that one, my friends,
Will stay hidden, sort of…..

I Don’t Make my Kids Make their Beds

Leave a comment September 29, 2015 drworobec

messyhair

I don’t make my kids make their beds.

There, I’ve said it. It’s like admitting a dirty little secret. So I’m airing my dirty laundry, and there you have it: I don’t make my kids make their beds.

I grew up being expected to make my bed daily, and I am actually quite a neat-freak, so this fact is a bit out of character for me. But truth be told, I don’t make my own bed either (unless tossing a duvet across it counts….. and even that only gets done half the time). The reality is, it’s just not that important to me. Life is very full and very busy and I am having too much fun going to the park or heading to work or reading with my kids to be worried about unmade beds.

It took me awhile to become comfortable with this fact. I often get stricken with the ‘I-shoulds’, and being okay with unmade beds seemed to go against what parenting books would advise. But as life got busier, one child turned into two, and my caring-what-other-people-think declined, I came to peace with my choice. I do have some stipulations with this decision; I have taught my children how to make their beds, and I will quickly pull up the covers on a disheveled mess before company comes over. But the reality is, in my day-to-day normalcy, unmade beds are a staple.

And I’m okay with that.

This sign hung in my laundry room for many years, and sums up my parenting philosophy quite nicely…

Jump on the Bandwagon

1 Comment September 22, 2015 drworobec

In September of 1993, my parents, my brother, and I flew from Calgary to Toronto for a week-long family vacation. This was a big trip for us, and we did all of the typical Toronto touristy stuff, including the CN Tower, Niagara Falls, and a Blue Jay game. And in 1993, Blue Jay fever was in full swing, as it is now. In fact, I distinctly remember that an usher offered me $50 for my ticket as I went to the concessions halfway through the game. Believe me, twenty years ago, $50 was a lot of money for a 14-year-old, and it cemented in my mind how lucky I was to be there.

I grew up in a sport-loving family. Family vacations were often planned around sporting events, and you could always find us at the hockey rink or the golf course or the track. So I come by my love of sport honestly, and baseball ranks right up there on my list of favorites. I have vivid memories of chasing down foul balls for a quarter at Shorncliffe Lake (It’s in Alberta. It’s great and quaint and nostalgic.), getting hit in the forehead with a pop-fly as a teenager, and trying to meet some like-minded friends as a Burlington newcomer in the Burlington Women’s Fastball League.

I’ve been a Jays fan for many years, and I’m thrilled with this season’s success and all the buzz, #cometogether hashtags, and YouTube parodies that have come along with it. In my work, I talk to a lot of people every day. In fact, that’s one of my favorite parts of my job; I like learning about people’s backgrounds, their interests, and their opinions. So it’s no surprise that lately, a lot of my conversations revolve around the Blue Jays. Most people that I talk to are feeling the excitement, and either jumping on the bandwagon or enjoying the success that their fanship hasn’t felt in more than twenty years. But there’s a handful of people who feel a bit annoyed with the sudden increase in Jays fans. This, I do not understand.

The conversation often goes something like this:

Me: “Have you been watching the Jays lately?”

Them: “Yah, and I can’t stand all of these people coming out of the woodwork and jumping on the bandwagon. Where were they for the last twenty years? Why now? C’mon, they’re not real fans.”

Me: “Excuse me for a second, I just need to go grab some sharper acupuncture needles.”

Okay, not really. Attention, Regulatory Board, that last part is NOT true. All of our acupuncture needles are equally sharp. Ahem. (Awkward silence).

My point is, I think the bandwagon jumpers are wonderful. I think there’s strength in numbers. I think there’s an excitement, an energy, a city, even a country, cheering on their team. I think there are kids being inspired and fans being grown.

Jump on the bandwagon, I say, there’s plenty of room.

I’ll save you a seat.