My Floors Are Always Dirty

4 Comments May 28, 2013 drworobec

My floors are always dirty. Especially in the Spring and Summer. Especially the kitchen floor.

You see, our back patio door opens off our kitchen, and we spend more time outside than inside when the weather is nice. Our backyard is our oasis in the city- complete with trees, grass, and a sandpit. The sandpit that we have may be the same kind that you have….. you know, the kind that sand seems to jump out of and stick to any child or dog within a 5m radius? Yep, that kind. This sand is then tracked into my house via the patio door via my kitchen floor. Along with grass clippings, pebbles, sticks, twigs, rocks, bugs, dog food, flowers, grass seed, leaves, and all other backyard flora and fauna.

By day’s end, my floors feel more like sandpaper than tile, they look more beige than white, and they sound more rough than smooth. Out comes the broom and the steammop, and I have nice clean floors again between the hours of 8pm and 8am.

But the sand I clean up reminds me of the huge sandcastle my son built, and the pride I saw on his face.

The grass clippings remind me of the excited smile my daughter had when she felt the lawn on her bare toes, and the sense of wonder in her eyes.

The sidewalk chalk dust reminds me of the artwork that graces my driveway, and the creativity and imagination it inspired.

The twigs remind me of the fun our puppy had exploring his new environment.

So I will take the sand. And the grass clippings. And the chalk dust and the twigs. Because a clean kitchen floor means far less to me than a day of backyard fun with the dirt to prove it.

My floors are always dirty. And I like it that way.

***This post was originally written as a Guest Blog post for Momstown.ca.

The Kid’s Menu

12 Comments May 21, 2013 drworobec

We went out for dinner as a family on Saturday night, which we don’t often do. With our 4-year-old and 1-year-old in tow, we got to the restaurant around 5:30pm to keep things early and kid-friendly. Great. Good. Having fun. Then the waitress gave us a ‘Kid’s Menu’.

The Kid’s Menu did not contain miniature portions of adult menu items, but rather a list of entirely different offerings. Things like Kraft Dinner, cheese pizza, and french fries. Things full of white flour and salt, with very little nutritional value.

I don’t get it.

As mothers, we find out we’re pregnant and we do our very best to grow a healthy baby. We eat well, we stop smoking and/or drinking, we stay well-hydrated, and we make safe choices. When our baby is born, we continue to do our very best to keep them healthy- we often choose breastmilk, we often make our own babyfood (only organic, right?), and we avoid giving them extra sugar, salt, and processed foods. Their bodies are little temples to be grown and supported with only the highest-quality ingredients. We discuss topics like folic acid, BPA, and omega-3s. We listen to the buzz surrounding gluten-free, dairy-free, and non-GMO food.

And then we take them out for dinner, and we’re given choices like this.

If we aren’t eating these things, then why are we feeding them to our kids? Kids need top-quality food to grow top-quality bodies and brains and immune systems. Kids need top-quality food to support learning and attention and behaviour. Kids need top-quality food to help them make top-quality food choices as adults.

I don’t get it.

Hoo-rah

Leave a comment May 14, 2013 drworobec

I participated in the Tough Mudder at Mount St Louis Moonstone this past Saturday. If you haven’t heard, the Tough Mudder is a “10-12 mile obstacle course designed by British Special Forces to test your all-around strength, stamina, mental grit, and camaraderie”. And test it, it did.

But with every test, comes a lesson, and on Saturday, there were many.

I learned that the ‘Arctic Enema‘ is in fact, as awful as it sounds. Ice cold water stole my breath and my voluntary muscle control. I learned to ask for help.
I learned that ‘Walk the Plank‘, a 15+ft jump into water, left me paralyzed with terror. The sound of dozens of people chanting my name, and the side-by-side support of my husband finally give me the courage to jump. I learned to rely on the support and togetherness of my team. They would not let me quit.
I learned that the anticipation of the electric shocks from the ‘Electric Eel‘ obstacle are worse than the shocks themselves. I learned that putting your head down and just going for it often beats over-analysis.
I learned that the ‘Berlin Walls‘ require strength and balance to conquer. I learned that my teammates will boost me up and will not let me fall. I learned to trust blindly.

But you know what the best part was? There was no clock. I loved that there was no clock. I loved that there were no timing mats. I loved that there were no chip times. I loved that we had to recite ‘this is not a race’ before we began. I loved that there were no finish times posted on the Tough Mudder website.

In our results-driven society, we often miss out on opportunities to learn the hidden lessons. And it was the hidden lessons at Tough Mudder that taught me the most.

There was camaraderie. There was teamwork. There was friendship. There was accomplishment. There was effort. There was sheer will. But most of all, there was fun.

I am a Tough Mudder.

Hoo-rah.