Call me ‘Ash’

Leave a comment February 5, 2013 drworobec

I am a fan of nicknames and short-forms. I call my kids Bubbas (Drew) and Goose (Casey). No idea why….the words just came out of my mouth one day and stuck. I call reservations ‘resos’, appetizers ‘appys’, bedtime ‘BT’, and conversations ‘convos’. I like pedis and manis, lol’s, and ‘za. That might be why I prefer to be called ‘Ash’, rather than ‘Ashley’.

My full name is Ashley Jan Worobec. ‘Jan’ is for my mom, Janis, and ‘Worobec’ is my married name. I used to be a Swelin (sounds like Sundin, as in “Swool-een”), but I wanted to have the same Surname as my children; I’ve proudly been a Worobec for nearly 7 years now.

When you call me Ash, I feel a sense of familiarity and fond recollection of my childhood. I’m the only female grandchild on my mom’s side, and my brother and all my cousins call me Ash. I feel like you know my history.

When you call me Ash, I feel like it’s my best friends calling me Ash. In fact, the annual girl’s trip of Ash/Sarah/Shan is affectionately called the ‘ASS Tour’. I feel like you know that we’ve been touring nearly every year since ’98.

When you call me Ash, I feel like we lose the formality of full names and shift to the casualness of nicknames. The Jennifers, Williams, and Roberts out there regularly get Jen, Bill, and Bob. I feel like an ‘Ash’.

When you call me Ash, I feel like you know that I’m a tomboy at heart. I love sports and barefeet and being outside far more than I love crafts and high heels and air conditioning. I feel like you know my interests and my passions.

When you call me Ash, it might be just semantics to you, but it means a lot to me. I identify as an ‘Ash’ more than an ‘Ashley’. I feel like you know me, the real me.

Call me Ash.

It’s not Babysitting, It’s Parenting

6 Comments January 29, 2013 drworobec

I believe in feminism. I believe women are strong. I believe women are independent. And I’m a hard-core women-can-do-it-too believer. We live in a wonderful time of equality and opportunity, with a notable exception surrounding child-rearing. Primary childcare still seems to be seen as a ‘woman’s domain’.

My husband and I have set up our work schedules to be 50/50 parents. I am self-employed, and am thankful for the flexibility of setting my work hours accordingly. We work opposite hours, and one of us is always able to be with our children, now 4 and almost 1. He takes the kids to extended-family-dinners on Monday nights, to skating lessons on Wednesdays, and to Costco on Thursdays. He takes them to doctor’s appointments, the library, and on neighborhood walks. He feeds them supper, gives them baths, and reads them books. However, when I am at work, his solo-parenting is still seen by some to be ‘babysitting’. I was grocery shopping with both kids in tow one recent morning, and my conversation with the cashier went something like this:

Cashier: “What lovely children you have. Are you a stay-at-home mom?”

Me: “Thanks. I work part-time. I’m home with the kids during the day, and when my husband gets home from work, I head in to work and we switch off kid-duty.”

Cashier: “Oh, that’s great. It’s nice that he can babysit.”

Me: “Drew, please stop poking your sister in the face. Pardon me?”

Here is the definition of babysit: “to take charge of a child while the parents are temporarily away.”
Here is the definition of parenting: “the rearing of children; the methods, techniques, etc., used or required in the rearing of children; the state of being a parent.”

My husband is not a babysitter, he is a father. He does not get paid $10/hour, he gets paid in children’s smooshy hugs and slobbery kisses. He does not get driven home after a night out, he gets woken up early by energetic, vibrant kids. He does not spend time with our children only on Friday nights and occasional Saturday afternoons, he spends time with our children every day. He is not doing me a favour by looking after them, he is doing himself and them a favour by being together.My husband is an exceptional father. But he’s not a babysitter.

I love this one!

I love this one too!

The Magic of Christmas through the Magic of Children

6 Comments December 4, 2012 drworobec

The magic of Christmas is in full swing around our house.

With a son who’s nearly four, and a nine-month-old baby girl who gets excited about everything, we’ve been in festive-mode for weeks. Our lights are up. Our cookies are baked. Our Santa letters are written. Our presents are bought and wrapped. And next weekend, we’ll make the trek to a tree farm to cut down our own tree, a la Chevy Chase’s ‘Christmas vacation‘. I’ve always loved the holiday season, and my Christmas memories from childhood involve the warmth of my parent’s house, the twinkle of lights on the tree, the excitement of family get-togethers, and the anticipation of Santa’s arrival.

These days, I’m in the business of making holiday memories for my children, while cherishing moments that pass all too quickly. There is such a small window of time when children are old enough to ‘get’ the idea of Santa, and yet young enough to believe. We’re talking six or seven years- maybe eight if you’re lucky.

That’s only six or seven Christmases of innocent, curious questions:

Where will Santa park his sleigh?
How will Santa get in if we don’t have a chimney?
Will his gloves make his hands too slippery to open the front door?
Do reindeer like to eat carrots?
How many sleeps until Christmas?

That’s only six or seven Christmases for ‘Mall Santa’ photos:

Christmas 2009: Not a fan.

Christmas 2010: Still not a fan.

Christmas 2011: Coming around to the idea of Santa…

Christmas 2012: An old pro showing his sister how it’s done!

That’s only six or seven Christmases of whole-hearted enthusiasm for our family’s Christmas traditions:

Making gingerbread houses.
Christmas Town at Mountsberg Conservation Area.
The Burlington Santa Claus parade.
Seeing Disney on Ice in Toronto.
Searching each morning for our mischievous Elf on the Shelf.

We’re right in the thick of it. So for these six or seven Christmases, I’m soaking up as much magic as I can. Because these two little bugs make me a believer.