We’re thrilled to be Haida Gwaii bound this week, an area of my own province that I have yet to set foot on, but it’s been on the bucket list ever since I read John Vaillant‘s The Golden Spruce.
This week, my family not only gets to visit the world-famous archipelago, but I also get to do some readings and my wife Jill Barber will perform her new Family Album with her brother Matthew Barber.
Here’s our tour dates on the islands. Please share with or tag anyone you know on Haida Gwaii!
Wed Sept 14, Queen Charlotte Public Library, 7pm
Thu Sept 15, Port Clements Public Library, 7pm
Fri Sept 16, United Church, Skidegate, 7:30pm
Sat Sept 17, Howard Philip Hall, Masset, 7:30pm
WHAT?!? My band The Smugglers (1988-2014) will play our first show in over 12 years at “The Lookouting: A Celebration of Lookout! Records”, as part of the 30th anniversary of the classic venue 924 Gilman Street in Berkeley, California, a place we played many times, and is generally considered the epicentre of the California pop-punk sound of the 1990s. Many of Lookout Records earliest ties involved Gilman.
The entire event is Fri Jan 6 – Sun Jan 8, 2017. We’ll play one set on one of those nights along with our pals in Brent’s TV… apparently their first show in 26 years?!? Lots of other great bands / friends to be announced! Weekend passes and single show tickets go on sale soon. Hope to see you in Northern California in 2017!
Have you ever had a place that you love threatened? Have you had a favourite corner of the world changed by the onset of industry? Have you rallied around that place to try and save it? Is that even possible anymore? Was it ever?
When I was first contacted by the non-profit society whose mission is to “Save Desolation Sound,” my first question was, “from what?”
Their answer was this: a gravel quarry has been proposed a few kilometres northeast of the wild waters and forests of the Desolation Sound Provincial Marine Park. The company is Lehigh Hanson Materials, based in Alberta, which is in turn owned by a German mega-company that is one of the largest cement makers in the world.
It sounds preposterous. This is an area that was turned into one of the largest marine parks on the west coast of Canada because it is so spectacularly beautiful, an oceanic paradise that boasts the warmest ocean water north of the Gulf of Mexico, the steepest drops from mountain peak to ocean bottom in North America, and ocean mammals that include orcas, dolphins, humpback whales, porpoises, seals and sea lions. The marine park boasts over 60 kilometres of undeveloped shoreline, all of it boat-access-only, just 200 kilometres north of us in Vancouver, but seemingly a world away.
To be clear: the gravel quarry proposal site is not within the park, but close enough that it is presumed to be visible and audible from within the park. Noise, scarring of the mountainside, light pollution, and heavy barge and freighter traffic are all possible threats to the park, the community, tourism, and the environment (the gravel barges will have to pass through Desolation Sound in order to head south).
To be clearer: I also get that all those kayakers who love to paddle the park, as well as my family, drive cars on paved roads made from gravel to get to our launching point for Desolation Sound. I understand the need for industry in our society. What I don’t understand is why a quarry is proposed in such a special area that many thought had recovered from industry for the last time.
Russell Hollingsworth is one of Vancouver’s leading architects and one of the founders of the Save Desolation Sound Society. He agrees with the inappropriateness of the proposed location of the quarry: “The natural beauty and long-term economic value of this area are worth far more than the short-term gains of gravel extraction. A gravel pit in Desolation Sound is an inappropriate and environmentally unsustainable project for this area.”
Lehigh Hanson’s application to conduct bore-hole testing has been approved by the province, and will begin after Labour Day.
According to a June press release from Lehigh Hanson, nothing is –ahem– set in stone: “Lehigh Hanson does not have any specific plans for a mining operation at present and fully understands that any such decision would be subject to respectful involvement of First Nations, dialogue with communities and stakeholders, and consideration of environmental stewardship. As with all of our operations, Lehigh Hanson is committed to performing these exploratory activities in a safe and environmentally responsible manner and will seek every opportunity to minimize disruption to the area.”
Uh huh. If you know what it’s like to have the place you love come under threat, you can add your voice to Save Desolation Sound. The society has set up a petition at SaveDesolationSound.com/join-us.
Everybody knows there’s two seasons in Vancouver: the rainy season and the wedding season. Between mid-May and mid-September, hundreds of hopeful couples will legally tie the knot, everywhere from Prospect Point to Wreck Beach. Rejoice! I’m here to help you get your big day right.
The last Saturday in May is typically the beginning of marriage season. This year it happened to rain all day long on Saturday, May 28. I know of at least two weddings that were washed out in Stanley Park, one of them not having an indoor Plan B! Heels and mud don’t mix. We still live in a rainforest! Plan for an indoor alternative no matter what your wedding date.
Mind the gap
Take all of your lame wedding photos before your guests arrive to avoid the ridiculous “wedding gap” that often occurs between the ceremony and the reception. Where are 150 people dressed in their Sunday best supposed to go on Bowen Island for three hours while you awkwardly pose in your gown and tux down on the beach?
Fuel for the masses
Unless your entire wedding is going to be under an hour, you must must must feed your guests an entire sit down meal, along with plenty of snack options before and after. With the cost of weddings in 2016 cresting an average of $35,000, many couples cheap out on food, thinking cheese and crackers at standing bar tables will suffice. They won’t. If you don’t provide a meal, your guests will quickly get drunk, hangry, and indignant. They will be ordering pizza to the parking lot during the speeches. And the only potluck at a wedding should be the medicinal marijuana in your midnight brownies.
Don’t skip the speeches! The speeches are my sentimental wife’s favourite part of any wedding. Why? Because there’s something about a wedding that brings out a raw and honest love that is so rarely spoken in every day life, from speakers who aren’t usually behind a microphone. And if there’s a drunken mother-in-law-trainwreck-speech, all the better, really. Just avoid the open mic.
Beer me beloved
There’s nothing worse than a wedding in full swing suddenly running out of booze. My only mathematical gift is to be able to eyeball exactly the correct amount of alcohol needed for a large number of people. I have literally saved wedding days by making emergency booze runs before the party has even started, just by looking at their stack of beer behind the bar. Always budget for more booze than you think they’ll ever drink. And buy local.
Couples trying to save costs by creating an iTunes playlist instead of hiring a DJ or a live band usually have great intentions but ultimately fail. Here’s the secret to a packed wedding dance floor from start to finish: most of us dance to what we recognize. At your wedding, you must respect the multi-generations in attendance. Therefore, plan your playlist chronologically through the ages and don’t let anyone mess with it. Start with hit tunes from the 1950s and ‘60s for the old-timers, then slowly progress into the 1970s, ‘80s, ‘90s, and 2000s. Schedule one slow dance number for every four upbeat songs. By the time you get to the Black Keys and Robin Thicke ‘round midnight, the grandparents have gone to bed and you can really blur the lines between your bridesmaids.
Most crowd sourcing is obnoxious to begin with, so don’t you dare even think about Kickstarting your wedding or honeymoon. Instead, drop a private line to maybe your best man or maid of honour to organize a larger wedding gift from a group of friends. We once surprised my best friend and his wife on their wedding night with a honeymoon to Hawaii that 20 of us all chipped in on. Much more memorable than a collapsible salad bowl from Canadian Tire.
Follow these simple planning vows, invite me to your wedding, and congratulations in advance on a perfect day! Did I miss anything?
I cradled the baseball in my hand, staring down the throw line into the catcher’s glove. I imagined the perfect sizzler releasing from my fingertips, right into the mitt, burning the catcher’s palm. I glanced around, feeling the pressure. It wasn’t the same kind of nervous anticipation the members of the Mt. Pleasant Murder and the Railtown Spikers were feeling for their first game, watching from behind sunglasses in their dugouts on either side of the sandlot. This was a different kind of pressure. I was throwing out the ceremonial first pitch on opening weekend of the brand new East Vancouver Baseball League (EVBL).
Co-founder Justin Banal from the Isotopes Punk Rock Baseball Club offered me a cold can of Postmark Blonde, brewed about four blocks away. I looked at my watch. It was two minutes past noon on Saturday. He leaned in and gave me some words of encouragement for the pitch.
“Just don’t 50 Cent it.” Excuse me? “Rapper 50 Cent did a ceremonial pitch for the Mets and threw it to first base”. Oh… OK. Just before I strode out to the non-existent pitcher’s mound, another skinny punk in an East Van Murder uniform walked up. “Don’t Carly Rae Jepsen it, dude.” It turns out that Mission’s own “Call Me Maybe” star attempted to throw out a pitch for the Tampa Bay Rays and literally dropped the ball. Michael Jordan, President Obama, and even pitching legend Nolan Ryan have all completely blown their ceremonial pitches.
The PA crackled to life. It was a guitar amp with a RadioShack microphone plugged into it. EVBL co-director Sean Elbe introduced me.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome former lead singer of the Smugglers, current beer league goalie, and author of The Lonely End of the Rink, to throw out our first pitch!” A light smattering of confused applause followed. The heat was on. I wound up.
The founders of the EVBL, a bunch of baseball-obsessed punk rockers, are living out their own Field of Dreams-meets-The Bad News Bears baseball fantasy, bringing a lost era of baseball back from the dead. They’ve built the EVBL from the sand up with a very specific heritage-style design. They built it, and the players came. Those players just have to play by the EVBL’s rules. The EVBL maintains complete artistic and aesthetic control over the teams in the league, right down to the logos. EVBL merchandise is already a hot property, and the league, for this year anyway, is full.
Banal explains the concept. “This city is really good for a lot of things – street hockey, soft ball – but there was no one playing real baseball for fun.” Co-founder Court Overgaauw, of the East Van Black Sox, continues. “At a certain point, many of us who grew up playing real baseball got turned away or off from the sport of a variety of reasons. This league gives us the opportunity to play the game the way it should be played.” And what is real baseball? Think hard balls pitched overhand against wooden bats.
Besides the Isotopes, the league is heavy with members of the local arts community, specifically of the punk rock variety: members of the B-Lines, the Courtneys, Nervous Talk, the Tranzmitors, the Parallels, Uptights and more all suit up, but true to the EVBL word, this ain’t ultimate Frisbee. No shorts allowed.
“Shorts are just not appropriate for baseball”, says Overgaauw. Really? “We’re serious,” says Banal. “You don’t wear shorts in baseball.” Luckily, the rule doesn’t extend to fans watching the games down at the sandlot in Strathcona Park, southwest diamond, corner of Hawks and Malkin. Games are most Saturdays through August.
I let the ball fly from my right hand and watched it smack into the catcher’s glove. In an instant, I managed to achieve what I never could as lead singer of the Smugglers for 17 years: perfect pitch. PLAY BALL!
I hope you have successfully navigated another winter season like the hero of The Revenant, as we push forward into the glorious spring of 2016 (speaking of The Revenant… the movie was pretty good, but have you read the book?! It’s incredible!)
Our family started the year with my wife successfully pushing forward our new little hero: on January 1, 2016, our daughter Grace Heather Lawrence came into the world in a planned home birth at our house in Vancouver. Grace is doing very well, and is now giving big smiles to her loving big brother Joshua.
With two kids under three at home, I’m in the midst of taking my longest break of my career from the CBC: an entire year of paternity leave! And while I temporarily miss the day-to-day honour and hustle of working at the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, I’m treasuring the time I’m spending with the kids and Jill. Just not right now while writing this.
Besides trying to learn how to be a better parent (don’t bring peanut butter snacks to the family drop in at the Community Centre!), I’m also ever-plugging away at my third book: the trials, travails, and treachery of 17 years in a touring rock ‘n’ roll band. I think I’m on my… sixth or seventh re-write?
Just like the tours, the book has been a slog, but it’s also been amazing to re-connect with all the musicians and mentors the Smugglers crossed paths with 20 years ago or more on the touring trail, while I try to piece together the stories like the time the Hoboken club caught fire (while we were in it), the time the Cleveland club flooded (while we were in it) and the time the Denver club erupted into a riot (while we were in it).
Since I’m still writing, the publishing date of the next book is moving target… will it be fall of 2016 or spring of 2017? I’ll let you know as soon as I know.
In the meantime, I continue to plunk out the Vancouver Shakedown, my weekly column for the Westender, Vancouver’s longest-running entertainment weekly. On any given week, the column tends to either delight or enrage.
And just because Jill gave birth to our second child doesn’t mean my ever-prolific wife is slowing down. On April 1, Jill Barber and her brother Matthew Barber release The Family Album, their first record together, a radiant mix of covers and originals, performed as beautiful folk duets.
Both Jill and I will be on the road this spring and summer… hope to see you around and thanks as always for your support!
Grant Lawrence Spring 2016 tour dates
Fri – Sat, Mar 11 – 12, Words on the Water Literary Festival, Campbell River BC
Fri – Sun, Apr 8 – 10, Okanagan Writers Festival, Penticton BC
Fri Apr 15, North Shore Writers Festival, North Vancouver BC
Sat Apr 30, Authors for Indies, 32 Books, North Vancouver BC (afternoon event)
Sat May 7, A Whisky Library, Lynn Valley Library, North Vancouver BC
Sat May 14, LitFest, New Westminster BC (afternoon event)
Mon Jun 13, Canadian Independent Music Association Awards Gala (CIMA), Berkeley Church, Toronto ON
Fri – Sat July 8 – 10, Elephant Mountain Literary Festival, Nelson BC
Fri – Sun July 15 – 17, Vancouver Folk Music Festival, Vancouver BC
Jill Barber Spring 2016 tour dates (all dates w/ Matthew Barber for the Family Album Tour)
Fri Apr 15, Arden Theatre, St. Albert AB
Sat Apr 16, Arden Theatre, St. Albert AB
Sun Apr 17, Eric Harvie Theatre, Banff AB
Thu Apr 21, Casino Regina, Regina SK
Fri Apr 22, West End Cultural Centre, Winnipeg MB
Sat May 28, the Great Hall, Toronto ON
(more dates to be announced soon across Canada and North Eastern USA)
When it comes to listing off renowned Vancouver bands through the decades, groups like Trooper, Skinny Puppy, the New Pornographers, Be Good Tanyas, or D.O.A. might spring to mind. The band that might not is the Evaporators. That’s a shame, because the Evaporators will always be on my list as one of the greatest groups to ever hail from our Terminal City. What might be more immediately recognizable to you is the name of the Evaporators’ lead singer: Nardwuar the Human Serviette.
Over the past several decades, Nardwuar has not only become one of Vancouver’s most unique citizens, but truly a Canadian treasure, mostly because of his incredible stockpile of highly researched and wildly entertaining video interviews with everyone from Snoop Dogg to Mikhail Gorbachev. On a Canadian level, his (mostly successful) attempts to get Canadian political leaders to play a ridiculous ‘60s party game called the “Hip Flip” is always amazing, and surprisingly humanizing.
But back to the Evaporators: Saturday, Feb. 20, 2016, marks the band’s 30th anniversary. It was on that night, three decades ago in the dusty gymnasium of Hillside Secondary School in West Vancouver, that Nardwuar and his band mates took to the stage for the first time, at Variety Night (a yearly talent revue hosted by our English teacher). The Evaporators performed three cover songs: “Shot Down” by the Sonics, as well as “Goo Goo Muck” and “Human Fly” by the Cramps.
I remember the night well, because I was in the audience. The Evaporators blew my nerdy teenage mind, and were the primary reason why I formed my own band a year later. To me, the Evaporators were the coolest of the cool, mixing ‘60s garage rock with ‘80s surf-punk to maximum effect. Nardwuar was the manic frontman. Back in ‘86 he rocked a brush cut, looking nothing like his signature tam o’ shanter-atop-the-Prince Valiant-haircut he’s famous for now.
For years, the Evaporators were essentially the underappreciated house band at all of Nardwuar’s legendary all-ages shows all over Vancouver. In 1992, they finally released a record: a punk-fuelled seven-inch EP entitled Welcome To My Castle. Their first full-length album wouldn’t arrive until their tenth anniversary in 1996: United Empire Loyalists, a vinyl LP that highlights Nardwuar’s obsessive love of Canadian history, coming complete with a massive foldout sleeve. They really started rolling after that, releasing I Gotta Rash in 1998 (a split LP with Nardwuar’s other bizarre band Thee Goblins), Ripple Rock in 2004, and Gassy Jack and Other Tales in 2007 (arguably their best, a salute to Gastown founder Gassy Jack Deighton). The songs on many of the records reveal a glance into the mind of Nardwuar: “Addicted To Cheese”, “I Feel Like A Fat Frustrated Fuck”, and “I Say That On Purpose To Bug You”, etc. The backing instrumentation by veterans of bands like the New Pornographers, Slow, and Destroyer is wicked.
Over their three intense decades, Nardwuar and the Evaporators have steadily evolved into absolute masters of live entertainment as well, often featuring in-set cameos by everyone from heavy metal legend Thor, to Scottish hit makers Franz Ferdinand, to New York party rocker Andrew WK. If you’ve ever seen an Evaporators show, say for instance in recent years at the Khatsahlano Festival, it probably took you hours to wipe the smile from your face.
Unfortunately, there won’t be a big celebration for the Evaporators’ 30th anniversary this month. Nardwuar is busy concentrating on something much more serious: recovering from a stroke he suffered in December, along with reparative heart surgery last month. The good news is he’s doing well, and promises new music from the Evaporators later in 2016. Long live Nardwuar, long live the Evaporators, and happy 30th anniversary, from a life-long fan. The Evaporators will always be on my list of Vancouver’s best-ever-bands.
“FUCK THE WOLF CULL”
The slogan was as unlikely as the location it was chanted in, over and over, by howling teens, as instructed by their on-stage leader of the pack. If you were at Miley Cyrus’s sold out Queen Elizabeth Theatre concert last month, or heard about it after the fact, you’ll likely be aware that the American pop star once again put BC’s controversial wolf cull centre stage, literally, by illuminating her backdrop with the hashtag #savebcwolves. Cyrus then filmed her audience shouting the afore-quoted phrase. She shared the video with her millions of followers from around the world.
What Cyrus may now wonder, as well as other wolf cull-opponents like Pacific Wild, a conservation group that has gathered over 200,000 signatures in opposition, is where to point the protest? Is it towards the ongoing five-year wolf cull in the South Peace and South Selkirk regions of BC, designed to protect rapidly dwindling woodland caribou populations? Last year’s cull wiped out 180 wolves, all brought down by sniper fire from helicopters, with many more wolves to drop this year and all the way through to 2020.
Or is it the new proposal (found by chance by a CBC producer in Kelowna) that was quietly rolled out by the provincial government in November? That proposal, if approved, recommends unlimited, year-round, completely open season, no bag limit hunting of wolves in the Peace Region. This is up from the previously allowed bag limit of three wolves per year per hunter. Why? The rationale in the proposal is as follows: “verbal reports from many stakeholders and First Nations…suggest that the wolf population in the Northeast appears to be very high, relative to levels in recent history. Increased wolf populations can have negative impacts on wild ungulates [deer, moose, elk, caribou] as well as cattle.”
If this all rings familiar to you, it’s because European settlers have been at war with the wolf ever since we set foot on this continent. Time and time again we blame the wolf for just about everything imaginable, yet time and time again critics and evidence will argue otherwise. In Alberta, the provincial government engaged in a wolf cull that began back in 2006, resulting in the destruction of nearly 1,000 wolves. The caribou population they were trying to save has stabilized, but not grown. It raises the ethical question of human beings playing God in nature: do we have the right to kill one species to save another, when the real reason woodland caribou populations are in a free fall is because of lack of habitat due to our encroachment through everything from highways to resorts to mining to deforestation to snowmobile trails?
Over time, it’s always remarkable how much changes, and how much remains the same. In other words, the BC wolf cull is misguided Canadian history repeating itself. In 1948, the federal government assigned a naturalist and soon-to-be author named Farley Mowat to the far north to investigate – surprise!– dwindling caribou populations, to see if the wolf was to blame. Mowat’s findings were negative, he was fired, and the wolf cull proceeded. I’ll leave you with Farley Mowat’s conclusions from his wolf study almost 70 years ago. It’s decidedly more eloquent than Cyrus’s 2015 howl, but just as biting:
“We have doomed the wolf not for what it is but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be: the mythologized epitome of a savage, ruthless killer—which is, in reality, not more than the reflected image of ourselves. We have made it the scapewolf for our own sins.”
Where were you 25 years ago? Thanks to consistent reminders from my longtime pal, interviewer extraordinaire, and media impresario Nardwuar the Human Serviette, I happen to know exactly where I was in November 1990. My ramshackle garage band, the Smugglers, had landed the gig of our young lives, at an all-ages concert at UBC’s Student Union Ballroom. It was called “Whoa Dad!” and starred none other than Mudhoney, Seattle’s undisputed kings of grunge. Also on the bill was Nardwuar’s band, the Evaporators (who are still rocking, celebrating their 30th anniversary in 2016), and legendary Olympia indie band Beat Happening. It certainly helped our cause that Nardwuar was both our friend and the promoter of the concert.
Nardwuar had already organized several other smaller all-ages concerts around town, but he really hit the needle in the groove for “Whoa Dad!” Mudhoney was arguably at the apex of their career in November 1990, months after their hallmark debut self-titled album, and less than a year before the music world would be changed forever by fellow Emerald City rockers Nirvana.
All 1,000 $6-tickets sold out in advance, with heavy demand for more, so Nardwuar organized a security force of geek-rock volunteers from UBC’s CiTR Radio, who in retrospect could have passed for the cast of Ghost World. When the frothing hordes of first generation flannel-and-combat boots-clad grunge rockers arrived by city busload after busload, they easily shoved the twee security aside, over-stuffing the SUB Ballroom with raging teenage testosterone.
The Smugglers played first, taking to the stage in our matching outfits of dark navy pea jackets and rubber boots, with as much false confidence as we could muster, playing as loudly and as quickly as we could, with as much airborne energy we could possibly manage. From the very first note the crowd was miraculously with us, exploding into a frothing pit of bodies like an ocean riptide. When we gathered backstage after the set in sweat soaked puddles, we felt like rock stars.
Caroline Longford, the reviewer from Discorder magazine assigned to cover the gig, didn’t agree, not even bothering to mention our performance in her print review: “of the three acts worthy of mention, the talented Evaporators were, as usual, the most amusing. Beat Happening, contrary to what the names suggests, definitely wasn’t… [and] last but not least, Mudhoney. They were good.” Not even worthy of mention? Ouch.
What sadly is worthy of mention is my most haunting memory of “Whoa Dad!”: the moment immediately before Mudhoney took to the stage. Acting as MC, Nardwuar was attempting to introduce the band in a trivia-laced, lengthy and earnest intro, but was being drowned out by the booing crowd. Finally realizing the battle between audience and MC was lost, Nardwuar pulled a double reverse, shouting four words into the mic that I’ll never forget: “SPIT ON ME NOW!”
The surly audience didn’t hesitate. A sickening hailstorm of spit and phlegm rained down on our dear friend and promoter, who stood at the lip of the stage in a crucifix pose, his head craned back, his eyes shut tight and mouth agape. The stage lights grossly illuminated the bodily fluids arcing from the sinus cavities of the thousand-plus angry punks to Nardwuar. I was used to Nardwuar’s sudden bursts of reverse psychology, but had never seen it backfire to this disgusting magnitude.
When the gobs finally subsided, a seemingly nonplussed and thoroughly soggy Nardwuar lifted the mic to his mouth and shrieked “ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… from Seattle, Washington, USA… MUDHONEY!”
Mudhoney fittingly launched into “Here Comes Sickness”, and the SUB Ballroom detonated into pure grunge rock mayhem. So… where were you 25 years ago?
You’re late…again. You’re rushing out the door, you’re trying to remember everything you need, and you’re stressed out. That’s when the person you’re with shits himself.
Such a sticky situation is just one of the many challenges of solo parenting, something I experienced with my toddler for most of the month of October, 2015.
I’m the proud husband to a successful touring musician. This fall season alone, my wife toured Japan, Europe, and Quebec, all while the wee boy and I remained home. It’s a bizarro role reversal for me: for 17 years of my life, I was the cool guy hopping into the van or the jet, zipping off to some exotic port of call in my rock band, hardly understanding or caring for the feelings of the people left at home. Now I’m the one looking longingly out the front window, while my wife climbs into the waiting cab, headed to the airport.
Within minutes of my wife’s departure, my respect for single parents skyrocketed as I grabbed for my toddler while he pranced along a windowsill. And before I go any further: there’s a big difference between “solo parenting” and “single parenting”. Solo parenting means your partner – the gods be willing – will return to resume their role. Single parenting means you’re on your own, just you and the kid, a commitment far greater than my temporary solo situation. I work with a wonderful single mom at the CBC, and my reverence for her has grown ten-fold.
Here are just a few of the challenges I faced as days grew into weeks while solo parenting:
When the hell do you have a shower?
Having not bathed in days and reeking like a dumpster behind a fish restaurant, I found myself Googling various mommy blogs, typing in that exact question. Some of the mommies suggested that you simply bring your toddler into the shower with you. But when your son yanks on your penis like it’s the ripcord to a parachute, that gets old quickly. One mommy suggested putting the baby monitor in the living room and the receiver in the shower. Was that a sly attempt to electrocute daddy?! In the end, I basically didn’t bathe for a month.
How to do you avoid packing like you’re out to conquer Everest for the simplest of day trips?
The sheer amount of stuff I needed to leave the house had me Googling “sherpa service Vancouver?” Not only was I weighed down with diapers, wipes, water and milk bottles, extra clothing, a bib, a rubber stick-on plate, cutlery, various snacks in Tupperware of tiny shapes, a haberdashery of hats for all manner of weather – and yes, a few cold ones for Dada – my toddler insisted on bringing every stuffed animal he owns every time we left the house. Dada was forced to make arm space for Snow Leopard, Owl, Monkey, Turtle, Hockey Man, and Hockey Duck. They all simply had to make the trek to London Drugs.
How do you avoid judgment?
My son mispronounces “cookie”. Instead, he calls them “doobies”. He constantly asks for them, everywhere we go. “Dada! Big doobie for Josh?” In an effort to effectively and easily communicate with my son, I answer, “Joshua, when we get home you can have a small doobie”. The other parents at the playground glare at me.
I would be remiss without saluting the grandparents, my sister, and our friends for their help. My son and I did indeed bond wonderfully, but allow me to admit this: when my wife finally stepped out of that cab, I practically shit myself with relief.