Why I am a WAHM

Marissa Mayer, CEO of Yahoo!, made headlines last week by ordering all Yahoo employees into the office and announcing that working from home will no longer be an option for its employees. Insiders report that the decision stemmed from a perception within the organization that there were many abusers of the work-at-home policy. Rather than doing the hard work of evaluating which employees were working remotely effectively and who was dogging it, Mayer opted to throw the baby out with the bathwater, as the saying goes. But not her baby, oh no. Her baby is still safely tucked into a bassinet in the baby nursery adjoining Mayer's Yahoo office. Handy that is, being CEO.

But for me (and every other non-CEO employee in the world who also happens to have a family), finding an organization who values my skills and trusts my integrity enough to enter into a work-at-home arrangement with me is a God-send. Working at home allows me to manage a busy household with four young children (two school-aged and two preschoolers) and still keep my career alive. I know it's selfish, but I don't want to miss school concerts and field trips and I also don't want to put my career on pause for a decade. It means the world to my Grade One kid to have his mommy in the classroom when a rescue owl comes to visit. Every month there are at least two dentist/optometrist/audiologist appointments that I am able to schedule only because I work from home.

My situation is not perfect. There are weeks that I feel that I am "always working" and yet I don't have the salary or the benefits that I had when I was a full-time employee. Even though I am gainfully employed, I can't justify buying impractical but beautiful high-heeled shoes.

But there are a lot of perks to working from home. I love being able to fit in a quick workout between my first two meetings and then a quick shower between my second and my third meeting. It's a pretty awesome feeling on a snowy day to pull on a pair of yoga pants and a warm sweater, grab a cup of tea and head up to my office knowing that my children are cozy and safe, playing Mega Blocks in the family room with our nanny. I can use the 15 minutes of "dead time" that would normally be wasted waiting for my kids to shower and change after swim practice, thereby freeing up 15 minutes to watch my neighbour's toddler while she rushes to the school to pick up her son who just came down with the stomach flu.

However, there are a lot of benefits to my employer as well. Firstly, the college I work for has a severe space shortage. My working from home means that they don't have to provide me with office space and classroom space. Also, my learning curve has been steep since I stepped into my distance teaching role. When I do return to the College in a full-time role at some point in the future, I will be in a position to offer so much more in terms of knowledge and skills than I was when I left. More importantly, I am helping the college to meet its mandate of offering learner-centred services where its learners live and work.

Obviously, not everyone can work from home. If my kid has a strange rash, I want a doctor to actually look at it - web conferencing really isn't going to cut it. And working from home may just not suit every personality too - some people don't have the discipline and others might miss the energy that comes from interacting with co-workers every day.

However, I really think that banning telecommuting is short-sighted and narrow-minded. I think it's unfair to accuse Mayer of "dissing mothers". This policy will not just affect mothers - it will affect parents, people who care for an elderly parent from home, and people who relocated to less expensive regions in order to improve their quality of life or be close to family, just to name a few.

Some remote employees may be lazy and undisciplined, but the same can be said of many 9-to-5-ers. As an introvert, I have always been shocked in an office environment to see how many people waste hours each week shooting the shit with the people around them. Not only do they waste time that their employer is paying good money for, they also distract those of us who perform better in a quieter environment.

Evaluating employee effectiveness is a complicated process and one that most managers dread. Nobody wants to tell a person that they have to see everyday that they are not doing a great job and that they need to step it up or risk becoming unemployed. It's much easier to implement a blanket policy. The thing is that even though Marissa Mayer has gone on the record as saying that she is not a feminist and she dismisses the notion of "balance", she didn't strike me as the kind of person who does the easy thing.

All I can say is that I am glad that I don't work for Yahoo! and I really hope that her mindset is not contagious. Workers have less and less equity in the workplace these days and it's a sad day when hard-won innovations in the workplace which support families and communities are so quickly eroded. (And also, if we are returning to 1960's era work culture, can we also bring back the mini-bar and the Mad Men style clothes?) I can't help but feel the message this blanket-statement from a high-profile tech company like Yahoo! sends is that people who work from home are lazy, under performers. People who know Marissa Mayer well say that she can out-work anyone. Is that so? In that case, I would like to challenge her to a day in my life.

Autistic People Have No Sense of Humour. Yeah, Right.

When I opened the van door at the toboggan hill to tell my younger son that I had just arranged a playmate with his buddy, he was so excited that he gleefully shouted, "He's coming over to MY house?"

Without a second's pause, my older son replied in perfect deadpan, "No, he's going to George Washington's house." Ba da boom.

As I started the van, I chuckled because it was funny. And then I laughed some more because my older son is autistic and autistic people aren't supposed to be funny, according to the stereotype. I guess nobody told my son that, because he is freakin' hilarious.

Like last week, I was trying to get his attention, but all three of my other children's names came to my lips before his name did. He laughed and said, "You called me all of my sibling's names before you said my name. Are you even my real mother?!"

His specialty is science jokes and he can turn these out in his sleep. Just this morning I commented to him that his back looks so strong from all of the swimming he has been doing. He asked, "So you can still see my spine? Good - so I am still a vertebrate!"

He also has a finely-tuned sense of when something is NOT funny. Like when he was in Kindergarten and he happened to mention at dinner one night that his music teacher's name was Mrs. Paynter. My husband thought this was hilarious. "Get it? She's a music teacher, but her name is Mrs. Paynter. Shouldn't she be an art teacher?" he chuckled.

Our five year old son did not crack a smile. His face was completely serious. He looked straight at his dad and said, "I know it's ironic. But it isn't nice to laugh at someone's name."

It turns out that our son has developed quite a reputation in his class for his puns and witty retorts. His teacher tells us that his classmates find him very funny although his jokes do sometimes go over their heads. I guess jokes about black-holes and anti-matter aren't everyone's cup of tea. He also doesn't always know when to quit, but from what I remember about Grade 4 boys, this is not a unique characteristic.

In truth, I find my son most funny when he isn't trying to be funny. Which isn't to say that I am laughing at him instead of with him, but rather that it is his perspective, his worldview that amuses me. Like a true comedian, he draws our attention to the absurdity of our own reality and helps us to see how arbitrary our concept of "normal" truly is.

Before The Hobbit movie came out last year, he decided that he wanted to read The Lord of the Rings. He asked me what it was about. I thought for a moment and then replied, "Well, I guess it's essentially about the struggle between good and evil."

Without pause, he replied, "Of course it is. That's what every book is about. What I mean is, what is the story about?"

One minute, he is a metaphysical humorist, the next he is asking you to pull his finger. He's autistic. He's brilliant. And he is also a nine year old boy.

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Some of the funniest people I follow on Twitter are people who identify themselves as autistic. If you're looking for some intelligent and quirky humour, check out my list of followers - find me on Twitter @vanderlovely

Letter to My Daughter

Dear Daughter

Some of these I learned from my own mom and some I had to learn the hard way.

1. Love the way you look now. Stop telling yourself that you will be happy with your appearance when you have lost weight, coloured your hair, got a tan. One day you will see a picture of your younger self and you will realize that you were a beautiful young woman and you wasted your beauty by not appreciating it.

2. Don't make your life plans based on what you think is within your grasp. Ask yourself what you really desire in life and make that happen.

3. Don't get married until you have seen Europe and had your heart broken at least once. If you can have your heart broken in Europe, all the better.

4. Take chances. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Risk equals reward. Catch my drift?

5. Always be kinder than you want to be. You will never regret showing patience you didn't feel or biting your tongue when you were tempted to make a pointed remark. You can always apologize, but you can't ever take back unkind words once they are spoken.

6. If he (or she) is the one for you, you won't have to wonder if he (or she) feels the same. You will feel it all the way down to your toes.

7. Food is not love. Love is love. Food is just food.

8. If you are feeling unhappy, reach out and show some love to someone else. Visit your mother, donate to the food bank, or volunteer your time to those in need. The people I know who are the happiest are also the least self-absorbed.

9. Less is more. This applies to makeup, hair, jewellery and heel height. It does not apply to skirts or tops.

10. You're not actually a princess. I know Daddy told you that you were, but all Daddies say that.

11. One day you will get married and this will be my wedding, not yours. I'm sorry, but I'm just paying this one forward.

12. Be well-read. Great literature nourishes the brain. Life is too short to read fashion magazines.

My Life in Numbers

One of my favourite bloggers, G*Funk*ified, wrote a great post yesterday called My Life In Numbers and invited other bloggers to link in.

Qualitatively speaking, I think I have a wonderful life. Here's how things stack up in quantifiable terms.

38 - the number of years I've been on this planet
9 - the number of years that I've been a mother
29 - the number of years I lived as a well-rested, well-dressed person who could hold a train of thought for more than 20 seconds and never left the house with spit-up or Goldfish cracker mush on her clothing

3 - the number of sons I have
1 - the number of daughters I have
4 - the number of children I actually have
13 - the number of children that my neighbours probably think that I have

15 - the number of months between my third and fourth children
4 - the number of times I've given birth
1 - the number of epidurals I've had
3 - the number of times I wished at the last moment that I had taken the damn epidural
50 - the total number of months that I have spent breastfeeding
6 - the number of months I breastfed WHILE pregnant
11 - the number of nursing bras I threw away after I weaned my last child

19.5 - the cumulative number of years of experience I've accrued as a parent
9.5 - the total number of years that I have had a baby (or more than one baby) in diapers
7,117 - the (approximate) number of kid lunches I've made in those 19.5 collective years
6,549 - the (approximate) number of times those damn lunches didn't even get eaten
14 - the actual number of granola bar wrappers I found in the back row of my van the last time I cleaned it
3784 - the (approximate) number of baby onesies and/or sleepers I've snapped up
3752 - the number of baby onesies/and or sleepers that I've snapped up correctly without having to go back and re-do one or all of the snaps

1 - the number of bottles of wine I drink each week
30 - the number of pounds I wanted to lose in 2012
3 - the number of pounds that I actually have lost

6 - the number of countries I've lived in
33 - the number of countries I've traveled to
163 - the number of countries I haven't traveled to
163 - the number of countries that I still want to see
23 - the number of winters I've spent in Canada
23 - the number of winters I've wished I didn't live in Canada

Does this make you think about your own life in numbers? If so, be sure to write about it and link up here and on Greta's site.

Yorkshire Pudding

It's been so long since I've blogged. However, I put a picture of the scrumptious Yorkshire Puddings that I made tonight on Facebook and I was inundated with requests for the recipe (by which I mean that my neighbour, who is also my friend and therefore counts as TWO people, mentioned that she might like the recipe).

Yorkshire Pudding reminds me of when I was a kid. My mom used to make them and I remember also eating them at various restaurants when we lived in Scotland and in England. It is quintessential British comfort food, perfect for an October dinner.

Preheat the oven to 415 degrees F.

There are many recipes online and they pretty much all agree on the main ingredients:

1 cup milk (I use 1%)
1 cup white flour (I use cake & pastry flour)
4 large eggs, beaten
a pinch of kosher salt

Put all of the ingredients in a large bowl and whisk well. The mixture should be smooth and thin, with bubbles on the top. Set it aside (you want the batter to reach room temperature, assuming that your room temperature is neither warm nor cold).

Use a dark 12 cup muffin tin if you have one. Pour about one teaspoon of vegetable oil into the bottom of each cup. (This isn't a Weight Watchers blog, ok? Don't use olive oil as it will smoke. Plus, olive oil is a crime against Yorkshire Puddings.)

Put the muffin tin into the oven to preheat it, for about 5 minutes. Don't remove it from the oven until the oil is bubbling and you have completed the next step.

Meanwhile, once the batter has reached room temperature, give the mixture another quick whisk. You should be able to achieve a bubbly, almost frothy texture.

Remove the hot tin from the oven. The oil will be sizzling in the bottom of each cup. Carefully divide the entire batter between the 12 cups. There will be enough to fill each cup about half full.

Bake for about 25 minutes, but keep an eye on them. They will rise and get very puffy. The tops should be deep golden brown, but the insides will remain white.

I was thinking about trying to come up with a more healthful version of this, but then I thought to myself, "Life is short. Leave the Yorkshire Puddings alone." My kids call them "the yummy buns". Because all the other buns I make are crap, I guess.

These Yorkshire Puddings are pure bliss, meant to be enjoyed with a beef roast, a glass of Merlot and some lovely roasted autumn harvest vegetables. Enjoy!

The Art of Doing Nothing

My kids are good at a lot of things. They read well, they can swim, they can ride bikes. They know how to do chores, how to skate, how to make pizza. My oldest son even knows how to use the Map app on my iPhone to navigate for me in the car. They have a lot of interests and although none of them have any talents that will make them YouTube sensations, they are have a respectable level of skill and interest in a variety of topics.

What they are not good at is doing nothing.

I think a lot of parents can relate to what I see in my kids because I don't actually think my kids are much different from most other kids. They go to school, they have activities, birthday parties, and play dates. In between, they go to the park, play video games, read and build Lego. Anything to avoid the dreaded nothing.

Take car rides, for example. When I was young we always lived several hours from my grandparents. I don't remember my mom ever packing me toys to play with during the car ride to visit her parents. Perhaps she brought an Etch-a-Sketch or a colouring book, but I don't remember this. Sometimes we would play Eye-Spy, but mostly we drove in silence (I was much older by the time we got a car with a cassette deck and much of our drive through rural Alberta was out-of-range of radio stations at that time). What I remember is hours and hours of staring out across the prairies, counting telephone poles between signs, looking for objects in the shapes of clouds. We would pass by a farmhouse and an hour later I would still be making up a story in my mind about the family who lived there.

I wonder if my children ever do this. And if they don't, is it my fault for not giving them the chance to be alone with their thoughts? I think it is uncomfortable for them, that stillness that descends upon them when the screens are off, when the game is over, when their bodies are not moving.

This week we are staying at a house on a lake. Today my husband was getting ready to take the two older boys fishing, but he needed some time to get the rods and reels ready. My sons were happy to help but when my husband no longer needed the help, they immediately looked for something to keep them busy. My husband asked them to sit down beside him on the patio and wait. "You don't always have to be doing something. It's OK just to sit," he told them. They didn't argue and they didn't fidget. But it was an effort for them, just to sit on this patio and stare out at the water and the hills in the distance.

I must admit that I have been a willing accomplice here. When my first son was a baby, I subscribed to the notion that it was important to stimulate his infant mind. He had "educational" infant mobiles and toys, Baby Einstein DVDs and the like. I taught him songs like "Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes" and how to count. I was intrigued by his learning; it fascinated me to watch him absorb so much so fast. I felt that his waking hours should be full of input and I felt guilty when I thought that wasn't happening. It wasn't his nature to lay on the carpet and stare at the ceiling and it never occurred to me to teach him this. I'm not even sure that it can be taught. Perhaps the Art of Doing Nothing can only be learned through hours and hours of boring car rides with no iPad or DVD player.

This week I am trying to reconnect with my lost Art of Doing Nothing and I'm finding that my skills are rusty. I am used to checking email while I wait in line at the grocery store or loading the dishwasher while I help my kids with their homework. I take time to read with them but I don't often take time just to sit with them, staring at the tree tops and letting our minds wander. The truth is that I don't often take time to do this on my own either, unless I am biking or swimming (because then it is actually multi-tasking). It should be the most natural feeling in the world, to sit back and watch the branches of a willow tree swaying in the breeze, yet it takes so much effort for me to do this.

Do you think it is important to teach children to be alone with their thoughts? How do you encourage them to comfortable with doing nothing? What do you do to set an example?

Free-Range Parenting Update

I have always believed that people will usually rise (or lower themselves) to meet your expectations of them. In other words, if you think someone is a jerk, he will probably act like one toward you. If you show someone that you trust and respect her, she is likely to behave in an honourable and honest way. I am beginning to see how true this is when it comes to parenting. You might remember that I resolved that this summer will be my summer of "Free Range Parenting". I'm sure that neither my mother nor Lenore Skenazy would endorse it as truly "free range", but it was a departure from my parenting style up to now, which tends to veer toward over-protective mama-bear style parenting. I didn't let my kids take public transit on their own or bike to Sobey's to pick up some milk, but I did relax the apron strings quite a bit, and learned that the more trust I put in my kids, the more responsible and mature their behaviour is. I've got a long way to go but I made some in-roads.

This delicious summer is drawing to a close and I wanted to check in on the topic of "Free Range Parenting" which has been my most well-read post to date. I think that post really struck a chord with a lot of people (thank you to everyone who read and commented on it) because many people of my generation are realizing how different their children's childhoods are from their own. Sometimes that is a good thing and we don't really stop to ponder the divide much. They have healthier food, BPA-free water bottles, and much better clothes and haircuts. We think, "My kids have it good. We're doing a good job. Phew..."

But every once in a while, we have to admit that perhaps, gulp, in some ways our own parents did it... better. It's an unsettling feeling.

Well, my kids had an absolutely amazing summer. Here are a few of the things they did this summer that they had not done before:

1. Lemonade stand. Unsupervised. (Mainly because it took place during that nail-biting US/Canada women's soccer game in which the referees pretty much just handed the game to the US team who was outplayed for the entire game, but I digress...)

2. First slumber party at our house. (I made myself invisible and let the six nine year-olds do what six nine-year olds will do when left unattended, which probably involves mostly video games and fart jokes, but I don't know because I was reading Bill Bryson's book about Shakespeare, which you really have to read. But I digress. Again.)

3. First sleepover at a friend's house. (OK, the mother is my neighbour and a good friend, so it's not like I let them camp out in a subway tunnel or anything, but still...)

4. A whole lot of swimming, during which time I relaxed a little and did some swimming of my own instead of holding onto them the whole time. Which they really appreciated because they can actually swim better than me and it's only a matter of time before they are lapping me in the lane swim at the pool.

5. Many, many bike rides. Sometimes we ride together, but I also learned that this is a great way for me to get a run into my day while still spending time with them. I let them ride on ahead and told them to stop when they came to a fork in the road or if they sensed I was too far behind, pull over to the side and wait for me. It turns out that kids don't evaporate into thin air if you take your eyes off of them for a few minutes, even when they are riding a bike.

6. I sent them to the school park on their own. This one was hard. The first time I let them go, it was mainly because they were wound up and bouncing off the walls. They had been in the house most of the day and I was trying to make dinner and they were getting on my nerves big time. So I said, "Get your shoes on, run to the park, do one lap around the playground and run straight back." It's probably about a kilometre round-trip. Then I poured myself a glass of wine. When they got back, everyone was much happier.

7. They played card games like Go Fish and board games like Trouble. And I didn't monitor to make sure that everyone was being fair. They need to get wise to when people are trying to cheat them, because that's life.

8. Buy their own Slurpees. Do you remember the joy of heading to the 7-Eleven on your no-speed bike, pouring yourself a swamp-water Slurpee and heading up to the till to pay for your treat with a shiny coin? In the day, that coin was a quarter and not a Toonie, but I'm pretty sure that the feeling is the same.

9. House-sit. My neighbour (the lovely lady who also invited them both for a sleepover with her son) went away for two weeks and my oldest son took care of their cat and watered their plants. I went with him each time to check on the house and make sure he locked the door behind him, but I let him do most of the work himself. When she handed him his pay envelope, I thought he would burst with pride.

10. Go to swim lessons on their own. OK, the truth is that I didn't do this. But my husband did. Swim lessons end at 12 and he called me at 11:55 to say that he wasn't going to make it back to the pool and could I pick them up. I just about fell off my chair. Doesn't he know that you are supposed to wait in the bleachers and watch? I raced down to the pool and when I ran into the lobby, my boys were standing there. One of them had passed his level and the other one hadn't, but they were both beaming with pride.

So now we are off on vacation for the last week of this glorious summer and I'm looking forward to engaging in some free-range parenting where it was meant to be enjoyed - at the lake.