While we were busy celebrating Dexter’s birthday, another important anniversary passed: the 3-year mark of our move to Ottawa. I’d say that over the last 6 months or so I’ve been feeling much more at home here. Not in a “Home Forever!!!!” kind of way, but I’m finally re-acclimating to life in Canada.
Except for all the times I almost choke on my Loonies at the cash register when it comes time to pay for stuff I had become accustomed to getting for cheap when I lived south of the border.
I’m not just talking about stuff like booze and gas, which is expensive for transparent reasons (surtaxes). Running shoes, almost all of which are made in China, cost about 50% more in Canada than the U.S. There’s a huge premium on books, small appliances, large appliances, and weird, random stuff, like paint. Since I painted our entire house in Richmond, I know that a gallon of midrange latex paint usually set me back about $16. Here I pay $40 or more. Now, I know there are lots of legitimate reasons why prices are higher in Canada, and honestly, I would be okay with paying a small premium. But there are times when it gets ridiculous.
Take, for example, my lunchtime errand today. I needed to get a sweater dry cleaned. A fancy-pants cashmere sweater, true, but it's not like it was stained or anything--it just needed a fresh-up. I don't use dry-cleaning very often (wash and wear is my style, baby!), so I wasn't sure what I would be charged. Thankfully, I asked before I handed over the garment. The price? $29, before taxes. Yes. Twenty-nine dollars to have one sweater cleaned. Twenty. Nine. Dollars. For dry cleaning! $29!!!!!
You know what I paid for dry cleaning in Richmond? $1.50 per item. And that was after a price increase. Before that, it was $1.25.
Astounding. Granted, the $1.50 dry cleaner was El Cheaperoo, even for Richmond, but how do you explain a price difference that massive? Is it really 20 times more expensive to operate a dry-cleaning business in Canada? Do Canadian dry cleaners bathe their clothes in the breath of angels, followed by a light misting of dew gathered from the petals of daisies grown organically in an unspoiled meadow? They must, right? You take that price shock, throw in the $80 quote I got to have the 4x6 acrylic rug in our playroom cleaned (which cost no more that $40 in the first place), and I guess I'll just resign myself to being a little dirtier from here on out. That, or I'm never again buying anything that isn't machine washable.
So, hrumph. If any of my American readers would like to send me some Dryel (which I have trouble finding up here), I'd appreciate it. I'm only kind of kidding.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Another eye surgery
Henry had strabismus surgery yesterday, a repeat of the procedure he had two years ago. The surgery was scheduled back in December because the ophthalmologist decided that Henry's eyes were becoming misaligned again. I agreed with him, but I also have to say that the problem was very subtle, thanks to the first surgery.
It's too early to tell the final results of this one, as Henry's eye is all bloody today, and it takes the eye a few weeks to settle into its new position, according to the doctor. I was worried that the surgical appointment itself was going to be a traumatic hell of screaming, kicking, tears and general misery (from Henry, not me or Tom), but Henry took it all like a trooper. He was calm through all the pre-op procedures, and didn't need a sedative before he was put under. Understandably, he was cranky when he woke up and complained throughout the day about his eye being sore. Today he is back to normal.
To make up for all the drama I went a bit overboard with guilt and bought him a fancy Playmobil Dinosaur set knowing full well that it will only hold his attention for a few days. He also got to eat mounds of delicious jello, and have chocolate milk with dinner. What can I say--It's hard not to spoil your 4-year-old when they have to have elective surgery. And I'm not even sure it's a bad thing.
It's too early to tell the final results of this one, as Henry's eye is all bloody today, and it takes the eye a few weeks to settle into its new position, according to the doctor. I was worried that the surgical appointment itself was going to be a traumatic hell of screaming, kicking, tears and general misery (from Henry, not me or Tom), but Henry took it all like a trooper. He was calm through all the pre-op procedures, and didn't need a sedative before he was put under. Understandably, he was cranky when he woke up and complained throughout the day about his eye being sore. Today he is back to normal.
To make up for all the drama I went a bit overboard with guilt and bought him a fancy Playmobil Dinosaur set knowing full well that it will only hold his attention for a few days. He also got to eat mounds of delicious jello, and have chocolate milk with dinner. What can I say--It's hard not to spoil your 4-year-old when they have to have elective surgery. And I'm not even sure it's a bad thing.
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Birthday! Birthday! Birthday!
My sweet baby turned one today! It was a very happy occasion, although the celebration was a quiet one. It's a long weekend here in Ontario, and on long weekends in summer, native Ontarians all head for "The Cottage", where they frolic in whatever body of water The Cottage abuts, swat at the blackflies that swarm The Cottage, perform maintenance on The Cottage, and generally have a grand old time at The Cottage. I believe they also drink watery Canadian beer and eat hot dogs, but that's pure conjecture on my part, as I've only been to The Cottage once, and that was in 1995 (during my first stint living in Ontario).
So, this being the perfect weekend to get away to The Cottage, 8 of the 9 families we invited over for cake sent regrets, as they were all headed to The Cottage. But Henry's friend Monika and her dad came over, cake was consumed, and we'll always be able to tell our second child that he did indeed have a first birthday party. And he seemed to appreciate the chocolate cake.
What's our todder-to-be up to these days? Here are a few highlights:
*No, he's not walking yet. Not even close. given what I remember of Henry learning to walk, I'd say Dexter is at least a couple months away from this milestone. He crawls like a demon and pulls himself up on stuff, but he's not trying to stand independently yet. Oh well--he'll get it eventually.
*He gives kisses. Very sloppy kisses on the lips or chin. I love it.
*He's said "Da-da" in a meaningful way at least a couple times.
*He loves music! He figured out which button to push to make Henry's toy tractor play "Old McDonald Had a Farm", and will sit there pushing it repeatedly, doing his little Jazz Hands dance every time it starts back up. He's also added arm flapping to his dance routine.
*On good nights he sleeps from 7 p.m. to 5 a.m., then goes back to sleep for an hour or so after nursing. But those nights have been few and far between lately. I think he's in the early stages of cutting molars, because he's been waking up a couple times a night recently. So I'm back to being a tad sleep deprived. Still nothing like what we went through with Henry, though. . .
*Some days he eats almost-adult-size portions of food, and eats anything and everything he's offered. Other days he won't eat anything but a few bites of fruit.
*He loves his big brother (and Henry loves him back--they get along fantastically) and clearly wants to play with the big kids now.
*He's just as sweet as can be, with more personality every day. I can't wait to see what year two brings us!
About all the "The Cottage" stuff: It seems like everyone here who is a) Ontario-born, b) not destitute, or c) destitute, but related to someone not destitute, has a vacation home. This place is always called The Cottage. Not "Our Cottage," not "My Dad's Cottage," not "The Cabin", "The Chalet," "our place on the lake," "The Lake", our place in X, or anything other than "The Cottage." And these people talk about The Cottage INCESSANTLY, all summer long. I first noticed it when I moved to Toronto way back when. It's a real Ontario thing, and we're just not a part of it. That's all.
So, this being the perfect weekend to get away to The Cottage, 8 of the 9 families we invited over for cake sent regrets, as they were all headed to The Cottage. But Henry's friend Monika and her dad came over, cake was consumed, and we'll always be able to tell our second child that he did indeed have a first birthday party. And he seemed to appreciate the chocolate cake.
What's our todder-to-be up to these days? Here are a few highlights:
*No, he's not walking yet. Not even close. given what I remember of Henry learning to walk, I'd say Dexter is at least a couple months away from this milestone. He crawls like a demon and pulls himself up on stuff, but he's not trying to stand independently yet. Oh well--he'll get it eventually.
*He gives kisses. Very sloppy kisses on the lips or chin. I love it.
*He's said "Da-da" in a meaningful way at least a couple times.
*He loves music! He figured out which button to push to make Henry's toy tractor play "Old McDonald Had a Farm", and will sit there pushing it repeatedly, doing his little Jazz Hands dance every time it starts back up. He's also added arm flapping to his dance routine.
*On good nights he sleeps from 7 p.m. to 5 a.m., then goes back to sleep for an hour or so after nursing. But those nights have been few and far between lately. I think he's in the early stages of cutting molars, because he's been waking up a couple times a night recently. So I'm back to being a tad sleep deprived. Still nothing like what we went through with Henry, though. . .
*Some days he eats almost-adult-size portions of food, and eats anything and everything he's offered. Other days he won't eat anything but a few bites of fruit.
*He loves his big brother (and Henry loves him back--they get along fantastically) and clearly wants to play with the big kids now.
*He's just as sweet as can be, with more personality every day. I can't wait to see what year two brings us!
About all the "The Cottage" stuff: It seems like everyone here who is a) Ontario-born, b) not destitute, or c) destitute, but related to someone not destitute, has a vacation home. This place is always called The Cottage. Not "Our Cottage," not "My Dad's Cottage," not "The Cabin", "The Chalet," "our place on the lake," "The Lake", our place in X, or anything other than "The Cottage." And these people talk about The Cottage INCESSANTLY, all summer long. I first noticed it when I moved to Toronto way back when. It's a real Ontario thing, and we're just not a part of it. That's all.
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