So I managed to do my ankle in, which landed me in an Aircast and crutches. I know what you’re thinking and for the record, I was not walking and texting. In fact, I was attempting to walk and talk at the VERY same time and managed to go over on my ankle. It’s a good thing I wasn’t chewing gum or I may have ended up in a full body cast.

Clearly this cast/crutches thing is not an ideal situation for a multi-tasking mama. To further complicate the matter, Daddy-o was out of town for the week and the affected ankle was attached to my driving foot. The already difficult task of getting various children to various activities at the same time reached a whole new level of crazy.

It was an interesting experience for me, and this is what being on crutches taught me:

- My friends who deal with real-life chronic pain, illness or disability – I know you find it annoying and even a little condescending when people tell you how amazing and brave you are, but yeah, that. I am not amazing or brave – mostly just whiney.

- Six-year-olds can pack their own school lunches and will include fruits and vegetables. They will also feel proud. Kids step up when they need to.

- Crutches take the focus off a sore ankle by causing excruciating pain to your armpits. Did the people who made the crutches plan it that way? Is it some twisted method of trying to distract from pain by creating new pain?

- Not being able to drive was like a forced holiday. I contemplated prolonging the appearance of injury, but convenience and reality won out.

- There are friends and family members who are extremely helpful. But when help is offered, I must be clear with instructions. I should specifically say, for example, that “picking up bread” means a minimum of three loaves in a family of our size. That one loaf that was dropped off lasted 20 minutes.

The top lesson, of course, is to watch where I’m going. Curbs have a way of jumping out at you when you least expect it. Have you had an injury or illness that has caused temporary disruption to family life? How did everyone manage?

Just prior to taking this photo, someone may have attempted a triple back flip off of the diving board....

I’m all about dads playing hard with the kiddos, but around here I’ve noticed that “playing with” the kids has a tendency to transform into “showing off” for the kids. Unfortunately, when the showing off starts, the risk of Daddy-o injuries increases. That famous quote from Top Gun often comes to mind: “Your ego is writing cheques your body can’t cash”. I must admit that when such adult injuries happen, I’m not exactly sympathetic.

One particular incident occurred a few years ago. Daddy-o had the kids outside to demonstrate some bike tricks. Before long, he entered the house, bracing his arm and saying I had better drive him down to the hospital. I quickly determined that the arm injury was the result of falling off his bike – the bike that he was standing on… while riding down a hill. I suggested that rather than have me pack up all six children for some quality time in the ER, he use his good arm to get himself to the hospital. My compassionate nature does not always shine when our family experiences a showing-off induced injury.

I know other families have suffered such mishaps as well. I recently ran into an old high school friend shopping with his family. When we were kids in the same neighbourhood, this guy lived on his skateboard – riding it everywhere and doing impressive tricks with all his boarding buddies. As we stood chatting in the shop, I noticed his arm was in a brace. When asked about his injury, he told a tale involving breaks in several locations, hospitals, surgeries, pins and rehabilitation. Curious, I asked about the cause of the injury. His wife sighed and rolled her eyes. Yep, you guessed it – he’d dusted off the skateboard to show the kids a few of his old tricks.

Other injuries we’ve encountered have come from lifting heavy items, and an unforgettable one involved wood chopping and an axe. How about you? Has the show-off injury phenomenon made its way into your home? Who do you take to the ER more often – your kids or your spouse?

Rather than "shush" my kid, I just throw another plug in his gob

I’m a little bit nosey and don’t pretend otherwise. On my recent travels to a conference, I injected myself into a couple of situations that were none of my business. I just couldn’t help it.

The first was on my way to the conference. Across the aisle from me sat a mother and her surfer dude teenaged son. He was polite, respectful, handsome – he pretty much had all the qualities I hope my kids have as teenagers. He also happened to be living with Down Syndrome. At one point he was making a few noises. I didn’t take much notice because I’m surrounded by noisy people all the time. Then, from somewhere nearby a random passenger let out the loudest, rudest SHUSH I’ve ever heard. I was angry and determined to find the culprit. I wanted to give the SHUSHER a piece of my mind. All my investigations were pointless – the SHUSHER would not come forward and admit to the SHUSHING.

On the way home came Nosey Parker incident #2. A young dad was sitting behind me and having a cell phone conversation with the mother of his baby. They were discussing her plans for the next day. It sounded like she had a fun event to attend with a group of friends. The dad expressed a bit of concern about taking care of the baby because he was exhausted from his work travels. He did the right thing – told her her to carry on with her plans but that he would find a babysitter for a couple of hours to get some rest before enjoying the rest of the day with his kid. Their phone call ended and a few quick calls to babysitters from the tarmac were made and he had it all sorted out. Happily, he called his baby mama back and explained that all was organized and that he was thrilled that she would have a well deserved day out with her friends. She must have announced that she decided to cancel the plans because he spent the next few minutes saying things like “but you deserve to go out” and “it’s not a hassle at all, I’m looking forward to having the day with my daughter”. Despite begging her to go, she could not be convinced. When he got off the phone, I heard a huge sigh of defeat and frustration.

Clearly, I know nothing about them, their relationship or how they share parental responsibilities. However, I couldn’t stop myself from turning around, admitting to eavesdropping and congratulating him on trying so hard to make it work – for wanting his partner to have a day out with her friends. Sure, I risked having him tell me to mind my own business but it was worth it when I looked at his exhausted big brown eyes and heard his whisper: “Thank you so much”.

It’s tough to know when to inject ourselves into a conversation or situation that we’re not directly involved in. For me, often my gut responds before my brain has the chance to make a decision. The greatest risk for the Nosey Parker is humiliation. For those of us who have experienced enough of that already, it’s not a risk that gets a whole lot of consideration.

Although the reality is that I have six kids, in so many ways (as I’m sure you entrepreneurial types understand), when you create a business – you suddenly become a parent again.

Eight years ago, my business partners and I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Mabel. It was a long pregnancy, and the delivery was not easy, but she was born and is living among us. As a newborn, she was feisty and not always on her best behavior. Although we had other children, we were first-time parents to a child like this and there was a big learning curve. But, baby Mabel inspired us, kept us awake at night and worked us pretty darn hard.

When Mabel was first born she lived in my business partner’s basement. As she became a toddler, she required more space so my business partner moved to a bigger house with a bigger basement. Now, she is a cheeky big girl living in a 14,000 square foot facility.

As a baby, she was pretty bossy and kept on top of me and my business partners. She liked to keep us working through the night and clearly loved spending time with us. Now that Mabel is 8 years old she has become even bossier and has over 40 people running around after her at the Mabel’s Labels Headquarters every day.

The Mabelhood Class of 2010

As with our other children – our commitment, loyalty, love and hard work have paid off. We continue to nurture her and help her grow, but are so proud of where she is today.

And there she is – growing up before our very eyes!

Sometimes my kids may ask for a bowl of snow for dinner. And when they do, they may just get it.

That is what I call the dinner hour at my house – feeding time at the zoo. It’s not news – families that eat together regularly are better and the rest of us suck. Time Magazine reports that the more often families eat together, the less likely kids are to smoke, drink, do drugs, get depressed, develop eating disorders and consider suicide. They have a better chance of doing well in school, delaying having sex, eating their vegetables, learning big words and knowing which fork to use.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, that all sounds fine, and although I want my kids to learn big words, there are a few reasons gathering around the dinner table only happens on weekends for our family.

Practical:
My biggies get home from school at 3:00pm absolutely “starving” and Daddy-o doesn’t get home from work until 7:00pm. I refuse to spend four hours listening to kids complain about being hungry. I am also not willing to shove snacks in their gobs in an effort to hold them over until the adults are ready to eat. I prefer to take advantage of that after-school appetite and fill their bellies with a healthy dinner at that time. It sets them up with lots of energy for their evening sports or outdoor play. Sure, they get hungry again later, at which time I’ll happily serve up toast, cereal, fruit or veggies as an evening snack.

Emotional:
So is our family falling apart? Have we become a huge non-communicating mess? Hardly. There are many other times in the day when parents and families can connect that don’t involve food and sitting. Growing up, I had dinner with my family every single night. Did I enjoy it? Not really. You see, for a kid who didn’t like food, the dinner table often represented a place of conflict. My mom was rightly frustrated that she spent time preparing beautiful meals only to have me and my sisters turn our noses up at them. My dad would inevitably get grumpy with us, falling into those ridiculous parenting platitudes like “you’re not leaving the table until….” And I can assure you, not every child will eat “eventually”. I found hunger pain more appealing than many foods.

Meaningful conversation didn’t always happen around our table, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. My memories credit family walks and bedtime tuck-ins as those special moments and important times.

Parenting is a tough gig these days. There are a lot of studies and research directing us. While I think it’s important to consider the information that we are bombarded with, I like to integrate that with my experiences, some common sense, and the knowledge that I’m the one best fit to make the decisions for my family. The dinner table is not going to make or break my family. I’m quite capable of doing that all on my own, thank you. Check back with me in a few years though – if no one is using three syllable words, I may reconsider.