An interview with Matthew: Part Two

I'm back with the second half of my interview with Matthew, who you might also know as my husband. You can find the first half here.

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With Alyce, March 2008

5. What's been the toughest adjustment since becoming a parent?

We’ve talked about Bryan Kaplan’s Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids: Why Being a Great Parent is Less Work and More Fun Than You Think. One of the core claims is that there isn’t a lot you can do to change your children--unless you’re a bad parent, because the delta between being an average parent and a bad parent is much wider than between a good and average parent--so, you know, relax a bit. This ran counter to my intuitions, and I am imagine those of most this blog’s readers (who, by the way, are all incredibly good-looking and under-appreciated both at home and work).

I think there is a lot of overstretch in Kaplan’s argument, but I have taken from him and philosophers such as David Hume, Adam Smith (here more as a moral philosopher than an economist), and Isaiah Berlin that we are not merely soft wax shaped by our environment, including parental decisions. Again, I am not talking about extreme right- or left-tail parenting decisions, but about what is experienced in most childhoods. There is a human nature generally--driven by persistent, deep motivations such as love, joy, anger, revenge, recognition, fear, need, empathy, trust, and awe--that is trans-geographical and trans-historical, and there is a particular nature to each person that is quite impervious to change, except at the margin. Alyce and Shira are who they are, and it’s our job to curb excesses, encourage wisely, hug closely, try to set up the right incentives, promote good habits, and trust that we haven’t misshapen them.

Alyce, March 2008

I guess what I am trying to say is that I’ve found parenting to be much, much easier than I imagined. This is said with the big caveat that they are healthy and happy. I don’t know what my answer would be if the opposite were true. So, I don’t worry about their development much. For one, they have hit all of the development benchmarks, and I believe that most children develop on their own curve. The time commitment has never troubled me. I’ve never developed a rich social life, so that has not been a major sacrifice. We have DVR, and I refuse to watch anything live, including sports. And I watch a lot of baseball and basketball. Other than wishing Shira slept reliably until 6am, I have no complaints about the fatigue that often accompanies parenthood. Of course, I was lucky that you breastfed the girls, and let me sleep while you were up with them. I’ll never be able to pay off that debt. (Editor's note: You're welcome.)

For me, it is the finances that are hard. While the costs of young children are not exorbitant, there is usually an opportunity cost. Bringing another member into the household raises the amount of income we need to bring in, but we made the decision early on that Danielle would stay at home, teach part-time, and I would work outside of the home. We’ve struggled without 2 full-time incomes, and are just now working through the best way to manage our finances. So, we are not just making short-term financial decisions for ourselves, but for a family of four. (And we want more. When we tell friends that our ideal is five children, the response is never, “that’s a great idea! We’re going to do that too!” Our friends are far, far more rational than we are). I wish I had prepared more, thought more about the long-term consequences of our decisions and their financial impact.

May 2011

6. If you could only teach Alyce and Shira one thing about the world, what would it be?

Never go with a hippie to a second location.

The Italians have a saying, Lemon. 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' And although they've never won a war or mass-produced a decent car, in this area they are correct.        

                                                                                 --Jack Donaghy

The foregoing are probably the best pieces of advice that one person could give another, but probably not all that helpful in terms of parent-child relationships.

If I could encourage our girls to take any counsel it would be this: 1) Be serious as children, and light as adults. I enjoyed my childhood, but wish that I would have been more serious, as I feel I am trying to undo mistakes because of bad habits and poor choices I made all the way through undergraduate years. I want them to get a better head start than I did. 2) Don’t be cynical. Be an eyes-open optimist. Piggybacking on this is a clip of Louis CK on Conan:

Can I ask: did Conan O’Brien die or something? I can’t find him anywhere. Wait a moment...oh, here we go. He’s on TBS, on after a showing of Road House. I understand now.

3) Learn to deal with what you can never have, and life will be a joy and not a burden. (This insight I’ve adapted from Tyler Cowen at Marginal Revolution) 4) From an interview Cowen did with Gretchen Rubin:

Gretchen: Is there anything that you see people around you doing or saying that adds a lot to their happiness, or detracts a lot from their happiness?

Tyler: Grudges and blaming other people are very harmful, in my view. Their actions really are determined by forces outside their control and it is time to accept that. Don’t blame them for what is wrong in your life.

7. What ridiculously overpriced splurge do you wish you could spend on your kids?

This paragraph is frightfully pedantic and should be skipped by everyone: In a vacuum (that is, if we are not dealing with market constraint/regulation, whether governmental or monopolistic, imperfect knowledge or other information asymmetries), I guess, nothing can be underpriced or overpriced. Price is value, the cost someone is willing to pay for something. Is a Picasso worth millions? I don’t think so, but some people do and are willing to pay that cost. So price captures value and information. The person buying a Picasso is not buying a painting, but a representation of themselves, a signaling effect to others about who they are, and so forth.

(Editor's note: Eye roll.)

So, if I can, let me restate the question: What would I give the girls that we probably cannot afford? A day school education (Editor's note: day school refers to Jewish private school, for those unfamiliar with the term). For those who know our history, it is not an opportunity that we had or, in fact, could have had. The knowledge curve for our Judaism has been steep, but it can be narrowed significantly by day school. We visited one recently, and we both loved it, and you even more than me! Both through experience and our professions--my post-doctoral work has been in the Jewish world, especially on the academic side--we have gained a great deal of knowledge. But it is more book knowledge than habitual/experiential. Haym Soloveitchik has a famous article--well, famous in some places--called “Rupture and Reconstruction” where he talks about the post-Holocaust Haredi (ultra-Orthodox) world, and how learning about ritual practice is not passed through parents and family--that is, tradition--but through book knowledge. The yeshiva has replaced the home. And, for us, though we are not part of that world, it rings true. We have no pre-rational sounds, smells, textures, emotions, and intuitions to pass down in terms of our lived Judaism. So we need the day school to help supplement. Alyce and Shira--and may we be blessed by more--don’t have family beyond their parents to turn to, and consequently we need the help and support of the community. I don’t know how we can give this to them, but I know that we are exhausting every avenue to try to do so.

Thanks for the chance to prattle on! Can we have pizza with crème fraiche and soft mozzarella tonight? (Editor's note: If you're making it!)

***

Thanks, Matty, for answering my questions! And for all the parenting, foot rubbing, and reaching from the high shelves that you do.

One final note: I love reading Matt's answers to these questions. I live with the guy all the time, sleep next to him at night, see his handsome face each and every day, but I learned so much about him through this interview. His response about finances being one of the hardest adjustments reminds me just how much pressure he must feel as the primary earner in our family. I could use a reminder about that, because I think I forget sometimes. I also hope that Alyce and Shira inherit his optimism, a quality that never gets old. Finally, and don't tell him this, but even though I have actually heard all of these jokes before, I still laughed.

An Interview with Matthew: Part One

It's time for another interview today! So far we've heard from my good friends, Dani and Nicola. Today I've called in some favours and asked my husband, Matt, to answer some questions. On account of his going on and on expertise I have divided this interview into two parts. I'll post the second part tomorrow.

So let me introduce you to Matt. Some days I look up and see that I'm married to Matt and we have these two girls, and I marvel at how I am, truly, the most fortunate person on the planet. Alyce and Shira, while they have a lifetime of being slightly irritated by jokes ahead of them, will spend most of their days giggling because of Matt. He brings a lightness into our family upon which we rely greatly. And, he gives me foot rubs every single night.

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Matt and Alyce, April 2010

1. Tell us a little about yourself and introduce those glorious little girls of yours. Also feel free to tell us a little about your remarkable wife, too.

Yes my daughter is Canadian-American, but I'm going to treat her just like a human baby.

                                                                   -- Jack Donaghy, 30 Rock

(Puts down Fifty Shades of Grey) Oh, hi. I didn't hear you come in. I was just reading this book about how to put up drywall and other manly tasks. Sure, I'd be happy to provide some free blog content.

I have the best little girls, Heaven and Nevaeh (edit later: DO NOT mention secret Arkansas family), Alyce and Shira.

I imagine regular readers of MDIW know Alyce and Shira. They are often the central characters in the narrative of Danielle’s life. I am slightly more peripheral, but I can get things down from the high shelf, supply foot rubs, and do our taxes. So I have some utility.

The girls’ lives--and births, breastfeedings, and birthdays--have been well chronicled here, so I just want to write some brief vignettes about them.

The densest element in the periodic table is osmium. That’s what I think of when I pick up Shira. This has nothing to do with size, weight, or shape, but the child has a low center of gravity, feels heavier than her actual weight. In any case, I don’t think it’s true that girls or women are EVER concerned with images of weight or body shape. There’s probably no books about it anyway.

Shira is finding her voice. Words tumble out of her now. My favorite is when she says “Shira” – she tilts her head slightly forward, lowers her forehead further, raises her eyes, taps her left foot, twists her hips about 25 degrees, positions one hand on each hip, and leans into “Shira,” said with a degree of confidence I can only hope to muster.

Alyce - she’s a wisp, capable of tumbling down the street from a mild breeze. She seems so big to me now, but when she is lined up alongside her classmates, she’s tiny. Some of her more maternal peers lift her at the waist, carrying her around like a bag of salt. She doesn’t seem to mind.

At Shira's birth, May 2010

Alyce has been been my synagogue mate from the beginning. In two different countries. In shuls running the spectrum from Reform to Orthodox. From rabbis playing guitar (no rabbi should EVER play guitar) to full mechitzahs. And she loves it. At our shul in Delaware she was the mascot, bringing the mean age of the wonderful, though geriatric, congregation down by at least a decade. Until Shira was conceived, Alyce was a mama’s girl. She loved me, and we were close, but she was naturally at her mother’s breast. But because breastfeeding can cause pains that mirror birth pains (I can’t believe I now have this river of knowledge about breastfeeding!), Danielle stopped nursing Alyce when she was eight weeks pregnant with Shira. At least Alyce was down to nursing just in the morning and before bed. Alyce transitioned very well. (Shira, who is still a nursling, will not.)  So Alyce and I started spending all Saturday together, to relieve a tired Danielle. We’d go to shul, the park, wherever. These are some of my favorite memories.

So, Danielle, your question asked me to say something about my “remarkable wife.” I will.

I want to tell the story of how Danielle and I got together.

I first met Danielle in Toronto. I moved up to Canada (a.k.a. America's Hat) in 2003 with my band, Ted Dancin'. (By the way, there is actually a DJ in Toronto who goes by Ted Dancin'. He has a Myspace page. What year is this again?) But, you know how it goes: Jimmy quit, Jody got married, shoulda known, we'd never get far (does this qualify as Canadian content under Cancon rules?).

We met my second day in Toronto, at U of T as new doctoral students in Religion. And I fell in love immediately and helplessly. She was (and is) beautiful, had a kind face, and did not say “ewwww” when she saw me. Our cohort had a class together, and we ran into each other periodically on campus. I treasured those moments when I could steal her attention. I don’t think she knew that I was head over heels in love, although I believe our mutual friend Tanya saw it. I assumed no mutual interest, and knew that she had just left a long-term relationship. I had no intention of declaring my feelings, because it seemed impossible that there would be reciprocation. After 18 months, though, we started one summer corresponding regularly. I still have the emails we exchanged during our courtship. Danielle was teaching at another university, and I was living in Toronto.

When Danielle returned from teaching, she invited me to Riverdale Farm. I thought it was just a friendly thing. (Editor's note: Oh, for crying out loud, it was so obviously a date!) We had a great time, and then our correspondence turned more serious. It was the first time--this is June 2005, for those scoring at home--that I imagined that there might be something there.

And then Oliver died. Danielle’s cat, which had had since she was 13, had been through everything with her. Our early relationship is bound up with the loss of another significant relationship.

Then we went out to dinner. I still did not know if it was a date. (Editor's note: Really? How is that possible?!) I had decided, though, that I needed to man up, muster the courage to finally let Danielle know how I felt. And I did. And she did. Now we have two little girls, two little cats, one ENORMOUS cat, and what already seems like a wonderful lifetime of memories.

By the way, I never call Danielle, Danielle. Pretty much from the time we started dating, I called her Navah, which is Hebrew for mountain goat “beautiful” or “shining.”

And you asked how I would describe myself: “Seven feet tall he was, with arms like tree trunks.  His eyes were like steel, cold, hard. Had a shock of hair, red like the fires of Hell.”

2. What is your super power? (You know you have one.) For example, I can solve most of Alyce and Shira's problems by dancing.

I just make stuff up all day. When Alyce was around Shira’s age, we went to the Philadelphia Art Museum. Museums, like theaters, are pretty much just an expensive nap. But when we visited the one in Philly, I took the opportunity to tell Alyce that her papa had painted, sculpted, and designed most of the items in the exhibitions. She was tres impressed. Plus it gave me an inflated feeling of self, and has that ever turned out wrong?

Seriously, though, making stuff up helps distract the girls when their moods turn foul. Just say something ridiculous, and they will be tied up in giggles and belly laughs, their concerns over who gets to hold Tasha from The Backgardians forgotten. 

With Alyce, June 2011

3. What's the hardest part of your parenting day, and do what do you do to work around it, or help make it hurt your head less?

Let me start with everyone’s favorite invocation - it depends.  Am I working or staying home? Are we staying at your mother’s or at our home? Is it a school day? Am I getting up with Shira? (The only people awake when Shira gets up are vampires and those on 24-hour missile watch at NORAD). The answers to those questions affect, to greater or lesser degrees, my parenting.

In general, though, I find early mornings most difficult. When my feet hit the floor, I am ready to go, to get started and get moving. I am frightfully impatient. I prefer deferring leisure to the evening. My temperament grinds against the natural disposition of everyone else in the house. I wish I could enjoy the mornings more, but when there is something to do or if I am bored, I can be, um, less than fun. I can’t say I thought through a lot of strategies about how to deal with this.
In the summer, it’s been easier, because I can just loose them into the backyard. I don’t want to simply park them in front of My Little Pony (though the new version is a great improvement on the one we grew up with…not that I would have any experience for comparison), Backyardians (solid), Harry and His Bucketful of Dinosaurs (terrific), Toopy and Binoo (oddly endearing in its manic energy), or Caillou  (I can’t speak about this show rationally, so let’s just move on).

But lately, I’ve been leaving for work at 5:23AM (5:19 if the car needs fuel), and getting home around 6:30PM, and at that time it’s about hustling the girls off to bed, especially Shira. So, I haven’t had many parenting challenges recently because I haven’t doing as much parenting. I like my job, but the travel is brutal in terms of time, and I know my wife is struggling with our taller child at times. I feel guilty--because I am guilty?--for not being there. I miss my awesome family! Hence our planned move to Toronto. I miss the girls terribly during the day. My desk is cluttered with Alyce’s paintings, but at least my wife provides a photographic journal of their day through text messaging.

With Shira, March 2011

4. Who do you look to for support as a parent?

Can you indulge a few quotes from some of my favorite fathers?

Homer Simpson:

You tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.

The code of the schoolyard, Marge! The rules that teach a boy to be a man. Let’s see. Don’t tattle. Always make fun of those different from you. Never say anything, unless you’re sure everyone feels exactly the same way you do. What else…

Kids are great, Apu. You can teach them to hate the things you hate and they practically raise themselves now-a-days, you know, with the internet and all.

Marge, there’s an empty spot I’ve always had inside me. I tried to fill it with family, religion, community service, but those were dead ends! I think this chair is the answer.

Marge, don’t discourage the boy! Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It’s what separates us from the animals! Except the weasel.

Well, I won't lie.  Fatherhood isn't easy, like motherhood, but I wouldn't trade it for anything ... 'cept for some mag wheels.  Oh, man, that would be sweet.

Tracy Jordan (30 Rock) to his son:

I’m going to love you no matter what even if you become a doctor or a lawyer or a philanthropist who devotes his life to others. I’ll still be proud of you.

Jack Donaghy (30 Rock):

Jack: Actually, Devin, I do. I have a baby daughter, Liddy.
Devin: And yet you still managed to be here all night, trying to figure out how to bring me down. Damn, Jack. You are strong. You're like Dora's friend, Benny the Bull.
Jack:...Benny the Bull. Thank you.

Danny Zuker. is there anyone who doesn’t follow him on Twitter? He writes for Modern Family. From his account (@DannyZuker):

14 years ago my wife gave birth to twin girls who brought meaning to my life, especially the thin pretty one. #HappyBdayHogFace

You can learn a lot about your kids by simply turning off the TV and talking. For example I discovered that mine are really boring.

I would never EVER hit my own child but after volunteering at his school I think it would be fine if some of you hit yours.

It's payback time, bitches!" - What I think every morning now that I wake my kids up.

And nothing to do with parenting, but:

People in movies talking about what they love about movies always makes me love movies a little less.

Seriously, though, (Editor's note: It's about time) my support for parenting--in terms of advice, strategies, and sharing duties--comes exclusively from my wife. She’s the center (centre, in case Canadian censors are monitoring this blog) of our family, which I imagine is both a challenge and an honor. I trust her judgments intuitively, and I look for her cues in parenting. (Editor's note: ok, well that was a really nice thing to say. All is forgiven, regarding that last list of 3,486 quotations).

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Thank you, Matty, for sharing your thoughts on parenting and absolutely everything else. The best part about these jokes is that I've heard them all at home already! I love him anyway. Stay tuned for part two of my interview with Matt tomorrow. 

An interview with Nicola

Do you have any good friends that had the nerve to pick up and move across the ocean? Me, too. My friend Nicola helped get me through high school, not only with dignity, but with an impressive number of concerts under my belt, including Sonic Youth on my birthday. In school I always admired her independence, kindness, and her ability to drop class at a moment's notice so that we could wait in line for concert tickets. She was also my prom date.


Nicola moved back to England while I was away at university. Sad? Terribly. But with the help of excellent long distance plans and the glorious internet, we've stayed close. Which was lucky for me because Nicola was my first friend to start a family. She has experience, this one, and she agreed to answer some of my questions. Listen closely because you might be able to capture a bit of her magic: she can find the humour in absolutely everything, a quality I absolutely adore. Being a parent is hard work, yes, but the ability to roll your eyes and go with it some days is a gift.

You can find Nicola at Canuck aboot Toon and on Twitter @Mammy_P

 1. Tell us a little about yourself and introduce those glorious little boys of yours.


I’m Nicola, I’m 36.  I’m a British/Canadian ex-pat-re-pat.  That is to say: I was born in England, grew up in Canada, and now I live back in England again.  I’m married to Jason who is 42, and my kids are Benjamin Jonathan who is 7, and Jude Alan who is 2.  If you’re clever at math (I just had to double check the number on my fingers) you’ll notice that Ben was an only child until he was nearly 6 – I always knew I wanted more than one kid, but the time never seemed quite right... until it did, of course.  Ben is like a sponge; when he decides he likes something, he soaks up facts and figures about whatever it is with a drive and determination that amazes me; I hope he carries this trait with him through his whole life.  When he was a toddler, he liked fans.  Y’know – ceiling fans.  Desk fans.  Windmills.  Anything that spun round.  He’d walk into your house and immediately do a recce of every room to check out your fan-to-no-fans ratio.  Then he moved onto gardening equipment.  Lawn mowers, strimmers, leaf blowers.  Now he’s moved onto tanks, and World War II.  Phone our house right now and ask him how many millimetres thick the armour on so-and-so American tank is and he’ll tell you and then TRAP YOU ON THE PHONE FOR AN HOUR WHILE HE TEACHES YOU SOME OTHER STUFF.  It’s fascinating to watch, he is a little walking history book.  He is analytical by nature, and wants to understand how things work.  He also has a softer side, and can be very thoughtful and loving.  He is working very hard right now to remember to use his knife and fork in the right hands, and to remember his pleases and may-I’s, and if he puts his mind to it, he will argue with you that day is night AND HE WILL WIN. 


Jude will be 3 in July this year, so it is really only in the last month or so that we’ve started to notice the true shape of his character emerging – he and Ben are like chalk and cheese.  Jude is affectionate and gentle and declares ten times a day that “Mammy is my berry best friend.”  He loves kisses, loves being read stories, and will act out imaginative scenarios with his toys in a quiet corner.  He loves singing, and will sit in his carseat squeaking out renditions of all his favourite nursery rhymes – sometimes making hybrid tunes and joined-together verses; don’t be surprised if you learn from Jude “how he wondered what Old MacDonald are”, and that “four and twenty Mary’s little lamb was in the parlour eating bread and honey.”  With his continuing journey through the Terrible Two’s, he is keenly developing his selective hearing skills – as I type this he has taken all the cushions off the sofa for the 32983423239th time today, but I am utterly defenceless against those blonde curls and blue eyes as big as saucers, especially this close to bedtime.  One of the best things about Jude is that he will eat just about anything you put in front of him.  And then some.  Whenever anyone is eating anything in this house, his little baby sonar will detect, say, the opening of a bag of chips, and he comes zooming into the room just as Jason and I say, “Oh, here comes ‘Want-A-Bite Proctor’...” 

Separately, my children are wonderful.  At the moment, when they are together, they are like rabid escaped mental patients from a Victorian insane asylum.  I can say that, because I’m their mother, see.  Their father and I are hoping that is a phase and that the wrestling matches, sitting on each other’s heads, blowing fart noises in each other’s faces and destroying each other’s LEGO creations will be over before the year is out.  


2. What is your super power? (You know you have one.) For example, I can solve most of Alyce and Shira's problems by dancing.


Oh, that’s easy:  baking.  Shouting up the stairs, “WHO WANTS TO MAKE CAKES?” will bring down those two little dudes at the speed of light.  They each have their own aprons, and they will stand at the island in our kitchen and want to weigh and measure and mix and roll and sneak tastes and crack eggs and sneak more tastes.  I let them do it all themselves; it fills a rainy afternoon (and trust me, where I live we have more than our fair share of those) and has the most magical, calming effect on them both.  When we are in the kitchen baking, all is sweetness and light, all is chocolate sprinkles and harmony.


3. What's the hardest part of your parenting day, and do what do you do to work around it, or help make it hurt your head less?


 Getting ready for school is traditionally the time where, if someone’s head is going to explode, that’s the time it’s gonna pop.  Trying to organise Jason into his work clothes, Ben into his uniform, me into my pantyhose and heels, changing nappies and wrestling while cleaning teeth all in a 60-minute window before we leave the house is forehead-vein-pop-inducing, to say the least.  If you were a fly on the wall in my house between 7am and 8am, this is what you would hear:

40 x: “JUDE, I’m not going to ask you again:  come here so I can clean your teeth, please.”
21 x: “Mammy, can you tuck in my shirt?”
11 x: “Yes, you DO need a clean nappy on, that one has wee-wees in it!”
12 x: “Where are your shoes?  Time to go.”
32 x: “No, I don’t want to hear about which Howitzer has a 35 millimetre armour-piercing shell.”


4. Who do you look to for support as a parent?

 
My husband, Jason.  We’ve got the Good Cop/Bad Cop routine down to a T.  Mostly I’m the latter because Jason, as they say here in England, is as “soft as pudding.”  Would you like some chocolate before breakfast?  Jason’s your man.  Had your friends over and your bedroom looks like it’s been tipped upside down?  Jason will tidy it up.  When we first started going out together, I knew he’d be a good Dad when I saw what he was like with his dogs.  And for all the fussing and organising and meal-balancing chaos that I’m all about, Jason adds just the right dose of devil-may-care-spontaneity and fun that kids need.  I think we’re a pretty good tag team.  I am also not too proud to tap into the font-of-all-parenting knowledge that is my mother.  She has decades of experience under her belt of raising a spirited child (um – that’s me) so when I call her tearing my hair out in moments of frustration, after she’s done laughing and telling me “payback’s a bitch, Nick”, she usually has some great practical suggestions.  She’s a smart lady.  

5. What's been the toughest adjustment since becoming a parent?


Probably the complete surrender of every moment that used to be for me, that now belongs to someone else.  I think fondly back to those halcyon days when I could pick up a novel after breakfast and blast through it over the day without giving it a second thought, still in my pyjamas from the night before when bedtime rolled around again.  But having said that of course, back in those days I did more than my fair share of complaining that I never had a boyfriend and was bored all the time.  I have a happy medium now:  while it’s true that those “me” times are fewer and further between these days, Jason makes sure that he drags the kids down to the beach or over to his mother’s every once in a while to let me have some quiet time.  He leaves me a frazzled screeching harpy, and comes back to a balanced, recharged, serene and accommodating loving spouse.  And all it usually takes is a good book and some chocolate.


6. If you could only teach Ben and Jude one thing about the world, what would it be?

That while it is important to be proud of where you come from, it is only a tiny, tiny, tiny part of the planet, and that the world is filled with all different kinds of people, all shapes and sizes, who believe different things and feel different things and even though you might recognise those differences, you should also honour and celebrate them with kindness, understanding, tolerance and a friendly hand.  Get out and meet those people, explore where they live, feel the cultures and never stop learning from it. 


7. What ridiculously overpriced splurge do you wish you could spend on your kids? (For me, I would love to get one of those massive wooden doll houses.)


Oooh... it’d be a lifetime supply of airline tickets.  I want my kids to be able to identify with their Canadian-ness, and regrettably we can’t visit Canada nearly as often as I’d like at the moment for them to be able to find it.  So in a perfect world, I’d splurge on packing us all up every summer and Christmas to spend it on the other side of The Pond.  Wouldn’t that just be delicious?  Now I’m daydreaming!

Thanks, dear Nicola!

You might want to take notes

This is Alyce. Alyce is now four years old. Alyce has some interesting things to tell you. You might want to take some notes. Note: Please disregard the extremely annoying interviewer, who has not yet learned that you do not have to yell into an iphone in order to be heard.