The Stroller Chronicles

I bought my first Maclaren, a bright red Triumph, three years ago at Maklem's in Toronto. It cost about $269 and I thought that was an outrage for an umbrella stroller. But my stylish downtown friend Jenn had one and so I had to have one too. It was the least I could do, this act of stroller solidarity, since I steered her very, very wrong a few months earlier when I recommended she buy the same Peg Perego Atlantico I had. But I'll come back to that lumbering beast in a moment. The Maclaren was meant to be my urban buggy. Good for navigating the crowded sidewalks of Bloor West Village. Something that wouldn't take up the entire trunk, leaving no room for groceries or a jug of washer fluid (Peg I'm talking about you).

The Triumph has its shortcomings: an inadequate sun/rain canopy, two seat positions - ramrod and supine- and an absurdly difficult closing mechanism that required me to literally take off my shoe and wedge my toe, painfully, under the thingamajig to fold the stroller. This, as you can imagine, was most inconvenient in a snowstorm.

I never loved the Triumph and didn't treat it very well. But after a three year tour of duty, it's still called into occasional service. Which is more than can be said for the $400 Peg. So after a discouraging couple of months researching and test-driving other brands (including the much touted Bugaboo - I don't get the appeal, frankly) I bought a Maclaren for the new guy. This time the upgraded Techno. It costs about $469 if you're forced to buy it in Canada. We were able to take advantage of a business trip to San Francisco and ordered it online from www.tinyride.com. I think I paid $225 and free shipping. A very satisfying experience for me, though my husband wasn't pleased having to escort a five-foot tall box home.

The Techno is a sleek ride. Handles well, turns easy, and it will let you steer it with one hand long enough to drink your Tim Hortons. A much more generous sun canopy with a peekaboo window on top is a big improvement over the Triumph. And I like the colours.

The downsides:
It tips backward with alarming ease, especially with a newborn in the reclined position
It folds up more easily (I can keep my shoe on, thankfully) but it doesn't fold flat and lock into place all that well.
The shopping basket below is impossible to access. So you're tempted to hang your Loblaws bags on the handles. Don't. See point #1.

I give the Techno one enthusiastic thumb up. I'm a tough customer.

gimme a buck for shrek's legs

It was the annual neighbourhood tag sale on the weekend so naturally I took the opportunity to hide some kid junk among the Nick Hornby novels and five-year old travel guides; purple ponies with irrevocably matted manes, a palm-sized carriage carrying a frizzled Cinderella, a barbie from Italy in full bridal regalia. And so on. While we made $100 (most of which was spent by day's end on Dairy Queen, Tim Horton's and some over-priced boconcini) it was sweet relief to unload some junk. Or so I thought.

With the potential for a meltdown high, the kid was given a pocketful of coins and sent across the street to hang with her gang. She proceeded to do the garage sale version of a pub crawl, spending a few minutes at each house's kid table, casting a careful eye over the goods. I forgot how far kids can stretch a buck. She returned an hour later with a clammy No Frills bag loaded with - to a three-year old's eyes - some seriously rockin' loot. Like, for instance, these Shrek legs. Why Shrek sans upper body was even for sale is anyone's guess (though I'm certain someone must have asked the same question about the matted ponies).

After some strategic questioning ["what are you going to do with Shrek's legs, honey?"] that went nowhere, it was evident the kid was not going to forsake them. True to her word the Shrek legs have turned up unexpectedly over the last three days, kind of like the Travelocity gnome.

An Unconventional Father's Day

Also titled "why we love Target." Yes, friends, our day of fatherly celebration was spent in the air conditioned confines of the big red bullseye in Niagara Falls NY. Which, in case anyone is ready to beatify my husband, was actually his idea.

Three hours and two loaded shopping carts later, the only reason we left was a crying baby that I couldn't bear to nurse in the not-so-great bathroom. Why do these places never learn? A department full of great baby gear for sale and an ill-equipped and unforgiveably dirty washroom. Why, why why? The marketing geniuses at IKEA have it figured out. Their family washrooms are a shining beacon to every other retailer operating a public loo; proper diaper change tables, not those precarious wall-mounted things, a stash of emergency diapers, a decent armchair for nursing, enough room to spin your Maclaren around and a few toys to keep the toddler amused. And it's all stuff they sell. Brilliant. But I digress.

Why, you ask, would we spend a precious summer Sunday traversing the QEW to a big box store with sub-standard toilets? Because where else can you find a coveted product, one that as far as I know, hasn't even hit the shelves in Toronto, on clearance? It was worth the drive with a 3-year old (who sang Puff the Magic Dragon the.entire.way.) and aforementioned baby in tow, it was worth having to sit in the backseat the entire way, it was worth having to eat lunch at Bob Evans (a depressing ritual my husband won't forsake) because I scored a gorgeous and clever Boon potty for 20 bucks. As my three-year old would say, ha-ha-a-boo-boo.

What's in Shiloh's Nursery?

Access Hollywood ran a bit on what Brad and Angie got for Shiloh's LA nursery. Apparently one of the items for The Chosen One is the Angel bassinette . Which is a piece of furniture as frilly, girly, and over-the-top silly as they come. Now the report may very well be, and probably is, untrue, but it got me thinking. This is a guy who named his child after modernist architect Jean Nouvel. A dude with excellent taste in design (if not women) and the money to back it up. So what's with the Gone With The Wind bassinette? Has Brad succumbed to Cutesy Parent Syndrome?

You know what I'm talking about. Basically anything from the baby department at Sears, WalMart or The Bay. Tumbling teddy bears, smiling suns, friendly lions that ROAR, bows for girls, trains and cars for boys. Ugh. You get the idea. I realize that sometimes there is simply no option. My two-month old bobs about in a bouncy seat so hideous (it was a gift!) that I hide it when company comes over or when I'm caffeine deprived. Yes, there are better looking alternatives, the lovely and delicous Oeuf, comes to mind, but why do they have to be so insanely pricey? Sure I could dig deep, lie to my husband and fork over $100 bucks for a stylish baby seat, but I won't. I just can't do it.

Are the only options ugly or prohibitively expensive? Where's the democracy in design? Why can't a mainstream manufacturer like Fisher Price offer an alternative to the blight in my living room that is their unnerving electric blue, yellow and orange-patterned bouncy chair? Say a nice heavy canvas twill in mushroomy brown? Oh, that's right. Oeuf did that, but it's $70 more.

Back to Brad. If he did succumb to Cutesy Parent Syndrome on the bassinette, won't someone from Ooba rescue him?

Bonjour 2006

OK, so truthfully New Year celebrations barely registered at the honeybunch household, what with strep throat and being 6-months pregnant and all. But last night at precisely 7 p.m. the urge to "put away" Christmas struck and, after a feverish couple of hours spent tissue-wrapping glass baubles, playing toss/keep with the stack of Christmas cards (graphic appeal not sentimentality being the deciding factor) and sweeping up the blessedly few needles our pricey-but-worth-it Fraser Fir shed, I'm ready for a bright, shiny and clutter-free 2006.

Yes friends, it's time to Buttigieg. Kid Clutter. We all have it. The random plastic toy parts, long separated from the actual toy, a colony of stuffed animals, abused, er loved, picture books with split spines and soggy pages, Doctor's kit implements rendered useless by illicit playdough usage. Before you know it you've got a major problem.

While the search continues for the perfect (functional, good-looking and less than $300) storage system, here are my favourite, tried and tested clutter control tips:

The 10-minute Tidy
Corral the kids & the husband/wife and set the kitchen timer or, more fun, blast a The O.C. soundtrack for 10 minutes while you tackle the most offensive area of the house. You'll be surprised at how much a lightning round of cleaning can accomplish.

Don't Ask. Just Rid of It.
Trade with a neighbour, take it to Good Will or donate it to the local daycare. The point is, don't ask your toddler which toys they're willing to part with. You know what the answer will be. My 3-year old developed an unnatural attachment to the bottom-half of an empty plastic Easter Egg when she thought I was going to toss it. They'll never miss it.

You Can Never Have Enough Rubbermaid.
After a teary episode following the discovery of a painting in the recyle bin, I no longer try to filter the profusion of artwork that accompanies my daughter home from daycare. I stock up on big bins at Canadian Tire's 50% off Rubbermaid sale every few months and stash it all away -- to be dealt with another day.

Have a Garage Sale. Inside Your House.
This turned out to be genius. When it all just gets to be too much, ask junior to collect toys and clothes he's outgrown (calling it stuff "for babies" works well) and let him organize and display his For Sale wares. Parents shop and "buy" from the motley selection. The best part? You don't even have to use real money while they're young. If it sounds a bit, well, sneaky, assuage your guilt with a new, age-appropriate gift at the end of the sale.

The Matching Game
My crafty husband came up with this one. Have a competition to see who can match up the most pairs of socks the quickest.

Have a seat

How many pretty little reno'd semis in High Park have a $35 foam Dora the Explorer sofa lurking in the living room?

In a city teeming with stylish moms and their equally stylish minis, why oh why is good design for kids so hard to find? If, like me, you live in a smallish house where every square foot is accounted for, relegating offending kids' gear to the rumpus room simply isn't an option.

Which is why I was delighted to come across these grown-up kid-sized club chairs and immediately had to have one for the little girl (and the living room).

Fast-forward one year and the chair looks every bit as good as the day it was bought. Our chair has been through two birthday parties, a rambunctious holiday open house, a kid-filled summer soiree, not to mention numerous visits from the kids across the street and the occasional adult mistaking the chair for a grown-up perch--without ill-effect.

Having passed the three-part mom test admirably (functional, good price, longevity), I have just added the entire Toronto-designed range, which includes a sofa and ottomans, to my site.

So no more Dora the Explorer couches, OK?

My vote for most ridiculous product

Normally I'm all about discovering and sharing great new products, but every so often I come across someone's idea of a "brilliant" idea that strikes me as simply ridiculous. Now, I'm a fan of whimsy--in small doses--but I have no time for silly. And is there any other word to describe these breast-feeding burkas A.K.A. "nursing cover-ups?"

Touted as the modest woman's solution to public nursing, I cannot believe that a baby head's held against his mother's chest would garner more attention than a three-foot span of fake Pucci fabric knotted around the woman's neck like an oversized lobster bib. Aesthetics aside (momentarily) I admit I have no personal experience with these contraptions, and perhaps they come with an instructional video, but does this look like it's going to make anyone's life easier? I needed three hands and a convex mirror to figure out the breastfeeding thing. I can't imagine the contortions required to do it undercover and besides, isn't it really hot under there?

My guess is if a woman's uncomfortable breastfeeding in public (count me in) she'll go to great lengths to organize her day so she's in a quiet place at the right time And doesn't that really make this bib, er, nursing cover-up completely useless?