Canada Moms Blog

*The Real Housewives*: Better Than a Chai Latte

If you've read my personal blog, you'll know I've developed a bit of an obsession with The Real Housewives TV series on Bravo. That's right -- The Real Housewives of Atlanta, New York, Orange County AND New Jersey. (I understand there's a DC Housewives, too, but it hasn't made it to Canada yet, as far as I know....)

The obsession began a few weeks ago when I came down with a vicious bout of the stomach flu -- like I've never had it before. It hurt to listen to my iPod, to flip pages of a novel, and obviously I couldn't eat. All I could do was writhe in my bed in front of the TV. And there on my TV was a Housewives marathon.... One after the other after the other. And, I was like, "WHERE have you been all my life!"

All I wanted to do was escape. Escape from how I was feeling, and any other stress that might cause my head to throb any harder. So I watched. And I watched. And then I swore I'd never get hooked on Jersey, but then I saw the table-flipping clip on youtube, and I was, like, "screw brain cells! I have to watch this!" I was hooked.

Hey, America! Hands off my Degrassi!

I grew up on television. Sesame Street, He-Man, The Smurfs and Inspector Gadget, I watched it all. I chose afternoon Kindergarten specifically so I could watch Scooby Doo in the morning and I wanted to be Jem when I grew up for a long, long time. It was the Canadian shows, however – The Littlest Hobo, The Polka Dot Door, Anne of Green Gables and Today’s Special, that still hold a special place in my heart.

But none of those shows compare to my absolute favourite Great White North original: Degrassi, from The Kids of Degrassi Street right up to The Next Generation.

Violence and your kids, where do you draw the line?

My husband loved Star Wars as a kid so when the movies were re-released in the 1990’s  he received the trilogy set, in VHS.  Actually he received two sets, one is still in the cellophane (I kid you not) because it might be worth something some day (still not kidding).  Our boys, almost 8 and 5, had seen the videos on the shelf and had been asking repeatedly to watch them.  A few weeks back, we instituted Friday night movie night and started with Episode I.

First of all, I was shocked to actually find I was enjoying the story lines but secondly, a little surprised by the violence.  I shouldn’t have been, I knew that there were light sabers and slaying but in my naïveté, I thought the slaying consisted mostly of robots or droids as they are referred to in the movies.  When we got to the scene where Anakin Skywalker loses a good portion of his body to subsequently become Darth Vader in Episode III, I asked my husband to fast forward. It was pretty graphic, considering my 8 and 5 year olds were watching it with us. 

Jian Ghomeshi Irritates Me A Little Less Today

I'm not Jian Ghomeshi's biggest fan. I hated Moxy Fruvous - the only band in the world more insipid than the Barenaked Ladies - and I find his relentless hipsterness annoying (memo to everybody: after the age of 35, it is very, very difficult to pull off "hipster" without looking ridiculous. "Hipster" is by definition a hair's breadth remove from ridiculous even for twenty-somethings - is there anyone, anywhere, who seriously wants to be like the Mac in the Mac commercial? - but for anybody who was in college when Kurt Cobain blew his brains out? That remove disappears entirely. KNOW THAT.)

(This goes double if you are a parent.)

(Where was I?)

Jian Ghomeshi, right. So he took on Billy Bob Thornton and lived to tell about it, sort of.

Why Canada's National Sport Gives Me Nightmares

When I was working and pregnant with my second child I had a conversation with a colleague on a Monday morning.  He told me about his weekend.  On Friday night he had played in a hockey tournament.  Saturday morning: up at 4 am to take his son to hockey practice.  Saturday afternoon: son's hockey game.  Sunday morning: up at 4 am again for daughter's hockey practice.

"That'll be your weekend in a few years," he said, gesturing to my belly.
"Hell no, it will not," I replied, "My children will not be playing hockey.  My children will not even know what hockey IS until they are out of my house."

I got a funny look for that.  Because how could you deny your children the joy of hockey!   Canada's other official sport, besides lacrosse!

Easy.  My deepest, most shameful anti-Canadian secret is this:  I do not want to be a hockey mom.

Why Is Canadian Children's Television Trying To Kill Me?

I may have said this here before - in fact, I'm certain that I *have* said something like this here before - but I think that Canada has really been pretty awesome at producing children's programming for television (producing children's music is another story altogether. I'll just say that I'm grateful that I had my children a decade or two past the prime of Sharon, Lois and Bram.) Mr. Dressup, The Friendly Giant: these are classic children's television programs. Canonical even. Right up there with Sesame Street and Schoolhouse Rock. No, I'm not kidding. They maybe weren't flashy shows; they maybe didn't have their fingers on some pulse of hipness (we are talking about Canada, after all) - but they were simple and effective and sweetly heartwarming in a way that was both completely unironic and uncreepy (as opposed to say, Mr Rogers, who is entirely creepy and only comprehensible through an ironic lens.) They were perfect Canadian children's shows, and I am proud to be part of the culture that produced them.

Judy and David, on the other hand...

Lame? I object.

Want to know what really gets on my nerves? If you are still reading, I’m going to assume yes and I will tell you: I really, really get in a tizzy when people say “Canadian television is so lame”.

WHAT? LAME? How can you say that a nation who has produced Rocket Robin Hood and The Littlest Hobo creates lame programming? And I am saying this in all seriousness.

I grew up in the days of bunny ears on the back of telly. It was the late seventies and a rough technological existence, one I have not forced my daughter to endure.  But I never felt deprived because Canadian television treated me well. As a child, I had the Hilarious House of Frightenstein, The Kids of Degrassi Street, The Edison Twins, You Can’t Do That on Television, Swiss Family Robinson, endless mini-episodes of Hinterland Who’s Who, Bumper Stumpers, and of course, my favourite game show: Definition. Definition ruled, and if Jim Perry had ever told me I won a years supply of Campbell’s soup, I would still be talking about it. Now that I've said the word Definition, I have the Dream Warriors stuck in my head because they eulogized that theme song perfectly in “My Definition of a Boombastic Jazz Style”? You're welcome for the placement of that catchy ditty in your head.