Or how I almost bought a sauna and kicked a girls ass

by Daniela Syrovy
Yipee! I thought when I heard that the Fall Home Show was having a day devoted to moms. I’ve been a mom for four months and have yet to take advantage of the many mommy days and mommy specials. My girl was born a week after Mothers Day so I wasn’t quite there yet and I had to sit back while my own mother got all the glory. Finally a day just for me.—thoughts of free baby slings and massages float through my head. Ohh maybe they’ll give me tips on how to get my house in order or how to baby proof her room without it looking ridiculous.

With over 250 exhibitors there is bound to be something of interest for a new milf.

Turns out what makes it ‘Mommy’s Day” at the Home show is a gift bag filled with coupons, some samples of Dove products, and a 3pm presentation about how to sass up your home post baby. At least the show sounds promising. I arrive hours before so decide to kill some time.

Washers, Dryers, ladders, flooring, bath tubs, kitchens, patios, mops, choppers, security systems, designer furniture and absolutely everything your inner Martha Stewart could ask for and even some things she might not ask for (can somebody tell me what the vacuum sealed beef jerky booth is doing at a home show?), are proudly exhibited at the Better Living Centre (CNE). If you have a house and you need anything for it—this is clearly the place to be.

But thirty minutes in it’s also the place where a 50s something man with a hairpiece and bad suit accosts me. I’m happily strolling along when he comes running up to me and says, “Can I ask you a question?” Despite his apparent sketchiness I say, “of course” cause I’m that kind of gal. “What is your biggest financial goal for the next five years?” and I say, “Uhh goals??? I guess get out of my massive debt.”

He goes, “great!” and launches into a massive speech about how I need to buy life insurance for myself and my husband and now that I have a baby I should really get a financial planner (he’s with the Investors Group booth and he’ll gladly be my financial planner). He goes on and on and on accusing me of not knowing anything (never mind that he’s right) and of blowing it by getting insurance with my mortgage provider. He’s aggressive, he’s creepy and I want out. Fifteen minutes later my little angel starts wailing so I politely excuse myself using her as my out. The man goes berserk! He says, “Let me get your number and your email and your home address so we can stay in touch” and I say, “No thank you Bob I’ve got your card and I will get in touch with you if I’m interested.” As I’m strolling away with baby crying, he’s desperately yelling, “You’ll lose my card! You’ll never call.” And I’m having this bizarre thought that he’s some kind of evil alien interested more in eating my brains than giving me financial advice.

I know there’s a winery at the show offering free samples of their latest wine so I bee line it there. After my creepy run in with Bob I’m thinking a nice glass of Merlot would hit the spot. On my way to the corner booth with wine a flowing I get stopped by another old man, he seems sweet and says, “Oh what an adorable little baby, I’ve got two grandkids myself, how old is she?” He seems innocent enough so I begin to chat with him all the while eyeing the wine booth. The next thing I know WHAM! He’s launching into a full-blown pitch about baby life insurance. Baby life insurance!!! Not insurance for me but insurance for her. She was just born! Wine must have wine. I ditch him without saying a word and practically run to the wine booth.

As I approach it, I scope out the giant booth. It’s an oasis — jazz music, hors d’oeuvres are being passed around and there are at least two cute boys I could chat up if I got bored. Perfect. Since there’s booze being served the booth is gated off with a white picket fence and there’s a lovely hostesss greeting visitors. I smile and the hostess tells me all about the wines and finishes her speech by saying, “You are more than welcome inside to sample the wines but your (dramatic pause)..child has to stay outside.”

“Pardon?” I say instead of “WTF?!” because they’re serving wine and its all so civil.

She repeats and says, “Sorry there are no children allowed inside the booth” and I say, “But she’s not a child, she’s a baby, look at her she’s fast asleep” Wine, must have wine.

“You can leave her outside” and I rebut with, “No I cannot leave her outside, the place is packed and I’m not about to leave my baby alone at a crowded show, she could be abducted or hurt in the crowd.”

And with a fake smile she says, “Sorry those are the rules”.

“Can’t you bend the rules a little bit, it’s not like she’s going to jump out of the stroller and start under age drinking.”

Rudely now the hostesss states, “Like I said you can leave her outside.”

“I cannot leave her alone! I will not leave her alone! I just want to sample the wine.”

She begins to ignore me and turns to her coworker and says under her breath, “What kind of a mother brings her baby to a wine booth and begs to come in.”

At which I point I loose my shit and say, “ Hey wine skank! I can hear you and if your rotted womb is ever capable of bearing children you might one day understand that even ‘moms’ like to live a little.”

And I storm off. So I didn’t literally kick her ass but I was close and at the very least I did visualize a serious whopping in my minds eye.

Now pissed off and in wine withdrawal I find my way to the crepe booth and drown my sorrows in a Nutella crepe. The baby is hungry so I begin to feed her and amazingly the man at the table next to me gives me a disgusted look and loudly changes tables. I shake my head and yell, “It’s Mommy Day!!”

After we’re both full I decide to explore the other exhibitors in the Crepelicious vicinity. Because I’m peeved and concentrating on not running over my own feet with the stroller (I’m a accident prone), I smash directly into an exhibitors wall. I’m thinking, Shit! I hope it doesn’t fall over just as this 30 something guy walks over and says awkwardly, “Hi there can I help you?” (He’s for sure thinking I’m deranged and I have stroller road rage).

“Umm yeah I was very interested in your walls, your products, I mean your booth” I’m trying to act calm cool and collected, as if I completely meant to plow his exhibit.

“Great I’ll tell you all about it” At which point he tells me all about Wall Juice—decorative stickers for the home and the hidden gem of the show. Need a giant silhouette Twiggy face on your living room wall? How about bright pink spoon, fork and knife stickers as tall as you for your dining room or kitchen? They’ve got it all. Also they ‘re Canadian owned and operated. I take a flyer to bring home so I can plan out what stickers I’ll be putting where.

It’s almost 3pm and the show is about to start, but since I’m feeling brave I stop at the sauna booth. Infrared, traditional, indoor, outdoor. These people know saunas and because the thought of getting naked and dripping sweat with my man gets me excited I almost put a massive down payment on a two person infrared sauna! I’ve got credit card in hand and am starring lovingly into the display cedar sauna when I’m snapped out of my shopping trance by baby vomiting all over her shirt. Looks like I need to get my priorities in check. First comes baby clothes then comes the sauna. I’m also struck by the thought that while my sauna sex fest fantasy with hubby sounds fantastic who will be watching the baby? Note to self-must start looking into babysitters.

The show on the main stage about how to be a stylish, organized cool mom lasts all of ten minutes and unveils an array of totes, bins, crates and baby chairs. I’m left feeling empty. Maybe I should go back to the sauna booth and seal the deal. As if she’s reading my mind or we’re cosmically connected my little girl begins to get shifty and uncomfortable. Sauna will have to wait. Time to be a mommy.