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Do we really have unlimited potential?

I recently received a review copy of Take the Lid Off: Unleashing your Unlimited Potential.

Full disclaimer: I haven’t read the book. Its jacket reads “You have unlimited potential — you can have anything you want, achieve anything you want, be whomever you want! All you have to do is ‘Take the Lid Off’” and…it tired me out already.

I’m not sure my potential is unlimited. I’m pretty sure I’ve still got potential kicking around…somewhere, under this to-do list. But it feels quite a bit more finite than it did in my 20s. And you know what? I’m just fine with that.

For example, I was not genetically destined to be a supermodel. That wouldn’t stop me from entering the More Makeover Contest if I weren’t on the staff, and it doesn’t stop me from working on my upper arms by trying to get to 100 pushups. (I can do 5 in row, which is more than two weeks ago!)

Being comfortable in my 40-something skin is partly about recognizing those limits. My personality is not likely to undergo major renovations, although I might redecorate an aspect here or there. I’m working to get a fitter, healthier body but chances are good I’m not going to suddenly discover an Olympic-level talent. And I’m pretty sure even if I auditioned for one of the “…got’s Talent” shows I wouldn’t become a breakout pop star, although I totally know who One Direction is (thanks, nephews!)

But that’s what I like about this age: I know a lot more about myself and those limits. I embrace them! And I work within them.

So no, I won’t be unleashing any more potential. Time to get down to actual doing.

What about you?

News of a fatal Everest climb begs the question: If your dream’s risky, how do you decide whether or not to take the risk?

When I married my husband Carl he really, really wanted a motorcycle. Since I had grown up around people who called motorcycle drivers “organ donors” I said: No. way. But after eight years of discussion from time to time, we ended up with a Vulcan Mean Streak.

Many days my husband rode that bike to work. And on all those days if he was late, I thought about the worst. And then he would walk in the door happy and refreshed. Something about piloting a bike was feeding his spirit, even if it was sucking back a little bit of mine. So I put a lid on my negativity and let it go. The amount of joy that machine brought into my husband’s life was amazing.

It made me appreciate that tampering all your dreams to stay safe can lead to another kind of death.

Then we had kids, and gradually Carl stopped riding. Last year, my father suffered a brain injury and my husband got to see other patients with head injuries close up. And soon we will be listing the bike for sale. Maybe, we’re agreed, we’ll revisit it when our kids are grown.

I thought about all that when I read about 33 year old Shriya Shah-Klorfine’s death on Mt. Everest this week.

Here are More we are all about going for your dreams: climbing, motorcycling…a host of others. But when a woman dies attempting her dream, it is a reminder that some dreams carry more risk than others. And death and injury aren’t the only ones: There can be financial consequences, or lost relationships or other opportunities.

I don’t really know precisely how you sort out the difference between the kind of fear that needs to be shed — the fear that worries that you are undeserving or not enough — and the kind of fear that says: Warning! Hazards ahead!

I do know that I respect Shah-Klorfine for going for her dream. I give my condolences to her family. And I know climbing Everest is not for me. But I’m not sure I would stop my husband – in a few years – if it were his dream.

I’m curious to hear your thoughts!

Say what you will about the Time magazine cover – and I’ve no doubt you’ve got plenty to say – it’s caught our attention. And that’s the point, isn’t it?

Is such an image likely to spark intelligent discussion? Uh, no – this is the Internet. [Web editor's note: Point taken, but there is intelligent talk on the Internet! - JG] The point of a cover like this is to incite, or re-ignite, a war. A war between women. With a single image, Time has managed to hit myriad hot buttons: motherhood (conveniently right before mother’s day), parenting styles, feminism, ageism, health… too many to count.

And anyone who gets pulled into the chatter is invariably reacting emotionally — because how else can you respond? It’s hair-trigger journalism designed not just to go viral the second it emerges, but to polarize and marginalize women. Walk away from the image, people. Just walk away.

For more of Sarah’s rants, check out her thoughts on Mother’s Day marketing right here.

Jenn’s note: Managing editor Sarah Moore, pictured at right, joins us regularly on More Daily – you may remember her from her fabulous 40-second rant videos online. She’s also chatting on our Facebook page, so be sure to like us there!

Apparently, the Monday after Mother’s Day is one of the two days on which the most women sign up to the infidelity-facilitating site Ashley Madison: In 2010, a year where most days the site saw 2,000-3,000 women sign up, over 31,000 did on that day.

Let’s hope most of them were window-browsing.

Now look, I get how a single day can come to symbolize everything wrong with family life. The Christmas after I had my eldest son I told my husband, who had not quite managed to get me a gift before Boxing Day the year before (there were extenuating circumstances) that if he blew it, as ridiculous as I knew I sounded about it, I was going to be really, really upset.

It wasn’t about the gift. It was about the sea change in our marriage from being about “us” to being about “who gets up with the baby this round of teething?” And to be frank it was also about my body having taken the brunt of the childbearing, my career having taken the brunt of the maternity leave – and just needing to know that he would come through for me on this one particular day.

But women, from one who has been there: Please, let’s not let holidays take over our thinking. When tens of thousands of women are extracting revenge – for what, lack of an overcrowded brunch? – by joining a site promoting infidelity, something’s gone awry.

I propose a simple solution. If there is a Mother’s Day event or gift that you want, let your spouse know. Don’t assume he knows. Yes, he should by now. If he fails to follow through, let him know how serious an issue it is – don’t go cruising online for a replacement.

Of course you could just send him a link to our last-minute Mother’s Day gift guide. (By the way, you could win all those gifts – click through the slideshow to enter!)

There’s another book in the annals of French smackdown of North American domestic life that’s hitting blogs lately: The Conflict by Elisabeth Badinter, which posits “the taboos now surrounding epidurals, formula, disposable diapers and anything that distracts a mother’s attention from her offspring have turned child-rearing into a singularly regressive force.” (To be fair, it has been a hit in Europe first.)

This is fresh on the heels of Bringing Up Bebe: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting by Pamela Druckerman and joins a genre defined by the “classic” French Women Don’t Get Fat by Mireille Guiliano.

Look, I love France. I’m envious of anyone who’s gotten to learn French in France. And anyone who’s spent time flying between Montreal and Toronto knows that there must be some kind of francophone cultural transmission that helps women wear scarves better if their accents are pure.

But what is it with thinking the French have it all together? Combine this with Brits helping us redecorate and discipline our kids on reality TV and I’m starting to think there’s an inferiority complex at work…one that’s not all that accidental.

I spoke with Jennifer Bartoli, who works for Canadian Living here in the building, and who happens to be French about the truth behind all this and she (as a sample size of one) agrees: It’s at least part marketing.

She does allow that she ate more vegetables growing up than kids seem to here, and that French women seem to appreciate the beauty and grace inherent in aging more than youth-obsessed North American celebrity culture. But other than that? It’s probably more a marketing niche than anything. She has, believe it or not, seen French women who were overweight. Quelle horreur!

I think it’s time to develop our own Canadian niche. Maybe you should look for my soon-to-be-bestseller: Canadian Women Don’t Get Stupid.

As questions about the shooting of Florida teen Trayvon Martin continue to appear in the news, I’ve heard — and seen — a few people comment that this is really a U.S., or Southern U.S., problem.

But I remember reading Toronto writer Jasmine Miller’s Memoir in the Summer 2007 issue of More, “Running from the inevitable” where Miller shared lessons she had taught her son:

“When the police stop you, I said, bending down to move Calvin’s Ninja Turtle knapsack out of the way, keep your hands out of your pockets and away from your sides (See? Like this). Never raise them above your chest: they’ll think you’re guilty of something.”

As well as her experience when, as a – yes – black youth jogging home to make his curfew at night, he was stopped by the police. Calvin reported that the officer said “It’s late and you’re running. For all I know, you could have robbed someone’s house, finished raping someone, I don’t know. What’s your birthday and where do you live?”

Miller filed a complaint and as she expressed in the story, “The results of our complaint come as no surprise. Six pages of words, but no answers or advice.”

I don’t know enough about the Martin case to judge, but I do know that racism is not just an American problem. I have a biracial friend with biracial — and slightly lighter-skinned — children, who is regularly assumed to be their nanny. It seems like an honest mistake until I consider that when I’ve been out with her kids, I’ve been complimented on “my boys.”

Let’s continue to work on our biases, not to be smug about others’.

This week the online sphere’s abuzz about Vogue writer Dara-Lynn Weiss’s piece on putting her 7-year-old daughter on a diet. It’s not available online but you can read excerpts at Jezebel [warning: strong language] – has been discussed everywhere from, well, Jezebel to the New York Times‘ parenting blog.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about parenting it’s that you’re never doing it right according to someone.

But I think this story’s caught fire not just because of the controversial weight loss method for such a young child, but because it hits on one of the hardest parts about parenting: Walking the line between helping our kids accept themselves, their bodies and their flaws, and teaching them to take charge of their health and appearance and function in the world. And it doesn’t get any easier as they come into their teen years, from what I can see on the road ahead.

What have you learned about walking the line between accepting your kids – or yourself – where they are, and working for change?

I have an opinion on how Sheryl Crow looks in a bikini.

It hardly matters what that opinion is, it’s just weird that I have one at all. I should be used to this I suppose, after all bikini photos are the reason the Internet was invented, yes? Not only do I have opinion on Sheryl, but after seeing her and immediately clicking on the link, Seasoned and Sexy: Bikini Babes Over 50, (?) I now have an opinion on Sharon Stone, Kim Catrall, Donatella Versace and others.

The point of posting these images — some of which look candid, others staged — seems to be to generate discussion: Should women over 50 parade around in bikinis? My thoughts? Sure, go for it! In my opinion, if you’re confident and comfortable in your own skin, you can wear as much or as little as you like. Frankly, I think the discussion should be guided toward a body’s protection from the sun rather than the public’s protection from a 50-year-old body (I’m looking at you Donatella — yikes!). So what do you think? Is there an age limit on bikini baring?

Jenn’s note: Managing editor Sarah Moore, pictured at right, will be joining us regularly on More Daily – you may remember her from her fabulous 40-second rant videos online. She’s also chatting on our Facebook page, so be sure to join us there!

This morning we awoke to a much-buzzed about royal wedding. Unless you’ve been living under a proverbial rock, you know that today Prince William & Catherine Middleton tied the knot. (Here’s a link to the couple’s official wedding site.)

Like so many others, for me it was about seeing her dress. I liked it, except for the neckline. What did you think?

And while we’re on the subject, what did your wedding dress look like?

(Speaking of tying the knot, don’t miss this fun More.ca exclusive story: Former magazine editor becomes a first-time bride…at 48.)

Happy weekend!
-Helen

I found this article on our site called “Farewell, Pontiac.” It brought me to wondering, of all the cars you’ve ever known or had, which has been your favourite?

I’d probably pick my current car, a hatchback, which is the car I learned to drive on a number of years ago (I only got my license at 31). It has a manual transmission that I have grown to despise as it makes me insane in traffic, though it seemed wonderfully European when we bought it. On the bright side, it handles brilliantly, has seat warmers and not one but two sunroofs, which tips the balance for me.

I know that in some circles, cars are meant to be reviled as indulgent, polluting, bad….and maybe we should be above chatting about them in favour of concentrating on more penetrating topics. But I can’t help feeling romantic and nostalgic about them (especially muscle cars) and I suspect maybe you feel this way too?

So how about you? Of all the cars you’ve known, which is your favourite?

-Helen