Momily

tweet tweet tweet

2009-06-14T17:14:00.000-07:00

Well, it would seem I am no longer good at this blogging thing. Even though no one ever comments on my blog, I’ve had more than a few real-life remarks about the fact that I have not blogged since April. Apparently, someone was reading this all along!

The reason I have been post-free for awhile now is simple and obvious – I went back to work. And, being back at work with 2 little kids is way different than being back at work with one little kid. I just seemed to have a little more time before, certainly not lots, but enough for a few superfluous things in life. Now, I really struggle to find the time to blog (and shave my legs and read and watch movies and chat on the phone!). For one, I’m at work 3 or more days/week. Second, the kids never nap at the same time anymore on the days that I am at home (on the one hand, life is more manageable when you are down to one kid for some of the day because the other one is napping, but on the other hand there is never really a “kid-free moment”). Third, we’ve had other things going on, too, like soccer nights, visiting friends, visiting family, the occasional mini-trip, a weekend of solo-parenting, etc. which has kind of meant that the blog was the first thing to go on the chopping block.

I keep intending to blog, but I have to admit that given the choice between sitting on the patio with a Strongbow and the newspaper and blogging, well the former wins. I guess I am not a true, ardent mommy-blogger.

The other big contributing factor to my bloglessness is Twitter. Yes, shameful as it is, I tweeted a tweet and I liked it. You can enjoy my twitt[er]ing here. I seem to be able to find the time to "micro-blog" under 140 characters at a time. I really enjoy other people’s tweets, too. It’s astounding really – I never thought it was for me and thought it was just as ridiculous as could be. However, I find it quite entertaining and informative and fun.

So, if you miss my blog posts why not try my equally self-centred and pointless tweets? Who know, maybe you’ll join too? In the meantime, I will try to come up with some real blog posts on:

the unbaptised state of child no. 2

daycare redux

"All I ever need to learn, I learned at preschool soccer"

motherhood turning me into a complete book-sissy

and, last, but certainly not least

second dog vs. third child – which would be the most stupid choice?

Til then!

Snow falling on (stunted) cedar

2009-04-27T15:19:00.000-07:00

Is this is a cedar, i don't know?! The point is that this is what my fair city looks like on April 27th:

For reals!

sigh.

sigh of relief

2009-04-18T14:53:00.000-07:00

It took a bit of detective work, but apparently when my son says,

"Let's get neutered!"

He is really saying,

"Let's get lunar"

Similarly, his nattering about "Barbie's vagina,"

actually refers to some commercial about winning a trip to see Barbie in Shanghai, China.

Um, does our kid maybe watch too much TV?

Image source: http://feministing.com/imageStorage/barbie+necklace.bmp

'Cause you know what they say, fake plastic Barbie boob are a girl's best friend.

Lifelong learning, y’all

2009-04-15T21:45:00.000-07:00

What I’ve learned since you last checked in with me:

Travelling with kids is really freakin’ tough

Travelling with kids makes you appreciate home

Travelling with kids makes you appreciate “just okay”

A vacation with kids forces you to enjoy the small and simple things . . . like sunshine or the hotel’s swimming pool. This is actually a blessing.

Adults with the flu are really not much better at coping with it than kids are. Perhaps even worse!

I have finally become OK with the fact that I WANT and NEED to work part-time even though we don’t need me to work. . .

Because me being at work makes me a better and happier mom and a better and happier person. I need that “me” thing, “selfish” or not! I’ve kind of shifted my thinking on this and it is liberating. I don’t feel “bad” anymore about choosing to work three days/week.

But . . . the mom guilt about daycare is NOT easier the second time around. L.E. adjusting to daycare (and me adjusting to her being in daycare) is just as hard and stressful the second time around. This too shall pass and it will be ok.

My wee baby turning one has me equally considering not having any more children and wildly, crazily going for three in a year or two.

How zenlike is this post??

I’ve also learned:

how to Twitter, kind of

that Bob Geldof was in the Boomtown Rats (how did I not know this?)

what the song “I Don’t Like Mondays” is really about

that the octo-mom was a stripper

What can I say? I love to learn!

the attention span of (the mother of) a three year old

2009-04-12T23:46:00.000-07:00

There are a million things I could blog about and yet I don’t.

Why? Because I am easily distracted.

I have been back at work since March 31st. It takes up quite a bit of time, but not quite as much time as I spend obsessing over my wee baby being in and adjusting to daycare. I should be blogging about the back to work transition and the whole work-life balance thing, shouldn’t I?

Prior to going back to work we took a little family vacation . . . that was a disaster. Half of us had the flu there, half of us waited til we returned home. I should really blog about that, too, seeing as how so much exciting stuff happened on our trip such as my baby PUKING ON THE AIRPLANE. Ah, but I digress from my list of distractions.

I sincerely hope to blog once more about all my fascinating parenting adventures, but sometimes life gets in the way. Life and asinine things like Twittter.

this just in

2009-04-01T09:02:00.000-07:00

Rod Blagojevich's hair

has fled to Canada

Isn't the hair resemblance uncanny?

Anyway, no blog posts lately because life has become very busy . . . we had a family vacation that nearly killed us and I returned to work this week. Perhaps I will blog about it all, one day, after I have caught up on sleep and the house and the kids. Oh yeah, and my baby's first birthday party is this weekend. Hard to believe! Whee . . . busy, busy, busy.

Mom of the year

2009-03-19T11:27:00.000-07:00

I was in Chapters the other day and because I was by myself (gasp!) I was able to leisurely browse around. I was looking at the stationery and photo albums and so on and there was this adorable little photo album with a frame on the cover and the words “mom of the year.” Kind of cheesy, but also very cute!

So it got me thinking about “mom of the year” and the idea of just what kinds of things moms do to be up for the title of “mom of the year.” The “small” things that this story refers to or the big things like how one of my closest friends is very deftly and delicately managing the sudden departure of her nanny and the subsequent “daycare transition” in a really amazing way.

I am nominating my sister-in-law for “Mom of the year!” Her daughter recently came up with the idea of bringing to real life an imaginary stuffed animal friend. My sister-in-law (with the help of grandma) facilitated bringing this creature to life as per her three-year-old daughter’s very precise (and convoluted) instructions. She didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to go to Fabricland or wherever, didn’t have to let the child draw out this creature so they could come up with a sewing pattern. She didn’t have to do any of it – I’m sure she could have just gotten away with “That’s so interesting and nice, dear. That sounds like a very interesting creature. Let's colour a picture of it.” She didn’t have to, but did anyway and it’s all these kinds of small, fun, attentive things - and, of course, the big things - that culminate in the creation of “mom of the year.”

Here is “Heta.” S/he would love to hear your “mom of the year” stories!

Not for public consumption

2009-03-10T14:30:00.000-07:00

We never go out for dinner with the kids.

Well, maybe “never” is too strong a word. We RARELY go out for dinner with the kids – as in once every 3 or 4 months.

I find it such a hassle and more often than not a disaster and it takes more planning than I care for. Also, I am of the opinion that the only places really suitable for dining out with young kids are “family dining” restaurants and I’m not all that crazy about family dining.

So, in the last 6-9 months I think we have dined out with the kids 3 times:

In December, after our family “photo with Santa” we dined at an Albert’s Family Restaurant, and it was a relatively successful and uneventful outing. Boring, even. Boring is good when dining out with kids.
In January (?) we went out to the Indian place near our house that has a great buffet. Buffet is key, I think (although, normally buffets gross me out, this one is very good), to a successful dinner with kids because there is no waiting around for your food to arrive, which is usually the killer with a bored three year old. Also key to successfully dining out with kids is having extra, interested and attentive adults with you who do not have kids of their own. This outing was successful because Auntie and Uncle pretty much took over the care and feeding of D. Jr., leaving us to focus on L.E. If I recall, though, I still think L.E. still managed to spill water everywhere.
And then, a few nights ago we went to a Denny’s with the kids. And it was the Worst. Episode. Ever.

Now, there was some logic for this outing. I did not want to cook. I don’t much like cooking at the best of times, I had just finished a THREE HOUR YOGA CLASS, I was a bit beat and thought, “Hey, let’s go out.” Also, in two short weeks we are “going on an airplane” for a little mini-vacation where I’m sure we will be dining out lots. It seemed like a good idea to retest the restaurant waters with a much more mobile and demanding baby and a sometimes surly three year old. And, the kids were a bit on edge after a long day, and Daniel wanted “pancakes.” The solution to all of this seemed to be, “Denny’s!”

Things *might* have turned out OK, except that our waitress lost our order. Yup. That was the beginning of the end, I think. So instead of waiting the normal 15 or so minutes for food, we had to wait more than 30 minutes. D. Jr. was a colossal pain in the butt during this time! And then when our glorious food finally came, we were so focused on distributing food and eating and getting on with the show that we simply did not notice that our waitress had placed an OPEN (no lid!!) jar of maple syrup within L.E.’s reach . . . and you see, by the time we did notice this, our dear daughter had poured the contents of said syrup jar ALL OVER HERSELF! She was covered with syrup . . . and happily eating away at her sleeves and whatever else was covered in syrup. The Denny’s high chair was covered in syrup, her cute little running shoes, her clothes, the carpet - everything was covered with syrup. When we took the jar away from her, she burst into tears screaming and upset that we were clearly the meanest parents ever. We were a spectacle and unpleasant distraction and an annoyance to all those around us. Sigh. I really hate when that happens.

It took us half a pack of baby wipes to get things cleaned up enough so that we could even contemplate picking her up and changing her. I held her, right there in the middle of Denny’s, while D. Sr. stripped her down to her diaper, wiped her down with baby wipes and put a new outfit on her. The stickified carpet and highchair we left for the waitress to deal with.
We then finished our meals in about 2 minutes and bid a hasty retreat.

A few things went through my mind as all this was transpiring:

$%$#^%$&%$! &*%$#%!!! $#%^%!

After months of trying to at least somewhat restrict “sugar” from my baby’s diet, she just ate a bunch of “fake” maple syrup. Whee.

Is it us? Do other parents do this better? WTF? This shouldn’t be so hard, right?

This is blog-worthy.

Mortification. Embarrassment. Poor, poor waitress who has to deal with our disgusting, sticky, treacly aftermath.

I sent Ds Sr. and Jr. to pay for our meal while I “tidied up” and gathered our things. Once we were all in the van, I said something to the effect of, “I hope you tipped well.”

And my hubby replied, “Nope. Our order got lost and she put syrup near the baby. I left her 3 bucks.”

More mortification, more embarrassment, but now mixed with a bit of “YEAH!! You go, hon! It was her fault.” Ok, it wasn’t her fault, but it made me feel better somehow.

Still, we can never eat at that Denny’s again.

And, speaking of public and not so public consumption and, um, dining out with babies, you should go read this. It is very thought-provoking . . . especially the shit-storm of comments. Not surprising, I suppose, that everyone has an opinion on this one.

word nerd

2009-02-24T14:02:00.000-08:00

After a blog hiatus of sorts, I am back. For today, anyway. I just don’t much feel like blogging lately.

So, before I get into my latest mommy revelation, here’s what’s been happening ‘round here.

Completed an uneventful stint of solo parenting last week

I return to work 5 weeks from today which feels surreal and good and weird and daunting

It seems that daycare is finally, really, indeed sorted out (eek - have I spoken too soon and jinxed it now?)

D. Jr. is officially no longer my baby – we just registered him in soccer

I injured myself by twisting my knee on Sunday at a fitness class. I slipped on ice and somehow really screwed it up. Now I’m gimping around which adds a whole new dimension to parenting two small kids. The lesson learned: I should stick to yoga.

I just finished Jane Eyre.

Of all these fascinating events, I think the latter has been the most fascinatingest. Not just the book itself, but how I was forced to read it. I acknowledge that perhaps this is only interesting to the librarian in me and a few other word nerds out there – I apologize in advance! Navigate away if the intricacies of me reading JE are going to bore you.

I first read JE a long time ago . . . and chose to read it again as I always read a few classics every year (yes, I am that nerdy). The first time I read it, I couldn’t have been much older than Jane herself, who for most of the novel is 18. I recall my younger self finding it to be a great and exciting love story. Which it most certainly is.

But, things have changed. This second time around, I may as well have been reading an entirely different book. Yes, I loved the love story and was rooting for Jane (idiot that she is) and reveling in all the gothic melodrama, but throughout I was thinking:

JE you are an idiot, a naïve, gullible idiot.

JE you are the most pompous and annoying and holier than thou character I have come across in a long time. Perhaps that is why I love you so much.

Rochester is a pig. I’m sorry he is. The age and life gap between him and JE is gross. Yes, I know product of the time and all that, but I had a hard time getting past that.

My God, the Christian moralizing is heavy-handed.

The convoluted and covenient and “coincidental” plot turns and twists are a bit much, but make for an interesting ride.

Why does the novel end with St. John Rivers? It seemed odd to me.

And, my most important revelation during this second reading, Bertha Mason “the mad woman in the attic” is the most interesting character in the novel and further underscores that Rochester if effed up!

I loved every page of JE, just like the first time, but my reading this time was so different and I have to attribute this to how I am forced to read now (not just that I am so much older, mature and more thoughtful now - ha!). In the past (before kids), when I was reading a book that I just loved, I would read it in a day or two days or as little time as possible. I just couldn’t help myself! I would devote every speck of free time to page turning the page turner! Now, of course, that just can’t happen. I am forced to read in snippets and stop at inopportune times. When I am forced to stop at a good part, a part that I would never normally stop in, I find that the book lives in the back of my mind and I’m thinking about it constantly. Could this – gasp – could motherhood and all its demands actually make for a better and more thorough reading of a book? I think so. I think that despite interruptions and a prolonged reading, I have been forced to SLOWLY savour a novel, whereas before I just ploughed through books.

This really came to light when I was forced to close the book in the middle of JE and R’s wedding ceremony - just as the grand reveal is about to happen and summarily ruin everything for the happy couple. Due to a screaming kid or some such adventure in parenting, I had to close the book before the grand reveal . . . and this bothered me more than it should have, but really got me thinking about R and how much of an ass he is. And then when I could finally return to the book and we get to know a bit about Bertha, I was so interested in this madwoman character and her mysteries and why she is so underdeveloped as a character in the book (and much more certain that R was hiding lots). I’m not sure if I would have given poor ol’ Bertha much thought (although I know many scholars have and do) if it had not been for one of my darling children interrupting me right smack in the middle of this good part. I have to say, I’m happy for that interruption, as the subsequent googling and recollection that I really regret never having taken that post-colonial lit class have led me in the right direction . . .

I start Wide Sargasso Sea tomorrow!

25 Random Things

2009-02-09T12:59:00.000-08:00

This has been going around Facebook. The idea is that you provide 25 random things about yourself and then tag 25 people to do the same. I have been tagged, but I don’t like the idea of bothering 25 other people who have likely already been tagged a bunch of times.

In the spirit, though, here are 25 fairly random things about me, which you may or may not already know!

1. People either think I’m a terrible bitch or a nice, shy, quiet person. In actuality, I’m both.
2. If I’m angry enough, I can go years without talking to people. . . even close family members.
3. I hold a grudge.
4. In my dreams, no matter what they’re about, I don’t look like how I do in real life.
5. I acknowledge that I am often a hard person to be friends with.
6. I love my children and husband more than anyone else in the world, but my siblings are a close second.
7. If I could do it all over again I just might be a vet or work in a zoo.
8. I think D. Sr. and I should have travelled more before we had kids . . . because I’m not at all interested in travelling with little kids.
9. I just might have a novel in me. We’ll see.
10. If we had more family help, support, community, etc. I would have a third child for sure. As it is, I’m very hesitant. This shit is hard.
11. I LOVE true-crime TV.
12. I am attracted to conspiracy theories, no matter how crazy.
13. I cry at the drop of a hat and have been that way since childhood.
14. I’m allergic to bees and penicillin.
15. I wish I knew how to “make new friends,” but I just don’t! I guess I should learn how to keep old friends first!
16. Perhaps from my days on the farm, I’m never squeamish “in the moment” about things like blood, injury, etc., but it sure hits me afterwards.
17. I like gambling.
18. I think Chris Cornell, Chris Isaak and Scott Wieland may be the sexiest men alive. Oh, and Warrick from CSI . . . hot!
19. I think I would be really good at writing soap operas.
20. The older I get the more politically conservative I get and it kind of scares me.
21. I have been having a spiritual crisis of faith since D. Jr. was born.
22. I’m very happy that yoga is back in my life even if it’s not as much as it should be.
23. I wish I could play a musical instrument and still hope that one day I will.
24. I would love to learn how to draw and paint, but for some reason the thought of taking art classes really freaks me out.
25. If I won the lottery and was no longer concerned with things like holding down a job and not squandering money, I would pursue an MA and Ph.D. in something completely impractical like English Literature or Art History.

If you are reading this and have a blog of your own, consider yourself tagged (or not, I completely understand!).

Best Book Ever

2009-02-07T22:24:00.000-08:00

Seriously, go read this:

The Gargoyle.

Pillow talk

2009-02-02T15:40:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago marked the NINE YEAR anniversary of our first date (D. Sr. and me, in case you aren’t clear!). In June of this year we will celebrate five years of marriage. Kind of amazing, no? Here is a heart-warming account of what a typical old-married morning looks like:

Several days ago, L.E. woke up at 8am, which is certainly not early, but as it was a rough night, we were groggy nonetheless.

D. Sr. retrieved the girl-child and brought her to play in bed with us. I was not fully awake and still in my “not a morning person” disorientation.

D. Sr. [seemingly out of nowhere]: Are you stressed?

Momily: Huh? What? Why?

D. Sr.: I just noticed that your face is covered in zits. Are you stressed?

Momily [hurt, angry, now fully awake]: What?!

D. Sr.: I guess I haven’t REALLY looked at you for awhile.

Momily: stream of expletives

Wow! Isn’t this the epitome of true love and marital bliss demonstrated in 30 seconds of conversation?

So, yes, my skin looks like it did at fourteen due to some grand combination of a terrible cold, my period, family fun, the kids being sick, and the home being dry as hell due to winter in Alberta. But still, dear, do you need to kick me when I’m down?!

Let’s just say, it’s a really good thing that he occasionally does things like buy me gorgeous flowers for no reason and pick up dinner. Anyway, hon, if you are reading this happy anniversaries!

Performance Review

2009-01-22T13:02:00.001-08:00

I am the world’s worst blogger. When I’m busy it’s the first thing to go by the wayside.

I have been busy, or perhaps, consumed is the better word. But it’s boring stuff and I can’t find a way to make it interesting or funny – I guess because I don’t find it to be either.

I am in the midst of sorting out work and childcare . . . I will be back at work at the end of March. There have been lots of developments and potential changes, but after analyzing everything to death I think we are keeping things the way they were. I will return to my old job, I will not pursue a different job, we will maintain some kind of part-time childcare (hopefully!) even if it costs a small fortune.

My identity crisis is pretty much over. I am not working to make money and I have to accept that. At this point, I am not working to get ahead or advance my career. I am working to “hold my place” in the workforce until such time that I can pursue different, better, more challenging jobs that are more than 3 days/week. My biggest goals right now are to maintain some kind of “work life balance” and to have more of a life outside of the kids and to also have lots of time with the kids. I think those goals will be accomplished when I return to work in March. I can’t “have it all,” but hopefully I can get pretty close!

L.E. is almost 10 months old. Life is getting easier again! She is happy and fun. She plays with her brother and they love each other so much. They entertain each other and their parents. Her night sleep could be better, but it could also be way worse (and has been in the past, so I guess we’ll take this!). Daniel is pretty much awesome, fun, smart, hilarious, etc. except for the occasional tantrum and whininess. I don’t want to miss too much this time, and I don’t want to miss it because of work. I want to be a working mom who “moms” more than works! Our childcare is flaky and tenuous right now , but we like them and trust them with our kids and don’t want to pursue other options. The status quo is reasonable when I look at it in these terms.

So, there you have it – a boring and unfunny post, but now you know what Momily has been up to these last weeks. Not too much, but in a way everything.

R-O-C-K in the Subaru

2009-01-08T19:53:00.000-08:00

Today, while in the car with the children, I was surfing radio stations trying to find a good song. So, I was more than a little pleased to locate a classic rock station playing Helix’s "Rock You!" I have to admit to singing along and raising the volume a tad.

D. Jr.: This is a BIG SONG!

Momily: Yup.

D. Jr.: This is a song for monster trucks.

Momily: Yes, it sounds like some of the songs that we hear when we watch monster trucks. [Yes, my son and I gather around the laptop and watch You Tube video compilations of monster trucks. The mighty have indeed fallen.]

D. Jr.: This is rocking out!!

I just had no response to that, as it kind of shocked me that he even used the phrase and referred to what we were doing as rocking out. It made my day that apparently, in the car with my baby and three year old, en route to visit my elderly grandparents no less, I can still rock out (at least in the eyes of my boy). The past two days have me completely parented out, and it was great to have a nice LOL.

Little Bo Peep

2009-01-01T13:13:00.000-08:00

I've lost my blog archives and don't know where to find them! Ah, interwebs, why do you challenge me so? If I leave my blog alone, will my archives come home wagging their tails behind them?? Perhaps, it's a tit for tat thing - I learned how to use skype and a webcam for the first time today and maybe the interweb Gods are not allowing me to use too much technology at once.

Anyway, happy 2009, all y'all! So far, 2009 has been largely uneventful except that D. Sr. and I learned that a $50 bottle of champagne does not taste any better than a $10 one.

Let me serenade you or the joys of simmering penises

2008-12-29T12:15:00.000-08:00

Is it just me are those days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve kind of a downer? It reminds me of a balloon that has been lying around for awhile that is kind of deflated and wrinkly and ugly. It’s like all the post-holiday excitement followed by “back to normal” makes for bipolar disorder whether you like it or not.

Anyhoo, in true back to normalness, D. Sr. headed back to work today before any of us were awake. D. Jr. woke up the second D. Sr. shut the door on his way out, so I brought him into bed with me to “cuddle” (this entails singing, tickling, various wrestling-like attacks, me being driven on with an assortment of toy vehicles and me having a flashlight shone in my face while we hide from an assortment of imaginary creatures under the blankets). While all this cuddling was going on, D. Jr. decided to sing me his new favourite song, taught to him by the daycare staff, “Skinnamarink.”

D. Jr.: I love you so much.

Momily: I love you, too.

D. Jr.: Simmery, simmery dink, simmery {mumbling} I love you! I love you in the morning and in my bad dream, too. I love you under the cow and moon.

Isn’t it nice to be loved? My serenade made me feel a lot better about the fact that we have absolutely no options for New Year’s Eve that don’t require us to be home by 10:30pm.

More of the season or I'm a schizophrenic and so am I

2008-12-18T10:40:00.000-08:00

I’m alternating between total Grinch and holidayholic and I’m attributing my bipolar bear self to that most wonderful time of the month also coinciding with the most wonderful time of the year.

In my defense, though, I feel I must point out that today, with the windchill it is about minus 30 degrees Celsius. I’m not kidding. It’s been like this for a week. For any Americans out there, the equivalent in Fahrenheit is minus 22. If you don’t believe me take a look at the weather that is in our weather future: http://www.theweathernetwork.com/weather/CAAB0103

This is the view from my front door. See how the road – maybe you can’t really see it, but the white expanse between my house and the park with cars on it is actually road – is covered in ice and snow? This is as good as it gets between now and April unless there is a melt -- because we are not on a bus route, our city does not clear the road. Again, not joking.

But do you also see how freakin’ postcard winter wonderland beautiful it all is? See how I’m torn between either extreme this season?

Yesterday while visiting Santa, no one freaked out or cried. The picture is a bit mediocre (I don’t have it my hands yet!), but there is certainly an inkling of family fun. D. Jr. asked Santa for a “dragon, a cow, and presents.” At least we can deliver on the “presents” front!

This is our tree. A couple of years ago we bought this smaller fake, pre-lit tree that is actually supposed to be for outdoor use! I much prefer a large real tree covered in breakable things, but not TOO bad huh? It’s a bit more “country Christmas” and Charlie Brown-esque than I go for, but I like it.

Thank god and the baby Jesus, that we have things like the Godzilla and Hellraiser angel to offset the total hoakiness it!

Anyway, merry freakin’ ho-ho! Also, may the joy and good tidings of the season fill your hearts with warmth and happiness. For reals.

the season

2008-12-04T12:07:00.000-08:00

Really, one of the most touching and honest parenting/Christmas things I've read in a long while:

http://libba-bray.livejournal.com/41956.html

I remember the shock of finding out The Great Santa Truth when I found the wrapped presents "from Santa" hidden away somewhere in the house where I should not have been. I also remember stealthily removing tape and retaping gifts - so that year I knew EVERYTHING that I was getting ahead of time. I also remember perpetuating the myth for a couple more years out of fear of not getting presents! I couldn't have been more than 7.

My sister has always been a better, more altruistic person than me. Also smarter and more cynical. It's pretty much been that way since birth. I recall her being in Kindergarten, not yet five years old as she is a Christmas baby, and telling me that she knew that Santa was not real, but that she didn't want to hurt our parents feelings and she was just going to continue "believing." She asked me to go along with it, but not "baby" her with all the Santa talk. Cynto. That was the same year she told her Kindergarten classmates that Boy George was gay and explained to them all what being gay meant. In class. I love that she's a teacher now.

I'd love to hear how you found out the big, bad truth about Christmas!! If you have kids are you going to do the whole Santa thing? To me there is no question - I will give my kids Santa because I think it's the best, most exciting part about Christmas for kids, but that this naiviete and trust and willingness to believe is what makes kids so great and fun and what makes Christmas with kids about a million times more special than Christmas without kids.

I found the image here; not sure about its true origins.

Sunrise, Sunset

2008-12-01T12:01:00.000-08:00

Three nights ago, I went out with some old and dear friends that I do not see very often. I was extremely happy to see them and wanted to have a great time. I am happy to say that we had a fabulous time. In my case, though, I had a little bit too much fun.

Yes, we went to the bar with the intention of being there several hours, but my intention was not to get crazy-ass drunk. I thought I would have a couple of beers or get my wine on, feel good, have a buzz and come home. My intention was not to become so inebriated that time ceased to have meaning and everything around me was spinning right’ round . . . but that is precisely what happened.

I blame it on the “shot” of what can only be called poison (it was the 169 proof one! ) and which probably was the equivalent of having three drinks at once. I blame it on the fact that I rarely imbibe in alcohol or go out anymore. I blame it on mixing beer, wine and the aforementioned firewater. But the truth is that I can try to blame it on lots of things, but it was really all my fault and my stupid self drinking WAY too much. It was my stupid self giving into that feeling of my youth that booze fuels good times . . . and forgetting, somehow, that booze also fuels your ass getting kicked by massive hangovers.

And here I am on Monday afternoon having felt like the world’s biggest asshole since Saturday morning. . . . and feeling a bit ashamed and embarrassed. WHICH FEELS WEIRD, BUT ALSO FEELS RIGHT, WHICH FEELS EVEN MORE WEIRD. I feel more than a bit disappointed in myself and at odds with myself over this rare night out. This is a very unusual feeling for me as I used to go out all the time and have pretty much experienced every level of inebriation that there is. And I have to say, from the 12 hours in Rome that I have no recollection of until I woke up covered in vomit in my hostel room to the evening out where I had the booze hiccups for two hours straight after narrowly escaping getting my ass kicked by hillbillies, it all felt like “good times.” So this feeling of “What’s wrong with me?” is certainly a new one. And I think that this, “Why did I do that?” and “I can’t ever get that drunk again” feeling, well, I think I can safely blame this one on motherhood (or, perhaps, motherhood’s effects on me). And the funny thing is, I’m OK with it.

When the cabbie dropped me off and I snuck into my home – at 2:35 am – I had my first feelings of “Crap! I’m a moron!” I slunk downstairs and slept in the spare room with feelings of vomitude, spinning and disorientation. The feelings of guilt soon followed. My husband let me sleep, unfettered by the children’s various night-time needs, but I was still up every few hours drinking water and taking Tylenol. . . and feeling guilty if I heard him shuffling around upstairs with the children. Finally at 9:30am I got up, showered and joined the family who were well into their morning merriment. I felt like crap, like a bus had run me over and had a pounding headache. At that point, it hit me like a ton of bricks that I really can’t do this anymore. I should be able to partake in the kiddos’ daily fun, needs and routines all the time, and I shouldn’t be dragging myself around because some stranger offered me a shot of rotgut aptly called Sunset. I mean, there are many legitimate reasons to be dragging yourself around when it comes to caring for the kids – your own illnesses, no sleep, the children being sick, the relentlessness of parenthood – but being hung-over is surely not one of them.

So, the “tying one ons” have to come to an end. It’s not just that I can’t sleep in until 11 am or that my body is old and really can’t handle the effects of drunkenness and hangovers. It’s the kids. I don’t want them to ever see me like that, especially as they get older. I don’t want to be compromised in how I deal with them or care for them because I got my booze on. And yes, as my husband lovingly and reassuringly pointed out, this was a very rare occurrence because I rarely go out on the town and even more rarely get stupid drunk. But the thing is, I don’t want my kids to ever have a memory of me being severely liquored up or badly hung-over. Call me crazy, call me hypocritical (which I have been called many times and worse), but there is a difference between being tipsy or “feeling it” and being so drunk one forgets to lock the front door. It feels unseemly, somehow, to allow myself to get to that point and then come home to the family. And maybe I am making a mountain out of a molehill, but in my heart this Friday night, while being really “good times,” was not a good thing and not the right thing.

So, I feel it is truly the end of an era – the last hurrah that has been slowly coming for about 4 years now. I really think it’s over . . . I mean, I will always enjoy a few glasses of liquor and spirits, I will always be me, I will always welcome you into my home with bottles of wine or gin or beer or Bailey’s or Baja Rosa, but “Wino Forever” has left the building. Debauchery, though thou hast served me well, the time has come where I must now bid thee adieu! Good bye dear friend . . . perhaps we will meet again the first time I vacation without the children or once they can sleep overnight at Auntie’s. In the meantime, I ask you to go acquaint yourself with some young lass out on the town, trying to tie one on.

So, I guess this is growing up.

The secret ingredient is love

2008-11-20T09:54:00.000-08:00

And here I was thinking that nature's perfect food was breastmilk.

http://www.lulu.com/content/4956212

Ah, I just love learning something new everyday!

I stole the image from the US Merchant Marines: http://www.usmm.org/postertrain2.html

A little something to fertilize the beanstalk

2008-11-12T20:54:00.000-08:00

It would seem that the daycare is teaching D. Jr. a few fairy tales, because as far as I know he is not getting them at home. I am all for fairy tales, it’s just he seems a bit young still and the attention span is not there yet. . . or so I thought. Lately he seems obsessed with giants (real giants, not just va-giants).

D. Jr.: Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum . . . [incomprehensible ramblings] I’m a giant!

Momily (in a foolish attempt to test the breadth of his knowledge and just how much of the tale he knows): Yes! How does it go? Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum, I smell –

D. Jr.: Like poop!

SIGH!

Tuesday thoughts . . . warning: boring parent alert

2008-11-11T14:02:00.000-08:00

Aren’t “married with kids” arguments the lamest ones ever? Last night D. Sr. and I argued over the kids’ sleeping issues and possible solutions. I never thought, when walking down the magical wedding aisle, that I would spend time debating nap times, bedtimes, and “to wake up or not to wake up” with the significant other. As of yet, no sleep solutions have materialized that we are both happy/OK with, which means we will continue the stubborn marital arguing and détente that gets things nowhere. At least they are sleeping longer . . . it’s just the timing of everything that sucks.

Is the boy thing hardwired into the genetic code somehow? I’ve been wondering about this a lot lately, as there seems to be so much truth to some of the age old gender stereotypes and biases (and I really hate that). The other day D. Jr. was left alone in the basement den for a few minutes and when I checked on him he was hurling himself off the (fairly tall!) couch on to a pile of pillows and blankets that he craftily assembled. He informed me that he was an “animal creature jumping in Africa just like on Rescue Heroes.” OK then! D. Sr. told me that D. Jr. has previously done this (hmmm . . .), but D. Sr. doesn’t really see the harm in it (meanwhile, I see visions of D. Jr. plowing his skull into the cement floor or side table, but hey, I’m just a girl!).

I just had an extended solo play date to Calgary! I was gone for 3 days without kids and hubby and while I had an enjoyable time, I was pretty anxious about being away from the kids. I’ve been wondering, again, if this is some kind of hardwiring into moms or is it just a “primary caregiver” thing (would a stay at home dad have the same feeling about being away)? I have a few girlfriends that travel extensively, but it seems like even the seasoned travelers have some amount of guilt or anxiety over leaving their kids for a trip . . . even if it’s just worry that you’re going to miss some milestones. L.E. is on the verge of crawling and was honing her skills so much while I was away that D. Sr. was actually worried that she would learn to crawl while I was gone. He said that if she had started crawling he would have said nothing and let me make the “discovery” on my own . . . he said he was fully prepared to feign shock and surprise at her crawling and take the terrible secret of me missing a milestone to his grave. It’s for things like this that I married the guy (gush!) . . .even if he can’t agree with me on how to handle the kiddos’ sleeping situations!

oh yeah, and viva la revolucion!

My, what big ___________ you have!

2008-11-03T13:04:00.000-08:00

. . . . as the bath water is running for the munchkins . . .

D. Jr.: Mommy, do you have a va-giant?

Momily (tired, not caffeinated enough): Huh?

D. Jr.: L.E. has a va-giant. Do you have a va-giant?

Momily (finally getting it): Yup, I have a va-giant.

If you haven’t figured it out, refresh your memory.

A few handy tips on how NOT to parent

2008-10-29T12:11:00.001-07:00

Enjoy! To fully appreciate this article, keep in mind that "caravan" here means trailer.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1081355/The-100-000-white-wedding-16-year-old-girl-lives-caravan.html

Thank you, RM, for continually facilitating my lifelong learning quest through links like these.

The way we were

2008-10-16T14:45:00.000-07:00

The Parent Bloggers Network is having a blog blast that I can really get behind: “Write a post on your blog telling us (and showing us!) what objects your spouse (or you) keep hanging onto for dear life.” There’s nothing I like more than nostalgia, reminiscing, all things retro and taking shitty photos, so here we go, but first a message from our sponsors: https://www.billmelater.com/index.xhtml?s_kwcid=[PBN]

My husband and I are both a weird combo of hanging on to things for remembrance’s sake and ruthless purgers. I think that fact that we have lived in 4 different places in our 8 years together has encouraged us to trash many things. When stuff sits in a box for years it’s usually a sign to get rid of it . . . unless it’s from your childhood or teen years or that really cool shell that you found somewhere nine years ago.

So, let’s take a look at some of D. Sr.’s gems first. The thing to keep in mind is that my husband used to be a long-haired, metal aficionado who may have dabbled in things that I don’t want to know about. He refers to this portion of his past as the “dark years” and although he looks like an idiot in all the photos that exist from this time, I have to admit that I was taken aback when a scary looking biker dude tapped on the window of our car just to say “hi”?! So while he used to be a long-haired, metal loving, bad-ass, my dear D. Sr. is now just a metal loving Dad of the Year and all around great guy.

First here is the box where most of his items are kept. The fact that it’s a Reebok shoebox kinda says it all, doesn’t it? Note that the sale sticker is from Woodward’s and this is back when things were made in places other than China.

In the box, we have a nice assortment of metalia . . . a JD lighter, a flask and some kind of chain. There is some kind of “chopper” cross ring as well and a doo rag. He also has a Tigger from times of yore that is decked out in some very well worn skull and horn rings. Whee!

Here is an assortment of items that encapsulates why I married this guy: his plush animals from times past and a Pet Rock! How cute is this?

I think the things that we choose to hang on to remind us of our former “different” selves. Not necessarily our better selves, but the selves that every now and then we wish we could go back to or that we reminisce fondly about; the selves that it is easy to forget about until something triggers a memory. For me, that self is my early 20s self. I am pretty ruthless when it comes to hanging on to clothes, but there are two items in my closet that I cannot ever get rid of, even though I know I will never wear them again. These items more or less sum up my early 20s.

The jacket below was my mom’s. She wore it in the 60s and I wore it in the 90s. It is suede and damaged and falling apart and boho and has that thrift shop look. When I was slightly obsessed with the Beat Generation and all their writings it was the best coat ever (yes, I still have all the books, but now every time I thumb through one there is a voice in my head saying, "Get off the stuff and get a job already!"). The jacket reminds me of a time in a galaxy far, far, away when I could wear size 7 or 9 and felt hip and cool and could quote Burroughs and Kerouac even if I was falling down drunk.

This little black floral dress was quite aptly nicknamed “The Get Lucky Dress” by one of my pals. It was a staple in my early 20s and, um, lived up to its name. It reminds me of a time in a galaxy far, far, away when I got lucky. Even if I dropped the “fat and married” mom weight I know that I would never wear this dress again, as it just SO cute and adorable (and short!) and a dress for a GIRL . . . which sadly I’m not. Ah, The Get Lucky Dress brings back a lot of memories such as “The DNA Bed”. . . but that’s another story (a story that sounds grosser than it is; well, maybe not, but at least much of the DNA didn't involve me!).

The other self that is well-represented in my memorabilia is my childhood self. I still have my very well-loved and worn out Blanky. He's a semblance of his former self through my mom’s many patchwork repair attempts. So much so, in fact, that NONE of the fabric showing on the pics below is that of my original blanky! Look at all the stuffing coming out and his many holes - poor Blanky. Blanky's delicate condition means that he is relegated to storage, but I was so happy to dig him out of the box for a photo op!

I still have many of my old toys and books! Remember Fashion Plates? Remember the novelized version of ET? Remember Little Golden Books that came with records? I still have them all somewhere. I kept my favourite dolls, too. Below are Brenda and Annie. Brenda is the one sporting legs that are masking taped to her torso. Annie is wearing a red dress that my GREAT-GRANDMA knit. I dug them out of storage when LE was born and now D. Jr. sleeps with them and “takes care of” them, although this often involves them being run over by vehicles or attacked by dinosaurs or mercilessly thrown to the ground. It’s a risk I’m willing to take with these gals, my first babies . . . now that Toy Story 1 an 2 are in continuous rotation at our house, I felt compelled to give the girls a second chance at toyhood.

So there you have it, a random sampling of our many enduring tokens from the past. My home is currently filled to the brim with L.E. and D. Jr's toys and kidgear, and I can't help but wonder about which of their items will somehow survive into their adulthood as part of their favourite memories. I really hope Annie and Brenda will be there . . . although I suspect they may be one-legged, tattered and torn semblances of their former selves.

In case it wasn't obvious . . .

2008-10-16T14:34:00.000-07:00

Martha Stewart I clearly ain't.

I try, I really do, but somehow my efforts always come out looking like Picasso cum preschooler cum those elephants that know how to paint.

Sigh - this is why I can't be a stay-at-home mom. I think that position demands artistic and crafty talents. I, on the other hand, need to earn money so that I can purchase other people's creative abiliites.

The greatest gift of all

2008-10-08T22:23:00.000-07:00

Before I set the stage, so to speak, you need to know:

Two weeks ago, D. Jr. celebrated his third birthday and has been a bit birthday obsessed ever since.

D. Jr.’s female cousin, EJ, is also three years old.

Both children have recently developed a keen interest in gender, gender differences and, yup, you guessed it, genitals.

Because I don't want to even contemplate the type of Internet traffic this could generate, you will find some creative spellings below.

Location: The washroom at music class. Momily has brought both children into the washroom to go pee. It’s just the three of us, a sink and a toilet.

Momily: Who wants to pee first?

EJ: Me! I can sit on the toilet by myself without using my hands and hang off the toilet and swing my legs. I can wipe myself and . . .

Momily: OK, great! Let’s hurry up.

EJ: Boys have peenisses and girls have privates!

D. Jr.: No, EJ, girls have vagginas!

Momily: Um, yes, you’re both right.

Momily puts EJ to the sink. D. Jr. begins to pee standing up into toilet.

EJ (in equal parts shock, surprise, amazement and jealousy): D. Jr., you have a peeniss!!

D. Jr.: Yes, I got it for my birthday.

I’m not kidding. Really, totally, for reals.

My new favourite pic

2008-10-02T12:16:00.000-07:00

Same old barf and dance

2008-10-02T12:09:00.001-07:00

I thought this one would be different. I mean D. Jr. pretty much spent the first 18 months of his life projectile vomiting at will. Crying equaled scrubbing puke. Not happy to be going to bed almost certainly meant that he would be getting a 2 am bath to wash the puke off. A runny nose pretty much guaranteed puke-a-rama. The annoying part – yes, more annoying than cleaning up puke at 3 am in the morning, puke that has run down the heat register or gotten into every crevice of the crib – the annoying part was that post-puking, like immediately post-puking, he was happy as a clam ready to go on to the next thing in his world.

So, 6 months in, I kind of thought L.E. was different. No puking yet. Until last night, that is, when she projectile puked twice between 9 and 10 pm and once at 3 in the morning. And it was that kind of puke that makes you marvel at how large the stomach contents of a 6 month old are. The kind of puke that you allowed to get everywhere because you were shocked it was happening and certainly it’s over . . . oh, no now it’s over; oh, ok now that it’s all over the fridge door it’s really over. It was a stealth vomit attack.

And just like her brother, she was all smiles and giggles afterwards, enjoying her baths and so on. So while I’m a bit worried, the fact that her spirits and disposition are good (and that she has drank a bottle of pedialyte and successfully eaten since 6 in the morning) have me thinking that whatever caused this can’t be too serious. Still, it puts the damper on a beautiful day, a day where D. Jr. is in daycare no less, as I really don’t want to find myself out and about with a potentially puking kid. Hooray for housebound!

Anyone have tips for getting puke out of the cracks between the hardwood?

The razor's edge or whatever

2008-09-26T23:24:00.000-07:00

After 4 days of solo parenting and wanting to pull my hair out and feeling frustrated most of the time and competent little of the time and having a few delovely moments here and there, well, what she said:

http://vomitcomit.wordpress.com/2007/03/26/i-cannot-handle-being-a-mother-anymore/

The Unsinkable Sarah Palin?

2008-09-23T11:36:00.001-07:00

I have a few axes to grind with some of the Sarah Palin coverage. Come sit right down and join me for a rootin’, tootin’ good time!

Hypocrites, hypocrites, hypocrites. It takes one to know one, so let’s just say I can spot one a mile away. . . and there’s surely no shortage of hypocrites when it comes to “debating” Ms. Palin’s fitness for office.

Now before I get started, I feel the need to share that if I were an American, I would probably be a Democrat and I would almost surely be one this time around. Like everyone else with an ounce of left-leaning blood in their veins, I find Barack’s many charms hard to resist. Ms. Palin, on the other hand, well, she reminds of all the teachers I disliked in high school (I grew up in a very conservative small town) . . . I won’t get into too many details here, but there were a few who would publically shame you for suggesting that maybe a billion Chinese folks aren’t wrong when it comes to Communism, perhaps because they were also trying to pressure your parents into the pyramid scheme they were currently engaged in. Like I said, long story, but all you need to know is that I’m more lefty than righty and as far as her politics and positions go, I’m not a big SP fan.

Nevertheless, I am getting sick and tired of hearing/reading the following things about SP in “THE MEDIA”:

“If she can’t manage her household (read: teen daughter is knocked up), how can she be Vice President?”

“She has no business running for office with a _____ month old baby. That poor child must never see his mother.” OR “I question how any woman could leave her new baby and participate in the full-time job of running for office.”

“She – gasp – bottlefeeds (or breastfeeds) her baby.” I’ve read both accounts now – some saying she bottlefeeds, some that she breastfeeds. She seems to be getting flack either way, if you can believe it (I can’t make this shit up!). Such as, yes, indeedy, she is Satan incarnate for not breastfeeding and clearly can’t hold office because she doesn’t breastfeed this kid, regardless of whether or not she breastfed her other 18 children. Or, she is hippy wanna-be, babywearing, breastfeeder. My personal faves are all the women saying they are going to vote for her because she breastfeeds. Informed choice and their vote counts as much as yours (insert jazz handshere). Can someone please tell me why it matters how she feeds her baby?

“How dare she have an opinion on abortion, when she has a knocked up teen daughter?”

“Can we trust the judgment of someone who has named her children Willow, Piper, Trig, Track and Bristol?” (OK, I kind of agree with this one!).

The other fun rumours I have read include that her son is gay (so?!) and that the child she just had is really not hers, but the other teen daughter’s in some fantastic cover-up that a very public figure managed to pull off. The arguments for this include that she didn’t look pregnant enough (sadly, I am friends with several women who weighed less at 9 months of preggerness than I do right now – 6 months after expelling a child – which is perhaps why this makes me “LOL”) and that the teen daughter in question looked fat enough to be preggers.

Feminists, wherefore art thou? Or does it only count when the women getting shat upon are lefties? Does anyone else with a vajayjay think that this is putting women back in time a few hundred years? Does anyone else want to strangle someone when the pundits question why there aren’t more women in office and gee, oh, gee what can we possibly do to encourage more women to run for office?

Now, take a trip down memory lane with me to a time not too distant in our collective North American history. A rather dapper Democratic gentleman was the US President. All was well in the world until it was revealed that sometimes a cigar is not just a cigar, but a rather handy sex toy. Yeah, that’s right he was not only cheating on his wife, but he was doing so with a woman MANY years his junior. And the Republicans decided that if this man would lie about fellatio in the Oval Office, then he certainly was compromised as a President and could not hold office any longer. And how did the Democrats respond to this . . hmm, it’s hard to remember clearly . . . oh right, wasn’t there a frickin’ movement afoot arguing that what goes on in an elected official’s personal life has no bearing on his or her ability to hold office?

Now in our even more recent history, this same gentleman’s wife had a kick at the cow to be US President. I don’t seem to recall there being any coverage that if she couldn’t satisfy her man then she has no right to the highest office in America or that the fact that her household was clearly in disorder at one time in her life means her fitness for office was compromised. I recall her being picked on for crying, but I don’t recall this level of coverage . . . this insane and inane suggestion that dysfunctional family life = you have no business here, lady, go back home and knit some booties for your baby and grandbaby to be.

What shocks me the most is that some of the very same Democrats who lead the Clinton movement are spewing out some of this SP crap. I was heartened that Obama at least publicly said that her personal life has no bearing and people’s children’s are off-limits. He said it, but what he’s allowing his camp to do with all this, I have no idea . . . it seems like the machine can’t be stopped now.

My new favourite is that she – OMG – used her Yahoo email account to discuss work with her husband who appears to have some influence over her decisions in office. I love that we hate her for doing what we all do and I love that it is terrible that her husband holds sway over her, but Hilary’s blatant sway over Bill while he was in office was refreshing and unique (a First Lady who does more than charity balls, how neato!). In fact her sway and participation was recently touted as comprising some of her loads and loads of political and governing experience. I also love that the Whitewater fiasco and the mysterious deaths surrounding it didn’t come up so much this time. Ah, sweet, sweet, selective memory.

As Jon Stewart pointed out recently, it is fair game to jump on Palin when she asks that their choice to have their teen daughter get married and have a baby be respected and their privacy be respected, when she is very much NOT respecting a woman’s choice to have an abortion. Sure, that is fair game – let’s talk about that, let’s talk about her pro-life position and her other positions and her political record and her experience (or lack thereof). But please don’t tell me she’s not fit for the job because of her personal life. Is she a bad mom? Who knows, but I think that’s about as relevant as whether or not Obama is a good husband, that is to say, not very relevant at all.

So, please help me understand what’s going on! Correct me if I’m wrong on this front! Until then I’m kinda thinking that if you’re pro “girl power” in any way, shape or form, you just have to be against slamming a woman in this fashion. You just have to be against statements suggesting that a woman isn’t fat enough to be pregnant and you certainly have to be against the very public suggestion that a normal looking teenage girl looks fat. And although Geraldine Ferraro she certainly ain’t, you have to be kind of a bit pleased that this is a woman we’re talking about in the first place, no? And more than a bit displeased that it was never suggested that Bush’s teen daughters’ whoring about clearly meant he should not hold office? And doesn’t it outrage you, I mean totally outrage you, that it would never, ever be an issue at all if a male candidate were running for office while he had a new baby at home that his wife formula fed?!

Momma’s mad. Are you?

Show me yours and I won’t show you my disdain

2008-09-12T16:13:00.000-07:00

In the mommy blogging world there is a bit of a boobygate going on. One of the most loved of the mommy bloggers, Her Bad Mother, recently had a rather unfortunate and jarring breastfeeding experience while on a West Jet flight. A flight attendant suggested that she cover herself up while breastfeeding when she not only finds doing so difficult, but quite correctly states that there should be no need for this.

It all has me thinking of my own stressful and tumultuous breastfeeding experiences.

L.E. is 5 months old now and has been weaned off the booby for 2 months already. With D. Jr. I lasted for what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality was only 7 months. My babies cannot latch on to my boobs very well due to what seems like a number of reasons – our collective physiologies, their nipple preferences, my inability to “get it” when it came to breastfeeding and so on. The only way that I could “comfortably” breastfeed my children was to be braless and just hike the shirt up and let them have at it. A blanket or any other cloaking device just made things near impossible for me. No matter what I did, I had to accept that after breastfeeding I would have a wet spot on my shirt about the size of a dinner plate. Needless to say this exciting and attractive combination of factors meant that I NEVER personally felt comfortable breastfeeding in public so I NEVER did. Seriously – with D. Jr. I hardly left the house for 7 months and had a program of pumping and supplementing for my brief outings. With L.E. my borderline PPD meant that I really forced myself to go out more and also meant that she drank way more pumped booby juice and formula than D. Jr. did, resulting in bottle nipple preference and early weaning (and perhaps also resulting in my being drug and shrink free right now).

Sigh.

Why did I go to these “extremes?” Why did I carry on with breastfeeding when everyone around me was telling me to stop and saying it was driving me over the edge (true)? Why did I spend 10 out of 30 months feeling pretty much housebound? Because I firmly believe that breast is best and I wanted to give my children that advantage for as long as possible (which turned out to be not that long). I wanted them to have the benefits of boob, but I could not comprehend having to bf in a mall foodcourt, braless and drenched and frustrated, when I saw how breastfeeding pros were looked at when feeding their babes in public. I know a few breastfeeding mavens who seem to able to whip it out and latch children on in nanoseconds so discreetly that you hardly notice it’s happening. However, when I have been out and about with these gals I have noticed more than a few scornful glances pointed in their directions.

I want to stress that I do not think that breastfeeding should be forced on women. It should definitely be a choice and it is not for everyone for a wide variety of reasons. I feel like I can speak for both sides on this one, having been made to feel both good and bad about breastfeeding and good and bad about stopping. For me, the only common denominator between boobyfeeding and formula feeding was guilt and shame, so I say stop the booby judgment already. However, for all of us that have made the choice to bf our kids, for however long, wouldn’t it be great to be in a society where one could just bf comfortably and not worry about the potential for stress and duress and scorn every time we do that most basic and fundamental of mommy things? (Similarly, I think the “breastfeeding Gestapo” out there needs to stop making women feel bad every time they pop open a can of formula.)

I understand that lots of folks may not like spotting a stranger’s nips for two seconds, may not want to see breastfeeding in action, or maybe even don’t want their kids or their men having the opportunity to look at strange women’s boobs. Yeah, I get that. But I have a very simple solution – avert your eyes. That’s right, if you don’t like it, simply look somewhere else. There are lots of things that we all see when we are out and about in public that we don’t like or don’t agree with or that make us uncomfortable. Generally, we don’t say mean things or run over with a blanket when we see couples in overt public displays of affection, women showing way too much cleavage, or very short hemlines on folks who would be better off in tasteful knee-length A-lines. I can think of many ugh-ly things that I have seen in my days at the public library – exposed colostomy bags, black bras under white shirts, sequins and gold lame as daywear (the horror!), foot fungus, hand warts, possible herpes outbreaks – that I have simply ignored. Yeah, I was TOTALLY grossed out, but it seemed inappropriate to tell the possibly homeless guy with a large number of hand warts to cover his bad self up. Couldn’t we give breastfeeding moms this same amount of leeway and respect?

At IGA the other day, a lovely average Albertan male was swearing loudly into his cellphone and smelled a bit of the drink (and it was 2:00 pm, yet). I wanted to say, “Please don’t swear like that around my 3 year old.” But then I remembered that the world doesn’t revolve around me and my kids (perhaps I’m making progress). If my 3 year old were to ask about it I would simply explain something to the effect that the man was angry and using bad words (like almost all of us do from time to time) and move on. The world doesn’t revolve around kids or moms or louts, right? So why not live and let live and short of fornication in public, defecting on the streets, IV drug use in public and so on, how about we all just avert our eyes and save how scandalized we are for water cooler chit chat or the martini hour. Come sit next to me, as I can’t wait to hear all about the hairy nipples you saw on the subway, bad body odour, the t-shirt that said “A best way to a woman’s heart is through her sternum” (really), and peep toe pumps and stockings (I know “they” say it’s ok now, but, come on, put heeled boots on already and call it a day).

Done now.

Everyone does it better?

2008-09-05T12:55:00.000-07:00

Ah, August! We have been busy with not much to show for it. We had visitors and house guests which actually meant a flurry of social activity for me. We also did a few family fun events which manage to eat up lots of weekends. But it all has me feeling a bit inadequate somehow.

One of the things I do and obsess about (and I assume other moms do it, too) is that I wonder why I can’t just get more done in a day or a week and wonder why it seems like everyone else is able to accomplish way more than me. Whether this is true or not, I don’t know, but it’s how I feel. I feel like if I crank up the social life, then my home is a disaster. if I plan to do things in the day with one or both kids, then I end up leaving the house looking like the bedraggled and unshowered housefrau that I am most of the time. If I choose to tend to something with the house or yard it usually means my kids don’t get a bath that night. I feel like I can never find time for all the things I want to do and these things are pretty much the basics. I’m somehow unable to have a meal on the table at the end of the day (I almost always have to wait until D. Sr. comes home and can take over at least one kid). Laundry piles up as do the bills and paperwork. So if the basics are hard to fit in, you can imagine how often the frivolous extras (blogging, my new writing project which I am not disclosing too much about yet, reading, web surfing, watching a DVD, anything to do with the house and yard, etc.) get accomplished.

Perhaps I’m too hard on myself or expecting too much, but I feel like something has to give and I’m so tired of seeing all these well-manicured, perfect moms out there looking like they have it all together! Just how do they do it when I am about 6 months overdue for a haircut, one year overdue for an eye exam and about 10 years overdue for the dentist? I mean everyone says that I’m a perfectionist and anal retentive and slightly OCD and all these things, yet how come I can’t find time to shave my legs or run a vacuum? Do I require too much down time or do I expect too much?

In the back of my mind I hear a little voice telling me to get organized and get it together, woman! Until I figure out just how to do that, though, I guess I will settle for an attempt to make some coffee before the baby wakes up and try watching some pundits spout off on Biden and Palin because it’s waaay more interesting than our upcoming election (I can’t believe our election ads highlight things like how Stephen Harper enjoys the occasional card game with his children – BORING! I need a little dose of teen preggers, prescription drug abuse and extramarital affairs with my politics.).

Guilty pleasures

2008-08-16T12:52:00.000-07:00

Most of the time the blog feels like a vanity/therapy project as people so rarely comment on anything I write making it hard to know if people are reading the blog or even slightly care one way or the other about anything I write.

So, I know I’ve hit pay-dirt with a post when it not only spurs comments, but makes friends and family comment anonymously. It’s great fun for me to try to figure out who “anonymous” actually is, but I do wonder if my “framily” out there are anonymous out of laziness or because they want to avoid an argument with a slightly crazed and somewhat PPD, tired mom.

My last post generated such an anonymous comment and it has had me thinking. BC (before children) was I the evil-eye giver and I think the answer is sometimes, but under the same conditions that I would be doing it now WC (with children).

I have a bit of a reputation amongst the framily for being a bit of a bee-yatch, for complaining at stores and restaurants and often generally making my opinion known whether folks want to hear it or not (I can feel my sister thinking about my recent public shaming of a woman who let her dog crap on the sidewalk and didn’t clean it up). And, yes, BC that would have included doling out the eye to people allowing their kids to wreak havoc in CERTAIN situations, keyword being certain.

BC, just like WC, I don’t think that I should have to listen to a screaming toddler when I am fine dining, at the opera, concert or other theatre event, in the library during exams, at a grown-up movie, etc. But BC, just like WC, I think I was fairly tolerant of these displays say at Safeway or Walmart or the park or the library in general and dare I say, the freaking mall food court at 1 in the afternoon. Call me crazy, but I used to think and still do think that there are places where it is reasonable to expect the environment to be free of unruly children just as there are many environments where you just kind of have to accept screaming babies, crazed preschoolers and loud children (oh my!).

Some of the framily forget that I have spent the last 6 years of my life working with kids and families and only the last three years of my life WC . . . the job opened my eyes to a lot of realities about kids, perhaps making me wait as long as I did to be a mom (there’s only so many times you can find yourself cleaning up other people’s kids’ pee and vomit off the program room floor and furniture before you question if you’re really ready for parenthood). So my eyes were opened and a certain tolerance developed for public displays of childishness, and over the last 6 years I have tried to be a good citizen in that respect.

Anyway,I think I’m done ranting and justifying to myself (and anonymous – FYI, I think I’ve narrowed it down to 3 of you) that I am not a completely different human being WC as compared to BC. Very different, but not completely different, I hope.

And speaking of unruly children and guilty pleasures, la bebe has a cold and was up ALL night giving me totally screwed up and broken up sleep. I think the longest stretch I got was about an hour. So, early this morning I told D Sr. that even though our cleaning ladies were coming over in a few hours to tell them NOT to clean the master bedroom and I would try to get this child and myself to sleep. After about 2 hours of solid sleep, I cannot describe the euphoria of emerging from the bedroom with a cranky baby to a freshly cleaned house. I still feel guilt about the excess of cleaning ladies coming over twice a month, but somehow I’m able to justify it.

Hey, lady!

2008-08-12T14:31:00.000-07:00

So, when I’m very sleep deprived and frustrated and in the mall food court with my sister-in-law and between the two of us we have 4 kids 3 and under and on we’re on our way out and I accidentally bump into my son with the shopping cart after he has decided to unexpectedly launch himself off the stage set up in said food court and he’s crying and I yell at him a bit for goofing off, please don’t give me the evil eye that is equal parts “You’re a bad, unsympathetic mom” and “Quiet that kid up.” You see, it takes every fibre of my being to not come over and be in your face making a scene, which I probably would have done if I only had one kid with me except it wouldn’t have happened if I only had one kid with me. Just sayin’. Mmm, kay?!

Hey baby, wanna dance?

2008-08-09T21:49:00.000-07:00

This REALLY amused me . . . perhaps because the Wiggles and Teletubbies are two of D. Jr's favourite entertainers and the ones that drive me the most berserker. Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WYP8Nu98BME&feature=related

Abiding by these simple requests will make your stay much more enjoyable!

2008-08-05T13:02:00.000-07:00

August seems to be bringing us lots of out of town visitors, which is great and a welcome distraction. Due to the constant chaos in the Fringer household, though, I thought I would provide my guests with some simple guidelines to help make their time with us more pleasant!

1. If you are allergic to dogs or for some other reason disgusted by the huge rolling tracts of fur currently being expelled from our part Chow hound, please suggest something along the lines of “It’s a beautiful day for sitting outside,” rather than staring in disbelief at the furry tumbleweeds moving about my home.

2. How about we pretend that the rug under the kitchen table is sisal and that those chunks and gritty bits you feel under your feet are “100% natural fibres” as opposed to, say, pieces of granola bar, hardened play-doh, two year old dried peanut butter and raisins.

3. Let’s call my 3 year old lively, spirited and energetic instead of the many other adjectives that could be better used to describe him!

4. Pretend that the wetness you just sat in or stepped on in our bathroom has everything to do with a recently taken shower and nothing to do with potty-training. Ignore all other disgusting evidence of potty-training in said bathroom.

5. Heartily enjoy my offerings of arrowroot cookies and apple juice, like it’s a totally normal thing for adults to be eating at two in the afternoon. In actuality, it's all I have in the house.

6. Enter abode at your own risk! I apologize in advance for anything my 3 year old does to your children. Ditto for anything my four month old does to your clothing.

7. Interesting and stimulating adult conversation will almost certainly be kept to a minimum due to i) Momily’s new-found ability to appear awake, but actually be in some kind of semi-sleep state ii) the antics of a lively, spirited and energetic three year old iii) the neediness of a puking/pooping/screaming four month old iv) a crazy, moulting canine.

In other news, as of July 31st I have been at this whole blog thing for two years! Although I frequently wonder how long I will keep at this, for the time being I will continue at this healthy venting outlet!

Cry, baby, cry

2008-07-20T14:15:00.000-07:00

The Pink Princess is past the colicky stage now – hurrah! She is actually turning into a fairly happy and “normal” baby now! However that doesn’t mean the crying is over! Apparently my darling daughter is a bit of a diva. She already seems prone to tantrums and certainly has plenty of opinions.

In no particular order here are some things my 3.5 month old has thrown massive fits over. As soon as the “problem” is solved she usually stops crying immediately and often flashes us a big grin which is equal parts annoying and charming.

I need socks on now!

Stupid woman, remove this sun hat from my head at once.

Horrors! The sun is in my eyes.

Can’t you see I’d much rather be sitting (standing, lying down)?

Idiots, I can’t see the TV from here!

Idiots, I can’t see my brother from here!

The intensity with which my brother does everything overwhelms me. Get me away from him. Not that far away, though.

Um, my stroller (the car) has stopped moving. For the love of God, why has the stroller (the car) stopped moving?

AAGH!!!! My mobile has stopped moving!

The buttons (snaps, zippers, embroidery) on my outfit is irritating the hell out of me.

I thought I told you that I HATE that brand of nipple.

I cannot possibly enjoy my bottle contents at this tepid temperature.

I cannot possibly enjoy my bath at this tepid temperature.

I’m bored. Produce something interesting for me to look at. At once.

Where is my flannel blanket? I simply must, must, must have my flannel blanket!

Why have you not covered my entire face with my flannel blanket in such a fashion that I can still breathe, but not see anything that might distract me from trying to sleep? Morons.

Please wrap/swaddle me in such a fashion that my arms are bound at my sides and rendered immobile so that I can't inadvertently hurt myself and/or knock my pacifier out of my mouth. Do NOT listen to me when I say that I hate my arms to be constrained Wait, FREE MY ARMS, FREE MY ARMS!! I need my arms to be free!!!! Imbeciles, I said don't listen to me to when I say that.

I’m so tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep. But I’m so tired. But I don’t want to miss out on stuff. But I’m tired.

I seem to have soiled myself.

I’m guessing this means that the teen years will be very enjoyable for us.

A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down

2008-07-17T22:47:00.000-07:00

The whole blogging thing has been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve received some interesting feedback about the blog over the last few weeks and it all has me wondering.

Two weeks ago, D. Sr. and I actually had an opportunity to attend a dinner party soiree sans enfants. The people in attendance were mostly “his friends,” but at this point in the game (8.5 years of wonderful togetherness) those lines are pretty much blurred. Anyway, one of “his friends” asked me how I was doing, what with the new baby and all. I said something like “ok” or “fine” and our friend responded with, “That’s not what your blog says!” I was a bit taken aback . . . I mean I know the blog can be negative and all, but I sure hope it’s not ENTIRELY negative. It’s just that LIFE IS HARD RIGHT NOW . . .so when I write about life right now, well, you get the picture?! But still, it has me wondering if I can ever let my children read my blog when they are somewhat grown up without giving them a complex or something. So somewhat grown up versions of my babies hear this: Momma loves you and has always loved you, I promise, but Momma just hasn’t loved every moment of mommyhood (esp. those moments involving puke, poop, pee and sheer exhaustion).

Then about a week ago, my brother-in-law remarked something to the effect that it’s a good thing D. Sr. rarely reads my blog because of how I represent things. I *think* he was mainly referring to this post. It kind of surprised me. I mean, I try really hard not to discuss D. Sr. too much on the blog because he didn’t sign up for this. I justify my discussion of the kids because what I write about is stuff they would do in front of anybody and that I would share with anybody. I try to write about the parenting and not our marriage per se, but sometimes they are inseparable. That’s why I don’t use our real names. I’m not convinced that it’s “bad” that I wrote that D. Sr. and I fight and argue - the blog is read almost entirely by people that know us and I’m pretty sure it doesn’t surprise any of you that we, um, quarrel from time to time. Note that I was careful not to identify what we argue about and how I’m right all the time and he’s not. My BIL also commented that it’s good/healthy that I have a venue in which to vent (insinuating perhaps that I would otherwise explode at home or something?!). I agree . . . but I think it’s also a good thing that D. Sr. can read my vents if he wants to, as it seems like our communication has taken a back seat since 2.0 entered our lives.

So, I guess I’m somewhat concerned that the blog isn’t more positive and that this seems to be resonating with folks on some level. My intent is for this to be an honest chronicle of my motherhood experience . . . and the last 3 months have been really hard slogging and the months before that I was a very grumpy and uncomfortable pregnant lady. I hope the cloud of negativity will pass soon, but I can’t promise anything (Mary Poppins I ain’t!).

Perhaps the “warts and all” part of motherhood and marriage is dominating right now, but rest assured there are lots of good, funny and amusing things (which I do share from time to time, no?). I will share two now. My lovely son has started picking his nose lately (I know, ugh) and doing all kinds of disgusting things with the proceeds. I am constantly hounding him to stop picking his nose, to use a Kleenex, to put said Kleenexes in the garbage – you get the picture. A few days ago I noticed that our kitchen trash can was covered in smeared-on boogers. I found this VERY funny, perhaps because I count this as parenting progress (they’re kind of in the garbage, right?), but mainly because She Who Must Maintain Cleanliness (AKA me) was actually able to let it go. It seems like a defining mommy moment to me – you grow and learn and change with your kids and sometimes it’s the most unglamorous and simplest incidents that drive that home.

And, as for 2.0, she seems to have finally gotten over her colic (most of the time!). She is entering that true baby stage and leaving “newborn” behind. She has started to do things like roll and play on her activity may and coo and smile and gurgle. It is pretty awesome and heart-warming and touching. Gush. I was recently playing with her on her mat and I noticed just how perfect and “new” and delicate her skin is. It’s a weird thing, but it occurred to me that very soon her beautiful and unsullied feet will be just like D. Jr.’s: dirty, bruised, scraped and in general disrepair from a toddler’s day’s work. But right now her feet and toes are perfect – feet that have never been walked on or stuffed into shoes or calloused or irritated by anything. I was tickling her feet and legs and it all really seemed like the sweetest and most pristine thing in the world; like the kind of thing that makes you have babies in the first place. Um diddle diddle diddle, um diddle ay . . .

It’s a boobiful day in the neighbourhood

2008-07-07T17:18:00.000-07:00

My son recently discovered Mr. Rogers. He loves the show. Unlike most people my age, I’m in unfamiliar territory here . . . I grew up with peasant vision in Montreal and have never watched a Mr. Rogers episode until very recently.

Still, without ever having seen an episode, I thought I had some idea of what Mr. Rogers was like. I assumed (through a myriad of pop culture references) that it was not only a very conservative children’s show, but also lame and boring like so many other children’s shows (you know – the whole cardigan and tie thing and the fact that MR was a pastor or something) . But it’s not! I was totally wrong. The children’s librarian/programmer in me has been impressed by his gentle way with children and that he does not talk down to children. Not only does he not talk down to them, but he addresses things that they are interested in. My son will sit transfixed at pretty much anything MR deems worthy.

Today’s episode was particularly astute and groundbreaking! It was about food and included a lengthy montage on all kinds of mammals breastfeeding their babies. And wouldn’t you know, four of the mammal pairs shown were human mamas and babies. That’s right – at 10 am this morning on PBS we saw four boobies (yes, nipple, milk and all) and D. Jr. and I had a conversation about breastfeeding. We saw more booby in 5 minutes of MR than I have ever seen on SATC. It was breastacular. My head almost exploded considering the Facebook crap of a little while ago. Breastfeeding photos are not OK on Facebook, but MR and PBS see no problem whatsoever with a little breastfeeding video. Kudos to Mr. Rogers, no?! I mean the episode looked pretty old to me (eighties?!) and here he is still breaking ground 5 years after his death while Facebook is still scandalized by boob!

All I can say is that it is a crazy, bizarro and hypocritical world when Mr. Rogers is more progressive than Facebook.

Crazy-maker

2008-07-02T12:08:00.000-07:00

Yes, she is so much better now and yes, she is sleeping quite well and yes, we have hit the much-awaited three month mark. And, yes, I am making more of a concerted effort to get out of the house, in some capacity, several times each week.

But she still cries so much and is so fussy and is so particular so much of the time. And then there’s that almost 3 year old boy to contend with. Oh yeah, and that whole marriage thing which is experiencing quite a strain right now, what with two little kids in the heat of summer.

Sigh – I knew it would be hard work, but sometimes it is so unrelenting and unforgiving. "And time, it moves so slowly."

Let’s see what the 6 month mark brings, I guess.

I'd like to properly credit this image, but I'm too tired and rushed to verify the source. It's Berkeley Breathed's Bill the Cat from Bloom County, though.

Just trying to be neighbourly

2008-06-25T13:01:00.000-07:00

We moved one whole year ago already (our whopping 15 block move!), and in this time we have done little to get to know our “new” neighbours. Our new neighbourhood, much like our old neighbourhood, is mostly comprised of seniors -- so other than remarking on the new RV and how lovely the peonies are this year, there isn’t that much kinship going on. However, there are a few “young families” like us. One of our next-door-neighbours are a professional, thirty-something couple with a baby. Still, over the course of a year, we have done little more than wave hello and make very small talk across the lawn.

Until lately . . .

For the past few months, our neighbours have been unusually friendly. OK, perhaps, not “unusually” to normal people, but to cranky Momily it seems that they are very friendly and that they are definitely trying to make friends with us: they have offered to take Daniel on walks to the park to help alleviate our new baby stresses, they have brought over new baby gifts and Daniel gifts, they seem to appear more often than normal to make chit-chat, and they often shovel our walk. We actually know things about their life now and vice versa, and recently we even got the list of emergency phone numbers for when they went on holidays. This is all nice and great – we certainly want to make more couple friends, especially couples with young kids – and they seem like really nice people who we could actually, maybe, be friends with.

But here’s the rub . . . how do you befriend your neighbours? And are there consequences?

D. Sr. and I are prone to some stormy relationship stuff. In other words, we bicker and we fight. Um, we fight a lot and often it is not just bickering. .. it can be extreme yelling and sometimes swearing and, yes, it is terrible to do this in front of our children and we try really hard not to, but it still happens and not infrequently. When our big blow-ups happen there is usually shouting and swearing and name-calling and crying. Sure, they are short in duration and we always make up, but I can’t help but wonder more than ever now, “What do the neighbours think?” I am embarrassed, but I’m not sure that we can reign it all in without imploding and going crazy. It’s just not our way, therefore it’s not natural and shouldn’t we be free to do our thing? I mean, however bizarre and stormy it all is, it’s our passionate way of communication!

The thing about becoming friends with neighbours is that suddenly, it’s all out there! You know how it is normally . . . you go out for dinner with friends. Sweetie pie does or says something to really piss you off and you’re thinking “wait ‘til we get home.” Well, now, waiting ‘til we go home means the neighbours can hear us through their open bathroom window. I don’t like it. The lines between public and private selves seem to be much more blurred than they would with our other friends . . . I mean the neighbours have heard and seen things (i.e. Momily unshowered with bad breath and just overall disgusting hygiene, running quickly out to the car to get something, but instead cornered by chatty neighbour) that our nearest and dearest friends have not.

Sure, I may be overreacting and putting the cart before the horse – we haven’t even been over inside each other’s homes yet (and after our last domestic dispute a few nights ago, I’m guessing that might never happen!). But still, I’m starting to find it troubling . . . like every weed we don’t pull and lawn we don’t mow and every stupid thing that happens in our backyard is on display and up for evaluation. And, of course, every fight we have.

I do not know for sure if they can hear all our dirty laundry or not. I hope not and I hope that if they do, they still want to befriend us. I do know that they are aware that, unlike them, we are slobs and lazy when it comes to yard work. . . and yet they still seem to want to befriend us. And sure it’s true that if they scare easily from an overheard curse word and us making jokes about D. Jr. farting in the backyard then probably we’re not cut out to be friends. It’s just so hard to make new friends at “this age,” and befriending the neighbours is certainly not any easier.

I would love to hear your experiences with befriending the neighbours – good and bad – or if you think it best avoided altogether a la “good fences make good neighbours.”

shit storm

2008-06-22T22:44:00.000-07:00

How is that my two young children are able to shit themselves silly at the exact same time? Anyone?

Also charming today was my son exclaiming, loudly and proudly, "My penis!" while we were enjoying dinner this evening. Of course auntie and uncles' guffaws only encouraged him to chant it a few more times.

Daycare revisited

2008-06-18T11:46:00.000-07:00

Finding the time to blog with two young children is near impossible. But here I am, thanks to us keeping D. Jr. in daycare a couple of days a week, with some time to write (although, truth be told, I am foregoing a shower to do so!). Three cheers for daycare days!

Daycare has been on my mind a lot lately, mostly because I feel like it is preserving my sanity right now and I do feel some guilt around that. Because we do not have much family help with the kids, especially on weekdays, we decided to keep D. Jr. in daycare a few days each week. The benefits are multiple! It gives me some one-on-one time with Lydia and ensures that things like bathing myself and household chores actually happen on a semi-regular basis. It also allows me to schedule appts. etc. without having to bring along two kids. We also think daycare keeps some consistency in D. Jr.’s life and allows him to have an opportunity to do crafts, play with other kids, play in the great outdoors, and so on, because let’s face it, Momily often cannot manage those activities AND a little, fussy baby. I know that I shouldn’t feel guilt about sending him off a few times each week, but I still do – like somehow I’m not up to snuff in the parenting department. I also feel bad that I’m actually happy to be down to 1 kid once in awhile so that I can do selfish things (like blog!)!

Another supposed benefit of keeping D. Jr. in daycare during this time was that we felt we were “keeping our place” at the daycare, hence making the transition to my return to work easier. We figured D. Jr. would still have his spot and it was almost a certainty that the daycare would take Lydia . . . . until we found at last week that our daycare has shut down the baby room completely and is now only taking children 19 months of age and older. Eek!

So now I found myself worrying once again about what to do for childcare when I return to work . . . The waiting lists for daycares in our area are very long. It seems unlikely that we could have both our children at the same daycare. Hiring a nanny might be a possibility, but I’m not sure how that would work with me working part-time and different days of the week each week. I don’t think that we want a live-in nanny and a live-out nanny will eat up almost all of my part-time salary. Nanny-sharing might be a possibility, for the babies at least (mine and the new nephew), but then we are still shelling out a lot of dollars for childcare (nanny AND daycare because is it really reasonable to expect a nanny to look after 4 kids under the age of 4?!). At this point, I feel like I really want to return to work, but now who knows?! I’ve got a good 9 months to solve this, yet I’m still panicky!

Unbelievably, it will soon be almost 2 years that D. Jr. has been going to daycare. Remember all my anxiety about starting daycare way back when?! Now, it’s almost like daycare is my savior! It is funny how life goes, no? This is not to say that I don’t still have some reservations and concerns about what exactly goes on at our daycare (I can feel my sister-in-law nodding in agreement right now!), but for the most part I think they do a good job and my little devil is usually happy to be there. I really don’t want to find myself back at square one where child care is concerned, but I do find some consolation in the fact that all the emotional stuff should be easier this time . . . right?! Although so far nothing has been easier the second time around . . . I started this post 7 days ago and it sure ain’t my best work!

From Grandma, with love

2008-05-16T12:05:00.000-07:00

The Parent Bloggers Network Blog Blast topic for this weekend is “does Grandma need a gift consultant?” or “how do you and your kids’ grandparents handle buying gifts.” Even though I have a very fussy 6 week old (and a delightful 2.6 year old), I’m participating because I am trying to get some normalcy and mental stimulation back in my life!

My child (er, children!) receive no ends of gifts from the grandparents. Often these gifts are handy and useful, but just as often they are THE LAST THING WE NEED. I have tried several approaches to this, but none seem to completely work.

I was brought up to be grateful, thankful and appreciative of gifts. I have a hard time returning/exchanging gifts even if there is a gift receipt (although recently my sister-in-law has inspired me to do just that). I don’t know how to look a gift-horse in the mouth and I am prone to saying things like “I love it” and “It’s just what we needed” even if the polar opposite is true. I want my children to also be thankful and appreciative of gifts, which is why I perhaps make a bigger deal out of receiving gifts than need be.

Nonetheless, there comes a point when you have to start taking control of the glut of stuff entering your house. Here are some things that we have tried with the grandparents and other relatives when it comes to them buying gifts for the kids:

1. I have sent out emails, prior to events like b-days and Christmas, listing the things that we “need” for the children. It feels very mercenary and unnatural to me, but it seems to help the situation along somewhat. Often these “wish list” items are things like specific clothing, bedding, etc. The grandparents are happy to purchase such practical gifts, but are usually unable to bring themselves to give practical gifts without ALSO gifting us with another #$@!% humongo-tub of mega-blocks. I do understand this to a certain extent as D. Jr. certainly does not respond to bed sheets the same way he does to toys, but come on aren’t the 800,000 mega-blocks in his bedroom enough already?!

2. We have tried suggesting a monetary donation towards the RESPS, but so far this has just resulted in a cheque AND gifts making me feel even more mercenary!

3. When it comes to toys, I have been suggesting things that can be packed away for a long time if need be. Play-Doh, crayons, craft stuff etc. are great suggestions because I figure even 5 years from now we can pull out a brand new box of crayons and get some use out of it.

4. When it comes to clothing, I have asked the rellies to buy much larger sizes then what the kids are currently wearing.

5. I STRONGLY encourage second-hand purchases. That way if things don’t fit, don’t fit for very long or break, I don’t feel bad. I also feel less guilty about relegating second-hand items as permanent outside toys. The thing with second-hand is that some relatives (D. Sr.’s parents, my grandparents) just cannot bring themselves to buy second-hand. So far, though, my side has whole-heartedly embraced this.

6. I have to admit to donating several “big ticket” toys to D. Jr’s daycare (call me crazy, but I figured that 4 ride ‘em toys and 2 trikes in our possession were enough). The daycare can use them and I figure he still gets to play with the toys, while also learning valuable lessons about sharing! The daycare’s book collection is abhorrent (look, I’m a children’s librarian) so I have donated many books to them as well (the librarian’s son only listens to a story in daycare anyway).

7. Good old regifting – I just put lots of stuff away (still in boxes and tags) in hopes of either one day being able to pass it on as a re-gift or sell it on eBay. I was also able to donate several toys to Santa’s Anonymous this way.

8. Just give up already. My grandparents have gifts for D. Jr. EVERY time we see them -- and we see them once each week. I have convinced them to keep the lion’s share at their place, but I am still coming home with something every time I see them. Does yet another matchbox car or dollar store piece of crap sitting in the hallway drive me nuts? Yes, but it is hard to take this simple pleasure away from two 80-somethings who want nothing more than to make my kid happy.

These are the tactics that I have tried so far and they have certainly helped a little bit in decluttering my house . . . However, while the most annoying thing about too many presents or the wrong presents is the sheer amount of stuff, I think a close second is that as a parent you feel like there is nothing left for you to buy your child. If my kid so much as mentions “monster trucks” or dinosaurs he starts to receive them in droves from other people, and you know sometimes Mommy wants to be the hero!

Anyway, PBN has suggested what looks like a great resource for this “problem.” It is the Grandkids Gift Guide and from my quick perusal of the site, it seems to be a good resource for anyone, grandparent or not, struggling to find the perfect gift for the kids in their lives.

One final note, an embarrassment of riches for our children and our awareness about it must be a real concern for many of us Gen Xer yuppies what with companies like this springing up.

The perils of learning letters and potty training at the same time

2008-05-13T13:58:00.000-07:00

Apparently, while D. Sr. was playing alphabet blocks with D. Jr., my sweet son informed him that "P is for penis." We are very pleased that D. Jr. is pretty good with his letters and knows the correct anatomical terms for all his body parts, but we also hope that he does not share his new knowledge with everyone at daycare.

And V is for . . .

My milkshakes bring all the babies to the yard

2008-05-06T19:04:00.000-07:00

We're hanging in there - I still have a sense of humour, at least.

In January, I purchased the onesie featured below for my nephew who was born in February. I'm not sure if it ever really fit him as he grew like a weed from the get go. Anyway, I think it is hilarious and I love the fact that my daughter has been wearing it since her birth! Such are the joys of hand-me-downs (and large babies.)

The hermit speaks

2008-05-01T14:17:00.001-07:00

Well, on Sunday L.E. (aka The Pink Princess) will be one month old so my new mantra is that I am one-third or one-fourth of the way through that newborn “rough patch.” Praise be to God, Hallelujah.

It has been a rough go compounded by the fact that I am definitely experiencing something more than “baby blues” and having a hard time getting it together mentally and emotionally. It is hard to tell how much of this is due to the sleep-deprivation and not having a ton of “help.” While we do get help and support from some of our family members who have been amazing (sister and sister-in-law of Momily especially!), it is not quite the same as having someone come stay with you for the first week or two or three, which can help the whole sleep thing along a great deal. I feel totally overwhelmed by two kids and I have to admit that this makes me feel all kinds of shame, embarrassment and inadequacy. “Normal” perhaps, but some of my reactions, etc. perhaps not so much. Either way, though, I just don’t have a lot of energy, mental stamina and patience right now and I don’t think things will improve until I do.

Also adding to this “mess with Momily’s mind” casserole is the fact that L.E. is quite a fussy, cranky baby with a set of lungs and a cry that can break your heart. We suspect she has “mild” colic. I have heard the horror stories from moms with colicky babies and she is certainly not that bad, but she seems to have digestive/gas issues galore.

So, please accept my apologies for unreturned calls and cancelled visits (lots of you). And, please also accept my apologies for teary and weepy phone calls and visits (less of you). Thanks to all of you who have been so thoughtful, helpful, concerned and caring (many of you). I really hope to be back to my normal self “soon” (2-3 months from now?!). Amen.

The new bundle

2008-04-16T11:18:00.000-07:00

Our daughter, Lydia Ella, was born healthy and happy on April 6th. It has been hard slogging to say the least – moms must really get amnesia to be willing to do all of this all over again!

What has been surprising is that D Jr. is having quite a hard time adjusting. I’m thankful that he has been kind, gentle and loving with the baby, but he has regressed in some ways and clearly feels threatened and that his world is now upside down. Unfortunately, one of his regressions has been to throw tantrums at naps and bedtimes and to be up a lot in the night, which is obviously the last thing we need with a new baby. This has affected us in a huge way – D. Sr. sleeps in the basement bedroom and is on D. Jr. duty. I sleep upstairs with the baby in her bassinette (or our bed depending on her moods). Because I am going to bed by 9 or 10 pm at the latest, we are currently not seeing as much of each other as we would like. At some point, we need to establish a “date night” where we take the baby with us and someone looks after D. Jr, but because D. Jr. feels so neglected I think that will have to wait.

I would love to write more, but I simply can’t right now! I found this children’s poem recently and thought it pretty much sums up the second child experience:

Some Things Don't Make Any Sense at All by Judith Viorst
(from If I Were in Charge of the World and Other Worries)

My mom says I'm her sugarplum.

My mom says I'm her lamb.

My mom says I'm completely perfect

Just the way I am.

My mom says I'm a super-special wonderful terrific little guy.

My mom just had another baby.

Why?

A few more girl name possibilities?

2008-04-02T22:03:00.000-07:00

Many of you are familiar with my immense disdain for made-up, uneeq baby names, as well as "kreative spelings" of regular names. Hence, an episode of MadTV actually made me laugh out loud lately (I suppose there IS a first time for everything), specifically the following quote:

JELLY: Lordy now, y’all need to get into your bathtubs. That’s the only place to be safe during a hurricane! Or an earthquake! Or a visit from the priest. See, I got everything I need surrounding me. I got my black Jesus figurine, and pictures of my grandbabies, Fallopia, and Vagisil. I sure do.

I don’t recall Fallopia and Vagisil appearing in any of the Freakonomics’ musings on baby names, but they would fit right in.

Unfortunately, I can’t find video of the Mad TV Skit, just a transcript (how retro!). If you are interested:
http://www.planetmadtv.com/forum/showthread.php?t=5328

And, if you are interested in some of the best baby names ever, go here!

The truth about motherhood? To thine own self be true, but to those small selves be truer

2008-03-30T20:18:00.000-07:00

The Parent Bloggers Network and Discovery Health put forth the following:

“What is it about pregnancy, parenting, and motherhood in general that only a girlfriend will tell you? Tell us what you wished you knew before becoming a mom.”

Writing on “the truth about motherhood” seems similar to tackling the meaning of life, but I thought I would participate by sharing two motherhood truths that I have learned. They are true for me, perhaps for no one else!

My son is 2.5 years old and if I had to do the baby years over again, I would try much harder to trust my own instincts and gut feelings over medical/expert advice, familial advice, books, etc. I am more conscious of this now with my son and hope to “trust myself” much more when it comes to next bundle about to enter our lives.

My second truth is one of those “Boy, I wish someone had told me that ___________.” I would fill in the blank with: EVERYTHING in your life will play second fiddle to your children, especially your work and career. And from my experience and that of the moms I know, this is true no matter how fabulous your career is, no matter how hard you have worked towards it, and no matter how seriously you take your professional life. For those of us that continue to work and that were possibly “superstars” at work before kids, we find ourselves taking sick/vacation days for our kids, rescheduling meetings that we never would have and attending work in a mentally and physically compromised fashion that was hitherto unimaginable! I think those of us that were superstars “before children” are shocked to find that work really and truly does come second to child! And I assume all this is nothing compared to the feelings of the moms I know that found themselves choosing to become stay at home moms, especially those moms who enjoyed their careers and felt strongly about their work lives, but decided to parent full-time instead. The whole “everything else is second fiddle” concept can be hard to explain to those about to embark on parenthood; the work part is just one aspect of it, but one that surprised me and resonated with me a great deal.

If you are interested in reading the “motherhood truths” of mommy bloggers much more clever than me, visit this PBN link for a listing. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll remember to use birth control.

You know it's time to give birth already when . . .

2008-03-25T21:09:00.000-07:00

Today, I misted up over a Lotto 6/49 commercial. GAWD!!!

Where was I when . . . Hurricane Katrina

2008-03-21T16:01:00.000-07:00

A blogger that I really enjoy, Her Bad Mother, participates in a "weekly Friday Flashback coffee klatsch” where bloggers blog on a specific topic. I’m not really sure if anyone can join in, but I think this is a great idea, so I’m participating anyway. It reminds me of the writing exercises from back in the day of my English degree’s creative writing courses. Sometimes it is so helpful to be inspired by a particular topic and I was quite motivated by this week’s topic. Besides, I’m still sorry I didn’t find the time to blog on the topic “OMG [insert band here] like totally changed my life” (in case you’re wondering it was The Split Enz circa 1991 and it’s a long story).

This week’s topic is “Where was I when [insert important global or other event here].” There are several that I recall. I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news about Kurt Cobain, my 20 year old self reeling with sadness and horrified that the company I was with did not care one iota about it. I remember 9/11 so vividly, as I was still at home getting ready for work when my regular TV morning show just ceased mid-sentence and the 9/11 coverage started immediately. I remember going to work (the archival reference desk that I worked at all by myself) and not one soul coming in that day and not having a radio or TV, just internet access, and basically being glued to various websites all day. I remember quitting this same job a few days later because I loathed it so much and had a hard time seeing the point in “hamster on the wheel” in the midst of all the 9/11 coverage. I remember the horrific tsunami of a few years ago and being worried sick about a friend of mine that was living in that part of the world, but not knowing how to contact her from my in-laws’ house! I could write about any of these but Hurricane Katrina and her aftermath really stand out for me, not surprisingly because it makes me think of my last pregnancy, my son and becoming a mother.

When I was last pregnant, I started my maternity leave more than 3 weeks before my due date, which in retrospect was way too early. I need to “keep busy” and I may have been better served by going through the motions at work a bit longer. Nonetheless, the first day I found myself at home – washing baby clothes, lugging myself around and just wanting pregnancy to be over, so this next step could !#$%^* start already – was the day after HK hit the Gulf Coast. This meant that instead of finishing Your Pregnancy Week by Week, attempting prenatal yoga and completing my all-around nesting, I started watching CNN and the other 24 hour news stations CONSTANTLY. It was like an addiction – I just could not stop. My husband actually became concerned and forced me to stop watching each day once he was home from work. I was so moved, horrified, involved and emotional which again, in retrospect, I now realize was due in no small part to my raging hormones and my sensitive state. I am emotional and “a cryer” at the best of times, but pregnancy makes me even more of a disaster. I am in no way suggesting that HK was not “cry-worthy,” I just know that my reaction to the coverage was ten-fold of what it may normally have been.

I spent days crying in front of the TV. I donated hundreds of dollars to various US charities for the first time in my life. I could not understand why there seemed to be no immediate response, ready relief and eventually justice for the many HK victims. I could not comprehend how supposed “banana republics” helped their people significantly better and quicker after the tsunami, than the great US of A did in response to HK. I fell in love with Sean Penn, Kanye West and Spike Lee. I found Anderson Cooper tolerable (note: this has not happened since). I felt insane amounts of anger and frustration. I experienced a small amount of bemusement when Cuba was willing and able to send hundreds of doctors to the US to help out and the US said no thanks. I questioned how nations like Bangladesh were able to send financial aid. But what stands out the most in my mind, was that I started to truly understand motherhood for the first time.

There were stories about women birthing their babies in the midst of all this chaos and horror, only to be promptly separated from their babies. There were stories of mothers of all ages being separated from children of all ages. There were stories of lost and orphaned children. There were stories of children dying. There were scenes from all the various places that displaced people were congregating, showing mothers with babies and young children that were filthy, hungry, dehydrated and distressed. Suddenly it all hit me – what would I do? What can they do? What would you do to save your child? How would you care for or help your child with NO resources whatsoever? I just couldn’t fathom or comprehend any of it, but as I rubbed my huge belly I knew that I would do anything to save my baby and I knew that there was no greater pain or horror imaginable than being separated from or losing your child . . . and I imagine not being able to help, feed, or care for your child is as similar a horror. For some reason, seeing all this unfold on contemporary North American soil resonated with me in a way that the many other horror stories I must have seen on the news in the previous 8 months did not. Before I had my son, somebody told me that you never read the paper or watch the news the same way after you have children. She said that every earthquake, abducted child, etc. impacts you in a way that they just didn’t before. I know this to be true now, but HK was the first time I watched “the news” through my mommy filter.

Shameful, of course, does not even begin to describe the response to this event. My intent here is not to politick or rant and rave or examine why things transpired the way they did. If you want that, I cannot suggest highly enough that you get your hands When The Levees Broke, the extensive and awesome Spike Lee documentary. While you’re at it read, Come Hell or High Water by the brilliant Michael Eric Dyson. No, my small, little intent here is to reflect in a simple way on the humanizing and equalizing effect that these larger than life events can have on us. I am a middle-class, white Canadian in the more northern part of our nation. I have never been to any of the parts of the US that were affected by HK. However, my heart was with all those people that I saw suffering, distressed and disappointed on my TV. My soul was with all those mothers who had not been able to change a diaper in days, find milk, formula, water or a cool, clean place for their children to sleep. My spirits actually soared when I saw women looting stores for food and diapers and clothing. When help finally started to arrive, I started to feel a mental peace that I had not had for days. Months later, when I would check on “the recovery” I retained a feeling of desolation at how little was being done, how much still had to be done, and how those that chose not to leave their hometowns were relegated to a shanty-town existence. But really, the long and the short of it is that due to Hurricane Katrina, I feel like I became a mom, or at least had my first understanding of what it was to be a mom, more than 3 weeks before I gave birth to my son. For me, mommyhood will have always officially started with HK and things have never been the same since.

In addition to HBM, here are some links to other bloggers who also blogged on this topic today (sorry if I missed anyone, I’m not sure how this works exactly):

http://www.sweetney.com/
http://mrs.flinger.us/
http://mamalogues.com/
http://whoorl.com/
http://othejoys.blogspot.com/

FYI: That pregnancy glow is actually a result of embarrassment & humiliation

2008-03-20T20:16:00.001-07:00

As my mat leave fast approaches, I have been given some different (often easier!) duties at work. Recently I have been back in the storytime rotation, conducting unparented storytimes for 3 to 5 year olds. It’s been about 3 years since I’ve done these programs and I’ve been really looking forward to them.

Storytimes are usually much fun and my last one was no exception! The kids were great and I only had about 10 in this session. My book choices were big hits and so were the activities. They seemed rapt and really into it. So imagine my surprise when mid-sentence of one of my read-alouds a little boy yells out to me, “Why are you so fat?”

OK, yes I AM huge and it is all in one spot and I am about to expel a human being, but these are words that no woman wants to hear! Anyway, embracing “the moment” and the natural bluntness and curiosity of children I responded with, “Because I have a baby growing in my tummy.” This resulted in all 10 of them telling me about every pregnant lady and baby in their lives . . . it took me a while to reel them in, but we had quite the conversation.

Two days ago, I had an ultrasound. I am almost 37 weeks along now and the reason for such a late ultrasound is my concern over decreased or little fetal movement. At some point during the US the US tech said something to the effect of “Boy, the baby is really moving.” I said that I was surprised as I did not feel anything. She said “that’s probably because you have a really big placenta” and proceeded to show me the hugeness of my placenta on the monitor. Um, ugh!! On the other hand, at least that mystery is solved – the huge placenta is the reason why I don’t feel April too much. Nonetheless, the whole exchange seemed really weird – it is hard to know what to say in response to finding out you have a preternaturally large placenta of all things. I must admit, though, that I AM looking forward to having a unique response to the next preschooler who inquires as to the cause of my fatitude.

Best Colbert interview ever

2008-03-08T13:35:00.000-08:00

I almost peed my pants at the end of this . . . I am even more in love with SC now.

http://apps.facebook.com/watchcolbert/home.php?date=2008-02-11&segment=5

Viacom are Internet Nazis - not sure how long this link will work as they shut down access.

The name game

2008-03-06T16:04:00.001-08:00

D Sr. and I have been struggling somewhat in choosing a name for our daughter-to-be. We seem to be having a much harder time selecting a girl name than a boy name. Part of the problem is that we don’t agree on too many girl names and part of the problem is that we both want a name that has “cute” options for childhood, but is also a serious and respectable name for our daughter when she is practicing law or neurosurgery. Add into this that we don’t want “too girly, prissy or frilly,” “too common,” or “too weird,” and it just gets out of hand.

When we were selecting boy names it seemed easier because there were not that many that we both liked and we both liked the same names. Even now, if this child turns out to be a boy (there is always that 1% chance!) we only have three possibilities and one more likely than the others: Owen, Jacob and Joseph. We are most partial to Owen, the issue being that apparently my grandmother loathes the name!

So, we are finally down to two name possibilities, which I am not sharing here. However, I thought I would share the ones that were on our final list which we have recently eliminated!

The Names	Why They’re Off the List
Simone	D Sr. thinks it’s “too French.” I like it a lot, but there’s no cute nickname/childhood name. Simmie makes me think of Simian (I want no monkey references for my possibly hairy, Mediterranean-gened daughter). Mona makes me think of Billy Idol.
Jacqueline	D Sr. liked the other names on our list more. I really like it and like “Jacquie,” but conceded that if D Sr. liked other names significantly more, then there was no point.
Yvette	We both like this name but again, perhaps “too French” and perhaps too weird. The only Yvettes I have ever met are in their 50s/60s and live in small-towns, yet I really like this name and like the Eve, Evie nickname possibilities.
Ivy	I think D Sr. would have gone with this name if it weren’t for me. I like it A LOT and I think it is cute and feminine, but can also be a grown-up name. I just can’t shake the “Poison Ivy” connotations – I actually get the song in my head every time I think of Ivy.
Carmen	We both love this name, but agreed it may be too grown up for a little girl and we do not want the nickname “Carma” – we are not hippies.
Adriana	We both love this name and this was almost our pick, but we do not want our daughter to have the nickname possibilities of Anne, Annie, Anna due to D Jr’s name. Danny and Annie . . . gag. Otherwise, I have no problem with Anne, Annie, Anna .

There you have it – it is actually cathartic too have them all listed here. Now that they are out there, there’s no going back and waffling. A final list of two it is!

Follow-ups

2008-02-28T14:35:00.001-08:00

I’ve been out of commission for awhile – healthwise – hence the long absence. A blog post is coming soon about all this, but I thought I would provide a few other updates in the meantime.

We now have our new dog, Lucy! We have had her for about 3 weeks. It’s been a bit of a hard go – she is quiet, reserved and keeps to herself. She is mostly friendly, occasionally aloof, never aggressive or anything. She just does not seem happy here yet and I don’t think she feels comfortable or at home. I hope this changes soon. She is not much of a cuddler or watch dog or playmate, which I also hope changes. The plus side is that her behavior is good and she is “easy” (excellently housetrained!). She is something of an “Anti-Petey” – super easy behavior and demeanor wise, but not too affectionate.

She is possibly the hairiest beast on the planet. She has mostly shed out her winter coat (in great big disgusting clumps!) and is still losing a lot of hair. I hope this is seasonal, as this will require a lot of maintenance if not. My cleaning ladies are not impressed – I feel a surcharge coming on, even if I’m vacuuming and sweeping a great deal inbetween their visits!

Daniel has been in his big boy bed for almost a month and is doing a great. This transition has been ridiculously easy. Potty training, on the other hand, is non-existent – the potty is the Antichrist to him. It terrifies him to sit on it nude and he is only interested in trying to drive his trucks into it and around it.

I am going to be a mother of two in approximately 43 days or less. Um, eek?!

The upcoming Alberta election has us quite engaged as our friend Earl is running in the Premier’s riding and my father-in-law is also running for the Alberta Liberals. I sort of feel like a Kennedy (if they were low-rent and never won anything!).

‘Til next time!

An update

2008-02-04T12:35:00.000-08:00

As I write this D. Jr. is (hopefully, theoretically, supposedly) sleeping in his big boy bed for the first time (nap). So far there has only been one major crying fit and one set of negotiations surrounding taking "My Big Book of Diggers" to bed with him. It feels like the real end of an era, though . . . he is not my baby anymore!

On the dog front . . . we don't have her quite yet! Maybe Thursday night. The hold-up has been that the rescue organization requires a vet to sign off on the dogs before adoption. This includes verifying if they have been spayed or neutered or not (and having the surgery done if not). While it turns out that Lucy was already spayed (pointing to the fact that she was likely someone's pet at some point in her life, as opposed to a lifelong "dump dog" like many of the other animals rescued from the reserve she comes from), she did have some teeth problems. The vet cleaned her teeth and also had to pull a few that were in bad shape (the costs of being a dump dog, I suppose). We've been a bit concerned about this and also that her age has been revised to "3 or 4 years," but we like her so we are doing it. D. Sr. is already talking about the possibility of a second dog later in 2008 - a pup - as Lucy likes other dogs and is used to their company and I think he really wants a dog who will play fetch etc. with him and the kids.

If you are interested, here is the link to the recue organization who saved Lucy and does a lot of good work:

http://www.humaneanimalrescueteam.ca/

I’m in awe of those “being the change”

2008-01-31T15:25:00.000-08:00

We just found out that one of our friends is running for MLA (for the Alberta Liberal Party) in the same riding as Premier Ed Stelmach. That’s right, our friend Earl is running against Steady Eddy!

I’m just so impressed that Earl is willing to put himself out there in true David and Goliath fashion and give this a go. What a daunting undertaking, but certainly one that Earl is capable of. He stands out in my mind as one of the most genuine, honest, “good” people that I have ever met. He is also a brainiac! Most importantly, though, when people speak of Earl the word integrity often comes up . . . people that know Earl, respect Earl.

So, of course we support our friend, but we don’t live in his riding! So, if you or anyone you know happens to vote in the Fort Saskatchewan-Vegreville riding of Alberta, please take some time to learn about Earl’s candidacy and what he brings to the table. His bio and blurb from the Alberta Liberal Party is here.

I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone how to vote (remember, I haven’t been able to consume alcohol for 7 months), but if I were voting in his riding, Earl would have my vote hands-down!

Random thoughts on a Tuesday

2008-01-22T23:21:00.001-08:00

Ever since seeing Stephen Colbert dance to Prince’s “When the Doves Cry” at the Smithsonian, I have to admit that I am a little bit in love. http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x412dv_colberts-prince-dance_fun

Ever since removing a very old Momily post that had a picture of a scantily clad Cher in it, traffic to Momily has been greatly reduced. Apparently, people were only stumbling on Momily when searching for things in Google Images such as “Cher and camel toe.” Humbling!

Our new dog . . . probably

2008-01-21T20:49:00.001-08:00

It's pretty much certain that we are adopting the dog in the pictures below. She is approximately 1-2 years old and is a fairly decent size - 50ish pounds I'd estimate. Her name is Lucy and she is likely some kind of Shepherd, Chow and large terrier cross - a true Heinz 57 either way. Her ears are quite cute in that they are "curled."

We first met her a few weeks ago at an adoption event and she was very well-behaved amongst a crowd of dogs and kids. On Saturday we had her for about 5 hours and she was great - she took to the house fairly well, enjoyed herself outside, asked to be let out to do her business, was good on a walk and was good in the car. She was very friendly with all three Fringers. She seems gentle and even tempered, but of course we will have to be very vigilant about supervision with her and D Jr. . . which has certainly been our biggest concern about introducing a new dog to our family!

Anyway, that is the latest canine update. We may get her as early as Wednesday or Thursday!

Adventures in (acquiring) babysitting

2008-01-03T16:22:00.000-08:00

On New Year’s Eve we had our first paid babysitter for D Jr. It all kind of happened last minute. Some good friends of ours who have been overseas for the better part of the last two years reminded us that their 14 year old daughter, M, is now available for babysitting. We jumped on the chance to hire this young lady so we could attend New Year’s Eve celebrations as a couple (since D Jr. was born New Year’s Eves have been spent at home).

I have to admit I was a bit nervous. With the exception of daycare, D Jr. has never had a babysitter that was not a family member. I wasn’t entirely sure how to “prepare” him and make things as easy for M as possible. I thought we came up with a good plan of action, though.

M came over about an hour before D Jr. went to bed, so we were all able to hang out and give M and D Jr. a chance to know each other. They had only met once or twice before in the recent past – M and her family left Alberta before D Jr. was born! Things went well – M seemed game for an hour of watching monster trucks on TV, playing with trucks, colouring and drawing trucks, etc. After an hour of this great fun, D Sr. and I put D Jr. to bed and waited until he was asleep before departing. I thought this was a pretty foolproof plan that likely only required M to make sure that the house didn’t burn down and, at most, might require a diaper change and a bottle at midnight.

Imagine our surprise then when M called us about 40 minutes after we left the house. The reason? My child puked all over his bed. While Momily readers are well aware that D Jr. is a pro puker, they may be surprised that it has been about 6 months since he last puked! We were all set to leave the party, but M explained that she was only calling to find out where his pajamas and sheets were . . . she did not expect us to come home immediately. She had things under control. She was handling things. My angel was not hysterically crying looking for his parents. He accepted her explanation that we were busy and she was going to take care of him.
Neither of them needed us.

Say what?

I was pretty flabbergasted and pleased and happy and a bit concerned. Could this young woman really be handling things this well? We bet on yes and stayed at the party after assurances from M’s parents that she would be fine and take it in stride. M’s parents also expressed pleasure over the fact that babysitting a puking toddler might just be the best form of birth control out there!

When we got home at around 1am, D Jr. was sound asleep. While I drove M home she said that she is more than happy to babysit for us again. We are more than happy to hire her again – if she can handle puke, everything else will be minor league! It may seem silly, but I feel that having the lovely and capable M on the roster has opened up a whole "new" world of socializing possibilities for us . . . at least until April! Movies, dinners and “name that tune” here we come!!

It’s a . . .

2007-12-29T22:51:00.000-08:00

A few days after the sadness that was Petey passing away, we had our 3D ultrasound.

We found out that the baby to be is a girl. Apparently it is not my destiny to be outnumbered by males in the household.

Our nickname for the baby until she is born is April! This was easy to come up with unlike choosing girl names which is proving to be a real problem!

Below are a few pictures from the 3D ultrasound which was a really amazing experience!

Petey, ? - December 18, 2007

2007-12-19T11:24:00.000-08:00

Last night we made the very difficult decision to put Petey down. When we returned home from work on Tuesday he was in very rough shape and we brought him to the emergency vet at 8pm. It didn't go very well - I guess these things never do, but it was not exactly smooth, etc. I just don't feel like writing about it now, but I thought you would like to know that Petey is gone. Thanks to everyone for help, support and kind words. It has been a long 2 weeks and we are upset, but all in all I think we made the best choice for him. He will be missed; to paraphrase Charlotte - "Some dog."

Woman’s Best Friend

2007-12-15T14:59:00.000-08:00

Well, as some of you know, we’ve been through the wringer with our beloved canine, Petey, lately. About 10 days ago he just very suddenly collapsed and it turns out that he has a pretty aggressive and advanced cancer in his spleen and liver. The vets’ best estimate is that he has a maximum of 2 months left, but probably much shorter than that. The vets also said that there is nothing to be done . . . My opinion of vets is that they tend to see us as walking dollar signs, so when they say there’s nothing to be done, it’s bad news.

We’ve been pretty upset and it seems like it’s been 10 days of up and downs. We thought that we would be putting Petey down today, but he has had a quite a remarkable “bouncing back” lately. We cancelled his euthanization and are taking it day by day, but that is a bit stressful in and of itself. The vets said he will either die very suddenly or it will be lingering and we will have time to “make a decision” – it’s the suddenly part that has me rattled in that every time we return home from an absence I wonder what we’re going to find. For now, though, he’s here and he’s Petey and we’ll take that.

Being pregnant has not made this easier – I feel even more emotional than normal which is saying something. Also having to carry an 80 pound collapsed and uncooperative dog inside from the sub-arctic oudoors in my “delicate condition” was a special treat! You can take the girl out of the farm, but you can’t take the farm out of the girl!

Anyway, in an effort to be positive, I am sharing “6 Things You May Not Have Known About Petey:”

1. Petey’s middle name is Pablo and he goes by Momily’s surname. We gave him the middle name Pablo in honour of this gentleman: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petey_Pablo. We have to admit that while we are whiteys, we do watch BET from time to time and it is there that we first saw Petey Pablo. Petey Pablo’s fledging videos featuring mediocre rap, homegrown handy-cam footage, Rubenesque, booty shaking babes with visible cellulite and stretch marks, and unintentional funniness spoke to us and seemed like a suitable namesake for Petey!

2. Unusual things that Petey has eaten:

On a regular basis: toilet paper, Kleenex, diapers both soiled and clean, Q-tips, dental floss and pretty much anything else that can be found in the bathrooms’ trash cans.
An entire tin of Danish butter cookies and some of the cupcake like wrappers that they come in.
Approximately half a pound of dark chocolate and its paper and foil wrapping.
Two bags of those chocolate foil covered “gold coins” – foil included. He did not eat the mesh bags, however.
Sharp and pointy bones of unknown origin, on a walk (a hefty vet bill ensued).
A few unfortunate stuffed animals.
Tennis balls.
Several granola bars, wrapper and all, which we found in the backyard, um, wrapper and all.
An entire bowl of wrapped candies, wrappers and all, which we found in the backyard, um, wrappers and all.
A few packs of gum that he has successfully stolen from my purse on numerous occasions.
And, last but not least, a dead rodent that he found outside.

3. To date, there are obviously very few things that Petey will not eat. However, there are a few things that he deems inedible for reasons that only the Petey brain can understand. Petey will not eat: banana peels (when he steals bananas off the counter, he somehow peels the bananas before eating them); orange, lemon, etc. peels (again he manages to open the fruit first - he’s no savage!), raw spinach, raw onions, canned dog food from the vet that is pre-medicated.

4. Petey does not play games, fetch, etc., but he has a few playful activities. He will play tug of war with a rawhide, but not with anything else. He also enjoys attempting to mount and hump D Sr., which D. Sr. enjoys significantly less. He occasionally does a bait and chase came when you go outside with him. He also has an ongoing rivalry/game with the magpies that frequent our backyard.

5. Many of our friends and family have lowly opinions of Petey Pablo, Esq. due to some of his behavioral challenges. However, he is lovable and smart and does have a few tricks under his belt such as “shake a paw” and “speak.”

6. Although he has only been with us 2.5 years, it feels much longer and he is truly part of the family. We love him to pieces and have a hard time imagining the house without him. He will be missed, but we are fortunate to have had lots of good times with him and hopefully have a few more ahead of us.

Behold the Amazing Zardoz!

2007-11-30T20:05:00.000-08:00

The highly knowledgeable and creative gals that I work with provided me with some much needed education today. I am apparently lacking in the finer points of Sean Connery's acting career. I had no idea that he starred in a movie called Zardoz, for example, where he apparently spends a great deal of the movie dressed like this:

Apparently the penis is mightier!

You can thank me later for that beautiful image! My new life mission is to spread Zardoz Awareness wherever I go.

Congratulations! It's a . . .

2007-11-12T22:41:00.000-08:00

I had my ultrasound on Friday. We were all set to find out gender, but unfortuantely this child was extremely uncooperative. While it moved its limbs around a little bit, it did not move its body at all. The US technician had me do stuff like "partially" empty my bladder (only women who have had ultrasounds and had the requisite 6 glasses of water beforehand and know the pee pain and discomfort related to this know how impossible and torturous "partially" emptying your bladder is!) in hopes of getting the baby to shift position. No luck. This kid is stubborn. And difficult. Must be a girl!

Anyway, due to this child's position they could tell very little and I will have to go in again at some point. I wasn't too worried until the technician started listing off the things they couldn't tell due to the position: cleft palate, heart defects, etc. After she started listing these things off I have to admit I have been obsessing . . . I can't seem to shake images of babies with cleft palates from my mind.

Anyway, I will keep y'all posted on US updates, gender and all that jazz. I'm strongly considering the 3D ultrasound this time around, as well, especially if I have to wait a long time for a regualr US! If you haven't seen pregnancy 3D ultrasound pics, check out this site: http://www.uc-baby.com/en/index.php I think the images from this procedure would put my mind at ease!

Horrid, er, Happy Halloween!

2007-11-01T13:48:00.000-07:00

Well, Halloween has come and gone and with it more valuable lessons in parenting.

Although D. Jr. is 2.1 years old and although he has technically now enjoyed 3 Halloweens on this planet, this was really his “first” Halloween. Correction – this was his first Halloween where I envisioned trick or treating and costume wearing a la the pages of Good Housekeeping.

Guess again!

Halloween was a “daycare day.” Daycare days generally mean that my kid comes home a bit wired and irritable and is ready for bed a couple of hours earlier than he would be on non-daycare days. I should have known better than to try to have an ideal Happy Halloween on a daycare day, but . . .

I really thought it was doable. I had purposely not sent him in costume to daycare thinking that would be too much for him. I overlooked one very important factor, though. I did not count on him eating a ton of junk at daycare, making him much more wired than he usually is on daycare days. This was compounded by the fact that when we got home, D. Sr. and my bro were already handing out candy to kids, so my kid then enjoyed some home candy as well. He quickly became Mr. Hyde all bent out of shape on sugar and clingy and obsessing about more chocolate.

Well, certainly not ideal, I thought, but at least D. Jr. will be motivated to trick or treat to obtain more candy. I got him dressed and got his costume on top of his winter wear. We got his pumpkin pail and were off with the intent of hitting the houses on our cul-de-sac.

And my kid was terrified the entire time.

We literally had to drag him to the first house – our next-door neighbours. They wanted to see his costume – he wanted nothing to do with them. As soon as they opened the door, he started repeatedly saying “bye” and left.

The second house went down in a similar fashion.

The third house was answered by a very old woman. Daniel started bawling in abject fear of her for some reason. She looked at us like we were all crazy.

The fourth house had a guy sitting out front dressed like the grim reaper. We stood there for about 5 minutes before Daniel retrieved candy with Dad. Then he started crying some more.

At that point it was pretty clear it was all over.

We tried one more time unsuccessfully a few minutes later and then just gave up. I decided that I had made it all about my vision and not my kid. I was somehow disappointed that it wasn’t the way I had envisioned, which I had to admit, really didn’t matter. The reality was that all he wanted to do was go home and play cars. The reality is that he’s 2. As I was debating with myself and my kid and my husband on the sidewalk, “Do you want to go home?’ “Do you want to get some chocolate from this house?” and so on, a lady from one of the houses came out to us with a treat bag. She overheard us through her screen door. She was a sweet, older lady with a delightful Scottish brogue and she put the candy right in D. Jr.’s pail and said “Well, it must all be very scary to the wee ones. It’s no surprise he’s scared, luv. Next year!”

And we promptly went home . . . where in throes of guilt I literally allowed my child to eat himself sick – I ended up cleaning vomit at midnight.

Next year, indeed.

Too funny

2007-10-31T20:14:00.000-07:00

This is amusing . . . and I have nothing else to blog about right now!
Enjoy!
http://15minutelunch.blogspot.com/2007/10/strap-in-shut-up-and-hold-on-were-going.html

Happy 2nd Birthday! Welcome to the ER!

2007-10-08T06:08:00.000-07:00

It is 5 in the morning and I am at least temporarily up due to a horrible cold that has rendered me unable to breath through my nose. And, of course, the joy of pregnancy is that one can’t take anything for a cold that would provide any kind of actual relief . . . if I read about the benefits of Vitamin C, steam and echinacea in my pregnancy books one more time I might scream. I want Sudafed Triple Extra Strength followed by a Nyquil chaser or something! Anyway, I thought I could take this opportunity to share the Fringer Family’s recent expedition to a mediclinic and later an ER in our fair city.

A few days following D Jr’s second birthday, he decided to drive his “Pluto on Wheels” down the stairs. Long-time viewers will remember Pluto from a previous episode of Momily. Fortunately, he only made it down a landing of 3 stairs and I had the baby gate up to block him from surfing down the 15 or so stairs to the basement. Unfortunately, he landed upside down, wedged between the metal of our back door’s doorframe and the dastardly Pluto.

He was very upset and crying a great deal, but having inherited “the right stuff” from his father he basically just shook it off after a few minutes and got back on the horse, er, Pluto. We didn’t think anything of it, and in our defense, this is certainly not the worst that has happened lately as my child has truly morphed into a “boy” lately and does things like regularly jump off furniture, run quickly down hills, fall off slides, go backwards and head first off slides, etc. These stunts usually result in similar falls and crying fits. It really is impossible to be on top of him all the time and protect him all the time and, trust me, the ever-vigilant Momily tries.

The day following his stair surf, we noticed that D Jr was not using his right arm at all. He was not crying or complaining, he just would not use it! He would wince and complain if we touched it, dressed him, etc. but he was not upset. We decided to bring him to our local mediclinic “just in case.” Well, knowing that I am a neurotic mess in medical situations and not being able to be in the same room as an x-ray being pregggers and all, poor D Sr brought him in alone. The end result being that after 3 hours of waiting around and a round of x-rays that apparently traumatized my child, D Jr received a clean bill of health. Each day that passed saw D Jr. stronger so that within a few days he was back to using his right arm and would only occasionally wince when he did things like fall down on it.

Imagine my surprise when 5 days later at 6pm this same mediclinic calls me back to say D Jr’s arm is broken and we need to come in immediately to have it “immobilized.” What the #$%$#%?

By 7pm we all made the trek to the clinic and although D Sr had mentioned that he had previously found this particular establishment sketchy to say the least, I was not prepared for the following interaction. The doctor walks into the room and the first thing he asks us is, “So, where are the x-rays?” What the @#$%#? How the hell should I know? Aren’t they here as the x-ray facility is in the same building? Things went downhill from here as the doctor and staff could not locate the x-rays anywhere, yet still wanted to put a plaster cast on my kid’s arm. Momily and husband of Momily expressed in no uncertain terms that we were going elsewhere, specifically the ER of our university hospital which happens to have an excellent on-site pediatric facility. The doctor said, “Really?” as if this was some kind of crazy decision. When he realized it was for “really” he wrote us a letter of explanation and we were off.

At the university hospital, we waited in the ER for about 2 hours. It felt very weird as our child was running around, wreaking further havoc, etc. Again, to look at this kid you would not think anything was wrong. Unfortunately, to look at the other people in the room you could see that things were very wrong. I saw a gentleman who looked like his residence is normally a bridge or a box roaming around the waiting room very happily . . . wearing one of those hospital-issue paper masks. My neurotic, germophobe self kept thinking, “Are you wearing that to protect you from us or us from you?” followed by “Please don’t breathe anywhere near my precious angel.” Amidst hacks and groans and whiffs of booze (we’re approaching 10 pm by now), we saw very sick babies and sick older kids and happily loads of hand sanitizer which I kept bathing myself and my kid in. Look, I’ve never said I’m easygoing and ever since I saw pictures of monkeypox , well . . .

Anyway, we eventually saw a very competent and nice and trust-inspiring young pediatrician who had our kid quickly x-rayed and showed us that yes, indeed our kid had broken his arm – the ulna to be exact – and it was something called a “green stick” fracture. Because 2 year olds heal quickly and have bones that are different from us decrepit old people, the x-ray showed an amazing rate of calcification/healing in just 5-6 days. He said that he did not see a point in putting a cast on the arm, but that had he seen D Jr 5 days earlier he likely would have put a cast on him then. We left cast-free and relieved and are taking the good doctor’s advice to keep an eye on it and bring him back ASAP at the first sign of anything odd. So far, so good!

Lesson learned: Always go to the best place first even if it seems unnecessary.

Gossip overheard: When I told one of my coworker’s all this she mentioned that her own experience at the mediclinic from hell was as such, “When I noticed that the doctor I was seeing had filthy fingernails I thought, How can I trust you?”

Not having a two year old in a plaster cast: priceless.

BFF!

2007-09-24T21:51:00.000-07:00

You know those emails about friendship etc that are sent out to everybody and that range from innocuous to annoying? Well, normally I don’t go for those sort of things, but this one actually reached me and tickled my (aging) funnybone.

True Friendship: None of that Sissy Crap

Are you tired of those sissy "friendship" poems that always sound good but never actually come close to reality? Well, here is a series of promises that actually speak of true friendship. You will see no cutesy little smiley faces on this card, just the stone cold truth of great friendship.

1. When you are sad I will help you get drunk and plot revenge against the sorry bastard who made you sad.

2. When you are blue I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.

3. When you smile I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in.

4. When you are scared I will rag on you about it every chance I get.

5. When you are worried I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.

6. When you are confused I will use little words.

7. When you are sick, stay the hell away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.

8. When you fall I will point and laugh at your clumsy ass.

This is my oath.... I pledge it to the end. "Why?" you may ask, "because you are my friend."

Send this to 10 of your closest friends, then get depressed because you can only think of 4!

I get knocked down, but I get knocked up again

2007-09-09T13:30:00.000-07:00

Yes, it’s true – I’m 9.5 weeks pregnant. It’s a bit early to be spilling the beans, but I’m hoping it will explain some of my recent behaviour. I wanted to tell everyone individually, but I have been sick as a dog this time for about 6 weeks now which has made me pretty much a homebody spending an inordinate amount of time in bed. I’m barely functioning. I am pretty much nauseous and TIRED all the time and occasionally have a few other very unpleasant symptoms. This is 100% different from my experience with D Jr., where I wasn’t sick a day and felt completely normal. Those few in the very inner sanctum have suggested everything from “it’s definitely a girl” to “twins!” but I’m pretty much convinced that it’s giant, irritable boy.

Anyway, I’m hoping that this all-around YUCK is done in a few weeks, but until then I’ll continue laying low. On the days that I work, I basically pick up D Jr, try to make a supper and crash as soon as D Sr. comes home. It’s pathetic, but you do what you got to do, which in my case right now is very little. So, please don't be too mad at the impersonal en masse reveal!

And have I mentioned how much it sucks to spend the better part of your summer unable to enjoy a beer or glass of wine?! It sure has not motivated me to “get out there” more!

On the other hand, I actually can’t wait for our sweet new baby (I must have amnesia).

Numbers in ordinary time

2007-09-04T11:54:00.000-07:00

D Jr. is learning how to count. He is fascinated by the names of numbers and does not really understand the concept of counting. Nevertheless, he still "counts." As I sit here listening to him through the monitor as he tries to put himself to sleep this is what I hear:

“one, one, one, nine”

“one, two, six, five”

“three, three, three, four”

I’m not sure why but I find this very amusing on an otherwise ordinary day.

Daniel – A glossary

2007-08-06T21:08:00.000-07:00

My main motivation when starting the blog was to chronicle my first years of motherhood and D Jr’s first years on the planet. It was supposed to be something like a baby book – hopefully I’ll have at least paper print-outs of this in 20 years so I can look back on how inexperienced, naïve and obsessive I was circa 2006-07! I am absolutely terrible about taking photos and those that I do take seem destined to live out their lives as jpegs. Those photos that get developed sit in boxes and envelopes and if they are really lucky might find their way into a photo album that is simply photos (no written dates or cutesy hand-written text). Scrapbooking seems like a total waste of time to me (no offense to those devotees out there). The official baby-book that all first-time-moms try to fill out, I kind of did something with for 6 months then stopped altogether. However, I’ve almost always kept a journal or diary, at least during the “pivotal” points in my life (you know, when you’re feeling obsessive, inexperienced and naïve), and I thought the blog would serve a similar purpose.

My blog entries often deviate from motherhood, D. Jr, and my “married with children” issues, but today I was in the mood to chronicle a little bit of what life is like right now with my little boy. Specifically, the language of toddlerhood, or at least my toddler. So, here’s Daniel in his own words.

DAT! = Dad. Almost always exclaimed or yelled. It is important to locate Dad quickly and make various demands from “ba!” to “wok!”

Ba! = bottle.

Wok = walk. A new favourite activity is going for a walk with A-Peet.

A-Peet = Petey, our dog. We’re not sure why, but he calls him A-Peet.

Woof-woof = What A-Peet says. Can also be used as a noun, as in “I see woof-woof.”

Beesy machines = Mighty Machines, a favourite show.

Brum, Bob, Bus, Trains = Some other favourite DVDs.

Cackas! = Crackers, normally of the goldfish variety.

CAKE = cake. Always, said gutterally. Any dessert is CAKE, even ice-cream.

Apo = apple.

Pook = poop. This is a new favourite word. Common usages include “I pook” and “A-peet pook.”

Bas = bath. Best thing to do. Period.

Kuh? = colouring. Always posed as question, “Kuh?” As in, “Dat, can you get me my crayons now?”

Pa = my grandpa, D Jr’s great-grandpa, Opa.

Pa-pa = D Sr’s dad, D Jr’s grandpa.

Onk-l = Uncle. This word was learned this weekend when my brother was visiting.

Antee? ANTEE! =Auntie. Said often and obsessively when my sister is around or when she is wished to be around.

Mota truck, fy truck, dum truck = Various types of trucks -- monster, fire and dump respectively.

Birt = bird.

Hip-ohhh = hippo. Not sure why, but he loves hippos.

Monk = monkey. I call him “Mama’s monk” a lot or “my little monkey.”

Line = lion

‘bra = zebra

Wa = water

Bankie = blankie. Luckily he has several favourites.

Night-night = going to bed. He asks to do this. We’re lucky.

Words D Jr says that actually are more or less phonetically perfect to his mommy’s ears: Mom, dog, cat, meow, phone, chair, sitoutside, sand, slide, swing, tree (okay more like tee), night-night, shirt, pants, socks, sandals, shoes, juice, hot dog, ham, orange, yellow, green (okay more like geen) hot, bug, empty (he loves the word empty!), where, bubbles, dig, all gone, oh oh, crash, stab (thanks Antee) and of course yes, but more often no.

I’m sure there’s so many words that I’m missing. He has such a large vocabulary now and it grows daily. He is starting to use phrases now, too, such as “I see _____” “Where go?” I realize this is kind of a boring, self-indulgent post, but nothing warms my heart more than when Daniel adds a new word to his vocabulary or forms rudimentary sentences, “I see A-Peet pook.” I worry that these are the times that go by in a blink of an eye and suddenly your wonderful baby is an annoying teenager. Perhaps, one day when my son is dressing like a freak and listening to terrible music I can read this and remember him singing along sweetly, earnestly and proudly to “Beesy machines.”

"It's so much fun being one!"

2007-07-30T19:32:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe, but I've been at this blogging thing for one whole year now.

I think it got off to a good start, but it seems to have plateaued now. I post much less frequently than I used to. Comments and readership seem to be a lot lower. However I still really enjoy it, so I don't see any reason to cease now. It's like free, cheap therapy sometimes!

Anyway, thanks to all of you who read and continue to read Momily! It's been interesting . . . and fun . . . and hopefully entertaining!

A very merry unbirthday to me.

Thought of the day

2007-07-26T22:48:00.000-07:00

"It's very hard to be philosophical when it's your kid who's the terror of the ball pit at McDonald's." -- Alyson Schafer, Breaking the Good Mom Myth

Facebook follies

2007-07-21T20:36:00.000-07:00

After a bit of prodding from some friends, I joined Facebook. I have now been on for about 3 weeks and I have to say I just don’t get it.

So far my Facebook friends are actually my real life friends. I haven’t made new friends and there haven’t been any blasts from the past yet (which I have to say I’m very OK with!). So while I communicate with some of my friends on Facebook now, it seems that instead of just firing off an email or responding to blog posts, we just do exactly the same thing but on Facebook.

I have located a few old faces that I’m somewhat curious about. The thing is, though, I’m not curious enough to ask them to “be my friend” or to open up a door that involves the obligation of reconnecting. I’m curious in the way that makes you happy to run into someone on the street, chat animatedly for 15 minutes, exchange phone numbers and never speak again until you next run into each other. So far all I've done on Facebook is lurk on profiles or gawk at photos astonished at the "ageing well" or "ageing badly" spectrum. Again, similar to seeing a blast from the past at the pub one night.

I think I can see how Facebook would be a great thing for single folks, though. It seems to allow for that “non-dating,” trying so hard to appear not interested thing that plagues our generation of singles. It seems like the perfect avenue to follow up with the friend of a friend’s hot buddy that you met at a bar one night . . . and the Facebook profile certainly allows for the “look how cool and interesting I am” factor. There are a million bells and whistles you can add to demonstrate just how savvy and hilarious you are.

So far, the only thing I’m really enjoying about Facebook are some of the bells and whistles which can entail trivia-like games, personality quizzes, etc. – but I can certainly find all this on Web 1.0. I’m also enjoying the fact that I can snoop on my little brother’s social life.

I don’t know – maybe I’m missing the boat here, but it just seems like a lot of hype over email on steroids. I’m curious as to your thoughts!

Hey, kid! Wanna buy a dog? Cheap!

2007-07-09T19:42:00.000-07:00

As I clean up the garbage (for the umpteenth time!) that my dog has strewn across the basement, I have to wonder if anyone else is interested in owning this majestic beast. He is a new designer dog breed, Passat. Passats are half Pointer, half Basset, all dumb-ass. They have the grace and agility of a water buffalo and the intestinal fortitude of a goat. Any takers?

Anyway, after some nagging here are some pics of the new house and one of the aforementioned canine on the auction block. The disclaimer is that I take the worst pictures ever. I'm done apologizing for it - you'll get the gist, but these aren't about to be nominated in a photo contest.

The front:

What I see from my front steps:

The back yard:

Canis moronicus:

The fireplace/living room:

Living room/dining room:

Kitchen:

I can't post all these pics and not have at least one of my favourite son:

That's all for now!

Dog-eating croc!

2007-07-03T20:25:00.001-07:00

OK, who volunteered their dog for this?
http://www.scaryideas.com/print/2889/
Love it!

Life in a nut(so)shell

2007-07-02T22:41:00.000-07:00

We are about 2/3 unpacked in my estimation. Most of upstairs is done. Hardly any of the basement is done. We still have lots of things to do like hang pictures up, etc. which I’m guessing might take months at this point. But the major things are done. In this respect, we’re functional, up and running, insert cliché here.

The moving process SUCKED. We had no ends of problems with everyone from our lawyers to the cable people to the idiots who delivered our washer and dryer. In fact we are still sorting out details with our house sale (2.5 weeks later!) and are still waiting for $2K in funds from our incompetent lawyers. It is all too boring to detail here. Let’s just say I have written a few letters, yelled at many people on the phone and have learned and grown as a bitch, er, human being in the process.

My mother-in-law is recovering at home. My father-in-law is in the Orient for 2 weeks for business. The situation is ridiculous for so many reasons. Unfortunately, I dare not delve into specifics here for fear of being disowned from the other half of the family. I appear to be disowned from my half of the family, again for a story too long and tedious to detail here. I’m really growing and evolving as bitch for so many reasons lately!

Otherwise things are fine, good even. We love our house and the location. D Jr is thriving like crazy. He is hilarious and happy and we feel fortunate all the time. I need to upload lots of photos and have not. What is priceless now is watching him play in our “ghetto sandbox.” I have emptied two bags of the free garden sand that is available in the winter into a big Rubbermaid bin. My child actually sits in the bin - even though he is almost bigger than the bin – and proceeds to dump sand out of the bin and eat a few shovelfuls as well. D Jr also has lots of words and a few phrases now. He progresses and changes so fast all the time – it keeps us on our toes! I keep having to correct myself – “my son,” “my little boy” now replaces “my baby.” He is a little boy and there are very few baby things left about him. Those that are left are all phasing themselves out: fewer bottles, talking about potty training, drinking from a real cup, etc.!

We just found out the great news that my sister-in-law is expecting in January. Great news at a time when there is lots of bad news in their lives. We predict another girl! It seems like almost everyone is pregnant right now - some out in the open and some still under wraps!! We know who you are! I can spot a pregnancy a mile away . . . or spot the noticeably absent wine glass, but I like pretending it’s a gift.

Anyway I think that is it in a nutshell! Shout out to A + J for a fabulous Sunday night! I haven’t partied like it was 1999 in a long time and it was just what I needed!

when it rains it pours

2007-06-07T22:35:00.000-07:00

On the day that we moved we found out that D Sr's mom has bowel/colon cancer. She has had surgery and is recovering but we are still waiting for more information. So, obviously with the move and her being in the hospital for the next while we are beyond busy. Just letting you know why there will be blog and other hiatuses for the next little while.

As for me and my (new) house

2007-05-20T21:30:00.000-07:00

So it’s official! We take possession of our new house on June 4th and hope that all goes well with selling our current home to the new folks for June 7th.

As I type this and look around my surroundings I’m not sure how we will packed and ready to go that quickly.

As for why we are doing this:

We found our dream home! Completely renovated; beautiful kitchen; nice yard; 500 square feet bigger; we face a park! It’s 10 blocks away from our current place so the big things - work commutes, daycares, proximity to family - stay the same. We love this area of our city and jumped on the dream home that isn’t in the ‘burbs. We are 10 minutes from downtown, decent shopping and both have insanely easy and short commutes!

I have wanted to move for awhile. Our house has always felt like my “current house” not my “forever house.” I think the new home is really our forever house . . . at the very least the house we will be in provided that we don’t end up moving to another province or country!

Yes, the market here is insane! So while we are buying in a crazy market, we are also selling in one.

As for what I’m stressed about:

Is this the right thing to do?

$$$$$$$$$

Daniel in a new house/moving Daniel.

Petey in a new house/moving Petey.

Packing.

Lawyers, realtors, bankers, insurance,

Packing.

Moving.

$$$$$$$$$

As for what I’m happy about:

We got more than we asked for re: current home!

I’m getting my dream home!

We are selling our house to one of the 8 black people in this city! Seriously, they may be very well be the only black people in this neighbourhood. This city and especially this neighbourhood ain't exactly as multi-cultural as most big centres. Viva diversity!

So that’s it in a nutshell! A big event for us and I will try to keep all y’all posted and put up some pics soon.

EEK!

2007-05-07T21:58:00.000-07:00

We're buying a house!

Social life and the married mother

2007-05-06T22:18:00.000-07:00

Since having D Jr my social life has taken a major nosedive. It is due to a combination of things (like several members of my main posse moving away from me), but the biggest contributor is that “going out” now requires more planning, a babysitter and all the other stuff I have addressed on the blog before.

For many months I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. But then I decided to take some initiative, recalling all the times in the past that I have lectured single friends about joining a class or somehow getting out there more. I formed a little book club. Not terribly exciting, I know, but for some of us there is nothing better than ripping apart or praising literature and/or film in a group setting. I am a librarian after all!

I recruited a few friends and they recruited some folks and we have about 8-10 people now. It gives me a guaranteed grown-up night out about once a month which is an improvement.

In theory.

Our meetings have been poorly attended (maybe I run a boring/shitty bookclub?!). Due to “life intruding” the meeting that was scheduled last week was cancelled altogether because no one could make it. It seems that it is hard to pick a date that works for all, most or even half of our members. I’m hoping book club rallies, but I fear that it may not.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not mad or anything. I understand that things happen, plans change, etc. etc. But it was kind of a big disappointment for me when this last meeting got cancelled. It got me thinking about how different “social life” is for me now; how little social events hold bigger meaning for me now than they did before I had a kid.

Most of the other people in the book club don’t have kids. If they miss a meeting or have to cancel it’s no big deal. For me, though, a cancelled meeting means that I have missed out on “my grown-up night.” It’s kind of sad and it makes me feel a bit desperate – like, “whoo-hoo, adult company and dinner! I don’t care where or with whom!” However, the truth is that anytime I go out on my own now or the times where D Sr and I go out together, it’s NOT just another night eating out or just another night at the bar. It’s special – and that is both good and bad.

Perhaps, I need to take MORE initiative. If book club folds, I will certainly need to take different initiative. But when a typical week for us looks like:

One night- I work
One night- I get to go out, D Sr parents.
Two nights-D Sr goes out, I parent.
One night- we spend at D’s parents
One night-my family visits
One night- we *maybe* get someone to babysit and “go out” as a couple (this includes things like going to Home Depot without a toddler)
One night – nada or something completely different (i.e. fine family dining at Humpty’s!)

It’s hard to know where to start or what to change.

Creative writing class, anyone?

Eco-friendly, my ass!

2007-04-27T21:37:00.000-07:00

D Sr took the day off today. We planned all kinds of family fun and tried to intersperse a few chores in there. One of the chores was to visit the Eco-Station.

The Eco-Station in our fair city is where one brings things like used computers, electronics, batteries, paint, etc. to be recycled. It also has a ton of huge bins for more “regular” recyclables like plastics, paper, cardboard, etc. Some items that you bring you are charged a fee for and some you are not.

We had quite a bit to recycle - lots of stuff from D Sr’s computer and electronics graveyard and a ton of books that I convinced my grandma to give to me to recycle rather than go straight into the garbage at her place. These books had no intrinsic value whatsoever (you know things like the 25 volume Time-Life encyclopedia set on lawnmowers published in 1964).

When we got to the Eco-Station they took our computers and electronics for free, but actually refused the books unless we ripped all the covers off the 100+ plus hardcover books that were in our van. D Jr was whining and sniveling after a long day, so we were irritated and incredulous. Here we are with over 100 books and they refuse to recycle them. When we told the oh-so useful help that there was no way in hell that we were ripping the covers off all those books she told us “they just have to go in the garbage then.”

What the $%^%$?!

How is this “eco” anything? This is the acceptable environmentally sound response that my tax dollars (yes, my tax dollars – I’ve been a homeowner for 6 years) pay for? The staff at the “Eco-Station” are telling us to dump all this recyclable material directly in the garbage?! Moreover, when they receive stuff like this unsolicited they toss it in the garbage themselves.

In my opinion this is where David Suzuki and all his cohorts completely lose Joe Q. Public.

First, if I want to be a good citizen and recycle dangerous goods like batteries, electronics etc. I have to DRIVE out of my way, on my own time, and possibly pay a fee for the privilege of doing so. I can completely see why people just toss stuff in the trash. My aging grandparents, for example, have never recycled anything in their lives other than of the “reuse” variety. Is it a shock?

Second, for items that are entirely harmless, yet recyclable (books for Christ’s sake!) if I don’t toil over them, they will just get thrown it. Utterly ridiculous.

If it’s not easy, most people are not going to do it. Am I wrong?

If recycling, buying green, and employing green practices in the home remain expensive and inconvenient then people are just not going to buy in.

I care and I want to buy in.

But for some reason, I have over 100 books in the back of our minivan that I’m pretty sure are ending up in a landfill somewhere.

The cutest little pearl

2007-04-22T19:48:00.000-07:00

I’m demented and warped so I found this very funny. I know I won't be alone.

http://funnyordie.com/v1/view_video.php?viewkey=3efbc24c7d2583be6925

Be warned: it takes awhile to load and there are some curse words.

Happy Monday!

Another blog hiatus

2007-04-14T11:07:00.000-07:00

My mom arrives today and will be staying with us for a week. D Sr is going to be gone for 5 of these 7 days and we will be doing a lot of family stuff, so I’m guessing no blog updates for you in the forseeable future!

I don’t have much to rant about – work has me pretty stressed lately, but it’s hard to determine if it’s me or work. We’ve also decided that we are officially “ready” for child number 2 which makes me feel like I need to go out for drinks as often as possible in the near future! It’s good to be forced on the wagon once in awhile, but not for 18 months!

Web tidbits:
For those of you that tend to lean left and have some interest in American politics, you may find the following blog amusing: http://thegallopingbeaver.blogspot.com/2007/04/wolfowitz-wants-to-attack-corruption.html Hard not to love a Canadian blog that writes humourously on both Canadian and US politics and current events!

And for those of you who may be in love with both Morrissey and Jon Stewart (OK, I can only think of one other person besides myself!), you may enjoy the following: http://www.chartattack.com/damn/2004/10/2807.cfm

‘Til sometime in the future . . .

Mama nose best

2007-04-06T14:35:00.000-07:00

I must apologize to all you loyal readers out there for my blog absence. I have been going through a semi-existential crisis along the lines of “I bitch therefore, I am.” Then my Dad was here for 1 week . . . insert witty sarcasm here . . . my favourites being “dysfunction junction,” “the family that hates together, stays together,” and “pack your bags, we’re going on a guilt trip.” Those of you that know me well, know my family is fraught with, um, complex challenges that some may refer to as “fucked up shit.” Those that don’t know me well, now do!

Anyhoo, yesterday I had one of those moments that kind of crystallizes the whole motherhood experience and I’m in the mood to share.

My lovely son was being a terrible two from the moment I picked him up from daycare. It was in that cute way, though, and he wasn’t being unusually difficult or dare-devilish. Then, as he was tearing around the kitchen on his Pluto on wheels (yes, there is such a beast!) he collided with his highchair and started gushing blood from his nose!

I almost fainted – thankful that D Sr was present. I was ready to pack us all off to the hospital, convinced that D Jr’s nose was broken. D Sr said helpful stuff like, “There’s nothing they can do for a broken nose.” What I wanted to hear was, “His nose is not broken! His pristine visage will remain unsullied forevermore.”

Then D Jr puked up all his supper so was now covered in the fabulous blood and puke combo. D Sr decided to run a bath for our injured child in hopes of calming everyone down and clearing away some debris. D Sr’s statement to me that lots of people have broken noses that don’t heal “too crookedly” was little consolation.

Anyway, my child’s nose is not broken. He bled for about 15 minutes, enjoyed his bath and continued wreaking havoc kitchen. After the bleeding stopped, neither his nose nor face swelled up. It was a minor incident after all.

So how, then, was this a definitive motherhood moment for me, you ask?

Well for one it was one of those, “Gulp. This is just the beginning of raising a boy” feelings. His nose is not broken . . . this time. It may be broken at some point in the future and more than likely a limb will be.

Secondly, and I hate to admit this, but as he was bleeding and I was weeping and waiting for his face to swell up and as D Sr was putting our puked and bloodied child into the bathtub, I was actually thinking:

Of what my broken-nosed teenager would look like. Would he be ridiculed and given a nick-name due to his misshapen honker?

Of my broken-nosed son on his wedding day.

And this was all tied into a third aspect . . . that my son would be unhurt if mommy wasn’t too busy reading about Iran and Alanis Morissette’s brilliant strategic moves as of late. If mommy had been more than half-assedly supervising, maybe her sweet angel would be unhurt at this moment and hence, unscarred on his wedding day.

So, it dredged up many things. The most gut-wrenching of these things, though, was that ugly realization that pokes its head up once in awhile – as a parent you often have written your child’s entire future in your head. I have visions and preferences of a popular teenage boy growing into a successful and handsome adult man who marries a wonderful woman and produces grandchildren for me in my twilight years. I know this is ridiculous, but I admit it. At least conversations with the other mothers I know lets me realize that I’m not alone in this.

Of course, I need to find balance between “my vision” of D Jr’s life and what he wants out of his life and I’m sure that this balance is one I will be working at as long as I am breathing. I want to be the kind of parent that supports him in his endeavours and provides opportunities for him that maximize his talents and potentials, whatever they may or may not be, and I know this will be hard work. If he wants to be the most fabulous fashion designer out there I want to think that I will be happy and supportive of him and his sewing classes . . . but I have to admit that the truth is I have a vision and preferences for his adult life already. I feel fortunate in one sense that I am aware of this when he is only 18 months old.

So, sorry to over-analyze (who me?) a day in the life of Momily-hood, but I felt the need to share and vent! I could go on, but I won’t unless your comments spur me to.

Image source: the happy uber-Aryan family is not mine. Pic comes from www.epinions.com.

Spam like not? Delete heaven email your sister!

2007-03-20T19:03:00.000-07:00

I get an inordinate amount of spam email in my work email account. It automatically goes into my deleted items, but I have to wade through it once a day because sometimes real emails go there.

Today was an especially rich day! Here are a few of the opportunities I passed on:

Your loan request approved!

Looking for singles?

High quality replica watches

So carbonium a mineralogy [no idea?!]

Man, listen to me, give yourself 3 inches longer [hmmm . . .]

Expel disgusting fats [yes, finally!]

We can help you to feel better! [really?]

Emmy teen [how about "Emily mom" instead?]

To the militarist [how’d they know?]

Human Growth Hormone

My he shields [always wear your raincoat!]

Sir, your product works like no other [I know]

Sex all day long? You can do this! [really?]

Follower owe organized sedun [but, of course!]

And my personal favourite:

Form slip nudity gays [the sender of this one is “Aniston Fucking”]

Ah, the sweet rhythms of Engrish on an otherwise boring Tuesday!

Mahatma Ghana

2007-03-12T21:51:00.000-07:00

Sometimes watching the news is all the hilarity I need in a day.

This morning I was watching the news and the female cohost presented a piece on a local group of Ghanians and other Africans who threw a party to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Ghana’s independence.

The newscaster kept referring to people from Ghana as Ghandians. I find this hilarious. She said it more than once and it has been with me all day. I keep picturing a bunch of thin, bespectacled, balding folks whooping it up. Perhaps Britney is becoming a Ghandian.

I even acknowledge that Ghandian could be a correct/acceptable term for folks from Ghana, even though the only terms I can find are Ghanian and Ghanaian. However, even if it is correct, it is still the worst word choice ever!!

I strongly suspect, though, that it’s not correct! And, I’m pretty sure that the gal on TV couldn’t tell you the difference between Ghana and Ghandi.

Either way, congratulations to Ghandians everywhere!

brought to you by your friendly neighbourhood librarian

2007-03-10T12:52:00.001-08:00

I wrote another rant to the editor letter - this time to Ed magazine which is a Saturday insert of The Edmonton Journal.

This is the article that pissed me off. It's full-text here because I could not find a URL for it that did not require a subscription.

"A real page-burner: Celebrate the books that others choose to ban" by Elizabeth Withey.

You walk into the library with plans to borrow a bunch of books. The first title on your list is Catcher in the Rye. You search the fiction stacks for the J. D. Salinger classic but can't locate a copy.

"Sorry ma'am," the librarian says when you inquire. "That book is full of foul language. We got rid of it."

You're perplexed. Foul language? Strange, you think, and move on to the second book on your list, Daniel Keyes' Flowers for Algernon. You scour the shelves. No luck.

"Sorry ma'am," the librarian says. "That book was banned. Filthy and immoral. You wouldn't like it, trust me."

Strike two. You're surprised and a little annoyed. Immoral? Says who? You shake off your frustration and start looking for the third item on your list: John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men.
Nada.

"We burned it," the librarian tells you. "Blasphemous and profane. Couldn't possibly have any educational benefit."

Sound ridiculous? Think again. Though all three books are available at the Edmonton Public Library, they have all been challenged in Canada in past years for precisely these reasons.
Today marks the end of Freedom to Read Week, an annual event that encourages Canadians to think about and reaffirm our commitment to intellectual freedom, which is guaranteed us under the Charter of Rights and Freedoms.

People celebrated that freedom across the country. The Stanley A. Milner library held a Banned Books Cafe, where people read aloud from their favourite controversial books.

Don't like it? Tough. Plug your ears.

See, borrowing books from the library is a privilege. And like with any privilege, you must respect the rules. Damage books? Scratch up DVDs? You could lose your membership.
But reading books is not a privilege. It is a right. You and I, as Canadians, may study, skim, peruse and devour any book we wish.

We have the freedom to write what we choose and read what we choose.

It is a right many take for granted.

It is a right we continue to fight for.

Books in libraries and schools across this country continue to be challenged and banned. Award-winning books. Bestselling books. Edgy, contentious books.

In 2002, black parents and teachers in Nova Scotia complained about the use of the word "nigger" in Harper Lee's Pulitzer Prize- winning work To Kill a Mockingbird. They believed the derogatory word could cause black students to be mocked because of racial stereotyping. The book was withdrawn but later restored.

In 2005, a Lethbridge library patron complained about a Freedom to Read week display that included Daddy's Roommate by Michael Willhoite. Their beef? The children's fiction book had a homosexual theme and the complainant believed it was "not a proper role model for children." The book stayed in the library.

Last year, a Catholic school board in Ontario removed David Guterson's Snow Falling on Cedars from the school library and Grade 11 English course after it received an anonymous letter of complaint. Their objection? Sexual content. This year, the book was reviewed and then returned to the library and the English course.

Despite the ongoing complaints and scare tactics by would-be censors, we Canadians are among the lucky. In other nations, and in other periods in time, writers and readers have paid a heftier price. Many have paid the ultimate price: their lives.

Sophie Scholl fought against the Third Reich during the Second World War by helping produce and distribute leaflets for The White Rose, a non-violent resistance movement. Scholl, 21, believed in her right to express her beliefs. And she believed Germans had a right to read her group's ideas.

The Nazis thought otherwise. When Scholl got caught circulating leaflets at the University of Munich, she was arrested and convicted of treason.

They cut off Sophie Scholl's head.

Now, anyone would argue Canada is a free, progressive country. No, we don't put people in the guillotine for passing out political leaflets, or reading Sex by Madonna. But Freedom to Read Week happens for a reason. Defending the right to read is an ongoing fight. We must never quietly acquiesce. We must cherish words.

So milk that library membership. Borrow the most challenged, most divisive books you can think of, if that tickles your fancy. Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. Hitler's Mein Kampf. Alice Walker's The Colour Purple.

Maybe they'll be terrible books. Or maybe they'll be so gripping you'll forget to return them on time.

Hey, compared to the guillotine, late fines are a pretty minor price to pay.

This is my repsonse:

While it was great to see Freedom to Read Week discussed in Elizabeth Withey's ed column ("A real page-burner," March 3, 2007), I would like to address what I felt was a disservice to librarians.

In the fictitious scenarios in the article, Withey portrays librarians as the individuals doing the banning and burning of contentious books. I felt this was a rather unfair depiction. Many librarians advocate aggressively to allow the communities they serve to access all types of literature and information. Book challenges and bans frequently originate from concerned library users. The governing bodies of libraries, be they library boards or school administrations, often make the final decision "to ban or not to ban" which may result in librarians removing materials from their shelves.

From my professional experience in a variety of libraries in the Edmonton area, library staff are rarely the "bad guys" when it comes to banning books. Most of the outstanding library staff that I have worked with over the past 10 years have been passionately anti-censorship. Recently, librarians and other library professionals across North America actively protested against the banning of some of the books nominated for Canadian and American children's literature awards. While some school librarians were certainly on the side of removing the books from their libraries, many librarians favoured leaving the controversial books in their libraries and allowing children and parents to decide for themselves what is or is not appropriate. Most public libraries strive to make the diverse world of opinions and literature accessible to all their users and do not want to decide what is or isn't suitable for everyone.

Anyway, it is in both the print edition and online version of Ed. Even though I included my name with the letter, they didn't which makes the whole anonymous blog posting stuff easy.

Vanity publishing

2007-02-20T16:48:00.000-08:00

I’m supposed to be working on a Power Point presentation (and other stuff) for an in-service that I am providing next week. Ugh!

Small surprise, then, that when I received one of “those” e-mails from a friend recently (“4 things you never knew about me” forward on to all your friends, etc.) I actually took the time to respond to it in an effort to procrastinate and put off power pointing.

Anyway, it was quite interesting to learn some new facts about an old friend and reciprocate the same . . . here are some things that you may not have known about me and probably could care less about (but whatever, I do what I want).

Four jobs that I have had
1. Children's Librarian (best job I have ever had)
2. Reference Archivist
3. Research Assistant
4. nanny (I was 21 and this is the reason I did not have children until 31)
. . . and many grunt labour jobs in rural Alberta (i.e. carrot picking, yes, carrot picking)

Movies that I will watch over and over
1. Ferris Bueller's Day Off (worth it for the "Danke Schoen" scene alone!)
2. The Mission (my one serious choice; but it’s true, I love this movie.)
3. Dodgeball (it’s amazing how a ball to the nuts just doesn’t get old)
4. any Indiana Jones (I am most partial to the last one)
. . . and any Adam Sandler movie as I love him and love potty humour (obviously!) . . . and Breakfast Club (How could I have almost forgotten Breakfast Club?!)

Four places I have lived
1. “big” city, Alberta
2. very small town rural Alberta
3. Karlsruhe, Germany (the scene of the nannyin’!)
4. Laval, Quebec

Four Shows I Love to Watch
1. Ugly Betty
2. Law & Order (not the spin-offs!)
3. CSI (not the spin-offs)
4. The Young & The Restless (yes, I will explain . . . there is going to be an entire blog post about this soon!)
. . .However, nothing on TV is even remotely holding a candle to my old cancelled favourites. I love the Daily Show (Jon Stewart) but never get to watch it anymore. I am also enjoying the Mercer Report quite regularly!

Four places I have been
1. quite a bit of Germany
2. quite a bit of Spain
3. several other parts of Europe
4. lots of Canada
. . . I have been to the US on a very limited basis (and I have to admit that this does not bother me in the least!). I have been to Seattle (loved it!) and rural Vermont which is home to one of the cheesiest attractions I have ever visited.

Four of my favourite foods
1. pasta (pretty much anything!)
2. coffee!!!! (I consider it a food group and an excellent source of water)
3. pizza
4. Indian cuisine

Four places I would like to be right now
1. Not on the way to my in-laws' house!! (because I am often a grumpy, terrible person)
2. having a real night out on the town with my now dispersed girlfriends
3. on a private beach having an uninterrupted nap
4. at the park with D. Jr. in good weather watching him be in complete delight/joy at being swung in a baby swing!!

TMJ Pain

2007-02-17T12:02:00.000-08:00

Well, our Moose Jaw trip went way better than anticipated! While it was not exactly “good times” we got through it unscathed.

Daniel was great on the plane and loved looking out the window during that long period one waits for take off. “Trucks” (a new favourite word of D. Jr.s’) were everywhere (trucks = anything on wheels) which is just about as exciting as it gets.

Airport security was ridiculous as usual, but due to packing next to nothing for carry-on we were fine. Once again the unopened can of formula received way more attention than any of our electronics. The Edmonton security guy happily told me that the formula “passed the test” and quite effusively praised me for D. Jr.’s empty sippy cup. The Regina security guy berated us for our too large Ziploc bag of cosmetics (we had 4 small items in it, but apparently the bag itself was too big). He actually gave us a smaller Ziploc for next time. I find it amazing that a) Edmonton security had no problem at all with the same bag b) airport security somehow hinges on Ziploc bags (that hand lotion might really be an explosive, thank the Lord it’s in a Ziploc).

While I did not get to do anything remotely fun (no shopping at all!) in Sask. I did at least get to enjoy the huge moose again. MJ was VERY cold and the weather sucked overall. That combined with sleep issues meant that we were either attempting sleep or visiting old folks.

Our only setback was when in the middle of our first night there D. Jr. hurled all over me and the hotel room carpet. We had NOTHING to clean it with. We ended up using dish soap, the ice bucket and face cloths . . . I will never be able to use a hotel ice bucket again! I am sure that we are not the first people to employ the ice bucket for “other uses.” Thank God we were able to do laundry at the grandma-in-law’s or we would have had to pack pukey clothes and bedding – uck!!!!

Our hotel room was extremely noisy as we bordered on the elevator shaft. I hardly slept for two days, but that’s what I expected would happen.

As for the old people themselves, they are all doing amazingly well “considering.” D. Jr. was a hit everywhere and only wrought minor havoc in the old folks home. The old folks loved watching him and interacting with him. It was very interesting to watch. Kids just don’t have the same hang-ups that adults do and kids treat everyone the same. I have to admit that old people kind of freak me out especially when there is dementia involved, hearing and language impairments and major physical problems. I do my best to disguise this, but it is hard. As grandpa-in-law suffers from most of the above, as did most of the people in the care facility, the visit was a bit of a stretch for me personally.

However, D. Jr. just went up to every person, tried to get every person to play ball with him and babbled at everyone. One lady in a wheel chair really enjoyed playing ball with D. Jr. I am inspired now to try offering one of my early literacy Library programs at a seniors’ facility . . . I’m just wondering how that “works” with all the germ issues, etc.

Despite our flight home being significantly delayed after we passed security (and there is NOTHING to do in the Regina airport), D. Jr. was once again great on the flight, etc. The only caveat to this is when he flung an empty plastic cup at a poor sleeping guy two rows back. We felt pretty bad at having turned into “those parents,” but D. Jr. is just so fast now that we didn’t see it coming (or going!). We were lucky that the passenger took it all in good humour and were also lucky that D. Jr. was not deemed a terrorist threat at that moment! We were happy to come home (to equally shitty weather) and vowed that if we do the MJ trip again it will definitely be in summer!

On the way to where the air is . . . old

2007-02-08T13:14:00.000-08:00

We are leaving for Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan tomorrow.

Sigh!

Now, don’t get me wrong, Moose Jaw is not much different from any small town in Western Canada (except perhaps for having one of the most unique Canadian place names). However, that’s kind of the problem. I’m going to be trapped in a small, podunk prairie town for a long-weekend.

Why are we going there? Well, D. Sr.’s grandparents live there (in fact all D. Sr. related stock hail from there) and they are doing quite poorly health-wise. These are D. Jr.’s great-grandparents and we are doing the good, sensible thing of having him visit his elders and obtain some good photo opportunities for posterity while we’re at it. So, I suppose I should amend the above, I’m going to be trapped in a small, podunk prairie town with a bunch of 80+ seniors for a long-weekend.

So in an effort to work all this all out in my mind before we leave, here are the pros and cons of visiting MJ.

Marvelous Moose Jaw:

1)We are making some old folks very happy.

2)I will hopefully have a chance to gaze upon the world’s largest moose once again (um, see above). For those that don’t know, I’m obsessed with the large, bizarro roadside attractions that prairie towns have erected and continue to erect for unknown reasons. MJ’s largest moose is indeed formidable and has equally formidable genitalia that are uniquely spray painted each year by high school grads. We have previously enjoyed a bright neon pink nut sack.

3)There is a wonderful little character store in MJ, Yvette Moore’s.

4)There is apparently a wonderful shoe store as well.

5)MJ has underground tunnels that Al Capone (or at the very least his cronies) used to bootleg booze around North America during prohibition (MJ is a major train transit hub).

6)We are staying in the honeymoon suite of the Comfort Inn – I find this hi-larious! I envision a bottle of strawberry flavored Baby Duck in my near future. I’m guessing only D. Jr. will enjoy the jacuzzi tub.

Miserable Moose Jaw:

1)MJ has one of the last remaining Bonanzas. While the kitsch factor is awesome, having to eat

every meal here because the old people are obsessed with it and know the owner is not.

2)Adult diapers, dementia, Murder She Wrote and the “who’s dead” update.

3)The high for the entire time we’re there -20C; the low -30C; the wind chill will make it about -150C.

4)After calling every accommodation in MJ, I established that not a single one has a crib. I doubt D. Jr. will sleep in a playpen, so I am anticipating 2 days of sleep deprivation. Vive la suite honeymoon.

"People who say they sleep like a baby usually don't have one" (L. J. Burke).

2007-02-01T21:01:00.000-08:00

I’m about to finish the better part of a week of solo-parenting. SIGH!

Once again, D. Jr. managed to be sick for my days of solitude. From Saturday to Wednesday, I did not manage to scrimp together more than 3 to 4 hours of sleep a day.

When Daniel was a few months old, I recall more seasoned parents telling me that the whole lack of sleep thing gets easier over time. LIES!! BLATANT LIES!! I think this is just one of the many ploys that parents use to convert others to the tired side. The sleep deprivation thing does not get easier over time. D. Jr. is 16 months old now and for the most part is a pretty champion sleeper (except when he’s sick and puking/awake every few hours). The thing is, he is 16 months old. Yes, I should have a better handle on the no sleep thing by now after 16 months of it. However,

*En route to work on Wednesday I started crying in the car. The cause? The radio morning show was doing a FUNNY segment on “man tears” and what makes men cry. Guys were calling in “confessing” the tear jerkers in their lives. One guy called in and just said “The Littlest Hobo.” Then they started playing the theme song. I started weeping in the car.

*During my morning baby and me program, I almost forgot the words to one of the nursery rhymes I use all the time. This ain’t exactly rocket science, but I just blanked.

*I explained the situation to my boss and she suggested that I go home early (which I did!).

So now the solo parenting gig is about to end. I am actually going to get some amount of sleep tonight (knock on wood) and wonder how all the single parents out there (female and male alike) manage to do this all the time.

Dreamweaver

2007-01-13T20:56:00.000-08:00

Do any of you interpret dreams? I have had two of the weirdest dreams ever lately. . .

Background to Dream I: Recently at work I have had to order a lot of puppets – as in close to $400 worth of finger puppets. So I have had puppets on the brain. However, I like Cuba Gooding and all but would not consider myself a fan or anything. I haven’t seen anything with him in it for a long time.

Dream I: I arrive at work and one of my coworkers (who I’m friendly with) takes me aside to tell me that my boss is really mad at me because I spent $200 on “Cuba Gooding Jr. finger puppets.” She said my boss thinks they’re terrible puppets and that I wasted money and am irresponsible. However, I think the Cuba Gooding Jr puppets are amazing and wonderful. My coworker is tactfully trying to tell me that the puppets suck. I get increasingly frustrated and upset as it becomes clear that no one else at work sees how great the Cuba Gooding Jr. finger puppets are.

Summary: I’m CRAZY!

Background to Dream II: Lately work has felt like an endless series of meetings, training sessions and professional development (most are not by choice!). However, I like my boss, work hard and have never been in trouble at work. Oh yeah, and I'm not attracted to teen boys.

Dream II: My boss announces that we all have to go to a local high school for a professional development session. We have to observe a class and get some information about curriculum changes. I immediately start bitching to coworkers about having to go to this thing, how lame and useless it is and how I don’t have the time. They leave, but I dawdle and get to the school late. When I get there, my boss takes me aside briefly to tell me that she overheard me complaining and is not impressed. She tells me to hurry up and get a seat.

All the seating for “staff” are taken because I’m late. I have to go sit in the back with the students. All the students in my row are male. The classroom resembles a university lecture theatre for some reason. It’s huge and modern and there are a few hundred students. My boss gets up and reminds her staff to use the textbooks she asked us to bring to highlight relevant, corresponding portions. I, of course, forgot to bring the textbook. One of the students next to me volunteers to share his book with me.

The two male students that I’m between are hilarious, bad-asses. I’m laughing it up loudly with them and the teacher and my boss are pissed off. The teacher is male and a bit of an arrogant ass, but he’s funny. We start verbally sparring whenever he calls on my corner. It's all so witty! As all of this is happening one of the students is physically flirting with me (hand on knee, arm around me, etc.). I’m uncomfortable but don’t feel that I can leave. I recall feeling like I’ve become a spectacle and am acting ridiculous, but just don’t care enough to stop or do something different.

Class ends. My boss and I have an argument and I quit in front of everyone. I then quite saucily go up to the teacher and ask him if he needs a classroom volunteer as I now have some time on my hands. He agrees and the boys are grinning at me. I wake up.

Summary: I swear I’m not about to interfere with minors – I’ve always like older men!

R.I.P. Ex Libris Momily

2007-01-06T19:44:00.000-08:00

I just killed the second blog - Ex Libris Momily. I just couldn't devote the time and energy that it needed to actually be a book review site. However, I have an idea for another blog. I'm working on it and will keep you posted!

Post Secret

2007-01-06T19:29:00.000-08:00

I just finished reading a great book - Post Secret: Extraordinary Confessions from Ordinary Lives.

From Amazon:

The instructions were simple, but the results were extraordinary.

"You are invited to anonymously contribute a secret to a group art project. Your secret can be a regret, fear, betrayal, desire, confession, or childhood humiliation. Reveal anything -- as long as it is true and you have never shared it with anyone before. Be brief. Be legible. Be creative."

It all began with an idea Frank Warren had for a community art project. He began handing out postcards to strangers and leaving them in public places -- asking people to write down a secret they had never told anyone and mail it to him, anonymously.

The response was overwhelming. The secrets were both provocative and profound, and the cards themselves were works of art -- carefully and creatively constructed by hand. Addictively compelling, the cards reveal our deepest fears, desires, regrets, and obsessions. Frank calls them "graphic haiku," beautiful, elegant, and small in structure but powerfully emotional.

As Frank began posting the cards on his website, PostSecret took on a life of its own, becoming much more than a simple art project. It has grown into a global phenomenon, exposing our individual aspirations, fantasies, and frailties -- our common humanity.

Every day dozens of postcards still make their way to Frank, with postmarks from around the world, touching on every aspect of human experience. This extraordinary collection brings together the most powerful, personal, and beautifully intimate secrets Frank Warren has received -- and brilliantly illuminates that human emotions can be unique and universal at the same time.

It's interesting, thoughtful, touching -- the kind of book that generates conversation if you leave it lying around. The Post Secret blog is also worth checking out: http://postsecret.blogspot.com/. This is my best new web find in quite awhile!

My AMA rant is in (digital) print . . .

2007-01-02T13:15:00.000-08:00

AMA posted my rant online - you can see it here.

A favourite photo (there's cars in it!):

The Chronicles of Ammonia (-Based Cleansers and the Women Who Use Them)

2006-12-10T11:31:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers,

Some of you may recall my post of some time ago where I chronicled how we went through three different sets of cleaning ladies (and 1 man) in less than 9 months. Some of Momily’s friends suggested that it could be an employer problem (thhppt – it was not! I’m gracious and easy-going at all times). Anyway, I have an update for all y’all on our cleaning lady sitch, as the kids say.

We started with cleaning ladies no. 4 about two months ago and it has been a rousing success. The new arrangement is that 4 ladies show up every second Saturday and I get my house cleaned in 60-90 minutes for $75 total. I’m a bit in love.

The four young women are from the Phillipines. Mildred is the boss (I never thought I would know someone named Mildred!) and she has 3 girls who work with her. They have names like Lou-Lou and Mimi that I can never keep straight. They are kind, competent and hilarious. They joke and chat the whole time and they love my dog and kid.

I guess fourth time’s a charm. I really hope this works out – I bought them small Christmas gifts and everything.

In other cleaning news – we bought a new vacuum. It is the top of the line Dyson. I’m a bit in love with it too.

Sincerely,

A Virgo who is not apologizing about her obsession with tidiness anymore