My inability to keep a secret

Lately Adam and I have been hoping to have another baby. Thus, with baby on the brain, I have the urge to take a pregnancy test every month just before my period arrives. Now those things are darn expensive. I've heard rumours that they can be purchased at the dollar store, but I've yet to find one with a family planning section. Anyway, I found a box at Zellers that came two in a package, so I felt I could test this month AND next month, every time I felt the urge. Well, the second one was a waste, because I took one this Friday morning and it came out PREGGERS.

Now last time I found out I was pregnant, I told everyone I knew three seconds later. All the baby books say to wait three months because before then your baby could disappear and you'd have to tell everyone the pregnancy is cancelled. I obviously don't think that will happen, but there's another drawback to telling people early. That is everyone thinks that you've been pregnant FOREVER. If most people tell at 3 months, then most people only have to wait 7 months for their friends to have a baby (yes, I realize that's 10 months. They lie about the 9 month thing). For this reason, Adam and I decided to wait until after we move, in June.

Secret keeping Day 1: Friday I went to the Early Years Centre and told none of my mommy friends.
Secret keeping Day 2: I hid my prenatal pills because I knew my brother and sister were coming over to babysit, but neglected to close babynames.com where I had been browsing for name ideas. My brother noticed and teased me that I'm pregnant. I totally lied and said I was "naming a character."
Secret keeping Day 3: I went to my inlaws house and didn't tell anybody. Although my mother-in-law would later tell me "I was thinking that you were pregnant. Because you looked different in your face."
Secret keeping Day 4: Today. I talked to my Mom on the phone. She must have asked me "what's new?" six times but I evaded the question easily because she rarely gave me time to answer. Then I went to my parents house for dinner. My appetite was feeling a bit off and I made the mistake of saying so. This prompted my mother to ask "Are you pregnant?" Instead of a quick "no" (which would be the right answer for a secret-keeper) I blushed, and finally admited that, yes, I am pregnant. So 4 days is officially how long I can keep a secret. And now I'm telling the world (because I already told the McNicolls, which is pretty much the same thing).

Just a warning though.... I will be pregnant forever.

Attack of the lobster people

Like the nerdy couple we are, Adam and I occasionally amuse ourselves by writing revolving stories. The revolving story is an exercise for campfires, sixth-grade school assignments and date-nights with hubby. One person starts the story, then the next person continues, then the first person continues that, and so on. Normally this results in a nonsensical poorly-punctuated tale that is only amusing to the writers themselves, but every once in a while one comes up with gems like this:

One day Adam and Jen were relaxing in their condo when suddenly Adam looked out the window and said, “honey, check out that weird light in the sky!”
Jen looked where Adam was pointing and saw a glowing green disk surrounded by 12 evenly-spaced pink lights. The object was coming closer and closer to their condo until it landed in the parking lot below. They turned on the tv to the security channel to see what the security old guys were going to do.. and then Sam a new guard went outside and asked the ship to move as it was not allowed to park there.. but the door to the ship opened and smoke and gas exited from it.. a few steps appeared and a silhouette of someone or something appeared.
It was a woman with a head in the shape of a lobster. The lobster-woman reached out her claws and snapped off Sam’s name tag, then she reached for his nose, but Sam ducked away just in time.
Adam decided he couldn’t just stand by and watch Sam be attacked by the lobster woman. So he made a zip glide out of bedsheets and slid down. Unfortuantely Adam miscalculated how many bedsheets it would take to slide down.. he only used 3 which only reached to the 6th floor.. and he slipped off the end and hit the ground hard.. luckily his Adam’antium coated skelton saved his ass.. (once again) . he got up and ran over to lobster chick and guard guy.. and grabbed the lobster chick by the claw and swung her over the building.. he then ran for cover .. thinking some new fangled weapon would appear..
Unfortunately all this was just a diversion, planned by the lobster minions to distract Adam and Jen while her lobster minions snuck into William’s room and kidnapped him. He was the perfect human baby and they needed the perfect human baby to power their lobstertonian reactor.
The lobster minions looked half lobster, half spider monkey. They stashed William in a special crate and quickly darted him into the ship.. without Jennifer noticing as she was involved in a complicated Japanese game of riddle and puzzle solving.. William screened and cried. And then Jen heard him and she dove out the window.. without a second thought.. well until she was airborn and could think about what she just did.. and just then she disappeared.. Adam saw Jen go poof and thought she must be in league with the lobster people.
He was heartbroken and began wallowing in self-pity. Then he got over it and constructed a spaceship to follow them using his colour television, the voicebox out of one of william’s talking toys, the washing machine, and the bedroom ceiling fan. It was a crude design, only reaching a max of warp 3. the only issue with the new ship was protection from the elements.. so he grabbed some plastic ceran wrap to protect his eyes while traveling. He also grabbed his gps and quickly entered all star charts currently known with his left hand as he was shifting from warp 1,2,3 with his right.. Adam was gaining on them quickly and then made contact and leaped from his ship and grabbed hold of a latch on the alien ship with suction cup hands
Meanwhile, Jen had already infiltrated the Lobster queen’s lair and was looking under her bed for William. She then looked in her closet, which was filled with garlic butter (for an unrelated ritual). That gives me an idea, thought Jen. She heated the garlic butter to the boiling point using a ray gun she found under the bed. Then pored it all over herself in a weird yet attractive.. way similar to a MTV rapper video.. anyways.. she decided she needed a shower as the garlic was getting to her.. but as she went looking for a shower.. the lobster peeps spotted her and rang the “Awoooga” alarm system.. she ran for it.. and was call for William but then remember she could just email William on his new blackberry.. and so she did.. William responded quickly and said that he had gained control of the main computer with his cranial diaper.
Just then Adam came through the window. He came right to where Jen was because he had been weirdly attracted by the garlic butter incident (her plan all along). Then they teamed up and went to central command to meet baby William. Jen still had a container of garlic butter so they could eat any lobster people they happened to kill on the way. As they ran together they tackled one helpless lobster lad and immediately started to rip off his claw arms and dip them in garlic then munch away.. a good hour was spent but they didn’t seem to mind.. thinking to themselves that its healthy to eat meals in regular intervals rather then skip them.. William was getting impatient and new they were depriving him of food and started wailing and bugging the lobster people.. to the point that thet let him loose in the halls just to get a break.. thankfully Adam and Jen had saved William a lobster claw.
When they had all finished eating they left the ship and boarded Adam’s homemade space vessel. “But what about the lobstertonian reactor?” asked Jen. “Surely they’ll come back looking for a way to power it.”
“Fear not mother,” said William. “I destroyed the reactor using a rather potent poopy.”
“Good job!” said Adam. And they traveled back to earth. And stopped in to buy a top of the line very large Plasma television that Jen said Adam could buy if he ever saved there lives.. Adam was pleased and they all lived Happily every after.

The end.

Park Days

Recently all the snow melted to be replaced by the beautiful sunny-but-not-too-hot weather of spring. So William and I have been spending a lot of time in the park near our house. William could care less about the playground itself (although he does enjoy an occasional slide, and sometimes a swing). Mostly he loves running in the field, and playing in the dirt.

By "playing" I of course mean, eating, digging, poking with sticks, and lying on his stomach doing the breaststroke. I've tried to prevent at least the eating, to no avail. Anyway he has such a good time, who am I to be a killjoy?

Evolution: A Jenterpretation

I thought I'd take time away from my baby-blogging to do a post on evolution. It's a pretty cool theory (by theory, I of course mean absolutely true facts that are uncontested by people who know their science stuff).

Every living thing on Earth is part of the same family: the germs in your body, the grass on your lawn, George Bush, everything. Creatures that are the most different from us (like the mold growing in the fridge) are distant cousins of ours, while primates (they have opposable thumbs, we have opposable thumbs, we're practically the same animal) are our closest relatives.

Natural selection is the part of evolution that explains why some traits get passed on and some don't. To explain: Say you have a family of monkeys that live in a jungle where there are ferocious beasts that want to eat them.
Bobo the monkey has flexible feet that make it a lot easier to climb trees, so he climbs the tree, has ten kids who can all climb trees too and they all live happily in the tree.
Al the monkey can't climb trees but he's super intelligent and can outwit all the beasties, he also has ten brainy kids.
Bo the monkey can run really fast, but he can only carry two baby monkeys while he runs, so only 2 of his kids live.
Dumbo the monkey is an idiotic slowpoke who can't climb trees. He does have a big wart on his left foot, but that doesn't help so Dumbo gets eaten before he can have any kids. Not all mutations are useful, you see.

Meanwhile, the beasties eat all the Dumbos, and some of the Bo-offspring. But they're still hungry. Some of them learn to climb trees, some of them get smart enough to catch Al and his family, some of them start running as fast as Bo. In other words, the monkeys evolve to get away from the beasties, and the beasties evolve to catch the monkeys. Keeping in mind that the beasties and the monkeys (and the trees) are cousins.

Now you might be thinking, but Jen, we shouldn't eat our cousins! Unfortunately we need to eat at least some living things to survive (bummer), but as highly evolved Al-monkeys we've developed many different philosophies to help us deal with the squimishness of having to eat our cousins:
Some people have decided that they'll only eat our very distant relatives, no mammals, no birds, and in some cases, no fish. They have eyes, we have eyes, they're practically human.
Some people have opted to pretend that plants and animals aren't our family members at all, and have instead invented elaborate mythology about Earth and humans being the centre of the universe.
Some people (and this is my personal favourite) get other people to kill and harvest our cousins for us, so they come in fancy packaging, with eyes removed, and they don't look very alive anymore.

Despite the required gruesomeness, I'm glad we're all related. I think our family is pretty darn amazing, don't you?

International Tag is Back

Some of you may not know that in addition to this mildly popular Super Happy Blog, I also co-blog on Jen and Carol's International Photo Tag. The premise of which (taken directly from the header of that site) is:

"Canadian Jen posts a picture, then Scottish Carol posts a picture of the same thing (only Scottish). Then Carol posts a pic of something else, then Jen posts a pic of the same thing (only Canadian). And one day, with luck, we'll have a photo blog that compares Burlington, Ontario, Canada with Glasgow, Scotland in some interesting way."

Why am I mentioning this now? Well back in November I posted a pic of Burlington's population sign. Well, Glasgow doesn't have a population sign, and Carol took her time snapping a pic of the equivalent: the "Welcome to Glasgow" city sign (something about her having to risk life and limb on a busy highway, er, I mean, motorway). Anyway it took five months, but she did it!

So anyone who's keen on seeing a pic of a Scottish city sign (as well as many other pics comparing Burlington, Ontario with Glasgow Scotland), click here now.

Ten Reasons Why My Nephew is Awesome

I babysat my six-year-old (seven in May) nephew Hunter today, and he's awesome. Here are ten of the many many reasons (in no particular order):

1. I actually have sort-of adult conversations with him (only with more jumping around and light-saber miming). Like our debate about which is better Star Trek or Star Wars. I know, no contest, but Hunter actually believes that Star Wars is the superior series. (He's so young).
2. When I ask him what happen in school today, he actually told me. ("Do you want the good news, or the bad news?") He had gymnastics, which he loves. Also, another kid accidently hurt Hunter's ear while they were playing.
3. When he told me he had "just one thing" to do before we left the park, that one thing was rolling down a big hill, an activity I wholeheartedly endorse.
4. He totally understands when I sometimes have to stop in the middle of a conversation to chase William down a hill or prevent him from eating sand.
5. He didn't get angry at all when William messed up his sand-sculpture of the Star Wars ship ("the one that Padmé fell out of").
6. When I asked Hunter if he liked spaghetti, he replied "I like pretty much everything."
7. He's totally amazing with William. Both of them get big smiles on their faces when they see eachother. And when I had to go into the kitchen, William didn't scream for a change, because Hunter was entertaining him and feeding him a cookie.
8. I can play eye-spy with Hunter. And it's actually challenging for me.
9. We can play videogames together, and he'll totally pause it right away when it's time to eat, or time to go home.
10. I never have to worry that he's going to eat or choke on something bizarre because, unlike William, Hunter doesn't pull random objects out of the muck and put them in his mouth.

Thoughts from a Super Happy Mind

I was making a package of Mr. Noodle the other day, and it reminded me of a snacking fad that happened in my school around grade seven or eight. We would crush the Mr. Noodle in the package, open it up, sprinkle the seasoning on it, and then eat the seasoned raw pasta as if it were chips. Everyone thought this was a super genius idea. For some reason, I'm not tempted to try it now.

William was wearing his brown and white striped onsie and cargo pants today. Adam put on his cargo pants too, and I said, to Adam, "Wouldn't it be great if you had a brown and white striped shirt to match?" Well my husband thought that would be too hard to find. But later, we we were at Old Navy and found a men's T-shirt with the exact same stripes. Unfortunately, William dirtied his onsie at lunch, but I'm washing it now. This is just too cute to pass up.

Yesterday I went Karaokeing with my brother and Eireann (my best friend and future sister-in-law maybe one day). I made my theme 80s Halloween hits and sung "Thriller" and "Ghostbusters". For some reason my brother, much to the amusement of everyone, enjoys songs that were meant to be sung by women and treated us to "Wouldn't it be Loverly" and Carrie Underwood's "Before he Cheats". Eireann did a rather nice rendition of "Walk this Way." The highlight of the evening was when a slurring drunk guy sang "paradise by the dashboard light" with the Canadian Idol contending karaoke hostess belting out the girl parts. I just love Karaoke.

My husband has just informed me that he heard on the radio that Charlton Heston has passed away. I wonder if anyone thought to take his gun from his cold dead hands.

Yesterday we went to William's friend's first birthday party. If you ever get the chance, I recommend attending a party where most of the guests are under the age of two. Out of all the highly expensive-looking toys and activites, William liked the bubbles the best. Reminded me of that line from "Knocked-up" about kids and bubbles. Apeshit, I think was the term. So true.

Dreaming of Omi, and a Pilgrim in a Field

I had a dream last night that had my grandmother in it. In real life, Omi has Alzheimer's. When she moved into a nursing home, my husband and I took over her condo. In a few months, my brother will buy the condo and we're moving into a house.

In the dream, Omi was back to her old self. She didn't have Alzheimer's, at least not to the degree she has now. My Mom and Omi and I were shopping at Zellers, in the mall across the street from our place. We were looking at toys and Omi said "See? It's fun living across the street from Zellers." I told her that Zellers and I have a love-hate relationship and began ranting, as I often do in real life, about how they never seem to restock their shelves. As we continued out of the toys, into an overly large glassware section, we wondered if that was a trick to keep prices low, not having enough staff to restock shelves.

The cash registers were outdoors in a field of tall grass and the man in front of me was dressed like a pilgrim. I overheard his conversation with the cashier (also dressed in old fashioned clothes). Apparently, the pilgrim had been kicked out of his previous village for reading a controversial book. He was trying to explain to the cashier that he didn't agree with the book's ideas, he had simply read it, then later read a review to see what other people thought of it. He said something about what his neighbours had done to him, but all I remember is that he used the word crucified. Take that dream analyzers!

I told my husband about the dream when I woke up. He said "if Omi didn't have Alzheimer's then we wouldn't be living across the street from Zellers." As if that was the weirdest thing about the dream.

Anyway. It's time for me to get my family all together, because we're going to a birthday party for one of William's Early Years Centre friends. Happy Birthday Fynn!

Super Happy Fan

On Saturday we ran into my friend Kate at Zellers. Kate and I went to Ryerson together for magazine publishing, and ever since then both she and her Mom have been avid Super Happy Blog readers. I find it odd whenever this blog appeals to anyone who is not a blood relation, but Kate behaved as if she were running into a celebrity, even pulling out her camera to get a picture of us. I should also give a shout out to Kate's Mom, whom I've never met, but enjoys reading the super happy details of my super happy life . Hi Kate's Mom!

Now that I'm famous enough to have been spotted in the mall, I think it's high time I started merchandising. So all you super happy fans can get some super happy stuff through my cafepress page (previously reserved for atheist apparel). There's a journal pictured below but you can also get t-shirts, bags, and even thong undies.

No, I'm not expecting these designs to be popular, and yes, this is more for my amusement than anything else. In any case, you can buy and browse HERE. Also note, because I'm too lazy for price adjustment, I make the same amount whether something is sold for $10 or $30.

William's First Haircut

This morning William underwent a procedure known as a "haircut" in which his unkempt baby hair is surgically removed, to be replaced by a grown-up little man do.

To give this event the proper fanfare, we went to a place called Melonhead, a children's salon which looks more like a toy store than a barbershop. Indeed, they do sell toys, and William had us purchase a planet-Earth bouncy ball to commemorate the occasion. The Melonheaders also gave us a certificate with a lock of hair to put in his baby book.

Seeing him with his little man hair fills me with all kinds of cuddly sad mommy feelings. Where did my baby go?

Our House, in the middle of what will soon be our street

Well no sooner had our offer been rejected for that other house when Basha sent us another listing. It's a bit more expensive, but still "in our price range" and holy Laforge is it ever gorgeous. If you look closely at the pic, you'll note the fancy bay windows and the über-expensive-looking front door. Well the inside's even nicer, all done up in a sort of rustic look (in a good way, not in an "it's so old an falling apart it's rustic" way). Someone poured their heart into decorating this place, someone with far more time, money, and decorating skills than I. Plus, there's an above-ground pool (or, more accurately, a mound of snow in the shape of a pool).

So we put an offer in. (Our second time bidding on a house in two days). And, this time, we won! Let the poverty begin!

So close and yet, so houseless

Our realestate agent/friend of the family, Basha (Barbara to non-Polish people) has been sending us Burlington listings "in our price range". (By "in our price range" I mean that we'd be incredibly house-poor and have to give up some luxuries, but would have enough to scrape together enough money to own the house in 40 years). So yesterday we got sent a listing of a cute, 3-bedroom, one-floor semi at a ridiculously low price, well, ridiculously low for Burlington anyway.

We immediately arranged to see it and were surprised to find that, despite it's reasonable price, the house was not falling apart at the seams (although the several of the doors on the main level had what might have been fist holes in them, and the basement was a half-way done construction project). There were also fun features like a ramp leading up to the front door (very stroller friendly) and a My-Big-Fat-Greek-Weddingish proximity to my parents' house.

Right away we made an offer. Even though the house had only been listed for a day (it didn't even have a for sale sign up yet), five other people had already looked at the place and there was one other offer already on the table. So we sat down with our agent and made our offer as juicy as possible, offering a few thousand over asking price, letting the seller keep all their appliances, and even omitting any conditions about selling our place first (though we left enough time in the closing to offset that).

So Basha went off with her boxing gloves on and came back with the news that they wanted us to close the deal way earlier, like April. This being March, we couldn't be sure that we could sell our place in time, so instead we tried throwing another couple thousand at them (hey, it's the bank's money anyway right?) But, alas, these people were apparently in a huge hurry to get rid of their house and they didn't bite. So now we're stuck in our condo until another miracle listing comes along and someone else is moving into our house!

House Browsing

Every once in a while, my husband and I amuse ourselves by pretending that we can afford a house. Not just any house, mind you, I have standards:

1) The house must have at least one more bedroom than we have now. Moving into a place that is the same size as our condo just seems redundant. Also, William will one day need a sibling and that kid will want her or his own bedroom. (hypothetical children are so demanding!)

2) The house must be in Burlington. Sure, I know we can afford a house in Nunavut for six bucks and change, but then I'd have to learn a whole new city. I have such a bad sense of direction that even a quaint inuit village would be intimidating for me to navigate. I'll stick to the place I've lived since I was six, thank you very much. The housing is more, but both my parents and inlaws live here, so we'll save a bundle on babysitters.

3) The house must be just slightly less expensive than the cheapest house in Burlington. And without condo fees.

We've been eyeballing a few properties and even went to the bank this afternoon for a reality check/mortgage consultation. If we buy a house/any deals fall through, I'll post more details, but I'm pretty sure it's a bad carma to tell the entire internet which houses you're looking at. You have to pretend you're not really interested or they'll jack up the price. (I guess, but what do I know about buying and selling realestate? The only place I ever bought was off of my alzeimerish grandmother. Plus I always, always, lose at monopoly).

Just for fun, I looked up the most expensive house listed in Burlington. They're asking 8.5 million, but perhaps we can lowball them?

It's my dream to be part of a bad sci fi (literally)

I've been meaning to post this orangutan pic that I took at the zoo on Monday.  I like it because the bizarre reflections ended up looking like a badly done photoshop collage.  Anyway dreams are really just bad mental collages so I felt this photo was appropriate for this entry (even though it really has nothing to do with anything).

Long time readers of this blog will know that I used to regularly post my dreams.  Only lately I haven't dreamt anything (probably because that would require more consecutive hours of sleep).  Last night, though, I had a doozy.  Here (because I know everyone cares) it is:

The setting: a spaceship (I think).  In fact I only saw two rooms, one was reminiscent of the Next Gen Enterprise engineering section (minus the warpcore), the other somewhat like my parents' bedroom.

I arrived on the ship only to find it taken over by badies.  I also met two android women who were good guys.  One of the androids was wearing a strapless red gown and had her blond hair in an updo (don't remember what the other one looked like).  Because I was somehow related to whoever created these women, the formally dressed android looked "exactly like me" (I put that in quotes because in the dream I thought she was my double but, now that I think back, she didn't resemble me in the slightest).  

To fool the badies I pretended to be an android.  I was wearing my winter jacket (obviously, because I just got there) and I had to hold it closed because my clothes would somehow give away that I was human.  At one point the badie leader saw me and my "double" together and I said, in my best android voice, "I am the first, she is the second" as way of explaining why there were two of us.

The androids and I went "upstairs" to the parents' bedroom section of the ship to search for the item the badies wanted.  I had to pee, so I went to the washroom.  While there I found a fur shawl that I decided was much more android-like than my jacket so I put it on.  As I was adjusting the fur in front of the mirror I noticed that my face was covered in zits.  I was nervous now, thinking that my breakout would give away that I'm not an android.

Anyway I was about to sit on the toilet when the phone rang (yes, in the washroom).  There were two phones, both high on a shelf, one was an early-90s-style cordless with a retractable antenna that I remembered was there so that Stephanie could use the phone (Steph is my friend's sister who is in a wheel chair).  Anyway, I answered the cordless so I could chat while I peed.  

It was my Mom.  I told her about my predicament.  She showed some concern, but more "I burnt tonight's dinner" concern, rather than "my daughter is in mortal danger" concern.  Not that I blame her, the badies reminded me of those in the bad Knight Rider TV movie we watched last night: even though they would kill people at the drop of a hat, they weren't scary in the slightest.

And then I woke up, because I really did have to pee.

Happy Birthday Mr. William!

William's first birthday celebration went off without a hitch. I was ambitious enough to invite the family over and ambitious enough to make sushi (for extra impressiveness), though not ambitious enough to have a party with kids (yes, people do have birthday parties for one year olds).

Special thanks to all who were in attendance (in alphabetical order by relation to William):

Auntie Eireann

Auntie Julie

Babcia

Daddy

DziaDzio

Mommy (yes, I'm thanking myself. I made the cake for Spock's sake!)

Omi

Opa

Uncle Craig

Pierogi Lasagna and cake were enjoyed by all, especially the birthday boy. And we stayed up until way past bedtime playing with all his new toys (and some of his old ones, he didn't descriminate).

Since I didn't invite any of William's peers over, I was quite glad that the big day fell on a Friday. As everyone who's anyone knows, Friday is baby drop-in day at the Early Years Centre, so we got to see all his friends (including his girlfriends). Plus, everyone sang Happy Birthday to William during circle time.

We've got a climber

Today William defied all attempts at baby-proofing once again by demonstrating his ability to climb onto the couch without assistance. This sort of accomplishment is hillarious to a baby and terrifying to a mother. William stands up there giggling gleefully and no doubt thinking: this is great, now I can throw toys behind the couch, plus I have a new and exciting place to hide the tv remote. While I'm thinking: Careful! Careful! Don't fall!

This new development also means that the small group of endtables, strategically surrounding Lokai the Guinea Pig's cage, is no longer a deterrent and William can climb up, use Lokai's food dish as a sandbox, attempt to feed him small plastic toys, pull fur, and otherwise torment my smaller, furrier, more neglected son.

Now that Mr. William is asleep, I'm wondering if he can climb out of his crib too. And if he can, will I have to buy him a big boy bed? And if I do, will my condo ever be baby-proofed enough to have a climber wander around in the middle of the night unsupervised? I was just telling my Mom today how unproductive worry is, but I think it comes with being a mother.

And my husband is working late during an ice storm. The excitement never ends.

THE BUG

Friday: William and I went to the Early Years Centre, where there were more babies than I ever remember seeing in one place. We had a fabulous time, however, this is no doubt how William picked up THE BUG.

Saturday: William woke up with a surprise for us (liquid explosives) all over his sleeper, bedsheet, and blanket. Thinking that this was the result of something he ate, or some other quirk of his baby digestive system, we opted not to cancel our trip to Port Hope for my cousin Dylan's 3rd birthday. While there, William was in good spirits despite a lack of appetite and many more explosions.

Sunday: On the advice of a TeleHealth nurse we began feeding William Pedialyte, a yummy juice designed to keep him hydrated (I assume it's yummy because it's the only thing he'll take in right now). In addition to not eating solids, he started refusing breastmilk and biting my nipples instead (ouch!). That afternoon I felt nauseous, and promptly puked up lunch (twice) and went to bed a 7 pm, skipping dinner. Without breastmilk, William is nearly impossible to get to sleep so I let Adam handle that. By 9pm Adam had contracted THE BUG and was emptying himself out both ends.

Monday: That brings us to today. Adam is home from work and has been sleeping most of the day. I don't feel nauseous anymore but I have barely enough energy to type. I just had to report on this as a warning to all that the Filipowicz household is under quaranteen. Do not approach if you value your tummy.

65-year-old Rude Woman on the Loose!

Today one of William's Early Years Centre girlfriends, Brooke, and her Mom, Kate, walked part of the way home with us after baby drop-in. William and Brooke's strollers took up the width of the sidewalk. Well Kate and I were chatting when suddenly we had an encounter with what I like to call a RUDE WOMAN. Here's how it went down:

RW: Do you think it's okay for me to walk in the snow when I'm sixty-five years of age?
Me (stares blankly at the woman, then at the barely an inch of already well trodden on snow to the left of the sidewalk. I should also note that sixty-five really doesn't seem that old to me when there are centegenarians living in my building.)
K: No...
RW: Well then...(points at strollers)
We scooch over. She leaves in a huff, no doubt feeling vindicated that she told us ne'er-do-well young mums a thing or two.

Here's how it should have gone down:

RW: Do you think it's okay for me to walk in the snow when I'm sixty-five years of age?
Me: Yes. Now, do you think it's okay to go around lecturing perfect strangers about courtesy when you're not even polite enough to say excuse me?
RW leaves in a huff, no doubt feeling pretty stupid to have acted so rudely. Or maybe not. Actually it's probably a good thing I kept my mouth shut.

How it really, really, should have gone down:

RW: Excuse me, please.
Me: Of course.
K: Not a problem.
Both of us scooch over and the lady leaves and noone writes a blog entry about how rude she is.

In other news, if anyone is curious what I've made so far in clay class. I made a coil dish with the star trek symbol as the base. Somehow this ended up looking quite vaginal, which wasn't my intention. Though it made me think of one of my university drawing teachers, who might have been a lesbian, and who always seemed to enjoy when a shape resembled a vagina.

Clay Time Fun Begins Tonight

For Christmas, my extra wonderful loving husband, signed us both up for a pottery and clay building course at the Burlington Art Centre. As a University of Toronto art and art history graduate, I've taken many an art course, and as a child growing up in Burlington, I've taken many a clay course at the BAC (though in my youth it was called the Cultural Centre). To date, however, I have yet to take an art course at the BAC with my loving husband. Should be extra fun.

My goal for this course is to create something so fabulous that I will keep it around for at least 15 years, breaking the records set by the heart-shaped smiley face jewlery box which I made in grade eight (and still use), and the clay elephant above our fireplace that I made in grade nine.

Later this week, on Wednesday to be exact, I'm going to my writers' group for the first time since before Christmas, so I've been busy reading all the stuff my colleagues have written over the break. Everyone seems to have had an explosion of creativity, even though most of them have real day jobs. Unfortunately, my own novel is dawdling along. I hate when writing is hard.

In other news Adam and I have finally taken down our Christmas tree. So the holidays are officially over.

Christmas in Review

It seems I haven't posted since last year, before most of the Christmas craziness began. Now it's the new year and my brain has already rotted away from playing all the new video games Santa brought us. So instead of using words I show you pictures. Okie Dokey?

(In no particular order)

There won't be snow in Africa this Christmas but... we saw this rhino enjoying the snow on boxing day. The zoo decided to change it's "Free on Boxing Day" policy to a "Half-price on Boxing Day" policy. We foiled their plan to charge us money though, by bringing the zoo passes that my parents got us for Christmas. Our friends Chris and Lisa came all the way from Ottawa to join the fun (unfortunately they had to pay).


When we got together just after Christmas, William and Aedan actually played together instead of existing in the same room with each other. Aedan has gotten so tall but, as you can see, William can still beat him up.


Here's a shot of William walking.



William and I opening presents at my in-laws' house on Christmas eve. Notice how William is tastefully showing his midrift? Very difficult to do when one is wearing a button-down dress shirt. Luckily William is only wearing the top half of a button-down dress shirt, with a vest sewn onto it. I swear, some baby clothing is so weird. Looks good though.

A slightly out of focus pic of our Christmas tree. The ornaments kind of migrated to the top to stay out of baby-reach.

This is what happens whenever someone tries to take William's picture. I swear we have about a million photos of him trying to grab the camera or simply giving the "ooo! I want that!" look. He takes after his Daddy.

Anyway it's late and my husband says it's my bedtime. Happy New Year!

The Magic Sleeper Loses Its Magic

A little while ago, my husband and I noticed that when we "accidentally" put William to sleep in his ski jacket, he would stay asleep way longer than in his pjs. This realization corresponded with my parents giving us a one-piece Santa Eskimo outfit, really meant to be a snowsuit but more cuddly and sleep-appropriate than the jacket. It was immediately dubbed the "magic sleeper" and William wore it to bed, and slept through the night, ever since.

Happy ending? Well, no. The magic sleeper's effect is wearing off, it seems. Last few nights William has gotten up once or twice. No biggie, just a quick nurse and a change and he goes back down. Then there's last night:

3:15* am: William wakes up crying. Babies have various different types of cries to indicate different moods and desires. This one was across between a gym-teacher's whistle and the scream of a movie heroine in a horror flick. It is usually used to indicate...um..well...teething? I don't know, I'm not a baby whisperer.

3:15- 3:30 am: I nurse him and he's quiet until I put him back in the crib, then the shrieking resumes.

3:30 am: Tag team Adam. Adam changes William's diaper.

3:45 am: more nursing. No effect.

4 am: Adam gives William some baby Advil, you know, for the teething.

4:20 am: Adam gives William some gripe water. You know, in case he's gasy.

4:25 am: I bring William into bed with us. My husband and I immediately decide that was a bad idea. I rock him and sing to him (with little result) and put him back in his crib.

4:30 am-4:40 am: William's shrieks gradually subside to a nice steady waa waa, the kind that might be recorded by Mattel if they were making a doll.

5 am: William is no longer crying. Asleep?

8:15 am: William wakes up for the day, cheerful as ever, with no mention of the previous night's crankiness. I guess he wants to let bygones be bygones.


*All times are approximate.

Christmas Cheer

As you can see, our second attempt at meeting Santa didn't go much better than the first. This time William didn't wait until he got on Santa's knee to cry, he began as soon as he saw him. I guess the imposter at the Burlington Mall left him traumatized. (The things we do to torture our children). Anyway at least we got a picture. And the Mapleview Mall Santa was much nicer. Although he thought William was a girl. Isn't Santa supposed to have a sixth sense about these sorts of things? I guess he hasn't checked the naughty/nice list for this year to see the new additions.

Not without help

I'd like to thank everyone who made our trip to Toronto possible today:

• -Everyone on the GO Train to and from Union station, who smiled at William, marvelled at his cuteness, and entertained him when he got squirrelly. Good luck to the girl we met who is seven months pregnant. Most of the time they're angels, really.
• -The Ryerson University bookstore. For offering a student discount so enticing that it's worth sending your wife and child all the way to the big city. And for making it a rule that only I, as a student, can purchase software in the store. I just want to say for the record, that that Adobe Suite is for me, and totally not for my graphic designer husband who needs it for work.
• -All the people who helped me carry the stroller up and down the stairs when Toronto's wheelchair access system failed us.
• -The man who showed me how to use the elevator in the underground. You have to hold the button. Who comes up with this stuff?
• -The trio of friendly Torontonians who guided us to Union Station when we got hopelessly lost in the underground path.
• -The Employees of the Saturn dealership for welcoming us in and letting me have a hot chocolate, even though I made it abundantly clear that I have no interest in purchasing a car.
• -John, who works at Saturn who helped me carry the stroller over the snow banks that blocked the sidewalk outside the Saturn dealership. I know you would have helped me all the way home, if given the opportunity.
• -And finally to William, for being such a trooper, and only crying for about a third of the trip.

Not the Real Santa

Now that we have a baby, it's mandatory that we aquire the customary "baby on Santa's knee" photo. This is an account of attempt #1.

Adam was shocked and hurt when I even suggested that I take our son to see the Big Man in Red during the day when a)it wasn't that crowded and b)William was more likely to be in a good mood. I want to go too, said he.

So today when Adam got home from work, I suggested we give it a shot. I called the Burlington Mall across the street to make sure Kris Kringle was on duty (he was). So we weeded through William's onsies and found the perfect Christmas outfit (by "perfect" I mean clean), put him in his nice red winter jacket, in his nice red stroller, and braved the dampish night.

Twas around six thirty when we arrived at Santa's Getaway, the modest cottage adorned with stuffed animals and garlands located just outside the Bay, but it was empty. The women (elves?) working Santa's camera and cash register informed us that Good Ol' St Nick would be on break for about 20 minutes. Not feeding his reindeer mind you, on break. The man who can deliver all the gifts to all the children in the world in one night, was on break.

So we took a brief stroller stroll around the mall, purchasing some cute outfits at Old Navy and some bandaids at Shoppers for this wicked blister that I have on my heel. But I digress. Anyway, by the end of our stroll, Mr. William was asleep. So asleep in fact that Adam and I were able to enjoy Cinnabons in peace, before once again trying to snag a pic with Father Christmas.

We returned to Santa's Getaway with our groggy child. Christmas Man had a child on each knee. Adam and I perused the photo package and waited. I greeted Santa and told him that we had come while he was on break and William had fallen asleep while we waited. No response. Not smile, no Ho Ho Ho. Least jovial Claus ever.

I placed my son on Papa Noel's bony knee. Now William's usually pretty good with strangers, but Cranky Claus insisted on holding him rigidly facing outward, instead of allowing him to choose a comfortable position on his lap. That, added to the fact that William was tired having just woken up, equaled wailing baby. The elf/girl/photographer gave me some bells for William to hold and we smiled and made faces to get him to stop crying. Santa made no attempt to cheer William up.

I rescued my son and he settled down immediately, he even smiled for the elf-girl. We let the one other family in line go ahead. William played with the bells some more and seemed over his traumatic experience. We tried again.

Again Santa was rigid and unjovial. Again William wailed. So we gave up. Anyway who wants their picture taken with an old fuddy duddy masquerading as Santa?

I consider myself a Santa Claus agnostic. The question of whether or not a portly man in a sled can really deliver all the worlds' presents in one night is essentially unanswerable. However, one thing I can say for certain: this was not the real Santa.

Perhaps He works at the Mapleview Mall.

William's First Steps

William has been using a walker for quite some time to strengthen his leg muscles for the big day when he would take his first unassisted steps. A slight shuffle forward wasn't enough, our criteria ("our" being my husband's) was that William had to take at least three steps in a row to warrant any milestone marking.

Well today he did it. Hooray.

To be honest I expected more fanfare. I mean first steps! That's like the milestone of babyhood. But it's not as if he just stood up one day and walked with no warning. For weeks we've been saying (we being the collective we that includes extended family, friends, and random strangers met at the Early Years Centre) that William would walk any day. Today is any day. Baby mobility is all a gradual progression, which in William's case went something like this:

1. Roll over front to back
2. Roll over back to front
3. Get up on all fours
4. Rock back and forth on all fours
5. Lunge oneself forward on all fours
6. Crawl backwards
7. Crawl forewards
8. Stand in crib
9. Crawl like a pro
10. Stand with the aid of furniture
11. Let go of furniture to stand unassisted
12. Use a walker, laundry basket, kitchen chair, or other slidable item to "walk"
13. Stand up without needing furniture to pull up.
14. Stand unnassisted while waving both hands.
15. Attempt to shuffle forward, but fall on bum.
16. Shuffle forward one step.
17. Shuffle forward two steps, but using the same foot.
18. Shuffle forward two steps, one foot then the other.
19. Three steps = walking

Oh, and for those of you who aren't counting, William is 9 months old as of Nov 15th.

William Signs "Light"

For those of you looking for more evidence of my son's genius status: William recently learned to sign the word "light". This sign involves reaching upward towards the light in question and opening and enclosing your hand.

Unlike previous signs, which may have been random gestures or flukes, even my husband, ever the doubting Adam, has admitted that this appeared to be a genuine sign. It seems clear that William is on the road to becoming the first infant University graduate.

William's First Halloween

I went trick-or-treating tonight for the first time in ten years (yes, I trick-or-treated until I was 18) and this time there were no "Aren't you a little old for this?" comments. Sweet! Babies can be quite useful in scoring free candy.

The pictures above were taken at the Ontario Early Years Centre near my house. It was a Halloween party there today. Kind of exactly the same stuff went on as any other day, except all the kids were dressed up. For those of you who can't tell because the disguise is so clever, William is the one dressed as a dinosaur/lizard/Godzilla-thing. His best friend Aedan is the lion.

Girl's Night Out. (and why we should always bring a male with us)

The following is a transcript of the interaction we had at the end of the night after the one male we had in our group left for the night:

Nearly deserted Lion's Head Pup in Hamilton, INT. Approximately 2 am. Four women, V, B, A, and ME, sitting around the table. None of us are drunk enough for the encounter that is about to take place.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: Hey ladies, I hope you don't mind me asking but how old are you ladies?

V,B,A and Me go around the table and stupidly give our real ages (all between 26 and 28).

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: (seemingly pleased that we are legal): The reason I ask is that my friend and I think you ladies are very attractive.

V,B,A and Me giggle nervously

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: (indicates scraggly friend): This here's Pirate Man. You seen that Pirate's of the Carribean? Well this here's the Pirate of the Carribean. This here's Johnny Depp.

JOHNNY DEPP does bad drunken pirate impression.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING:: You girls wanna dance?

A: It's not really that type of atmosphere. Nothing personal.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: Nothing sexual. We just want you girls to have a good time. (pats ME on shoulder) I feel like you girls are like my daughters. I'm just dear ol' dad here.

V,B and ME loudly compare wedding rings. A unfortunately doesn't have one.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: (reaches across the table and grabs A's hand): You especially, your beauty just penetrates.

A: Penetrates what?

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: Any you girls wanna dance?

A: As I said before, not really that type of bar.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: Nothin sexual just making sure you girl's have a good time. Say I never got your names.

V,B,A and ME go around the table and stupidly give our real names.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: That's okay I understand if you don't give your real names. I'm Howard the Duck and this here's Johnny Depp, the Pirate of the Carribean.

Me: Howard the Duck? That's an obscure reference.

B: I was a just a kid when that movie came out.

V: Yeah, that's kind of before our time.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: Say, can I ask you, can I ask you ladies. Any of you wanna dance?

B: I don't like this music.

V: No thank you.

A: No.

ME: We really don't want to dance!

JOHNNY DEPP: Nothin' sexual.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: (inches closer to me on bench, I move away, he inches closer again) We ain't trying to pick you's up, we just want you ladies to have a good time.

ME: You go ahead and dance. Don't let us stop you.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING and JOHNNY DEPP get up and do a weird homo-erotic chicken dance around the bar. CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING makes a point of flexing his muscles.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: They're alot smaller than when I was young. We're old men compared to you girls.

V, B, A, and ME nod our heads in agreement.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING sits down again and squeezes my thigh.

I look away and pretend I don't notice. Attempt to shake him off by crossing my legs.

CREEPY DRUNK 40-SOMETHING: Aren't you girl's pleased to have met Johnny Depp this evening.

JOHNNY DEPP tries to hold V's hand.

A: Well it's getting late.

ME: Yes! Let's go!

V (stands): Nice to meet you guys, bye.

V,B,A and ME leave quickly, rush to the parking lot and drive off. As we're passing the bar on our way home, we see the creepy guys are out on the sidewalk, looking for us. Thankfully, we made it to our vehicle just in time to avoid further harassment.

Other than that it was a fun night. Note: When bar-hopping in Hamilton, always bring a male chaperone.

William Pooed on the Potty!

My goal of producing a baby genius has officially been realized. 8 and a half months old and he pooed in the potty. Why would an eight month old be on a potty in the first place you ask? Well I read recently about "Elimination Communication" aka "Infant Toilet Training" aka "Natural Infant Hygiene", etc. Basically, teaching babies to use the potty from birth. William is considered a "late-starter".

I have an article to write for my magazine writing class, so I've been pursuing this potty thing, half-seriously, as part of my "research". I've been giving him naked-time and cooing "pee-pee" every time he makes a puddle on the floor (which is quite often). Well yesterday I decided we were ready for phase 2, so I bought him a little potty that's low enough to the ground that he can crawl off it if he wants (so as to avoid undo pressure and resulting psychological damage). Well he crawled up to me and I thought, maybe he wants to poo, so I put him on the potty and he went right away! The first day I bought the thing.

And yes, I admit the possibility that this was a fluke. I'm not the tree-hugging hippy you no doubt believe me to be at this point. I still think my baby is a genius though.

Update: it's not a fluke! He pooed on the potty again this morning!

Excuses, Excuses

It's been almost a month hasn't it? There are several reasons (aka excuses) for my absenteeism on this blog. If you would indulge me in a bulleted list:

• My baby crawls. As you might imagine, crawling baby requires much more attention than a stationary, sitting baby, who is fascinated by his own toes. My son is especially talented at testing the limits of baby proofing, using baby radar to detect the most unstable piece of furniture is the room and using sofisticated acrobatic techniques to stand up, vigorously shake the item, and creatively bump his head.
• My writing brain is being used up by school work for an advanced writing course I'm taking. Yes, this is the same course that was cancelled while I was pregnant, and I'm just crazy enough to think that I have time for "investigative reporting"
• The other thing my writing class has done is given me the eroneous impression that every word I write is worth money. One dollar to be precise. That means I've already wasted thousands of dollars that some poor schmuck may have paid me for.
• Every time I think I have the time to do anything for myself, William wakes up from his nap

Taking our Scottish Friends to the Zoo.

Those of you who know us (and/or have been reading this blog more than a couple months), know that my husband and I are big zoo nuts. We'll find any excuse to go to the zoo, including (but not limited to):

1. It's Boxing Day so admission is free.
2. It's winter, so it's totally not crowded.
3. It's summer, so the weather's nice.
4. One of us has recently purchased a new camera.
5. We are entertaining our Scottish friends for the day.

Today we used excuse #5 and picked Carol and Derek up at their hotel for a day of zooriffic fun. Here are some photos for your viewing pleasure:

Welcome to Canada Carol and Derek!

Yesterday Mr. William spent the day hanging out with his Omi, while I went to Toronto and played tourist with Scottish Carol and her husband Derek. Now I know Toronto just about as well as the next Burlingtonian (or less) so I really wasn't much of a guide. I took them to 401 Richmond (where the art galleries are, one of my fave Toronto destinations especially since it doesn't cost anything) and we spent most of the day wandering the streets. Carol says the city is "very clean" but I think that has more to do with the fact that it was so sunny yesterday that everything seemed to be shining. I hope we have this nice weather the whole two weeks they're here, then Carol and Derek can tell the folks back home in Scotland that Canada is the perfect tropical destination. Incidentally I learned that Scotland really doesn't have fire hydrants, who knew?

In other news, my son has been kind enough to share his cold germs with me, so last night I had a hard time getting to sleep as my nose was running like Niagara Falls on speed. When I finally got to sleep (because my nostrils stopped dripping and just clogged themselves) my darling husband woke me up to offer me nasal spray. It seems my predicament caused me to "make weird noises" that prevented my hubby from sleeping.

William the Video Star

Fame and Fortune Here I Come!

When I came home from my camping trip, I went downstairs to check the mail and found the box full of professional writery things. Well, two writery things and junk mail. The first was a cheque paying me for an article I wrote for Today's Parent Toronto (isn't it great when the cheque is actually in the mail?)

The other, more super exciting, thing was a letter from Sumach Press. They're putting out an anthology about mothers and daughters and body image. As part of my goal of becoming a serious professional author person, I'd written and submitted a semi-autobiographical story about bra-shopping with my mother (though I changed the names to protect the innocent). Well they accepted it. They loved it. Finally having both ginormous breasts and a louder than life mother has paid off! (I love you Mom).

Now that I'm a professional fiction author, I spent the day doing writerly things. And by that I mean we went to the Eden Mills Writers' Festival. For those who don't know, the Eden Mills Writers' Festival is a writers' festival held every year in the small town of Eden Mills (maybe that was self-explanatory). Anyway it involves spending the whole day listening to authors read and (in my case) showing my baby off to all my mom's friends and colleagues. Every year it's super hot and there's no shade and we almost die. Well this year it was super cold and rainy and we almost died. But I had a good time anyway.

William's first camping trip extravaganza

We're back from our camping trip a few days early but it wasn't for lack of good times had. We managed five days of sleeping in a tent in the woods with a baby, without freezing him to death or giving him West Nile Virus. We had perfect bug weather. I got about as many bug bites the whole time we were there as I usually get on one trail!


Speaking of trails, William even hiked a few (riding in the snuggly of course). With the number of guide books he digested he could probably tell you all kinds of fun trivia about glacier lakes and bog ecology. After the above photo was taken, Adam found a wasp's nest in the middle of the trail and got stung. He's okay. Luckily Mr. William and I were far enough away that we avoided the wasps. I liked the Bog Trail the best. It was all boardwalk, wheel chair accessible so we could even take the stroller.


The chipmunk gets the prize for the most ferocious animal in Algonquin park. Now I don't normally use the word ferocious when talking about chipmunks, but these guys wouldn't take no for an answer. One of them jumped on my arm, another climbed up Adam's leg, and another (maybe the same one) jumped in our trunk and ate our trail mix. The rule about keeping your food in your vehicle doesn't really work if the animals are in the car. Other animals seen on the trip: wood peckers, robins, bluejays, rabbit, mouse, crows, ravens, various other birdies, raccoons, frogs, grasshoppers, moths, dragonflies, sunfish, human beings, and...


Squirrels! This squirrel was almost as bold as the chippies, and what a ham. Here he is posing for a picture.

So there you have it. Algonquin Park Camping Extravaganza 2007 was a success!

William stands.

Today I awoke from a sleepless night (okay, not completely sleepless, there must have been some sleep I just don't recall when) and found William standing up in his crib. He's been perfecting this trick for a while, grabbing things, pulling himself up on things, falling down. But this morning he was not only standing, but dancing, his pride showing through that big gummy smile of success.

Later this morning, while William was "napping" I heard a kind of banging noise coming from his bedroom. That is not the sound of an asleep baby, thought I, and went to investigate. William had yanked down his mobile (I probably should have taken that down a while ago but, no worries, he did it for me). The mini bears were strewn about like the unfortunate victims of a Godzilla attack.

Every day William shows another sign of grown-upedness, so now he's ready for his first camping trip. By "camping" I mean bringing large quantities of junk food into the woods and trying to prepare it over an open flame. That's what the boys and me will be doing from Sunday to Sunday. My parents took me camping when I was an infant, so it can't be that hard right?

Three Generations of Filipowicz Boys

We were at my in-laws' for dinner today and my mother-in-law took this picture. You can see that there are strong genes in this family. Strong, handsome, square-headed, Polish genes. William is looking to the right because I was there, making faces and singing "William, William, what a nice name..." Intergenerational photos are fun, aren't they?

In other news, there is a big wet spot on the carpet under Adam's computer desk and we have no idea how it got there. Something leaked, but what? It's not near the wall really and it definitely didn't come from the ceiling. Perhaps some gremlins peed there. Adam told security and filled out a form. Someone will check it out on Wednesday (by check it out I mean they'll get the form, I don't actually know if anyone will check anything out). Adam tidied the bedroom in case.

Someone bought a t-shirt!

This one.

That's right, your chance to be the first to own an original atheistinthecloset.com design has passed. But never fear, there are plenty of designs that noone has ordered yet! (Including the "I Believe in Cookies" shirt. That one is classic).

On a completely unrelated note, check out my son in his new polar bear sleeper. Can you believe it's cold enough in August to wear this thing?

We have a mortgage! (and a floating baby and a business)

We have signed both mine and my husband's souls over to the bank, along with our life savings, just for the pleasure of paying more money for the condo we already live in! This is a big deal because not only will we get some equity (which I think is bank-talk for magic fairy dust), but it means we have fulfilled all my previous mental requirements to consider myself "a grown-up":

• a)grown-ups get married (check)


• b)grown-ups have kids (check)


• c)grown-ups have a mortgage (check)

Yikes! I'm going to have to come up with new criteria. Like, perhaps I need a real job before I truly mature. This journey into adulthood seems unsafe....like maybe I should be wearing a life jacket...

Speaking of life jackets (and really forced segues), William wore a life jacket at water babies today, look at him all cute:

In case you're wondering, no I am not naked in this picture, that is a strapless bathing suit. Anyway, notice how I'm not holding William at all? He can swim ALL BY HIMSELF.

In other news, I would like to end this blog entry with a shameless plug for mine and my husband's new online t-shirt business, which I have doubts will ever make any money. But if you happen to not believe in God, and want to advertise that fact on a t-shirt, go to: atheistinthecloset.com . In the closet....because we sell t-shirts...which you store in your closet...get it? Anyway there are nine super-cool designs so far. Some of them I think are cute even if you're not an atheist. So throw us a couple bucks will you? We have a mortgage for Spock's sake!

William Eats Cereal!

It's official. My baby boy is all grown up! Look at him taking the spoon like a pro (pros can be messy eaters, right?) Anyway, he had a big helping of booby for dessert, so there are no worries yet about him going off on his own and not needing Mommy (although this is the beginning of the slippery slope toward independence).

Law and Order: Special Empress Unit

When William and I got back from Mother Goose class this afternoon we saw five police cars parked in front of our building (by "we" I mean the royal we, William was asleep and didn't see anything). I asked our security guard why we had a sudden need for the squadron of law enforcement vehicles, but he didn't know.

I rode the elevator with two officers, both of them sporting bulletproof vests and packing heat (that's cop lingo meaning they had guns). I asked them why they were here and they said "we're looking for a missing person."

A missing person eh? A missing serial murderer/rapist who preys on innocent condo residents? I locked my door just in case. Anyway, in the unlikely event that any of those cops are reading this: Good luck in your search.

Future Olympian

Adam can't always get off work on time to take us to water babies swimming lessons, so my parents help out. Here's my Mom (aka Omi) with William in the changeroom. I love the rolls of baby fat on his chest.

:
And here William is way too interested in looking at the pool to waste time on more photos


Here he's smiling because I just told him that he is the best swimmer in the whole class (in my unbiased opinion). Well, to tell you the truth, I really wasn't looking at the other babies, but William can kick and everything. He's advanced, I tell you.


Let's use this photo to compare mother and child. I think he's starting to look a little like me. Same-shaped eyes, similarly-shaped nose, both wearing a goofy expression.

Yes, all these people are with us. From left to right: William's Daddy, Auntie Eireann, Uncle Craig, Omi, cousin Hunter. My dad (Opa) was also there (he took the picture). William is a novelty right now and thus my family's favourite source of entertainment.

William Signs "Doggie"

As part of my ongoing quest to create a child genius, I've been teaching William baby sign language for a while now (by "teaching" I of course mean waving my hands around like a mad woman while he giggles and drools). Today I was at my parents' house, and my dad was playing with Morty the Jackapoo, and William was on my lap watching them. And he made the sign for doggie.

Now, to be fair, "doggie" isn't one of those signs that involves contorting your arms and fingers in a bizarre way. It's a simple slap of the knee with open palm (as if you're calling a dog) and is the type of gesture that William (and I assume every baby) makes randomly when happy and excited. But this time he did it over and over while watching a dog play.

Adam wasn't there at the time, but William was kind enough to repeat the sign for him later when I was telling the story. My hubby needs more convincing before he will "consider" that William's first sign.

But I'm the Mommy, so I say William signs "doggie" and is clearly a baby genius.

Baby's ready, Mom needs weaning

In two weeks it will be August 15th, William's 6-month birthday. This is significant because 6-months is when Health Canada recommends introducing babies to solid foods (the term "solid" is used very loosely, as baby food is often quite liquidly and mushy). I'm the first to admit that this 6-month mark is hardly set in stone and I know plenty of women who started their children on "solids" at 5-months, and even 4 months, with no ill results. And William has shown himself to be advanced in other areas, so there's no reason to believe he isn't ready right now. I, on the other hand, need to be weaned to this idea of my son eating food.

So far, I have done the following things to wean myself:

• I bought a box of rice cereal, the recommended first food to introduce because almost noone is allergic to it. Now my husband teases me almost every day saying "Let's feed William some of that cereal." Nooooo! NOT YET!
• I put him in his high chair when I am eating so that he can "get used to it".
• I feed him his vitamin drops with a spoon. In theory, by the time he gets to real food he'll be a spoon pro and I'll have no problems. Actually, he already takes the spoon like a pro and really doesn't need any practice.
• Today Adam fed William some water with the spoon, and I made no protest.

If all goes well, I should be ready for solid foods by the 15th.

William says Mama

Yesterday, as I was feeding my five-month-old son, he looked up at me and said "Mama". He did it again while we were playing, looked right at me and said "Mama." His cries now tend to sound like "Ma! mamamamamama."

I admit, these "Mama"s are usually followed by a string of "Ga Ga Ga Ba Wa Goo Grrrngg" and other noises that could be interpreted to mean any word in the English language (or any other language for that matter). So whether or not William actually knows the meaning of the word "Mama" or whether he is just exercising his vocal cords is unclear.

I, of course, choose to believe that he says "Mama" because he loves his Mommy. It makes me feel all happy and cuddly inside.

Toasta17 versus the General

My dream of playing the villain in a science fiction movie has finally been realized! This is 2nd time I've voiced "The General" in one of my brother's Space Craig movies. I like this one the best so far because I get to be evil and drive a cool ship.

Graco deeply and sincerely apologizes

Hello Jennifer,

Thank you for taking the time to email us with your concern. Firstly, I deeply apologize for any inconvenience you have experienced in this matter. I have shipped you (express post) a battery for your monitor, it will be there within 4 business days.

What, just a battery? Not a life time supply of free stuff? Not a free university education for my son? Well, at least she deeply apologizes. That's something. No, wait, it's not.

In regards to why the second agent did not know why your unit was being picked up, simply put it was not her file. Her task was open the packages to ship you the replacement part you were waiting for and then to give the defective part back to the original agent. It is up to your original agent to forward the defective product to the appropriate person or department for testing.

That's all very well and good, but if opening and sending mail was this associate's only job, why did it take her two months to get around to my package? And then why did she neglect to send me a battery?

Once again I sincerely apologize for the trouble you were experiencing, and I wish to thank you for your time in this matter.

Heather Somethingorother

You are not welcome Heather McBeather!

Graco: the saga continues

Regular visitors to this blog may remember the incident of the exploding monitor and my subsequent e-mail correspondance to Graco customer care. For a recap, you can read about it here and here. Well the speedy little elves at Graco finally got around to mailing me a monitor. Of course by "speedy" I mean "slower than the thought processes of a neandrathal" and by "a monitor" I mean only the parent unit and without the battery! Sigh. Back to the e-mail I go:

Dear Graco Customer Care,

In May I e-mailed you regarding my Imonitor Digital Baby Monitor (2791DIG). The battery had overloaded and melted, destroying the parent unit. An associate named Allan Correia (service 3030) sent a prompt reply, promising me a new monitor if I sent in defective one for your "inspection". Your company even sent me postage so I didn't have to mail it in on my dime.

That was the end of my pleasant experience with Graco service. Nearly two months later, an associate (who did not give her name) called to tell me that they were finally mailing me a new parent unit. The associate did not seem to know anything about why I had sent in my parent unit, which led me to doubt whether the device had been "inspected" at all. It is important to me that your company investigate what went wrong with the monitor because I believe that the defect might cause a fire or serious injury.

Two days ago I received the unit in the mail. I was hesitant in using the monitor, worried that the battery might melt again and I wouldn't notice in time. When I did inspect the parent unit I received, I found that there was no battery in it at all!

So far, Graco has offered me less than the bare minimum of customer service on this issue. I realise that sending the parent unit without the battery was a simple error, however, added to the delay in mailing, and the original overloading of the battery, that error spoke volumes to me about the lack of care your company actually has for its customers. I will certainly avoid Graco products in the future.

Sincerely,

Jennifer Filipowicz

There you have it. And yes, I will certainly try to avoid Graco products in the future but it's going to be darn hard seeing as they make everything. Maybe Graco will send me a new battery, maybe not. At this point I don't really care. I've been without a monitor for so long that it just doesn't seem necessary any more. It's not as if I live in some gigantic (or even regular sized) house where I can't hear the baby from most of the rooms. This is a two-bedroom condo!

Right now the issue is justice. Justice!!! I paid for a monitor with the understanding that it wouldn't explode. I should have a non-exploding monitor! In addition, the people of Graco should get down on their knees and beg me to remain a loyal customer, and should thank me for alerting them to this problem with their monitor, and should recall the monitor to save other people's children from monitor-explosion-related injuries. Finally, as a token of their appreciation, they should pay for William's university education. That, to me, would be the bare minimum of customer service.

Super Happy Video Blog Entry

There's a reason why I don't have a video blog.