Happy Easter

Our Easter celebrations:

Dyed and coloured eggs on Good Friday at my parents' house.

Went to my parents house this morning for breakfast. William immediately began chowing down on some Easter cookies that Auntie Eireann made for him. He also handed them out to everyone like a gentleman.

When Hunter arrived, Adam and I followed clues to William's basket, while Willliam followed Hunter around as he searched for his.

Then we had to wait while my Dad (Opa) "talked with the Easter Bunny" about where to hide the eggs we had coloured.

Found the eggs Opa and the Easter Bunny had hidden. Then had our traditional egg fight. Kevin, my sister's boyfriend, won. I think they actually brought their winning egg from home, which is dedication (or cheating, I can't decide which).

Then we all went outside to try out the 3D sidewalk chalk that the bunny brought us. No amount of putting 3D glasses in front of the camera would get the effect to appear on film. Basically all warm colours seemed to come towards you, while all cool colours seemed to recede. So really, only the red is 3D. Still cool though.

I wonder how my mother-in-law would feel about some hopscotch on her driveway when we go over there this evening. Maybe not a good idea.

Jadzia's First Swim

Pictured above is my daughter's first time in a bathing suit (followed closely by her first time in a pool). We went to the YMCA (where I'm sure you will find many ways to have a good time). Jadzia did remarkably well for her first swim. She didn't cry or fuss, instead she spent the time laughing, cooing, and staring in wonder at all the kids, water, and pretty soccer balls.

Her brother, who hasn't been swimming in several months, was pleasantly terrified the entire time. He was shivering and clinging to either Adam or me, with a nervous smile plastered onto his face (the kind of expression one might see on a bungee jumper). He must have enjoyed himself though, because initiated freak-out mode when it was time to leave.

We left the pool at around 7pm, which is the time Jadzia usually wants to go to sleep. Yet, even though it was her fussy time, and we were in a super-overstimulating environment, Jadzia seemed totally comfortable in the water.

Sexist Furnace Man

We're having our furnace serviced today. Nothing wrong with it but we have some sort of a plan that includes a yearly look-see. Anyway, he keeps telling me that I can "get my husband" to do stuff . I can get my husband to turn off the humidifier; I can get my husband to install a new filter.

For the humidifier, he even showed me where the switch was, then said to tell my husband to switch it to "winter" in winter and "summer" in summer. "Or I could just do it," said I. He just stared blankly, my point obviously not registering.

It's clear from the state of our filter that both myself and my husband are furnace novices, but I'm sure I could buy a filter and install it myself. I'm not that pink! (Of course, knowing that I can do it means I don't have to prove it to anyone, so I'll ask my husband to handle it).

Okay, so I am a little bit pink. But Furnace Man doesn't know me. I could be the most handy girl ever. I could fix Harleys in my spare time and go base-jumping with the boys. I had two kids. I'm probably tougher than he is!

Jadzia's first time in an exersaucer

I think you're supposed to wait until they're four months old, but her brother hung out in his exersaucer when he was three-months so today I gave it a try. The Early Years has one that is identical to the one we own. I might as well do a test, thought I, before I decide to take ours out of storage. She seemed fairly comfortable, but when I took a peak underneath, I saw that her feet just barely brush the ground:



This on the shortest setting. And people keep telling me how long she is.

Speaking of questionable parenting...I forgot Jadzia at the Early Years Centre today. I got to the car, buckled William into his carseat, and only then did I notice the empty spot next to him and realize why it had been unusually easy to carry everything. I was missing a child! Luckily I know everyone who works at there and she was in good hands (at least in no worse hands than her mother's). I felt like the worst scum of the Earth. What kind of person forgets her own daughter?

Gift of Discipline Workshop: Week 6

Today's topic was "discipline strategies". Odd, I thought this was always the topic. I'm beginning to realise that my method of trial and error, and letting most things slide, and doing everything within reason to avoid freak-outs, is actually not a bad "strategy".

I already know the difference between "discipline" and "punishment" (though they are listed as synonyms in some thesauruses). Discipline teaches, punishment does not. This, to me, means that I don't have to dream up big ominous consequences for any misbehaviours. If he has fun learning not to hit, throw, grab knives off the kitchen counter...that doesn't mean I'm not being strict enough. As long as he's learning.

We were handed a "Problem Solving Model", with steps to prepare us for any discipline issue that might arise: "1. What's happening? 2. Why is it happening? 3. What can you do? 4. What if it doesn't work?" All very well and good, except that you have to go through all this before hand. So not only do I have to predict every little insane thought that gets into William's toddler head, but I also have to plan ahead, something that goes against my nature even more than discipline does. Step 4 even has us thinking up a back-up plan. Gah!

As usual, I shall take all these strategies and only adopt the ones that make sense to me, throwing out all others (of course, I'll pass any literature that agrees with my philosophies on to my husband).

Pukefest

Normally my daughter is the champion of puking, but today William challenged her title. He seemed fine in the morning, had lunch, went down for his nap at the normal time, woke up at the normal time. Then, as we were driving towards the Early Years Centre for a much needed outting, he vomited all over his carseat.

"I guess we're not going to the Early Years," said I, and whirled the car around.

For the rest of the afternoon, my son was an up-chuck machine. It was obvious when a bout of throw-up was coming, because he would stop what he was doing, scream "No! No! No!", cry, run around in a circle, and generally freak out in a toddler sort of way. Then cough, gag, puke.

After a few times, I became practiced enough to catch the puke in a bowl, a task requiring a tiny bit of muscle since my freaking toddler kept trying to push the bowl away. In any case the ordeal exhausted him, and he went to bed early, having eaten only a slice of bread since the pukefest began.

I couldn't figure out how to take the cover off the carseat to wash it, even after trying diligently for a full ten seconds. Luckily, Adam had done it before and was more than happy to handle vomit-coated straps. The cover says "Handwash only" on it, so I set the washing machine to "Handwash." Getting the thing back on is going to be interesting.

Hopefully my little man feels better tomorrow.

Happy April Fool's Day

I was going to write something foolish as a blog entry because it's April Fool's Day, but it's after one o'clock, and I was always taught that if you fool someone after noon then you'll be crowned the fool of all fools (or something like that). So now this marks the third year in a row that I've missed fooling anyone on April Fool's Day.

I couldn't find any April fool's day hoaxes to amuse myself, so perhaps the media also subscribes to the no fools in the afternoon thing. Instead here's a video from a news service that makes it April Fool's Day all year 'round:


Apple Introduces Revolutionary New Laptop With No Keyboard

Gift of Discipline Workshop: Week 5

Today's topic was temperament. The talk was lead by the Early Years employee who usually does these things (but didn't the last three weeks because she was someplace warm). This is related to discipline because, she says, it's important to know a child's temperament so that you can implement a strategy that will work for them. Sort of a custom job. Also, the way your temperament meshes with your child's can create issues.

Some temperament traits: activity level, regularity, first reactions, adaptability, sensory threshold/sensitivity, intensity of reaction, mood, distractability, persistence/attention span. (The talk explained what each of these traits is, but if you think about it you could probably figure it out yourself).


So what? You're supposed to spend time observing your kid so you can figure out what end of the spectrum he fits into for each of these categories. I'm already stuck on #1; activity level. No one can deny that William loves to run around, but he also enjoys sitting reading a book, or quietly playing blocks, or watching TV for an hour (Yes, I am that sort of parent. Technology is there for us to use people!)

At the end, we were given a little quiz we're supposed to do to where I put every family member (I didn't really include Jadzia because she's a baby) on a scale for each of the temperament traits. That way we can see at a glance whether there will be a conflict of personalities. Let me just glance here... It seems my husband is the problem. His intensity of reaction is too low and he has too much attention span with too little distractability. I, on the other hand, have the temperament of a two-year-old, so William and I should get along famously.

Unless, of course, he goes the entire day without a nap, even though he is clearly tired because he refuses to listen, hits his sister over the head multiple times and spends the afternoon throwing things, including a water glass that makes a big dangerous mess on the floor, and feeding crayons to the dog. But what are the odds of that ever happening?

The Creative Mind of a Two-Year-Old

On the right we have a sculpture my son created all by himself, which he has entitled "A Robot, Wall-e." This is an obvious reference to Wall-e from the recent Pixar movie of the same name, so I've included the pic on the left for comparaison (assuming blogger actually formats this properly). The yellow legos sticking out of the side of William's version are his hands. I know this because when I asked "Where are his hands?", my son answered "Oh hands". And went searching for those yellow blocks to add to his masterpiece. Only two, and already he's graciously accepting artistic criticism.

In other news, my nephew Hunter left two of his action figures here and William has been playing with them. "I play guys," William says. Bane and the Terminator have never been so friendly:

Terminator (lying on his back): Oh, I fall down.

Bane: I will help. (helps Terminator to his feet) Big hug. Uh, Big Kiss.

(They hug and kiss)

Both (lying down, they start to sing): Sleep, bunnies...

Both (leap to their feet and start jumping up and down, still singing): Wake up, bunnies! Hop, hop, hop. Stop!

Bane (falls over): Oh, I fell down, Mommy, I fell down.

If DC Comics ever decides to do a crossover with the Terminator series, I'll send them the script.

Gift of Discipline Workshop: Week 4

Today's topic was DEFIANCE (that feels like a word that should be in all caps doesn't it?). The talk was lead by the sibling rivalry expert from week 2 and involved lots of discussion, along with brainstorming on chart paper. Just like elementary school, I love it!

One of the things the expert drew on the chart paper was an iceberg. A child's behaviour is what's on the surface, and their feelings and reasons for that behaviour are all under the surface: they need attention, they're angry, they don't understand what they should do. If you only address the "tip of the ice berg" the you aren't dealing with all the underneath stuff. Okay, so it's an overused metaphor and the writer in me is screaming against clichés. The whole point is, I think, to understand why a kid is doing what they're doing, and to address that, rather than just the behaviour itself.

The expert also talked about "Time-In" which is supposedly the opposite of time out. The idea is that we tend to send our kids away to their rooms or whatever just when they need us the most: when they're out of control and need help dealing with strong emotions. With this "Time-In" you sit with them, cuddle them if they let you but give them space if they need it, and do whatever you can to help them deal with they feelings. I know, gag me, but a lot of parenting is about warm cuddlies and this is actually similar to what I do naturally. It's not the opposite of a time-out though, says the writer in me, it's a time-out where you hang out with them. Calling that the opposite of time-out, would be like saying that ice cream with chocolate sauce is the opposite of ice cream.

After the talk we received five hand-outs. Three of them were about the time-in thing (so I guess this is the hot new trend). One of them is about positive reinforcement and how to listen "reflectively" (yawn). The last lists strategies to change a childs behaviour, one of which is time-out, which the expert specifically frowned upon. Talk about mixed messages. I just don't think anybody expects me to actually read the hand-outs.

Super Happy Dogsitter

My parents are off touring the country side (when I say "touring" I really mean it, my Mom is visiting schools to talk about writing) and they left their baby home with me. I'm of course talking about Morty the Jackapoo.

Morty has one of those dog dishes that has food on one side and water on the other. My son has the unfortunate habit of putting handfuls of dog food into the water, creating a mushy mess. Luckily my mother left behind a large supply of catfood-like single-serving wet dog food, which Morty will gobble up faster than William can destroy.

So I filled Morty's dish water side only. Apparently, a bowl of water on the floor is too much for a two-year-old to resist. William has been, very deliberately and with much giggles, dumping Morty's water dish all over the hardwood floor. After several rounds of "No, William, don't touch", multiple re-fillings of the dish, and a very soaked towel, I finally took the bowl away completely. Now the poor dog only gets water when he whimpers at me.

If that isn't bad enough, I didn't walk Morty today at all. I simply didn't have the energy in my brain to work out the logistics of walking two children and a jackapoo by myself. Morty has been out in the yard several times (not looking forward to what I will find out there).

Despite all this neglect, I'm told that my house is still better than a kennel.

The Zoo (from a two-year-old's point of view)

Please excuse my lack of super-happiness for this blog entry. I'm more than a little bit tired after submitting myself to the exhausting ordeal of chasing a two-year-old around the zoo for four hours (while Adam pushed the baby stroller).

Even though I told William we were there to see animals, and he kept repeating "I see amals", he seemed more interested in running ahead, collecting rocks, and climbing on things. (We spent ten minutes climbing up and down the stairs next to the orangutang cage without actually looking at any orangutangs).

I took this picture to illustrate how a typical zoo exhibit looks from William's point of view. Our conversation at this point went something like this:

"William do you see the lions?"

"Ball," he says, pointing.

"Yes, there is a ball. But look behind the ball. There are two lions."

"Oh a ball!"

"Yes, the ball is there for the lions to play with."

"A beeg ball."

"Do you know what sound a lion makes?"

"Roar," William replies, sounding bored.

In fact it was almost impossible to get him to notice any animal, but there was one zoo attraction that William found fascinating:

New Library Card

Jadzia just got her first library card today. I'm not sure what kinds of stories she likes yet, so I picked four board books at random. (Also the only method of selection available to someone who is also chasing a two-year-old around). Yes, that big wet spot on her shirt is puke. Puking is her hobby right now, but I'm hoping she'll take up reading instead.



I left Jadzia on the floor in her baby gym thingie and when I came back she had totally turned around so her head was pointed in the opposite direction. Now she just needs to roll-over, crawl, walk, get her driver's licence, and then she can go to the library all by herself!


I didn't capture secret spin maneuver on film, but here's a video of her doing nothing in particular for 3 minutes:

Gift of Discipline Workshop: Week 3

Today we talked about brain development. The woman who did the talk was (I guess) some sort of expert in the area of child brain development and language. She was all about the hand-outs and group discussion, and not much about actually getting through her power-point in the time alloted.

Handouts in my stack of hand-outs:

We began the talk with a fairly easy "True or False" quiz about brain development. Fairly easy, that is, if you understand the agenda: to emphasize the importance of the early years. How else can the Early Years Centre get its funding?

The second handout is an article printed off msn about a girl who was so severely neglected that when she was found by police, at age seven, she couldn't talk, wasn't toilet trained, lacked basic social skills, and skittered around on her toes like a crab intead of walking properly. All this to illustrate that having a nurturing, loving environment at an early age is important. Also to make us all feel good knowing that no matter how imperfect we are as parents, there's always someone out there who is much, much worse.

The next is entitled "feeding a baby's brain" and lists a bunch of stuff most of us would do with babies anyway: snuggle, play peek-a-boo, provide a visually interesting environment, play music, talk to babies, express emotions, encourage babies to practice small motor skills.

Last, we have a drawing of a boy with an exposed brain. Apparently, the upper brain lets us think, talk reason, and create, the mid-brain controls emotion, sexuality, and has a role in memory, and the lower brain controls breathing, heart rate, and "many basic instincts". The hand-out wants me to colour the three parts of the brain different colours. Perhaps I'll get William to do it.

Not sure what all this has to do with "discipline", but I assume the latter half of the presentation (which we never got to) would tie it all together for us. In any case, I shall be obsessed with stimulating my children's brain development for the rest of the afternoon.

Feeding Swans

Yesterday we fed the swans at Lasalle Marina. As you can see, they aren't shy. Soundtrack provided by Jadzia. BTW: The ones with the black beak and the yellow tags aren't for sale. They're trumpeter swans. I think they've been tagged as some kind of conservation innitiative.

That swan hissed at me. Hissed! So I hissed right back. He's just upset that he's not one of the special swans.

All work and no play makes Adam not here

Adam has been working late all this week.

Which means I've been working late too.

Picture me as a juggler, only instead of balls, or bowling pins, or fire, I have a baby and a toddler.

Which is especially difficult after 6pm.

Usually Adam puts William to bed, and I put Jadzia to bed.

Sometimes, Adam comes home from work just to put William to bed, then drives back.

Tonight I had to do it.

Of course I had to put the baby down first.

William just went to sleep now, more than an hour after his usual bedtime.

Adam is still at work, but he says he'll be done soon.

I miss him.

The Wind

Why can't we just have a nice sunny day? Why must we have what would be a nice sunny day if not for howling winds, the kind that you can actually feel moving your car as you drive along, the kind that instantly turn your hair into a squirrel's nest, the kind that frighten babies? Being forced inside by bitter cold, snow, or rain, is acceptable. Instead we have the sun taunting us from the window with blissful springtime temperatures. Then, the moment we don our spring jackets and head outside to "play rocks" (as my son would say), we are nearly blown over by the last angry remnants of winter.

Jadzia got her first shots today. I kept telling her that they would help keep her from getting sick. She cried anyway.

William fought going down for his nap and was cranky when he woke up. I can tell this is going to be a difficult evening.

Adam will be late at work tonight...again.

Gift of Discipline Workshop: Week 2

Today we had some sort of expert on sibling rivalry come to talk to us about sibling rivalry. We didn't get a hand-out this time, or even much utopian philosophy. Instead we had a round table discussion about the relationships between our kids, and the relationship we had with our siblings when we were kids.

One dad was the youngest of five kids who always felt at the bottom of the totem pole.

Then there's a mom of twin ten-month-olds who are already competing for toys.

Another woman has to deal with a tantruming toddler, and a defiant preteen.

And still another is an only child who now has three kids.

The expert then read us stories and showed us cartoons all about sibling rivalry. Entertaining, but I think I'm bettter at remembering when I get a handout. Some points:

-Look at things from each child's point of view.
-Resist the urge to compare.
-Avoid labeling.
-Don't belittle a child's feelings.

The one thing everyone can agree on is that siblings fight, whether we like it or not. No amount of discipline workshoping will keep my son from becoming a bully like me, or keep my daughter from becoming a brat like my sister. Oops , I'm comparing and labeling already.

William counts to eight

So yesterday I was watching William play with my slippers. He was shuffling along chanting "One, two, one, two, two, two, one..." Normally, two is as far as he can normally count, though occasionally he throws in three.

Suddenly, and very quickly, William recited "one, two, three-four-five-six...eight." Sure he skipped seven, but I was still shocked and amazed.

I turned to my husband, who was sitting at the computer next to us. "Did you hear that?" Unfortunately he hadn't been paying attention and neither of us could get William to repeat what he had just said.

I think that all the knowledge of the universe must be locked up in that toddler brain, just waiting to spew out at random moments.

William's Words Revisited

A little while ago I did a post on William's words. Since then, his vocabulary as exploded and he now talks in near-complete sentences (with a cute little-kid accent). Most of the words in that last post, he's abandonned his version for something more ressembling English, and I know that soon even his little-kid accent will be gone.

Mommy car, Daddy car, Baby car
Since Jadzia arrived William has been refering to all small things as "baby" and most big things as "Mommy" or "Daddy". (Although he also knows the word for big, "beeg"). After I asked him many times "What about the William car?", he now occasionally says "Wee-um car."

Wake-up Mommy
Instead of just "up", William now says "Wake-up". He doesn't quite get the concept, however, that to wake someone up, that person must be asleep and not just sitting there. With the way his vocabulary is rapidly expanding, I'm sure he'll soon learn the more appropriate phrase "Get up."

I will get you!
Normally when we are about to go somewhere, William will politely bring me his coat and shoes, then run away, delightfully squealing "I will get you!"

Mommy HUGS, Daddy HUGS, Baby hugs, Wee-um HUGS
William's always been great at hugs and kisses. Now he demands them. I find this extra cute, even though he uses them to delay bedtime, and also to make diaper change and potty time just a little more messy.

Where'd it go? Daddy
William often says his words out of order. "Where'd it go? Daddy" instead of "Where did Daddy go?" for example. Sometimes he chats with me while my husband is at work: "Where'd it go? Daddy. No. Daddy work. Okay. Mommy work. No. Baby work. No. Oh! Daddy Work!" Sometimes I add my two cents here or there, but he doesn't always need me to respond.

Red, Yayo, Boo, Geen, Back, Wet, Peenk, Pupple
Yes, William knows most of his colours now. I've asked him a couple times which his favourite was. The first time he said "Peenk" and later he said "Uh, Boo." That's ok, he doesn't have to make up his mind just yet.

Back n Back
My son is a big AC/DC fan and "Back in Black" is his favourite song. Whenever we go to my parent's house. He asks someone (usually my Dad or my brother) to put on "Back n Back", pick him up, and dance with him, over, and over again.

The vocab game
This game of William's invention, involves him excitedly yelling out the name of something in the room, and I yell it back. Sometimes the words are clear, other times it becomes a guessing game for me: "Bocks!" "Blocks!" "Baby!" "Baby!" "Mommy!" "Mommy!" "Wee-um!" "William!" "Pitters!" "Pictures!" "Bo Pins!" "Bowling Pins!"

Oh, Okay
William occasionally says "yes", but more often he says "oh, okay". This is especially amusing when he's super-tantruming for something, a cookie for example. He'll be screaming "I need Cake-ee, I need cake-ee" and the tears and snot are streaming down as if it's the end of the world. Until some says "Do you want a cookie?" or even "I know! I know! You want a cookie, I get it." Then he'll say "oh, ok" as if he's reluctantly agreeing.

Gift of Discipline workshop, week 1

Normally I just sign up for these free parenting workshops for the free child care, and don't care at all about the topic. But the title "Gift of Discipline" really got me excited. When it comes to dealing with our toddler, I certainly need the gift of discipline bestowed upon me.


Today's class was about positive parenting, a seemingly unrealistic utopian philosophy in which one focuses on positives rather than negatives. But I have an open mind, so I give you the Five Key Aspects from my handout:


1. Ensuring a safe, interesting environment.

This is all about keeping the knives up high and stuff like that. My motto is "If it's within William's reach, William will play with it." So when I leave the cereal out on the table after breakfast, and I later find a toddler sitting on the floor, waist-deep in frosted flakes, I really have no one to blame from myself. Also, teacher says that an interesting environment doesn't mean that it has to look "like Toys R Us threw up in your basement." Too late.

2. Creating a positive learning environment.

This sounds like a repeat of #1, but this is actually where they talked about paying attention to the positive behaviour. So I shouldn't be calling attention to the fact that William has been throwing things and hitting people. No, I should only reward positives. For every negative thing I comment on, I have to point out at least ten positive ones. Kumbaya.

3. Using assertive discipline.

Okay, you got me. I don't really get this one, but then my lack of assertiveness might be my problem. I tried telling him how to behave ("We don't throw blocks. Look! We make a tower with them."), but I felt like a big faker.

4. Having realistic expectations.

Every time I provided the group with a scenario, I was told "you have to remember that he's only two, not five." Of course what I heard was "Your method of using no discipline whatsoever is totally the right thing. Good job."

5. Taking care of yourself as a parent.

I think taking time to write this blog entry counts. Ah yes, I'm feeling relaxed already.

Free Wings

The other day my Dad noticed an ad in the paper advertising free wings all day today as part of St. Louis Bar & Grill's grand re-opening. Apparently starting tommorrow (Tues) they're also giving free entrees to mothers and children. This sounded too good to be true, so I called the place, and they assured me that yes, the wings were free and, no there was no catch.

So today I called the only two mommy friends I have phone numbers for, one I couldn't reach, and the other is making the trip down from St Catharines tommorrow.

But I want free wings now, thought I. So I kidnapped my parents and took them to the restaurant.

"Free wings. Free wings." My son repeated over and over as we walked in the door. The wings were free, but we all had to buy drinks and my Mom had a salad, so we (buy "we" I of course mean my mother) ended up paying $25 including tip.

They were out of highchairs, so once William was finished eating (mostly cheese out of my mom's salad) he went wandering about the restaurant with my Dad. The manager had a stash of toys, and gave William a package of six dollar-store quality racecars.

I'm thinking of going there for lunch this week. 450 Appleby just north of New St, if anyone wants to join me.

Money Making Schemes

It has come to my attention that we've stretched my husband's salary as far as it can go, and I may have to do some work myself. Yes, I am of the school that being a stay-at-home mom is work, but it's difficult to buy groceries when one is payed in hugs and kisses.

Thus far, no one has randomly given me writing work after looking at my website, so I'm going to try another plan, equally unlikely to succeed. I realize that until now even those who want to pay for this fabulous blog cannot, but fear not wealthy blog readers, I have signed up for a paypal account and you can now make donations using the new button on the sidebar.

Also, my graphic design husband is going to teach me everything he knows about graphics so he can pass me some of his freelance work. Eventually, my goal is to become a better graphic designer than he is (it always bugs me a little when someone I know is good at something that I'm not). I do have a degree in art and art history, and I assume oil painting and using the Adobe programs is pretty much the same thing. For one of my first lessons, Adam taught me a bunch of tricks in Illustrator and Photoshop and I made a cover for Jadzia's baby book:

Pretty impressive, eh? Later I'm going to try to redo all these techniques by myself, and see if I remember how to do everything. Hopefully I'll eventually be able to add a graphic design section to my website.

Sock foot, bare foot

My husband took this photo of his feet, then came to me and said "You should make a blog entry about how I only wear one sock. There's a picture on your camera." This just proves that he only does it to get attention.

I concede that there may be reasons to take off your socks randomly and leave them scattered throughout the house, under your compuer desk, in and around the couch, on the dining room table, in the kitchen. Maybe the elastic band was strangling your ankle, perhaps your feet suddenly became unbareably sweaty, perhaps you couldn't bare that giant hole any longer. But why take off one sock and not the other?

I can't stand it if my right foot feels different than my left. So I asked Adam how he could bare the single barefoot. Now that I've noticed he seems to think the quirk annoys me. So he now does it deliberately, rather than unconsciously. I have also caught William, and even Jadzia, sporting only one sock.

Mommy needs nap time.

Maybe he's sick, maybe he's getting a molar, maybe there's some logical explanation that, when I look back on this, I'll feel embarrassed and guilty for being so frustrated.  Well, actually I already feel embarrassed and guilty.  I'm a mother now, I'm supposed to be loving and virtuous at all times.

I don't remember how much sleep I got last night, but I remember that while I was lying awake listening to my husband wrestle with a screaming toddler in the next room, I glanced at the clock and thought "4 am, we are not getting any sleep tonight."

Which brings us to nap time.  I read William three stories while his sister, the puking princess, wailed in the other room.  I finally got him down, but when I went to leave, my son awoke from his slumber moaning "Mommy sleep."

Clearly, the baby needed me, couldn't he see that?  He wouldn't let me go.  Every time I tried to tend to Jadzia, there was snotty, red-faced William, whining, demanding, and throwing board books.  (Yes, throwing books, no kidding).

I'd like to say I took all this in stride, but I kept feeling that same surge of anger that caused me to physically abuse my siblings as a child.  Well I'm a grownup now, so I don't hit or pinch, or anything like that.  However, in a moment of weakness, I said to my son: "So you like being a selfish brat."

He patted his chest proudly "Sel-fush bat. Sel-fush bat. Sel-fush bat."

So I pulled out the technique I only use when desperate: I piled all the kids in the car and drove around the block a hundred times.  Normally this puts my son to sleep right away. This time, no such luck.  I must have been driving for twenty minutes around all the windy little sidestreets in the maze that is my neighbourhood.  Finally I gave up and went to my mother's.

I love you Mom.  Sorry that I was once a toddler.

Fish Puppets at the Discovery Centre

I submit for the consideration of the Academy Awards, this puppet show (the unedited director's cut) performed by 2-year-old William and his Mom, yours truly. Shot on location at the National Parks Discovery Centre in Hamilton.

The Government's Version of Convenient and Easy

Since I recently gave birth to a Canadian citizen, I'm entitled to some monthly money from the government (which I think is supposed to be for child care, but doesn't even cover diapers). Anyway I decided to use the goverment's "convenient" online service to apply for the benefits.

Step 1. I had to create an epass account. Social Insurance Number. Got it. Date of Birth. Easy. Dollar amount of total income on line 150 of my tax return. Darn it! Am I the only one in the country who doesn't keep her tax records handy at all times? I'm sure the answer to this question can be found somewhere in that accordian thing where we keep all our important (and somewhat unimportant) paperwork, but I didn't know exactly where the accordian thing was, or have any desire to spend an hour sorting through it. On to step 2:

Step 2. Phone the helpdesk. Guess what they asked me to verify my identity? Line 150. Maybe this is a super easy question that only someone completely ignorant of taxes wouldn't get. Guilty. Anyway, the helpdesk guy asked me a bunch of other questions and, when he was satisfied that I wasn't an imposter, gave me the answer. I would never have guessed that number. Anyway onward we go!

Step 3. I created my login an password and I was all mentally prepared to fill out a form and start receiving my goverment money. Nope. For extra security (and to make sure we still waste paper in what should be a paperless process) the Canada Revenue Agency has to mail me a security code. Not e-mail mind you. SNAIL MAIL.

Step 4. Wait. The website promised that the security code would be here in 5 days. Perhaps they were using some other planetary calendar to calculate those days, or perhaps the mail was slow because of Valentine's Day, but it took longer than that. When it finally arrived I had forgotten what login and password I had chosen.

Step 5. I tried all my usual password favourites, without success. Then I checked out my security questions. Unfortunately I always put bogus answers in for security questions because any truthful answer I think of is either so easy that anyone who has even heard of me can get it, or so abstract that even I am unlikely to get the answer (like listing an ex boyfriend as "first pet").

Step 6. Call the helpdesk again. This time the helpdesk woman suggested that I sign up for a new account, and assured me that I could still use the same security code. I started to do this, when suddenly it dawned on me what my password must be. I immediately entered it in and...received an error message telling me I was locked out from too many attempts.

Step 7. Wait 24 hours. Or, in my case, forget about it for two days. Finally today I was able to login, input the security code, and access a world of tax benefits to apply for. I clicked on the one I was looking for and put in all my daughter's info. I'm ready to receive my money, thought I.

Step 8. For some reason (to waste more paper) I need to verify my marital status. Now my printer hasn't had a cartridge replacement in quite some time, and has been printing light grey for at least of year (I keep shaking the cartridge to keep it going longer). I printed and filled out the barely legible form. My husband (yes I'm really married) and I both signed it, and it is currently sitting on my desk.

Step 9. Buy stamps.

Nice to have friends

I had a great morning.  I met my friend Columbia (William's future mother-in-law) at the Early Years, and we took our kids over to ikea for lunch and a romp around the toy section. I don't have a million friends, and I have even fewer that understand the unique experience of parenting a toddler.

Lucky I got my adult social time in early, because the moment I got home my husband called to say that he's going to be late tonight.  Of course this means I'll be going to my Mom's for dinner. 

The real world is hard to draw

I was watching cartoons with William (Jadzia too, only she wasn't really watching) when I remembered that when I was younger I used to wish I lived in a cartoon world, because then it would be much easier to draw things realistically. It worked for the man with the yellow hat, a man took one look at his drawings and invited him to Paris to have his work displayed on street signs. Still, now I'm glad I live in a world with lots of detail, and shading.

I see bugs!

After a thorough scouring of the internet, my husband found that the perfect activity for Family Day (and also the only thing open) was visiting the "Backyard Monsters" exhibit at the Royal Botanical Gardens, featuring both live insects and giant (somewhat cheesey) animatronic bugs. "I see bugs. I see bugs!" William repeated over and over form the time we ran the idea past him.

While we were there William thoroughly enjoyed running around pushing every button pushable, and excitedly pointing out every bug illustration, animatronic, and live creature there was to be seen, held, or petted. We even got to eat some insects. Further proof that my son is not a picky eater. While everyone else either passed on the chocolate covered crickets, or very cautiously sampled one, William chowed down on about a dozen. Then, when he was told to leave some for everyone else, he exclaimed "No! I want candy!"

Before you ask, yes I did try a cricket. The insect didn't really add any particular flavour to the chocolate, but it was very crunchy. Pretty much what you'd expect from a bug that's been sitting in semi-sweet chocolate. I passed on seconds.

William turns 2

I'm just recovering from a wild party, but before I go to bed I must mark this joyous occasion with a blog entry. We had the whole family for dinner (more people than chairs). I made baked mac & cheese and cake for everyone (15 including toddlers). Dinner could have been cheesier, but the cake made up for it because of its over-abundance of icing. Truth be told, the cake fell apart coming out of the pan and I had to use about a hundred pounds of frosting to glue it back together. Of course, even though there were mostly adults at my son's 2nd birthday bash, we somehow ended up with only pictures of the kids.



Gone are the days when cake-eating pictures are at all interesting. Not only does William NOT have icing all over his face, like a kid's birthday shot should, but he's actually more interested in eating the blueberries and strawberries. What a health nut!


Here's the birthday boy with his future fiancée Zoe. Obviously this was taken near the end of the night. Toddlers tend to take the phrase "party until you drop" quite literally.


Of course Jadzia wore her party dress just for the occasion.

At first it was a bit of a shock that my baby had suddenly become a two-year-old, but I actually made peace with that weeks ago. Now people ask me how I feel about it and I just shrug and look like such a laid back mother. I must say I'm delighted that my son can talk, and has his own interests and opinions (mostly centering around cars and food). Now I just have to get him to teach his sister.

Playing with blocks

To an outsider it might seem like my children and I don't do much during the day, but we're actually quite productive. Today I actually got photos to prove it.

This car was my first attempt at creating a vehicle using blocks that were clearly meant for making columns and arches. William found it immediately recognizable, and thus demanded I make the following:

Here we have a truck or, as William would say, "Mack", as in Mack the Mack Truck from the movie Cars. Yes, my son is just that obsessed with that movie. Although sometimes he does say "Mack Tuck", or "Tuck" , or occasionally "Mommy Tuck." (He also has a "Daddy Car" and a "Baby Car"). I realized as I was taking this photo that the truck would look better with one extra block on the cab for the driver to sit in. Unfortunately my demolition guy yelled "I knock!" and destroyed the truck before I had a chance to fix it.

"De Choo choo tain. I will knock!"

I noticed as we were stacking blocks randomly, that it looked like we were trying to spell something. So I made this attempt at building my name. The one I made for William actually looked better I thought, but I wasn't able to complete it. I made W I L L I A and was looking for the right pieces to create the M, when William excitedly squealed "I will knock!" and that was the end of that.

Unfortunately this kind of productivity doesn't result in the house getting clean or the laundry being put away. Still, I think this stuff is more important (and more fun) than housework.

Hyde and Jekyl

Naughty things my son did today (not including random tantrums):

-pulled the sugar bowl off the kitchen counter and proceeded to eat large quantities of sugar off the floor.
-used a pen to colour on a recently printed photo.
-climbed onto Daddy's desk chair and played with his very expensive camera and flash.
-purposely spit water all over himself.
-tried to swing on Jadzia's baby swing even though the chair has been removed to prevent just that.
-somehow got hold of my dried dill and sprinkled almost the entire jar on the floor.

Good things my son did today:

-put his blocks away in their bin without even being asked
-finished all his kraft dinner and did not throw the bowl on the floor.
-went down for a nap without too much fuss.
-helped me empty the dishwasher

Snow Family

A snow family has recently taken up residence on our front lawn. There's a mommy, a daddy, a toddler, and a baby, just like our family. What a coincidence! Unfortunately, I think the heat is getting to them already.

After the snow family fun, William was kind enough to shovel the driveway and walkway, with only a little help from Daddy.

The all-seeing all-knowing, and grannies.

Today at the Early Years, I was chatting with a couple grandmothers, both of whom thought my daughter was just so beautiful and sweet. They went on to marvel at the beauty of all children. This lead one of the grannies to say "I think anyone who says there's no God needs their head examined." To be fair, granny didn't know that I am an atheist, and that she was essentially telling me that I need my head examined. Annoyingly, I didn't say anything. If only I'd been wearing my Atheist Angel T-shirt. On the way home of course I was thinking of a couple of comebacks:

"I believe the opposite." Not exactly true, I don't think theists necessarily need their head examined (not all of them anyway), I just think they're mistaken.

"Oh, I don't know. I think belief in God requires a lack of imagination." Closer to what I think, but much too insulting. The woman wasn't dissing me on purpose after all. And anyway, how do you deliberately insult someone who's gushing over your daughter? No, even if I had the moment to do over, I wouldn't have said either of these things.

"I don't believe in God." Simple. Straightforward. Let's the woman know that she's put her foot in her mouth without taking an unnecessary stab at her beliefs. This is the winner if I ever get a time machine. Or if this lady ever starts bathering to me about God again.

Speaking of being all-seeing and all-knowing, I can now see where my husband is at all times (or at least where his blackberry is) using Google's new application Latitude. (He's at work right now). This is useful at the end of the day, when I want to see if he's left work yet and I can start dinner. On the news they were talking about this "raising privacy issues" and basically making it into a paranoid, big-brother-is-watching type thing. Of course you can turn the app off, or preset a location, or hide your location from certain people, or (gasp) leave your cellphone at home, so the privacy issue thing is a bit silly. But then again, being a mom, I have recently put my vagina on public display, and rarely get a moment to myself even in the bathroom, so maybe privacy doesn't mean as much to me as it does to most people.

Ten minor events.

I haven't posted in a while.  My life it made up of a series of small events, none of which are important enough to warrant a full blog entry.  Here's ten of them:

1. I drove to St. Catharines in a snowstorm just to visit my friend for a playdate.  On the way there I got stuck behind a fleet of show plows.

2. On the way back the car in front of me hit a patch of ice and lost control.  It was a pickup truck towing a trailer.  It ended up taking up all three lanes.   Luckily there was noone on either side of us, and I was far enough back that I was able to stop without any trouble.  I was sure someone would hit us from behind so I reached for my hazard lights, and turned off the defroster instead! It could have easily been a disaster worthy of the evening news.  Of course the kids slept through it.

3. I went to William's friend Aedan's 2nd birthday party.  Pizza and cheesebread and cupcakes were enjoyed by all.

4.  I ran into one of my high school math teachers at the Early Years Centre.  He was there with his grandkids and he recognized me even though it's been over a decade since I was in his class.

5. We've been having an ice-damming problem, where a whole bunch of ice on our roof is making the roof leak.  I first noticed water coming into the laundry room and thought the washing machine or the pipes must be leaking.  Then I noticed the carpet in Jadzia's room (directly above the laundry) had a damp carpet.  The icicles outside that side of the house were as long and as thick as my arm, maybe even bigger.

6. My husband cleared off a lot of the ice and made a path for the water to drain off the roof by filling pantyhose with road salt, something he read about on the good old internet.  That trick worked for about a day.  Now he's working on installing a heating coil.  There's still ice up there, but for now there's no leaking going on that I can see.

7.  William has started telling me when he has to go potty.  Unfortunately, he usually tells me after he's already gone in his pants.

8. As I was typing this entry, William, who up until that moment had been quietly watching tv, suddenly and loudly banged his face on the coffee table.  A lot of screaming, a little blood, and a fat lip.  As I was comforting him with hugs, a cold glass of water and a snack, Jadzia woke up and wanted to nurse.

9. William's favourite movie is Pixar's Cars, which Santa bought him for Christmas.  Even though we've only owned it for a month, I could probably recite the whole thing word for word. While I was nursing Jadzia in her room just now, William came in, wagged his finger at me and said "You come watch Cars!"

10.  Adam took some gorgeous pics of Jadzia smiling yesterday.  Here's one of them:

William and Jadzia's William and Jadzia T-shirts

My good friend Scottish Carol sent us these personalized t-shirts, one for William "the Best Big Brother in the World" and one for Jadzia which is very similar to one we had for William when he was a baby (only of course it says "Jadzia" instead). On the back of the onesie it has Jadzia's date and time of birth and weight, which makes it extra special. And, with a name like Jadzia, this may be the last item with her name on it she will ever own.

Thank you Carol!

In other news, something's up with our roof, lots of ice, lots of water, more on that as the story develops.

In other better news, today I tried on a pair of my pre-pregnancy jeans and they fit! Not as well as before, mind you, but the point is I got them on and zipped them up. Woohoo!

The Mounties are after me

This afternoon a man came to my door.

"I'm with the RCMP," he said, and showed me his badge all law-and-order style. "Are you Jennifer Filipowicz?"

The mounties are after me, I thought, how exciting! I answered in the affirmative.

"A few years back, did you have a child with Ricardo Somethingorother?" (I don't remember the last name but it sounded mobsterish).

"Um, no."

"Did you assume your husband's name when you got married?"

"Yes."

"And your maiden name is McKnight?"

"No, McNicoll."

"Okay. Disregard our conversation," said the mountie. As if I could! Then he said good day and left.

Five minutes later he knocked on the door again. This time he had a file folder with him. In it he had every address I had lived in since my parents' house. He also had my driver's licence number, only his file said that I had changed my name from McKnight.

I confirmed that those were, indeed, my addresses and drivers licence number.

"And you never lived in BC, or had a child with Ricardo the mobster?"

"Nope." I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that.

The mountie looked confused. "I don't know why when I query Jennifer McKnight I get your information."

I shrugged. Actually this isn't the first time I've been mixed up with another Jennifer McSomebody. When I worked at blockbuster a former emplyee named Jennifer McNeil, accidently got paid for hours that I worked. This is the first time, however, that the commoness of my name gave me a real-life law-and-order experience.

My attempt at relaxation

Both of my children were asleep when my husband left for work (even though I reminded him that it's Saturday night and definitely not business hours). Imagining that I might have some time to myself, I decided to try out the relaxing oatmeal bath stuff I recently received as a gift.

I like my baths as hot as I can stand and as deep as can they be without overflowing. Unfortunately, the design of our faucet is such that water pressure diminishes as the heat increases. Usually I just let it run while I go do something else.

I set the water temperature to reasonably scalding, dumped in the oatmeal packet (which made the water look muddy), and left the bathroom with ambitions of doing laundry (or something). Just then I heard Jadzia crying.

I took her from her crib and began nursing her. We were sitting on the rocking chair in her bedroom and I could hear the water running across the hall. After a while I started to get nervous. What if the bath had filled up already? I could flood the whole house in scalding oatmeal water!

So I grabbed my daughter in one hand and grabbed her infant carseat in the other, and headed back to the bathroom. I figured I would nurse her while sitting on the toilet, then I would put her in her carseat so she could be near me while I bathed.

So my relaxing bath went something like this:

nurse baby
baby falls asleep
put baby in carseat
dip toe into scalding oatmeal bath
baby cries
pick baby up
repeat

I did eventually get more than my toe into the water. I lay in the relaxing bath for a good minute, maybe a minute and a half. It was very hot and very deep.

Party!

Today we attended a birthday party for William's future fiancée Zoe, who just recently turned two. The event was fairly low-key, three tots including the birthday girl, so even though it took place at an indoor playground it wasn't, unlike some other child birthdays, a sign of the extravagence of our times. We'd never been to Little Goobers before, so my normally dare-devil climbing son was at first a little nervous about trying out the giant treehouse and slide. Plus, he was distracted by many snacks provided by Zoe's Mom. Eating is his hobby you know. And he's not picky either, as evidenced by the above shot of him eating a styrofoam cup.


Lucky thing toddler parties are table manners optional. Here's William, fellow party guest Leyla (curls) and birthday girl Zoe opting to skip the candles and cake-cutting and go right to devouring the poor defenceless bunny cake.


William eventually got over his nerves and climbed everything climbable. He even went down the slide without an adult, which Zoe has never done (even though she's a regular). Of course that was after going down a couple times with me. Everyone was all impressed that I was climbing all over the play structure, despite having just given birth two-weeks ago.

Speaking of being impressive. My highly advanced daughter rolled onto her back during tummy-time on the couch yesterday. Kids aren't supposed to do that until they're three months old. I choose to believe my child is super-advanced, though most of the credit goes to the bounciness of the couch (which she nearly rolled off of).

New Years Eve 2008

I'll have a hard time making 2009 as eventful as 2008. This year I bought a house, got pregnant, and gave birth for the second time. It was also a big year for William, who celebrated his first birthday, first haircut, first big boy bed, and grew from a baby to a little man with an ever-expanding vocabulary. I look forward to more milestones for him, and to celebrating the same ones over again with his sister, Jadzia.

Tonight we rang in the New Year at 10 pm (the city of Burlington being ahead of the rest of the world) with a 50s-themed evening culminating in a very nice fireworks display. We had to leave the fireworks early because her royal highness began screaming indicating that she was cold or hungry or freaked out by the loud noises, or whatever else might bother a newborn.

Now I'm off to ring in the New Year for real, by watching the ball drop on television. Happy New Year!

My little girl is becoming a woman

Jadzia's umbilical cord fell off today.

The worst labour, the best labour, the best Christmas present ever.

So even though I was in labour I got in as much Christmasing as I could, opening presents at my parents' place, then going over to my in-laws for their traditional Christmas eve dinner. At around 6, I decided it was time to high-tail it to the hospital. I'd been having contractions since the morning before and by this time I would describe them as intense, bordering on unbearable.

But at the hospital, the nurse did a poke-in-the-vagina test and said that I was only three centimetres, and they won't even admit people until they are at least four centimetres. No!!!!!! The nurse then suggested I wander around the hospital for an hour to get my cervix to open up.

I took a walk in the hall with my husband. Since it was Christmas eve, Santa Claus appeared and gave us candy canes. I should have asked him for an epidural, the only present I really wanted. Every three seconds (it seemed) I had to stop walking and hold onto my husband to handle my intense (but only 3-centimetres intense) pain.

We went back and another nurse poked my vagina and told me I was still only three centimetres and should go home. I burst into tears. The nurse then attempted to make me feel better by telling me what a big wimp I am. Apparently, these were actually "pretty mild" contractions and if I were in "good labour" my belly would be as hard as a rock and I would be in so much pain I wouldn't be able to talk. Call me a wuss, but I wanted an epidural before that happened.

I went home, had a bath, beared the unbearable contractions. My husband told me I wasn't a wimp, and that he was proud of me. I talked to my friend Becca on the phone, who told me that being a wimp makes me a better Mom. She also suggested I ask the hospital to prescribe me a sleeping pill. So I called the hospital and begged them to give me something. Based on the fact that I could still talk on the phone, the nurse didn't think that I was in pain enough, but tried to humour me by telling me to come back in to be vagina-poked again.

We went back to the hospital, where I puked all over the parking lot and wet my pants (pregnant women have no bladder control). I didn't mind too much because I thought this would earn me brownie points with the vagina-pokers who hold the key to the epidural. The nurse didn't seem to care about my wet pants and vomit breath, but when she poked my vagina this time I was between 4 and 5 centimetres. HA!

She admitted me and casually asked if I wanted an epidural. I wanted an epidural three hours ago!!!!! So after the epidural guy's coffee break (or whereever he was), I got some needles in my spine and my pain went away. It was midnight, and I really wanted to sleep. I wasn't feeling pain anymore, but I was shaking all over even though I wasn't cold. Not to mention the fact that I now had more tubes coming out of me than a borg drone. Anyway I couldn't seem to doze off.

Christmas morning, the nurse poked my vagina again and found that I was fully dialated, which is code for show time! She and Adam helped me hold my legs up to do a "practice push" but she quickly made me stop because she saw the head and I wasn't allowed to really give birth until my doctor was there. After my doctor did arrive, I was able to pop the baby out (along with some gross-looking life-giving juices) in hardly any time at all. Jadzia Victoria, my beautiful baby girl, was born at 5:15 am Christmas morning. She's the best Christmas present ever (though I've never had one that was quite so difficult to unwrap).

I only spent one night in the hospital (I would have left earlier except they needed some of Jadzia's newborn blood for their vampires). So now, instead of being a wimp, I look like a super-strong woman for being up and about such a short time after giving birth. So there!

Its a Girl - Merry Christmas

At 5:15 am this morning (Christmas Day, Dec 25th 2008)
Jadzia was born (pronunced jahd-ZEE-ah)

7 lbs 7 oz

mom and baby are doing well :)

she's a beauty

Let the games begin

Yesterday, after William's bedtime drama, my head hit the pillow and I started having contractions. I didn't wake up Adam. At least, not intentionally. I read somewhere that the way you tell the difference between the El Fake-o Braxton Hicks contractions and real ones is that you can get rid of Braxton Hicks by changing positions. So I was moving around a lot. They seemed real, and were coming about every ten minutes. By morning, though, they had mysteriously disappeared.

I happened to have a doctor's appointment and told him all about my magic disappearing labour. He did his poke-in-the-vagina test and confirmed that I was 90% effaced and 2-centimetres dialated. In other words, I had not imagined it.

So I convinced Adam to stay home (although not much convincing was needed the day before Christmas). The doctor sent me to the hospital to do a non-stress test, which is where they hook my belly up to some monitors, like they're giving the baby a lie detector test. Then they gave me some juice and a jeopardy-style button to press whenever she moved. She's the most laid-back baby in history. We were there for 45-minutes (or 6 bucks and change parking), and she only moved when me and the nurse were poking at my belly. Anyway she passed the test, not a stressed out baby.

William stayed at my parents' house while we painted the town, going out for lunch, and then to a movie. My contractions started up again, but not with any consistancy. First they'd be ten minutes apart, then maybe 9, then 15, then I'd go an hour without feeling anything.

Today is Christmas Eve, and no baby has made an appearance. According to my stop-watch-keeper husband, my contractions are now six and a half minutes apart (I've had three while writing this blog entry).

My guess is my daughter's birthday will be today or tomorrow. It might be annoying to have your birthday overshadowed by Christmas, but I feel absolved of all guilt. She could have come at the beginning of December, she could have come in early January. Instead, she chose the biggest consumer holiday of the year.

Merry Christmas.

Bed time wars, D-day

While I had pretty much given up ever getting a full night's sleep in my own bed, my husband Adam was all gung-ho to try the "Super Nanny" technique of gettting a toddler to sleep by himself. For those of you who haven't watched any of the many nanny-themed reality shows, this involves putting the child back in bed everytime he gets up, never giving into his demands that Mommy or Daddy lay with him(and William can be very demanding). It also involves a lot of crying and very little actual sleep.

William woke up around 2am, wanting one of his human teddy-bears. Adam went in first and began super-nannying. I tried to stay asleep, but there was much wailing from the other room. Then it was my turn. I'm no good at the drill-sargeant-ness required of a super nanny. I'm more of a coach: "I know you can do this William", "I'll be right in the next room", "You're a big boy now, you can sleep in the big boy bed", "I know it's hard but I believe in you."

After several hours of tag-teaming. Adam got bed up and started threatening to make William sleep on the floor if he didn't choose to stay in bed. I thought this was a ridiculous technique, and said so. On my turn, I noticed that William was now asking me to sit on the edge of his bed, when previously he had demanded that I lay down on his pillow. Progress!

By about 5:30, William was clearly exhausted and a lot less vocal. Although he did become a bit chatty, telling me all about his night-light and the colours it was turning. At this point, Adam suggested calling it a night and bringing William to bed with us, since he seemed very awake. NO! said I. I almost got him to sleep, but it took one more Adam turn for our son to crash, at 6 am.

And of course he still woke up normal-time at 8 am.

Adventures at the Doctor's

This morning I had an appointment at 11 to see my baby doctor. Normally on Fridays there's an Early Years drop-in at the church right near my doctor's office. My plan was to go there, hang out a few hours, then head to my appointment.

So William and Adam and I got into the car. My husband actually enjoys driving in the snow, so the snow storm was no big deal for us. Of course the Early Years drop-in was cancelled due to inclement weather. No worries, most of my doctor's patients had also cancelled and I was able to get my appointment in at 9:30 instead of 11. So far, so good.

As we were leaving, Adam went out ahead so he could pull up the car and we wouldn't have to walk in the blowing snow. William didn't understand why Daddy was going ahead, so he stood by the door, and kept pressing the wheelchair button and trying to make a break for it. Somehow, in doing this, he got his middle finger stuck in the door. The heavy metal door had closed completely on his tiny finger before I was able to release it.

If you're going to get hurt, the doctor's office is the place to do it. I immediately went to the pharmacist and explained the situation. They gave me an ice pack (which William refused to even touch) and advised me to get the finger checked out at the walk-in. The walk-in sent me upstairs to see our family doctor. The family doctor made us wait, with a screaming toddler, in the exam room for about a half-hour.

The doctor told us a bunch of obvious things like "put ice on it" and "give him tylenol" then gave us some tylenol and sent us back downstairs to get an x-ray.

William wasn't really interested in waiting in yet another waiting room (especially since this one had no toys). Luckily, the tylenol started to kick in and his finger, which now looked like a small sausage, didn't appear to be bothering him as much.

Adam took William into the x-ray room, where they were apparently all decked out in led coats and bibs. I wasn't there because all pregnant bellies are banished from the x-ray room. William got a teddy bear sticker and a disk with his x-ray pics on it to show the doctor. Back upstairs we went, where the doc confirmed that William's finger was not broken. Hurray!

We left the doctor's office (finally) and made it home for just after noon, about the time we would have made it home if we'd kept my original appointment.

Snow Angels

Hanging out outside when both of us are getting over a cold may not be the best idea, but how could I resist all that freshly fallen snow? William wasn't nearly as impressed with the weather as I was and wanted to go back inside after only five minutes. Just enough time for me to create my first (and most likely last) snow angel of the season.

Now, who will take care of me??

When my baby was sick, I lay down with him, I gave him hugs, I cuddled him, I took him to the doctor, I gave him medicine. Now he's well enough to whip toys at the tv, to rummage through the freezer, and to find and play with all the most dangerous items in the kitchen drawers. Meanwhile, my brain has liquified and is coming out through my nose.

With Any Luck

Since I haven't posted in almost a week, I'm sure some of you have assumed that I'm in the hospital pushing out a kid. No such luck. However, with only eight days to go, I'm looking for signs that the luck of the universe is on my side.

William has been suffering a pretty bad cold the past few days. So bad, in fact, that the only way he could sleep last night was if I slept the entire night beside him in his car bed (had to be me, because I'm the Mommy, Daddy doesn't have magic mommy powers). Luckily, my husband opted to make William a full sized twin, rather than a toddler-sized bed.

Still, a sick child is bad luck, but this morning I had some related good luck. I had a prenatal appointment and was going to take Mr. William to the walk-in at the same time, before I went I called our family doctor (same building as my preggers doc) on the slim chance that I could get William an appointment. Not only did they actually give me an appointment, but they gave me one a half-hour after mine!

Unluckily, William and I were both called in at around the same time and my Dad had to take William in. William has an ear-infection (surprise, surprise).

Luckily, my doctor says the baby's head has dropped lower than it was last week. Unluckily, he says I probably have at least another week to go.

Luckily, I remembered to buy diapers. I bought a crossword scratch ticket while I was there, to look for further signs of luck. I lost but, if only I'd had the letters H, N, R, and Y, I would have won 50 thousand dollars.

Luckily William fell asleep in the car, and actually stayed asleep when I put him in bed. Unluckily, he just woke up, just now.

Luckily, the Cleavage anthology, which has my story in it, just got a good review which mentions my piece in particular as one that young girls can relate to.

So with any luck, if you add up all this bad and good luck, carry the one, we should see a baby girl sometime before Christmas.

Santa Photo 2008

While William still isn't thrilled to meet the big guy in red, he didn't cry this time. However, I did have to hold him prisoner on my lap, making this year's Santa photo a family photo:


For more amusing Santa antics, here's a video of the event:


Listen carefully, at the end when William is playing with the ornaments, I say "Sweetie, Santa doesn't want you to touch his balls." Oops! Afterwards Santa told me I made his day with that line.

Preggers Photos

I think we're well overdue for some preggers photos, so here are some that were taken today:

And, as a bonus, something we can never have too many of, a cute picture of William:

Isn't it wonderful that what fits in my belly one day, will soon become an independent little human? Just call me a cuteness factory.

How to make a pregnant woman uncomfortable (and hopefully put her in labour).

On Sunday my family (plus sister-in-law Eireann) went to the zoo. If you've ever been to the Toronto Zoo, you know that it involves a lot of walking. If you've ever been in the middle of winter, than you're just as crazy as I am. As a rule, if you're eight and a half months pregnant, and it's really cold out, you probably shouldn't spend the day at the zoo. Having said that, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, especially with Eireann there as an extra toddler-chaser.

The next day, as Adam was leaving for work, he casually announced that our cordless phones weren't working and I needed to plug in a land line. Once he had left, I began to panic. I didn't know where the corded phone was. What if I went into labour? What if I had some other emergency for which e-mail was too slow? Unfortunately, the phone was where I thought it was: in the crawl space. As the name suggests, the crawl space is a space that can only be accessed by crawling (or bending over at an odd angle). Ours takes up half the basement and is, especially for someone in my delicate condition, a back-pain-inducing nightmare. I totally blamed my husband for making me do this. I'm going to go into labour right here, thought I, won't Adam feel bad then! After I plugged in the phone, I decided I was going to totally overwork myself and put myself into labour, just to show him! So I put away one load of laundry, then got tired and lazy and went on the computer.

Today, to add to Sunday's excessive walking, I went to the mall with William's good friend Aedan and his family (Aedan's parents have been my friends since kindergarten). The good thing about toddler-malling with a gang is that there are plenty of toddler chasers. And of course, in my delicate condition, it's perfectly acceptable for me to walk at a leisurely pace, while others take on the task of running after my son (who has only two speeds: sprinting and dead stop).

After all this walking and crawling and walking, I now feel excessively pregnant. My gigantic uterus is sore. It hurts when I walk, stand up, or when a certain toddler takes flying leaps at my belly. When I was pregnant with William, I didn't feel like this until after my due date, fairly close to the time I was induced. At the time I blamed my doctor for doing a membrane sweep and bruising my insides. Now I have noone to blame but myself.

My friend Becca (Aedan's mommy) recently directed me to a site that boasted "Jump start your labour cookies". When I mentioned this to my Mom, she said "Ahh! Don't do that. If something is wrong with the baby you'll never know if that was why." However, having very low hopes that a cookie recipe (one that contains no cocaine or pharmaceuticals) will have any effect, and taking my current discomfort as a sign that labour is imminent, I made them anyway. They're basically ginger cookies with a little cayenne pepper in them to make them spicey. So if I do go into labour in the next 24 hours, I'll totally credit my baking (or, you know, the hours and hours of walking in the last few days.)