Who knew a toddler was so.... tiring???
Kudos to all those home daycare providers that actually choose to spend their time with more than one - holy crap, how do you do it and not fall asleep immediately at 6pm every night.
And how are all your houses so clean??
I've thrown up the white flag. Surrendering. Today Maddie is going to daycare. I am spending the day a) shopping for her "present from the bebe", b) taking a bath, c) sleeping, d) attempting to clean the debacle that is our kitchen after my mass cooking episode yesterday, e) sleeping, and f) you guessed it, sleeping.
I can't believe that I thought I would take Maddie to the zoo this week. I can't believe I thought I'd be able to have her home and finish a thousand million to-do's at the same time. I can't believe the guilt I feel at shipping her off to daycare after being home for only 3 days of mat leave.
But don't worry. I don't feel so much guilt that I'd actually change my mind and not send her today. T-minus 60 minutes...
xxoo.S
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Early morning adventures
So aside from being super-awesome of late, in a great mood, sleeping like a demon and potty-training like a rockstar, Maddie has learned another cool trick.
Getting out of bed, opening her door, and wandering around the house in the early-morning hours.
I remember all my anxiety leading up to the transition to her "big girl" bed - would she fall out, would she hate it, would she jump out of bed every chance she got and never sleep. And then the transition turned out to be the easiest thing in the world... and I was all like, what's with the hoopla people?
Now I get it.
She's known how to open and close doors forever. And she learned how to climb in and out of her bed fairly quickly (why did I ever praise her when she was doing this??).
And then last weekend, she put two and two together. For a while (before she got comfortable with getting out of bed on her own) she would just sit up in bed and call out for me in the morning. Then she started getting out of bed and going to her door, knocking on it, calling for me.
Either of these two was entirely acceptable ways to wake up in my opinion.
Waking up to a stealth-like-ninja-child creeping into my room silently and staring at me from the side of the bed? Not the most relaxing way to wake up.
Even less relaxing? Waking up to an open-doored, empty bedroom and having to search the upstairs for my toddler, who has been up for who knows how long? Very much not relaxing.
Am realizing, as I type this, that I sound like the most irresponsible parent in the world... I'm actually a very light sleeper and have a pretty good mom-sensor as to her wakefulness, so I'm pretty sure she's only ever been up for 5 minutes on her own at the most...
Anyhoo - I should probably note, we ALWAYS have the child-gate secured at the top of the stairs. And all the bathroom cupboards are child-locked. So the worst she can really get up to is pulling out all the towels from the linen closet, going into the baby's room to snoop around the new toys/clothes/bags strewed across the floor, or climb up on the blanket box to look out the hallway window. Pretty benign adventures.
But still a little jarring and so looking online as to what other's suggest I come across two options. Either lock (or secure) the bedroom door (i.e. using those child-proof door-knob covers), or put up a child-gate on the outside of the kids door.
Now the first option, essentially locking the child in their room, while the safest of all options, is not an option (for me). Not that I have an actual phobia about being trapped, but holy shit, that would scare the hell out of me personally and so I really don't fathom doing this to my little miss.
The second option - the baby gate outside the door - well, more humane in at least they see why they are trapped - but still... I can't help but feel like we're moving backwards a bit? And also, the baby gates we currently have from the earlier baby days are too thick to work in the door jamb with the door closed, so yeah... it means we have to go out and buy a new safety gate, just for this.
Unless there's another suggestion that I'm totally missing?
xxoo.S
Getting out of bed, opening her door, and wandering around the house in the early-morning hours.
I remember all my anxiety leading up to the transition to her "big girl" bed - would she fall out, would she hate it, would she jump out of bed every chance she got and never sleep. And then the transition turned out to be the easiest thing in the world... and I was all like, what's with the hoopla people?
Now I get it.
She's known how to open and close doors forever. And she learned how to climb in and out of her bed fairly quickly (why did I ever praise her when she was doing this??).
And then last weekend, she put two and two together. For a while (before she got comfortable with getting out of bed on her own) she would just sit up in bed and call out for me in the morning. Then she started getting out of bed and going to her door, knocking on it, calling for me.
Either of these two was entirely acceptable ways to wake up in my opinion.
Waking up to a stealth-like-ninja-child creeping into my room silently and staring at me from the side of the bed? Not the most relaxing way to wake up.
Even less relaxing? Waking up to an open-doored, empty bedroom and having to search the upstairs for my toddler, who has been up for who knows how long? Very much not relaxing.
Am realizing, as I type this, that I sound like the most irresponsible parent in the world... I'm actually a very light sleeper and have a pretty good mom-sensor as to her wakefulness, so I'm pretty sure she's only ever been up for 5 minutes on her own at the most...
Anyhoo - I should probably note, we ALWAYS have the child-gate secured at the top of the stairs. And all the bathroom cupboards are child-locked. So the worst she can really get up to is pulling out all the towels from the linen closet, going into the baby's room to snoop around the new toys/clothes/bags strewed across the floor, or climb up on the blanket box to look out the hallway window. Pretty benign adventures.
But still a little jarring and so looking online as to what other's suggest I come across two options. Either lock (or secure) the bedroom door (i.e. using those child-proof door-knob covers), or put up a child-gate on the outside of the kids door.
Now the first option, essentially locking the child in their room, while the safest of all options, is not an option (for me). Not that I have an actual phobia about being trapped, but holy shit, that would scare the hell out of me personally and so I really don't fathom doing this to my little miss.
The second option - the baby gate outside the door - well, more humane in at least they see why they are trapped - but still... I can't help but feel like we're moving backwards a bit? And also, the baby gates we currently have from the earlier baby days are too thick to work in the door jamb with the door closed, so yeah... it means we have to go out and buy a new safety gate, just for this.
Unless there's another suggestion that I'm totally missing?
xxoo.S
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
My conundrum
Another neighbour conundrum for you. Same neighbours in fact. Shocking, I know...
So here's the set up:
Our neighbourhood is in love with their lawns. About 80% tend, fertilize, weed and seed on a regular basis. Makes for a lovely looking street, unless you're part of the 20% that have weeds growing, well, like weeds, at the end of your lawn.
Hi! That's us!
And it's not really just the competitive bitch in me that hates the state of my lawn (although knowing that my lawn does not look like Mr. Fantastico's up the street does annoy me every time Maddie and I walk to the park)... I truly don't like weeds, and do truly care about the state of my lawn. Maybe because I haven't had a lawn in so long to call my own? So, before I get into it, let's not question the sanity of being obsessed with a dark green, lush, weedless lawn - it is what it is, and being questioned on why I even want it, is not going to help the story...
So ... last year we paid a service to do things to our lawn. Like fertilize, and aerate and seed. They were... expensive. And they were... not great. As in, didn't come unless I called to harass them. Spread seed so haphazardly that I'm still (this year) picking grass out of my gardens. Needless to say, we decided that we'd take care of it ourselves for a year and see if we could do better.
We bought weed & feed. We bought on-sale black earth, peat moss and sand - Hubs mixed up his own top soil and seeded the living hell out of the lawn. And we weeded. Oh, we weeded. Using the fancy stand up, take a thousand pounds of turf with your weeds $50 weeder. On my hands and knees using my old hand-shaped-like-a-screwdriver weeder.
We put a lot of hours into (attempting to) making our front lawn healthy again. And after doing all this work, it didn't rain for 2 weeks. Which meant we had to water, and water, and water, and-water-and-water-and-water-and-water. And let the grass grow. Give the seedlings time to take hold, get their grip on the new soil and grow a bit.
Which means we didn't cut our lawn for a few weeks.
Yes, seems like a long time - but really, until we got some rain just last week, it wasn't all that forest-y.
But yes, after the weekend, our grass was crazy. Long and wild. Needing a good haircut. Kind of like Maddie (until yesterday).
You know where this is going, right?
So, picture your typical 'burbs set up... We have a driveway. To the left of the driveway is our front lawn, house, walkway, front step etc. And to the right of our driveway we have a 2 foot-wide strip of lawn that goes up to our backyard gate. And on the other side of this narrow strip of lawn is our neighbour's driveway.
Yes, THAT neighbour.
Again, may I reiterate... we were in perfect knowledge that our lawn needed cutting. Well, to be fair. IIIIII was in perfect knowledge of it. I think the Hubs was using the "we need to let the grass take root" excuse out of mowing the lawn a little far... and when I nagged him on Sunday about doing it he made some kind of mumbled promise that he would take care of it this week.
And you know what? I'm 9 months pregnant. I'm NOT mowing the lawn. This "chore" falls clearly into the Hub's camp of responsibility. Always has. Always will (with a few exceptions of when I thought I'd try my hand at mowing. Guess what? Mowing the lawn is not as fun as it looks. 'Effing shocker.)
So boop-boop-sha-loop, Maddie and I take off on a morning full of errands yesterday morning, and what do we come home to?
A freshly mowed small strip of grass between our driveway and our neighbour's driveway. It was mowed within an inch of it's life (because they have healthy grass/turf/whatever, you see - so they can mow it down to the lowest level and it lives just fine - crappy grass? Ain't like that.). The lawn below the sidewalk and all the way up to just where our driveway starts.
Essentially, the part of the lawn that you'd notice while walking or driving by.
Just to be clear. It's not like she did us the "favour" of mowing the entire strip of lawn on that side of the house. She didn't mow all the way back to our back gate (which you can't really see from the road). NO. Just the VIEWABLE portion. That is also attached to her driveway. BUT IS NOT HER LAWN.
Get where I'm going here?
Enter pregnancy-hormone-induced-RAGE. Coupled with MORTIFICATION that my lawn was so clearly such an embarrasment to her, that she felt that it was in her best interest...nay...The Neighbourhood's best interest that it get cut.
Mortification - coupled with rage? Not a great emotion to wear for the rest of the day.
And I know it's really not a big deal. Something I should just laugh off, because, really? Dude? Who cares that much about their neighbour's lawn? And who has the balls to do this? To actually cut someone else's lawn?
And I want to laugh it off. Truly I do. I want to be the "bigger person" and "find the humour" in the situation and "scoff at the ridiculousness" of it all.
Except I can't. I envision myself going over and picking out some of her stupid pink petunias and seeing just what her reaction would be. And I would respond, "Oh, I just thought I was helping. Making it look better. At least, in my humble opinion of how a garden should look."
And (luckily for her) I haven't seen her as of yet. And yes, I know that it was her, and not him - because I've never seen her douchebag of a husband shovel the driveway OR mow the lawn. I'm not sure he does much of anything outside, except sit in his car and smoke and throw his butts on our lawn.
But when I DO see her? Ohhhh, I'm saying something. At least I'm pretty sure I will. Because it's 24 hours later and I'm still pissy about it. Like raging-Hulk-slashed-with-humiliation-style-of-pissy. And I also don't think that it's something I SHOULDN'T address. Because shouldn't she be aware that indeed, that's not fucking okay to do?
Or am I crazy here? Do I need to reign it in? It's entirely possible that these are pg-hormones and not rationality reacting. But I'm pretty sure I'm right. And before you ask, is it worth it, causing neighbour-strife to be RIGHT?
Yes, yes it is. Because these neighbour's are clearly not coming over for tea anytime soon. I don't think if I burned this bridge, I'd be regretting it at all...
xxoo.S
So here's the set up:
Our neighbourhood is in love with their lawns. About 80% tend, fertilize, weed and seed on a regular basis. Makes for a lovely looking street, unless you're part of the 20% that have weeds growing, well, like weeds, at the end of your lawn.
Hi! That's us!
And it's not really just the competitive bitch in me that hates the state of my lawn (although knowing that my lawn does not look like Mr. Fantastico's up the street does annoy me every time Maddie and I walk to the park)... I truly don't like weeds, and do truly care about the state of my lawn. Maybe because I haven't had a lawn in so long to call my own? So, before I get into it, let's not question the sanity of being obsessed with a dark green, lush, weedless lawn - it is what it is, and being questioned on why I even want it, is not going to help the story...
So ... last year we paid a service to do things to our lawn. Like fertilize, and aerate and seed. They were... expensive. And they were... not great. As in, didn't come unless I called to harass them. Spread seed so haphazardly that I'm still (this year) picking grass out of my gardens. Needless to say, we decided that we'd take care of it ourselves for a year and see if we could do better.
We bought weed & feed. We bought on-sale black earth, peat moss and sand - Hubs mixed up his own top soil and seeded the living hell out of the lawn. And we weeded. Oh, we weeded. Using the fancy stand up, take a thousand pounds of turf with your weeds $50 weeder. On my hands and knees using my old hand-shaped-like-a-screwdriver weeder.
We put a lot of hours into (attempting to) making our front lawn healthy again. And after doing all this work, it didn't rain for 2 weeks. Which meant we had to water, and water, and water, and-water-and-water-and-water-and-water. And let the grass grow. Give the seedlings time to take hold, get their grip on the new soil and grow a bit.
Which means we didn't cut our lawn for a few weeks.
Yes, seems like a long time - but really, until we got some rain just last week, it wasn't all that forest-y.
But yes, after the weekend, our grass was crazy. Long and wild. Needing a good haircut. Kind of like Maddie (until yesterday).
You know where this is going, right?
So, picture your typical 'burbs set up... We have a driveway. To the left of the driveway is our front lawn, house, walkway, front step etc. And to the right of our driveway we have a 2 foot-wide strip of lawn that goes up to our backyard gate. And on the other side of this narrow strip of lawn is our neighbour's driveway.
Yes, THAT neighbour.
Again, may I reiterate... we were in perfect knowledge that our lawn needed cutting. Well, to be fair. IIIIII was in perfect knowledge of it. I think the Hubs was using the "we need to let the grass take root" excuse out of mowing the lawn a little far... and when I nagged him on Sunday about doing it he made some kind of mumbled promise that he would take care of it this week.
And you know what? I'm 9 months pregnant. I'm NOT mowing the lawn. This "chore" falls clearly into the Hub's camp of responsibility. Always has. Always will (with a few exceptions of when I thought I'd try my hand at mowing. Guess what? Mowing the lawn is not as fun as it looks. 'Effing shocker.)
So boop-boop-sha-loop, Maddie and I take off on a morning full of errands yesterday morning, and what do we come home to?
A freshly mowed small strip of grass between our driveway and our neighbour's driveway. It was mowed within an inch of it's life (because they have healthy grass/turf/whatever, you see - so they can mow it down to the lowest level and it lives just fine - crappy grass? Ain't like that.). The lawn below the sidewalk and all the way up to just where our driveway starts.
Essentially, the part of the lawn that you'd notice while walking or driving by.
Just to be clear. It's not like she did us the "favour" of mowing the entire strip of lawn on that side of the house. She didn't mow all the way back to our back gate (which you can't really see from the road). NO. Just the VIEWABLE portion. That is also attached to her driveway. BUT IS NOT HER LAWN.
Get where I'm going here?
Enter pregnancy-hormone-induced-RAGE. Coupled with MORTIFICATION that my lawn was so clearly such an embarrasment to her, that she felt that it was in her best interest...nay...The Neighbourhood's best interest that it get cut.
Mortification - coupled with rage? Not a great emotion to wear for the rest of the day.
And I know it's really not a big deal. Something I should just laugh off, because, really? Dude? Who cares that much about their neighbour's lawn? And who has the balls to do this? To actually cut someone else's lawn?
And I want to laugh it off. Truly I do. I want to be the "bigger person" and "find the humour" in the situation and "scoff at the ridiculousness" of it all.
Except I can't. I envision myself going over and picking out some of her stupid pink petunias and seeing just what her reaction would be. And I would respond, "Oh, I just thought I was helping. Making it look better. At least, in my humble opinion of how a garden should look."
And (luckily for her) I haven't seen her as of yet. And yes, I know that it was her, and not him - because I've never seen her douchebag of a husband shovel the driveway OR mow the lawn. I'm not sure he does much of anything outside, except sit in his car and smoke and throw his butts on our lawn.
But when I DO see her? Ohhhh, I'm saying something. At least I'm pretty sure I will. Because it's 24 hours later and I'm still pissy about it. Like raging-Hulk-slashed-with-humiliation-style-of-pissy. And I also don't think that it's something I SHOULDN'T address. Because shouldn't she be aware that indeed, that's not fucking okay to do?
Or am I crazy here? Do I need to reign it in? It's entirely possible that these are pg-hormones and not rationality reacting. But I'm pretty sure I'm right. And before you ask, is it worth it, causing neighbour-strife to be RIGHT?
Yes, yes it is. Because these neighbour's are clearly not coming over for tea anytime soon. I don't think if I burned this bridge, I'd be regretting it at all...
xxoo.S
Oh, hi there!
I've been silent for a while. Well, what can I say? Last week was a bitch. I got sick (again! I know, play another record, right?). I was working like mad, trying desperately to wrap up loose ends and feeling guilty all at the same for all those loose ends that I really was going to have no choice, but leave loose. All in all, it was hectic and crazy and not awesome.
So instead, let's focus on what is awesome. It is Tuesday. I'm 2nd day into mat leave. I have my massive to-do nesting list created (yes this is a good thing, I'm anal and love my lists). And I've got my little Miss M home with me from daycare for her own little "mommy-vacation" for the week.
You know how I always write about how much of a Daddy's girl she is? Well, this past week and half, she's changed her tune quite dramatically. She's all about "momma momma momma" lately. Momma has to play with her. Momma needs to do bath time. Momma has to read the bedtime stories.
In return I get the softest pats on the cheek and a little girl that looks right in my eyes and tells me, "I lub you TOOOOOO much Momma."
Heart. Melting.
Also in the realm of awesome?
So instead, let's focus on what is awesome. It is Tuesday. I'm 2nd day into mat leave. I have my massive to-do nesting list created (yes this is a good thing, I'm anal and love my lists). And I've got my little Miss M home with me from daycare for her own little "mommy-vacation" for the week.
You know how I always write about how much of a Daddy's girl she is? Well, this past week and half, she's changed her tune quite dramatically. She's all about "momma momma momma" lately. Momma has to play with her. Momma needs to do bath time. Momma has to read the bedtime stories.
In return I get the softest pats on the cheek and a little girl that looks right in my eyes and tells me, "I lub you TOOOOOO much Momma."
Heart. Melting.
Also in the realm of awesome?
- Sproggy's room is almost done, just some shelf installation and basket buying and artwork-making (this is the rainy-day activity Madd's and I are going to tackle this week).
- We have the carpet-cleaning guy booked for this Friday (because you can't truly NEST without some steam-cleaning of some kind, right?)
- I cooked and baked like a demon yesterday, and have a few more things to get done today - which means the freezer will be sufficiently stocked for.... oh, the first couple of weeks of newborn-hell, anyways.
- Maddie decided to sleep in all weekend until 7:30am (or later) and take 3.5 hour afternoon naps and that? Was so incredibly fantastic. Especially as Hubs was at a golf thing until late on Friday, cottage all day Saturday until the wee hours of Sunday and therefore slept in on Sunday - so essentially I was on single-parent duty for the majority of the weekend, which, with all that sleep, didn't seem so hard after all.
- Maybe it was all the sleep, but the little glimpse we've had recently of the "terrible-twos" monster seems to have disappeared. She's been a darling of late, very agreeable, very happy - just generally a pretty awesome little kid.
And last but not least? In the past couple of weeks, we decided to try our hand at potty training one more time before the baby arrived. Maddie showed interest in it, our daycare provider suggested it be a good time to try again, and so we did. And the first 2 weeks. Went okay... She seemed to do far better at daycare and save up all the "accidents" for the hours between 6-8pm.
But with little pep-talks from our daycare provider to keep our spirits up (and her promising that soon, very soon, everything would just "click" and Maddie would just all of a sudden put 2 and 2 together and be able to tell us when she had to go - vs us having to ask every 20 mins and try to cajole her into "trying" again)... we kept with it and blammo! Everything seemed to click into place as of yesterday.
She told me she had to go before we left the house on our errands yesterday morning, she told me she had to go while driving in the car (and DID go in a Tim Horton's bathroom with no issues - I was so proud I bought her 2 Timbits as a reward), and she told me she had to go poop before naptime. So, while she wore a pull-up the whole day (yes, it's much better to "train" in underwear, it's a helluva lot easier when out and about to be using a pull-up), she didn't have ONE accident. And I also learned, she can hold it for about an hour and half - sometimes two. So yeah, that's probably why she resisted when I was asking her every friggin' 20 minutes. I'd get annoyed too.
Anyways - so we've passed that hurdle. She can now tell us she has to go (which is so much better than me having to check with her a thousand times a day), and seems to be totally down with being a "big girl who doesn't wear diapers".
I realize by simply writing this and bragging about my potty-genius, she will now totally revert and pee all over my shoes while we're out today ... but whatever... I had to share.
Off to run more errands and see the midwife... enjoy your day at work... suckas!!!
xxoo.S
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
37 weeks
Um, nothing has really changed since last week....
- Still have lots of energy back (altho fell asleep at 9pm on couch last night watching Sherlock Holmes - which is a surprise since RDJ is a big celeb crush for me)
- Feeling as big as a house - like, belly skin couldn't get tighter
- In fact, I suspect I've got some stretch marks on the underside that you can't really see all that well, but there definitely are some little red, angry looking squiggles... oh to ever wear a bikini again?
- My ankles swell - but only sometimes. In fact, now that we have AC back, 'tis not so bad - so we'll see how that goes.
- I've been crampy lately. But don't get excited - I remember being so crampy in the final month last time that I was CONVINCED I was going to give birth at least 2 weeks ahead of schedule. Instead I went 6 days late...
- I have discovered the refreshing joy of lemonade (especially PINK lemonade - which Maddie also lurves) - yay summer.
Yup. That's all I've got. Oh and this is my 2nd last week of work. Countdown is officially on. Which means I'm crunching about three months of work into 6 days... because I'm dumb and conscientious and think people really care and shit...
xxoo.S
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Still my baby?
It's no secret that Miss M is a Daddy's Girl. The pure bliss-joy-excitement she gives him when he gets home from work I rarely get to experience (when it's me walking in the door), in fact, I'm usually lucky to get more than a cursory glance up. Which means I instead swoop down to her and hug and kiss her until she tells me "No more kissing Mommy!".
When Daddy isn't around, she asks where he is. When it's time to go to daycare she always begs for Daddy to do drop-off. And whenever I'm trying to get her to do something (crazy, mean torture things like get dressed or put on shoes) that she's stubbornly refusing to do, she immediately acquiesces upon Daddy's request to "please do what Mommy is asking you to do".
She definitely "pushes" me more than anyone in her little world. And don't worry, I know that it means she's feels most comfortable, feels most loved, feels least threatened by me. At least if the experts are to be believed... But it can still be mind-stunningly annoying and frustrating on some days that she can't just Give.Me.A.Break.
And none of this matters really, because at the end of the day, I'm the one she wants when things go wrong. When she's breaking down. When she's tired, or sad, or sick.
She's my "baby". My first-born. She's the reason I fell in love with motherhood and thought maybe (just maybe) I could do this again. Expand our family. Give her a sibling, a playmate, a partner in crime.
But a girlfriend of mine (who just had her 2nd a few days ago) said something that really resonated with me because it summed up the terrified feeling I've been trying to ignore for the past 8 months. She said, "I never realized how much it would affect me realizing he [her 3-yr-old son] wasn't the baby anymore."
And this isn't to take away from the excitement I'm feeling about Sproggy #2 - I can't wait for her to get here and join us. But that's not to say I'm not anticipating a bit of fall-out from #1. Will she resent the baby initially? Will it make her even MORE of a Daddy's girl and will she be angry with me? I know she will seem GIGANTIC in comparison to the new baby - but does this immediately rank her into "child / not baby" status for the rest of her life?
I don't know. I suspect not. I assume all children are always viewed as being their Mom's "baby" forever and ever and ever. At least, I hope so.
xxoo.S
When Daddy isn't around, she asks where he is. When it's time to go to daycare she always begs for Daddy to do drop-off. And whenever I'm trying to get her to do something (crazy, mean torture things like get dressed or put on shoes) that she's stubbornly refusing to do, she immediately acquiesces upon Daddy's request to "please do what Mommy is asking you to do".
She definitely "pushes" me more than anyone in her little world. And don't worry, I know that it means she's feels most comfortable, feels most loved, feels least threatened by me. At least if the experts are to be believed... But it can still be mind-stunningly annoying and frustrating on some days that she can't just Give.Me.A.Break.
And none of this matters really, because at the end of the day, I'm the one she wants when things go wrong. When she's breaking down. When she's tired, or sad, or sick.
She's my "baby". My first-born. She's the reason I fell in love with motherhood and thought maybe (just maybe) I could do this again. Expand our family. Give her a sibling, a playmate, a partner in crime.
But a girlfriend of mine (who just had her 2nd a few days ago) said something that really resonated with me because it summed up the terrified feeling I've been trying to ignore for the past 8 months. She said, "I never realized how much it would affect me realizing he [her 3-yr-old son] wasn't the baby anymore."
And this isn't to take away from the excitement I'm feeling about Sproggy #2 - I can't wait for her to get here and join us. But that's not to say I'm not anticipating a bit of fall-out from #1. Will she resent the baby initially? Will it make her even MORE of a Daddy's girl and will she be angry with me? I know she will seem GIGANTIC in comparison to the new baby - but does this immediately rank her into "child / not baby" status for the rest of her life?
I don't know. I suspect not. I assume all children are always viewed as being their Mom's "baby" forever and ever and ever. At least, I hope so.
xxoo.S
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
36 weeks
I am big.
I am hot.
Fin.
************
Kidding - this has been a bit of a milestone week actually! Because yesterday (and the heat and the lack of a/c and probably just the fact that I'm 30 pounds heavier than usual) I noticed my feet/ankles swelling for the first time! Woot woot. Can. You. Feel. The. Excitement?
I think I may have jinxed myself, as over the weekend my friend's mom asked me how I was feeling, was I getting puffy/bloated/uncomfortable etc etc etc. And I was all "oh no - surprisingly I haven't had swollen ankles at all - and last time with Maddie I had them from month 7 on, so I must be avoiding that this time around!". Ahahhahaha - famous last words.
So yeah - little does he know, the Hubs will be ponying up a foot massage before the week is out. Given we actually get our a/c fixed on Thursday when the technician comes. Because if that doesn't happen, then I suspect we may just murder each other.
Murder? Sounds excessive you ask?
Well, judging from last night... he told me (after I berated him for being so grumpy with us for no reason), "You don't understand how hot I am - I'm so uncomfortable!". And I may or may not have pointed at the massive watermelon attached to me and responded, "I think my Royal Flush trumps your Full House, so you can eff off." And this is the edited, pg version of the story...
So yes, I'm swelling up like a puffer fish and we have no a/c. In happier news, I FINALLY have more energy. Like, awake and doing things isn't torture past 8pm energy-styles. Which must mean that I'm finally not sick anymore? Or perhaps am feeling the final-four-week-adrenaline-rush?
Not sure, but it does mean that I attempted to start sewing the drapes for the baby's room last night. Until approximately 10:45pm. I succeeded (in 3.75 hrs) to a) cut the fabric, b) cut the lining, c) iron 2 sides of each piece of fabric into a 1/2 inch "hem" and d) punch myself in the face about five thousand times for being so stupid as to think that I should attempt to try and sew lined drapes myself, when last time I checked, I take the Hub's shirts into the drycleaner if they're missing a button. (Kidding. I don't really do that. I'm far to cheap. He just wears the shirt without the button. HA)
Suffice to say, I'm am possibly an over-reaching idiot.
But don't think that doesn't mean I'm not going to finish these bloody drapes. They won't be pretty. They won't be even. They may not even be all that functional. But they will be finished.
Screw you Home-Ec. I took Drama instead. Clearly that was a wise-idea in high school.
xxoo.S
I am hot.
Fin.
************
Kidding - this has been a bit of a milestone week actually! Because yesterday (and the heat and the lack of a/c and probably just the fact that I'm 30 pounds heavier than usual) I noticed my feet/ankles swelling for the first time! Woot woot. Can. You. Feel. The. Excitement?
I think I may have jinxed myself, as over the weekend my friend's mom asked me how I was feeling, was I getting puffy/bloated/uncomfortable etc etc etc. And I was all "oh no - surprisingly I haven't had swollen ankles at all - and last time with Maddie I had them from month 7 on, so I must be avoiding that this time around!". Ahahhahaha - famous last words.
So yeah - little does he know, the Hubs will be ponying up a foot massage before the week is out. Given we actually get our a/c fixed on Thursday when the technician comes. Because if that doesn't happen, then I suspect we may just murder each other.
Murder? Sounds excessive you ask?
Well, judging from last night... he told me (after I berated him for being so grumpy with us for no reason), "You don't understand how hot I am - I'm so uncomfortable!". And I may or may not have pointed at the massive watermelon attached to me and responded, "I think my Royal Flush trumps your Full House, so you can eff off." And this is the edited, pg version of the story...
So yes, I'm swelling up like a puffer fish and we have no a/c. In happier news, I FINALLY have more energy. Like, awake and doing things isn't torture past 8pm energy-styles. Which must mean that I'm finally not sick anymore? Or perhaps am feeling the final-four-week-adrenaline-rush?
Not sure, but it does mean that I attempted to start sewing the drapes for the baby's room last night. Until approximately 10:45pm. I succeeded (in 3.75 hrs) to a) cut the fabric, b) cut the lining, c) iron 2 sides of each piece of fabric into a 1/2 inch "hem" and d) punch myself in the face about five thousand times for being so stupid as to think that I should attempt to try and sew lined drapes myself, when last time I checked, I take the Hub's shirts into the drycleaner if they're missing a button. (Kidding. I don't really do that. I'm far to cheap. He just wears the shirt without the button. HA)
Suffice to say, I'm am possibly an over-reaching idiot.
But don't think that doesn't mean I'm not going to finish these bloody drapes. They won't be pretty. They won't be even. They may not even be all that functional. But they will be finished.
Screw you Home-Ec. I took Drama instead. Clearly that was a wise-idea in high school.
xxoo.S
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Irony is...
- Spending $350+ on a new camera the very-same-day your friend finds your old one in their van.
- Attempting (for the second time) to potty train your toddler, the very weekend she decides to play "baby" and only wants to "goo-goo ga-ga" at you every time you ask her if she wants to be a "big girl".
- Turning on your a/c on the hottest long weekend Monday you've ever experienced, only to find out that it is B.R.O.K.E.N.
Or I could say... Irony is: complaining about anything really, when it was still a hot + sunny long weekend, spent with good, close friends + my adorable little family. And that alone, was enough to make it perfect.
xxoo.S
Friday, May 21, 2010
The suspense...
Was it killing you? I'm guessing perhaps not... but I do want to share the results of our ultrasound on Wednesday....
Firstly (and foremostly?) the baby isn't breech. So let's all breathe a sigh of relief there. Whew...
Now - check this out...
Isn't that the most GIRLY little foot you ever did see? :) Yes - we have another itty-bitty girl joining our family - woot woot! We're both over the moon (of course) and so happy to finally know. Would love to share other pics, but she was playing shy - and by shy, I mean, planted face-down into my pelvis - so there was no chance to get a profile view at all.
But since I'm such a brilliant mommy and documented all the scans thus far (erm, or not) - I thought I'd share a few of the past ones...
Hope everyone has a brilliant long weekend! We'll be veggie-garden-planting, summer-bbq-having, house-warming-attending, and drape-sewing. Lot's on the go - but love my weekends like that.
xxoo.S
Firstly (and foremostly?) the baby isn't breech. So let's all breathe a sigh of relief there. Whew...
Now - check this out...
But since I'm such a brilliant mommy and documented all the scans thus far (erm, or not) - I thought I'd share a few of the past ones...
Here's the 11wk scan - where she's just a little peanut:
And here's a pic of one of the 20wk scan pics - another side profile with a little hand...
Hope everyone has a brilliant long weekend! We'll be veggie-garden-planting, summer-bbq-having, house-warming-attending, and drape-sewing. Lot's on the go - but love my weekends like that.
xxoo.S
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
2nd time lucky?
My midwife can't decide if the baby is breech or not. A few weeks ago she was quite sure it was breech (as was I, considering if felt like I had a watermelon stuck between my ribs). And then yesterday, at my bi-weekly appointment, she wasn't so sure.
But because she wants to be sure (because surety is a good thing re: this whole breech business apparently), I'm scheduled for an ultrasound... tomorrow! (In fairness, I had to book the u/s weeks ago, on the basis of "just in case" -- but assumed I wouldn't get to use it, so didn't tell anyone about it.)
So....... say it with me...... squee! Another ultrasound! Another chance to see the baby's bits!
Yes - I am fully on board with "ruining" the surprise with only 5 weeks to go. I dare you to judge me. I'm hormonal and pregnant. Really? Do you REALLY want to take me on?
In an effort to explain just why we (I) so badly want to find out.... well, we're (I'm) planners. We (I) like to prepare and plan and make lists and plan and prepare and pre-wash little baby clothes that are so small you can't even imagine something so small... And if we (I) can determine whether some of the existing baby clothes can be used, before taking our (OUR) credit card out to the nearest Carter's and blowing a trillion dollars on a new gender-free wardrobe.... well, that would be in ALL our best interests, right?
Also - we can't decide on a boy's name. Because, dammit, boys names are hard. And we don't want to be those parents that leave the hospital with Baby X Vallier. Right?
It's the responsible thing, really.
And yes, before you ask - the girl's name, should we get to use it, is set. Has been for months. MONTHS.
So in essence, if it's a girl, we're good. We have the clothes, we have the name. All we need to do is sew the drapes.
And if it's a boy... well, we may just have to get our asses in gear a bit. Make some decisions. Go shopping. And... sew the drapes.
So what do you think the odds are, that the baby will still be shy? I'm guessing .... yeah. NO.
xxoo.S
But because she wants to be sure (because surety is a good thing re: this whole breech business apparently), I'm scheduled for an ultrasound... tomorrow! (In fairness, I had to book the u/s weeks ago, on the basis of "just in case" -- but assumed I wouldn't get to use it, so didn't tell anyone about it.)
So....... say it with me...... squee! Another ultrasound! Another chance to see the baby's bits!
Yes - I am fully on board with "ruining" the surprise with only 5 weeks to go. I dare you to judge me. I'm hormonal and pregnant. Really? Do you REALLY want to take me on?
In an effort to explain just why we (I) so badly want to find out.... well, we're (I'm) planners. We (I) like to prepare and plan and make lists and plan and prepare and pre-wash little baby clothes that are so small you can't even imagine something so small... And if we (I) can determine whether some of the existing baby clothes can be used, before taking our (OUR) credit card out to the nearest Carter's and blowing a trillion dollars on a new gender-free wardrobe.... well, that would be in ALL our best interests, right?
Also - we can't decide on a boy's name. Because, dammit, boys names are hard. And we don't want to be those parents that leave the hospital with Baby X Vallier. Right?
It's the responsible thing, really.
And yes, before you ask - the girl's name, should we get to use it, is set. Has been for months. MONTHS.
So in essence, if it's a girl, we're good. We have the clothes, we have the name. All we need to do is sew the drapes.
And if it's a boy... well, we may just have to get our asses in gear a bit. Make some decisions. Go shopping. And... sew the drapes.
So what do you think the odds are, that the baby will still be shy? I'm guessing .... yeah. NO.
xxoo.S
Monday, May 17, 2010
I get to bring my kitty home today
I got the call from my vet today that Si's ashes are ready to be returned to me. Yes, I paid extra for that. Yes, I'm a little bit crazy.
And yes. This is a bit of a macabre post.
But for the first time in almost a week, I feel like my family will be whole again. Even in a sad, sitting on the mantel, kind-of-way.
So, instead, I'm labeling it a happy day.
Smiley-face.
xxoo.S
And yes. This is a bit of a macabre post.
But for the first time in almost a week, I feel like my family will be whole again. Even in a sad, sitting on the mantel, kind-of-way.
So, instead, I'm labeling it a happy day.
Smiley-face.
xxoo.S
Berry exciting
Our weekend consisted of NO PLANS... This is how Hubs and I kept reminding each other all week of just how the weekend would be.
"And remember - we're not making any PLANS this weekend, right? Just sticking around home?"
Yes, after a week of sickness (me and Dr. Google think it was likely bronchitis that slapped me and Maddie down for the count almost all week - gotta love those "must run its course" virus-type illnesses - perfectly timed as always), and our sad-kitty-news, not to mention a previous couple of weekends of busy-busy-travel, we wanted one of those weekends where we were committed to No One for Nuthin'.
Luckily we both stuck to our word - and the weekend of NO PLANS fell into place. Of course NO PLANS doesn't mean that we veg'd out the entire time. Nope - it was the first (of many I'm sure) yardwork weekends. Which sounds a little strenuous for a bronchitis-ridden pregnant woman, right? Not to worry - I very much put on my "foreman" hat and "helped" by "making suggestions" mostly.
Well, except for the weeding - that's where I got to get down and dirty. Because I love my weeding tool. And swearing like a sailor at the millions of dastardly dandelions that dare inhabit my lawn. Nothing like getting caught saying, "I've got you now motherfucker!" as you pull up one of those 7-headed Medusa-style dandelions (long root intact - score!), right at the same moment that a new mother and her 3 month old stroll past.
Yup, I'm the classiest neighbour you'll ever find up here in the boondocks... Wanna be friends?
And while I was wreaking havoc on the weeds, the Hubs did the whole top soil/grass seed thing to try and make our front lawn a little less the "embarrassment of the street". It was Rona's $1 black earth sale this weekend, so we decided to go for it and top-dress the entire lawn instead of the patch-jobs we did last year.
As the Hubs said, "This better make a difference, or I'm ready to just give up."
Also on the agenda for the weekend was buying and planting several hydrangea shrubs (1/2 price at Sheridan Nursery - we got the deals I tell you!) and some raspberry + blueberry bushes in the backyard. Here's hoping we get to enjoy the "fruits" of our labour before the summer is out! Erm.... punny...
I'd love to show you some pics of our efforts - but someone still hasn't gotten around to making it down to the nearest camera shop to test drive some new models, because someone was sick as a freaking dog all week and someone else doesn't think camera-shopping/research falls under his umbrella of responsibilities.
So, just imagine a lush green, weedless lawn, with large flowering beautiful shrubbery and big thick berry bushes with branches literally dripping in fat, juicy fruits. And that's... not what anything looks like right now.
Except in my mind...
xxoo.S
"And remember - we're not making any PLANS this weekend, right? Just sticking around home?"
Yes, after a week of sickness (me and Dr. Google think it was likely bronchitis that slapped me and Maddie down for the count almost all week - gotta love those "must run its course" virus-type illnesses - perfectly timed as always), and our sad-kitty-news, not to mention a previous couple of weekends of busy-busy-travel, we wanted one of those weekends where we were committed to No One for Nuthin'.
Luckily we both stuck to our word - and the weekend of NO PLANS fell into place. Of course NO PLANS doesn't mean that we veg'd out the entire time. Nope - it was the first (of many I'm sure) yardwork weekends. Which sounds a little strenuous for a bronchitis-ridden pregnant woman, right? Not to worry - I very much put on my "foreman" hat and "helped" by "making suggestions" mostly.
Well, except for the weeding - that's where I got to get down and dirty. Because I love my weeding tool. And swearing like a sailor at the millions of dastardly dandelions that dare inhabit my lawn. Nothing like getting caught saying, "I've got you now motherfucker!" as you pull up one of those 7-headed Medusa-style dandelions (long root intact - score!), right at the same moment that a new mother and her 3 month old stroll past.
Yup, I'm the classiest neighbour you'll ever find up here in the boondocks... Wanna be friends?
And while I was wreaking havoc on the weeds, the Hubs did the whole top soil/grass seed thing to try and make our front lawn a little less the "embarrassment of the street". It was Rona's $1 black earth sale this weekend, so we decided to go for it and top-dress the entire lawn instead of the patch-jobs we did last year.
As the Hubs said, "This better make a difference, or I'm ready to just give up."
Also on the agenda for the weekend was buying and planting several hydrangea shrubs (1/2 price at Sheridan Nursery - we got the deals I tell you!) and some raspberry + blueberry bushes in the backyard. Here's hoping we get to enjoy the "fruits" of our labour before the summer is out! Erm.... punny...
I'd love to show you some pics of our efforts - but someone still hasn't gotten around to making it down to the nearest camera shop to test drive some new models, because someone was sick as a freaking dog all week and someone else doesn't think camera-shopping/research falls under his umbrella of responsibilities.
So, just imagine a lush green, weedless lawn, with large flowering beautiful shrubbery and big thick berry bushes with branches literally dripping in fat, juicy fruits. And that's... not what anything looks like right now.
Except in my mind...
xxoo.S
Thursday, May 13, 2010
34 weeks
It was around this time last pregnancy that I was moving house and completely done work. Sounds early, going off on maternity leave 6 weeks ahead of time, but our moving timing and accumulated vacation pay seemed to justify the month-ish early (and then I went 6 or 7 days overdue).
I think back to that time and wow. I remember being able to lug boxes and do things - but I also remember taking A LOT of naps. Resting for an hour between stints of unpacking boxes. And things taking four times as long as I ever anticipated them to.
I also remember it being such a time of change. Scary and emotional (moving from the city to the suburbs, buying your first house and having your first baby - that's a lot of change for one month - much less for a crazy-hormone-addled-pg-lady) - I should count my lucky stars that the Hubs and I survived it.
This time I still feel like I have so much to do - along with another 4 weeks to go with work. And yet, I'm not really stressed. Probably because the fear of the unknown is so diminished?
The nursery may or may not get done - meh, no one will really notice anyways. The crib is in the room, there's a few onesies hanging in the closet - that's good enough, right?
The house will very much most likely not be cleaned to accommodate hosting all the new-baby-visitors that like to drop by. Again, meh, perhaps it's time for us to put the cards on the table - let people see the squalor that we pretend not to live in on an everyday basis.
Any preemptive cooking to stock up for when the baby comes (one thing I really wished I had done more of last time and promised myself I would for-sure-absolutely do this time) - not done and don't see it happening anytime soon. And I say, meh. We (luckily) have low standards and an M&M's lasagna will do just as well as any homemade one.
Perhaps the nesting instinct has subsided to give me a break for a bit.
Perhaps this week has already been too much for me and my brain is shutting off out of complete survival mode.
Regardless - I like the new lack of baby-prep-stress. I don't expect it to stay like this, but I'll enjoy it while I can.
A few requests for a baby-belly pic have been made - would love to accommodate, but lack of a camera makes that difficult. And my puffy cold/allergy/virus-ridden face refuses to acknowledge the quasi-photo-taking-device that exists on my blackberry.
I hope I get better for next week - my first priority is to go camera shopping before the Hubs can change his mind about this expenditure.
But for now... survival mode.
xxoo.S
PS - thank you to all for the condolences and support around our loss of Si. Writing that post was cathartic to me - I never realized the guilt that would accompany the decision we had to make. I'm healing. We're all healing. However - word of advice for anyone making a vet appointment like that? Don't do it on a Tuesday. That's definitely a Friday afternoon type of appointment. Unless you can take a few days off to process. Because fresh pet bereavement does not a productive worker make.
I think back to that time and wow. I remember being able to lug boxes and do things - but I also remember taking A LOT of naps. Resting for an hour between stints of unpacking boxes. And things taking four times as long as I ever anticipated them to.
I also remember it being such a time of change. Scary and emotional (moving from the city to the suburbs, buying your first house and having your first baby - that's a lot of change for one month - much less for a crazy-hormone-addled-pg-lady) - I should count my lucky stars that the Hubs and I survived it.
This time I still feel like I have so much to do - along with another 4 weeks to go with work. And yet, I'm not really stressed. Probably because the fear of the unknown is so diminished?
The nursery may or may not get done - meh, no one will really notice anyways. The crib is in the room, there's a few onesies hanging in the closet - that's good enough, right?
The house will very much most likely not be cleaned to accommodate hosting all the new-baby-visitors that like to drop by. Again, meh, perhaps it's time for us to put the cards on the table - let people see the squalor that we pretend not to live in on an everyday basis.
Any preemptive cooking to stock up for when the baby comes (one thing I really wished I had done more of last time and promised myself I would for-sure-absolutely do this time) - not done and don't see it happening anytime soon. And I say, meh. We (luckily) have low standards and an M&M's lasagna will do just as well as any homemade one.
Perhaps the nesting instinct has subsided to give me a break for a bit.
Perhaps this week has already been too much for me and my brain is shutting off out of complete survival mode.
Regardless - I like the new lack of baby-prep-stress. I don't expect it to stay like this, but I'll enjoy it while I can.
A few requests for a baby-belly pic have been made - would love to accommodate, but lack of a camera makes that difficult. And my puffy cold/allergy/virus-ridden face refuses to acknowledge the quasi-photo-taking-device that exists on my blackberry.
I hope I get better for next week - my first priority is to go camera shopping before the Hubs can change his mind about this expenditure.
But for now... survival mode.
xxoo.S
PS - thank you to all for the condolences and support around our loss of Si. Writing that post was cathartic to me - I never realized the guilt that would accompany the decision we had to make. I'm healing. We're all healing. However - word of advice for anyone making a vet appointment like that? Don't do it on a Tuesday. That's definitely a Friday afternoon type of appointment. Unless you can take a few days off to process. Because fresh pet bereavement does not a productive worker make.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Big fella
I met you when I was in my early 20's. You were a little con-artist, even then. I walked by your cage, looking for a kitten that would make my then-boyfriend happy. You reached out your paw and grabbed my scarf. I chuckled at your sass, and moved on down the line. You meowed louder and louder the further away I walked. Intrigued, I moved back to your cage. Crouching down, we met eye-to-eye. You reached out to bat my scarf again. I opened your cage to pet you properly. You practically jumped into my arms.
Really, you picked me. I may have signed the paperwork and paid the fee to the Humane Society. But I always felt like you chose me. You saw a "dog-girl" at heart and decided to be the exception to the rule.
So that week after Christmas in 1998 you came home with me. An unexpected Christmas present to myself. We didn't get my then-boyfriend (now-Hubs) a kitten until the following year.
You were never really his cat. You had a preference for women - even my mom, crazy allergic and a cat-dis-lover for 50 years could not be immune to your charms.
You were a big kitty. Friends jokingly called you part-jaguar. Half-racoon. "The biggest cat I've ever seen."
You were my gentle giant. Tender-hearted, you let the new crazy orange kitty we brought home maul you and kick your ass all over the apartment.
Many years later, you let our little girl do the same thing. You didn't mind. You never once hissed. We almost suspected you liked the attention, since you'd always plop yourself within her reach, even before she could crawl.
Your love of a good snuggle was only surpassed by your love of food. Ideally shrimp straight from the platter, but soft cat food was more than acceptable. You could hear a can opening from anywhere and you'd always made an appearance, just-in-case.
The outdoors beckoned you and our moving to a house with a yard was like a type of Shangri-la, I suspect, the past few years. The minute the snow melted, you wanted outside. Not to roam. Not to adventure. Just to lay under the tree, in the cool grass.
You were a terrible pushover. My big lug. Kind-hearted and mellow. Beyond friendly and personable. You taught me what cats can be. Thank you.
Good-bye Simon. You will be missed, but not forgotten.
xxoo.S
Really, you picked me. I may have signed the paperwork and paid the fee to the Humane Society. But I always felt like you chose me. You saw a "dog-girl" at heart and decided to be the exception to the rule.
So that week after Christmas in 1998 you came home with me. An unexpected Christmas present to myself. We didn't get my then-boyfriend (now-Hubs) a kitten until the following year.
You were never really his cat. You had a preference for women - even my mom, crazy allergic and a cat-dis-lover for 50 years could not be immune to your charms.
You were a big kitty. Friends jokingly called you part-jaguar. Half-racoon. "The biggest cat I've ever seen."
You were my gentle giant. Tender-hearted, you let the new crazy orange kitty we brought home maul you and kick your ass all over the apartment.
Many years later, you let our little girl do the same thing. You didn't mind. You never once hissed. We almost suspected you liked the attention, since you'd always plop yourself within her reach, even before she could crawl.
Your love of a good snuggle was only surpassed by your love of food. Ideally shrimp straight from the platter, but soft cat food was more than acceptable. You could hear a can opening from anywhere and you'd always made an appearance, just-in-case.
The outdoors beckoned you and our moving to a house with a yard was like a type of Shangri-la, I suspect, the past few years. The minute the snow melted, you wanted outside. Not to roam. Not to adventure. Just to lay under the tree, in the cool grass.
You were a terrible pushover. My big lug. Kind-hearted and mellow. Beyond friendly and personable. You taught me what cats can be. Thank you.
Good-bye Simon. You will be missed, but not forgotten.
xxoo.S
Reason #54 why he's such a good daddy
Maddie has been up coughing the past few nights. She doesn't complain about it and she's been fine during the day, but the coughing is heartbreaking to listen to. It's that barking, dry, painful cough - you know the one. I know it too well, as I have it right now too. Going on 2 weeks of being sick and we're all getting a little tired of it I think. This is one nasty virus/cold/mutant-bug-of-something-or-other.
She's been a trooper (as always), but it's starting to wear her down a bit. I think we were both awake from 5am onward from all the coughing from both our bedrooms, so not only was she coughing her little heart out this morning, but she was tired and CRANKY.
Here's where the Hubs earned his right to watch as much playoff hockey as he wants to tonight....
(At the breakfast table, after a particularly loud meltdown over a benign offer of a banana for breakfast)
Hubs: I don't think she should go to daycare today.
Me: Well, I have meetings downtown, so unfortunately, she's going.
Hubs: No - I meant, I'm going to stay home with her. Hopefully a quiet day inside and a long nap will help her get over this.
Me: You're going to work from home? Are you sure?
Hubs: Yeah, I'll try to get some work done, but I'm only worried about taking care of her.
I left them snuggling on the couch, watching Dora, while she ate a popsicle and was already in a better mood knowing she was having a "Maddie/Daddy Day".
Jealous.
xxoo.S
She's been a trooper (as always), but it's starting to wear her down a bit. I think we were both awake from 5am onward from all the coughing from both our bedrooms, so not only was she coughing her little heart out this morning, but she was tired and CRANKY.
Here's where the Hubs earned his right to watch as much playoff hockey as he wants to tonight....
(At the breakfast table, after a particularly loud meltdown over a benign offer of a banana for breakfast)
Hubs: I don't think she should go to daycare today.
Me: Well, I have meetings downtown, so unfortunately, she's going.
Hubs: No - I meant, I'm going to stay home with her. Hopefully a quiet day inside and a long nap will help her get over this.
Me: You're going to work from home? Are you sure?
Hubs: Yeah, I'll try to get some work done, but I'm only worried about taking care of her.
I left them snuggling on the couch, watching Dora, while she ate a popsicle and was already in a better mood knowing she was having a "Maddie/Daddy Day".
Jealous.
xxoo.S
Monday, May 10, 2010
So that's what hindsight is...
I arrived at my daycare provider's house on Thursday of last week, to find that her house had been burglarized. Or not so much burgled, but emptied.
Okay that sounds far more dramatic that it should - but all the pictures were taken down, the curtains at her front door were missing and there seemed to be an empty room where the tv room/kids play room was before.
As I stood and goggled thinking, w.t.f., she told me she had "news".
I asked if her news involved being burgled.
Apparently not.
Instead, her news was that they were moving and that she was going to be shutting down. At the end of July. She had been accepted to Teacher's College and was going to be attending in September. She was sorry for the unceremonious drop of the announcement, but it had all happened so quickly and she never expected to get in from a late admission, and yada-yada-yada-shutupcakes.
In the rush of these explanations, my head just kept looking back behind me - as if trying to see where the hell the 'for sale' sign was on the lawn, how I didn't see this coming, and why the hell had she packed up her playroom already.
I mean - she runs a daycare.
Again, with the w.t.f.
So it doesn't take a fancy-smart-person to realize that I'm pissed.
I'm annoyed that she's closing at all. I'm annoyed that she's closing just a month after I'm due to give birth to our 2nd child. I'm puzzled (and also annoyed - perhaps because that's the feeling of the moment) as to the early packing when she says she'll still be around until end of July - especially when all I see that is packed are some wall hangings and all the toys from the playroom.
And to top it all off, I'm annoyed that I was annoyed enough with her back in January, to go and search out other daycare options, only to decide, in the end, that it would be too much upheaval in Maddie's life when so much was going to be changed. And if she liked going there, who should I judge. Isn't that one of the more important points, if your kid likes your daycare solution, don't eff with it?
So I didn't. At the time I thought I was perhaps being too picky about menu options, about the insane bratty-ness of the daycare provider's 5 year old son. Who judges a 5 year old? Me, apparently. I figured since we'd be cutting down to part-time by the end of the summer, it wasn't such a big deal. And I could always move Maddie to the local nursery school instead of doing the part-time thing ... but for now let's not rock the boat. Let's not make changes.
Only to have change foisted upon me.
And so... I'm pissed.
And I'd love to be all philosophical and funny and witty about the whole thing. But I can't be. I'm irritated that I had a plan in my head that Madds would be in daycare full-time for the first couple of months of my impending mat leave. So that I would have one-on-one time with Sproggy #2. Sleepy time. Nap time. Non-insane-toddler-demanding-time. And that would make me a better mother. For baby and for toddler. I'd be refreshed at the end of the day - looking forward to my Maddie-Time. Baby and I would do the walk to the daycare pick up everyday and I would magically lose all my baby weight and everyone would be happy.
See how effing perfect it was going to be?
Now I have a month to figure out if I'm going to just uproot Maddie into a new option asap. Or try to find a part-time stop-gap apres the July 31st deadline. Or (shudder) have a toddler home with me full-time while I navigate the ways of a newborn.
And if this sounds whiny and irritating and you've already stopped reading? Well, I don't blame you. Because I would be reading this, thinking, wow. Poor you. Probably shoulda listened to your gut in the first place. That'll learn ya. Moving on...
Have I mentioned that I'm annoyed?
xxoo.S
Okay that sounds far more dramatic that it should - but all the pictures were taken down, the curtains at her front door were missing and there seemed to be an empty room where the tv room/kids play room was before.
As I stood and goggled thinking, w.t.f., she told me she had "news".
I asked if her news involved being burgled.
Apparently not.
Instead, her news was that they were moving and that she was going to be shutting down. At the end of July. She had been accepted to Teacher's College and was going to be attending in September. She was sorry for the unceremonious drop of the announcement, but it had all happened so quickly and she never expected to get in from a late admission, and yada-yada-yada-shutupcakes.
In the rush of these explanations, my head just kept looking back behind me - as if trying to see where the hell the 'for sale' sign was on the lawn, how I didn't see this coming, and why the hell had she packed up her playroom already.
I mean - she runs a daycare.
Again, with the w.t.f.
So it doesn't take a fancy-smart-person to realize that I'm pissed.
I'm annoyed that she's closing at all. I'm annoyed that she's closing just a month after I'm due to give birth to our 2nd child. I'm puzzled (and also annoyed - perhaps because that's the feeling of the moment) as to the early packing when she says she'll still be around until end of July - especially when all I see that is packed are some wall hangings and all the toys from the playroom.
And to top it all off, I'm annoyed that I was annoyed enough with her back in January, to go and search out other daycare options, only to decide, in the end, that it would be too much upheaval in Maddie's life when so much was going to be changed. And if she liked going there, who should I judge. Isn't that one of the more important points, if your kid likes your daycare solution, don't eff with it?
So I didn't. At the time I thought I was perhaps being too picky about menu options, about the insane bratty-ness of the daycare provider's 5 year old son. Who judges a 5 year old? Me, apparently. I figured since we'd be cutting down to part-time by the end of the summer, it wasn't such a big deal. And I could always move Maddie to the local nursery school instead of doing the part-time thing ... but for now let's not rock the boat. Let's not make changes.
Only to have change foisted upon me.
And so... I'm pissed.
And I'd love to be all philosophical and funny and witty about the whole thing. But I can't be. I'm irritated that I had a plan in my head that Madds would be in daycare full-time for the first couple of months of my impending mat leave. So that I would have one-on-one time with Sproggy #2. Sleepy time. Nap time. Non-insane-toddler-demanding-time. And that would make me a better mother. For baby and for toddler. I'd be refreshed at the end of the day - looking forward to my Maddie-Time. Baby and I would do the walk to the daycare pick up everyday and I would magically lose all my baby weight and everyone would be happy.
See how effing perfect it was going to be?
Now I have a month to figure out if I'm going to just uproot Maddie into a new option asap. Or try to find a part-time stop-gap apres the July 31st deadline. Or (shudder) have a toddler home with me full-time while I navigate the ways of a newborn.
And if this sounds whiny and irritating and you've already stopped reading? Well, I don't blame you. Because I would be reading this, thinking, wow. Poor you. Probably shoulda listened to your gut in the first place. That'll learn ya. Moving on...
Have I mentioned that I'm annoyed?
xxoo.S
Mother's Day
We spent the weekend in Kingston visiting with the Grandma's for Mother's Day. I love to get home to visit family - and really, it's only 2 hours away - but it was tiring. Very, very tiring. No more lengthy car rides for me for a while...
My Mother's Day bouquet Maddie brought home from daycare on Friday.
xxoo.S
Thursday, May 6, 2010
The "Mom Trudge"
In a conversation with a girlfriend...
Me: So loving flats these days - I can't remember the last time I wore a pair of heels. And summer used to be the season I looked forward to for the strappy sandals alone!
Her: Do you notice, even in flats, you totally walk differently now though?
Me: Totally. It's the "Mom Trudge".
Her (laughing): The what?
Me: The "Mom Trudge". A few years ago we'd walk around, all carefree and blissful. Strutting our stuff in our heels and popping in and out of cafes, bookstore, other shops. Now when we're out we're bent over pushing a stroller, or a grocery cart, or just trying to get whatever it is we're out doing done. We're on a mission. We're fighting time. Hence we're all bent over and miserable looking. When's the last time you swanned into a shop without worrying about how long you had already been out?
Her: You're right. It's the "Mom Trudge". Oh my god, we must look miserable.
Me: No, we just look old. Don't even get me started on the amount of times I get called "M'am" nowadays...
xxoo.S
Me: So loving flats these days - I can't remember the last time I wore a pair of heels. And summer used to be the season I looked forward to for the strappy sandals alone!
Her: Do you notice, even in flats, you totally walk differently now though?
Me: Totally. It's the "Mom Trudge".
Her (laughing): The what?
Me: The "Mom Trudge". A few years ago we'd walk around, all carefree and blissful. Strutting our stuff in our heels and popping in and out of cafes, bookstore, other shops. Now when we're out we're bent over pushing a stroller, or a grocery cart, or just trying to get whatever it is we're out doing done. We're on a mission. We're fighting time. Hence we're all bent over and miserable looking. When's the last time you swanned into a shop without worrying about how long you had already been out?
Her: You're right. It's the "Mom Trudge". Oh my god, we must look miserable.
Me: No, we just look old. Don't even get me started on the amount of times I get called "M'am" nowadays...
xxoo.S
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
33 weeks
I'd like to title this post EMOTIONAL. Because, yeah. That's where I am. At the height of some rip-tide of hormones coursing through my body that could really eff right off right about now.
It's amazing how you can bop along, enjoying (enduring?) pregnancy - having survived the 1st trimester, the 2nd trimester is like a party. You can finally eat again. You're not as moody. It really is the honeymoon of pregnancy.
And then the 3rd trimester sneaks up on you. And you start getting more uncomfortable. You can't reach your feet (bye bye at-home pedicures). You wake up more often at night because of aching hips, or having to pee or just whatever.
And the mood swings. I don't know about you fellow moms out there, but the 3rd trimester is a BITCH for this bitch. Like take the crazy that has been going on for the past 6 months and amp it up x 1000.
To be honest, I wish that this just meant I was more irritable, slightly more crusty and snarky than normal. But no. Hormones know your weakness and they like to digdigdig at it like the little tortuous bastards they are.
My weakness? I hate HATE to cry in front of other people. HATE.
Yes, I'm that hard-assed woman you work with that will come over to you and quietly nudge you off to the bathroom to shed your tears in private, if you dare show emotion at work. I have (in the past) sat through meetings and one-on-ones that would make Stalin sniffle; dry-eyed and stoic.
Not to say I was (am) some emotionless android or anything. Oh, I have a temper. I get "passionate" about things. But to cry? In a meeting? In a work setting? In public? Didn't. Happen.
Until I became pregnant.
I can pinpoint my first experience of work tears in my first pregnancy. I still cringe with embarrassment if I let my brain sit and ponder that meeting with my then-bosslady. I was mortified. And still couldn't stop sniffling. Couldn't control the emotions. Effing. Mortified.
And lucky me! I got to experience Take 2 yesterday! Woot woot! Gotta love pregnancy and the consistency of some of your experiences, time and time again.
I don't need to break it down. I don't actually like to talk about work here. Needless to say, I was in a rather tense meeting with a work colleague. I had the upper hand in the debate, I was right. And at some point the frustration of the obtuseness I was being met with (don't you hate people that dance their way around responsibility? like nails on a chalkboard to me) got so... FRUSTRATING that I felt that salty pin-pricky feeling of tears starting to form.
Luckily I ended the meeting before one tear actually fell, but I know it didn't go unnoticed. (In fact, was asked "Why are you so upset about this? You're leaving in a month anyway." - which, don't even get me STARTED on the treatment of pregnant women in the workplace, and the inequality, and the career-hemorrhage that can occur just because you CHOSE to propagate the species - I could go OFF about it and that's not really what you want to hear.... so... breathe.) And I HATE that I had to essentially concede my point to end the meeting and hightail it out of there.
Hormones. They're awesome.
In other weekly body-update news - I'm carrying quite low now, which means even large-sized maternity shirts don't cover up the belly. So it means I've got a little belly breeze happening with most of the clothes I wear. Because nothing says class like constantly pulling your shirt down to cover up your belly in the grocery store.
To summarize? The little sprog is good - healthy and not in breech position anymore. But pregnancy? It'll knock you down a peg or two.
xxoo.S
It's amazing how you can bop along, enjoying (enduring?) pregnancy - having survived the 1st trimester, the 2nd trimester is like a party. You can finally eat again. You're not as moody. It really is the honeymoon of pregnancy.
And then the 3rd trimester sneaks up on you. And you start getting more uncomfortable. You can't reach your feet (bye bye at-home pedicures). You wake up more often at night because of aching hips, or having to pee or just whatever.
And the mood swings. I don't know about you fellow moms out there, but the 3rd trimester is a BITCH for this bitch. Like take the crazy that has been going on for the past 6 months and amp it up x 1000.
To be honest, I wish that this just meant I was more irritable, slightly more crusty and snarky than normal. But no. Hormones know your weakness and they like to digdigdig at it like the little tortuous bastards they are.
My weakness? I hate HATE to cry in front of other people. HATE.
Yes, I'm that hard-assed woman you work with that will come over to you and quietly nudge you off to the bathroom to shed your tears in private, if you dare show emotion at work. I have (in the past) sat through meetings and one-on-ones that would make Stalin sniffle; dry-eyed and stoic.
Not to say I was (am) some emotionless android or anything. Oh, I have a temper. I get "passionate" about things. But to cry? In a meeting? In a work setting? In public? Didn't. Happen.
Until I became pregnant.
I can pinpoint my first experience of work tears in my first pregnancy. I still cringe with embarrassment if I let my brain sit and ponder that meeting with my then-bosslady. I was mortified. And still couldn't stop sniffling. Couldn't control the emotions. Effing. Mortified.
And lucky me! I got to experience Take 2 yesterday! Woot woot! Gotta love pregnancy and the consistency of some of your experiences, time and time again.
I don't need to break it down. I don't actually like to talk about work here. Needless to say, I was in a rather tense meeting with a work colleague. I had the upper hand in the debate, I was right. And at some point the frustration of the obtuseness I was being met with (don't you hate people that dance their way around responsibility? like nails on a chalkboard to me) got so... FRUSTRATING that I felt that salty pin-pricky feeling of tears starting to form.
Luckily I ended the meeting before one tear actually fell, but I know it didn't go unnoticed. (In fact, was asked "Why are you so upset about this? You're leaving in a month anyway." - which, don't even get me STARTED on the treatment of pregnant women in the workplace, and the inequality, and the career-hemorrhage that can occur just because you CHOSE to propagate the species - I could go OFF about it and that's not really what you want to hear.... so... breathe.) And I HATE that I had to essentially concede my point to end the meeting and hightail it out of there.
Hormones. They're awesome.
In other weekly body-update news - I'm carrying quite low now, which means even large-sized maternity shirts don't cover up the belly. So it means I've got a little belly breeze happening with most of the clothes I wear. Because nothing says class like constantly pulling your shirt down to cover up your belly in the grocery store.
To summarize? The little sprog is good - healthy and not in breech position anymore. But pregnancy? It'll knock you down a peg or two.
xxoo.S
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Kid-free
With the Hubs away on a weekend fishing trip (it's opening season of Pickerel and he has strict instructions not to return home empty-handed!), we decided it would be a great weekend for Maddie to go visit her grandparents while I stayed home. It's meant to be a relaxing weekend for me, but of course I made a list within minutes of these plans falling together, of all the things I want to get accomplished.
I love my lists.
Except at the end of the weekend when I look and see only 1 or 2 things crossed off.
But I'd say as long as one of those items crossed off is "paint the effing nursery" then I will have gotten my job done. Because aren't you tired of listening to me talk about how I need to paint my nursery... how it's going to get done THIS weekend... how I MUST make sure we finish it that week? Yes, me too.
Well, I'm happy to report the first coat is up. The blue coat. And it's.... bright. (This is a nice way of saying that a Caribbean sea snuck in the nursery window and threw up all over the walls).
I was going for "tiffany box blue" ... something in the realm of light turquoise-blue and less "baby-boy-boring-nursery-blue".
Well. I succeeded in it not being boring.
Am hoping that just the first coat is drying so dark because I am painting over a putrid peachy-beige colour (that inhabits almost every wall in our entire house, and will get painted over in the next year because h.a.t.e.). So maybe the dark base is making the first coat seem a little..... bright?
And yes - I realize you usually use a primer in these cases - but all these fancy new paints have "primers built in" - so you think you're saving yourself a step.
All said, I fear I may be having colour-remorse. We'll see - I don't think I can make a decision until the second coat is up and the wainscoting is painted white.
Would love to show a pic of what I mean, but we have well and truly lost our camera. I've search high and low and I think it's been left behind somewhere or another. Which sucks, as for a point-and-shoot that was over 5 years old, it really was a fabulous camera (Panasonic Lumix). BUT this means since we're in the market to buy a new camera now, that I'm looking at all the fancy DSLR models. Because, why not, right? Welcome any suggestions!
xxoo.S
I love my lists.
Except at the end of the weekend when I look and see only 1 or 2 things crossed off.
But I'd say as long as one of those items crossed off is "paint the effing nursery" then I will have gotten my job done. Because aren't you tired of listening to me talk about how I need to paint my nursery... how it's going to get done THIS weekend... how I MUST make sure we finish it that week? Yes, me too.
Well, I'm happy to report the first coat is up. The blue coat. And it's.... bright. (This is a nice way of saying that a Caribbean sea snuck in the nursery window and threw up all over the walls).
I was going for "tiffany box blue" ... something in the realm of light turquoise-blue and less "baby-boy-boring-nursery-blue".
Well. I succeeded in it not being boring.
Am hoping that just the first coat is drying so dark because I am painting over a putrid peachy-beige colour (that inhabits almost every wall in our entire house, and will get painted over in the next year because h.a.t.e.). So maybe the dark base is making the first coat seem a little..... bright?
And yes - I realize you usually use a primer in these cases - but all these fancy new paints have "primers built in" - so you think you're saving yourself a step.
All said, I fear I may be having colour-remorse. We'll see - I don't think I can make a decision until the second coat is up and the wainscoting is painted white.
Would love to show a pic of what I mean, but we have well and truly lost our camera. I've search high and low and I think it's been left behind somewhere or another. Which sucks, as for a point-and-shoot that was over 5 years old, it really was a fabulous camera (Panasonic Lumix). BUT this means since we're in the market to buy a new camera now, that I'm looking at all the fancy DSLR models. Because, why not, right? Welcome any suggestions!
xxoo.S
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