Bored Housewives Network

Progress, Eureka!

2007-04-29T19:43:00.000-07:00

It seems like my world has changed so much since Nile has become a toddler. The changes have been huge and I have been finding myself quite often feeling very overwhelmed.

My baby is loud. He is expressive and creative and wonderful and fun and smart and did I mention, loud? I personally really adore his exuberance and enthusiasm for life. But it has gotten us into a spot of trouble on several occasions. While we were in Mexico we were literally attacked by an uptight (obese & toothless) American man in a restaurant who responded to Nile's happy shrieking by requesting that we "Shut him up or get the hell out". (We had the misfortune of running into the same man again on the beach the following day where he proceeded to lecture me on how I was raising a monster). It was pretty traumatic.
And back at home in Canada we have been harshly scolded by restaurant staff on more than one occasion for Nile's inability to do anything quietly. He's just a loud, excitable little guy.

I've been really conflicted lately as to how to handle this situation. On one hand I want him to behave "appropriately" when we are out in public. But on the other hand I want to honor the fact that he is two and not squash his joyful expression. Either way, I have been feeling really stressed out and judged lately and find myself always looking over my shoulder expecting someone to attack me for my parenting.

I hit rock bottom last weekend when I took Nile to a child-friendly Earth Day dance performance / celebration. I made sure to sit in an aisle seat so he could move freely and dance if the mood struck him. As soon as the lights dimmed and the dancing began Nile began to chatter loudly about what he was seeing, "Mamma! ladies dancing!!". He was loving it, but I was immediately stressed and concerned that he must be bothering someone. Before long he was dancing in the aisles, body-slamming himself into neighboring seats and climbing the stairs to the stage. I was completely and utterly paranoid that it was only a matter of time before someone decided to confront me for his wild behavior. Try as I might I could not get him to comply with my requests to sit down and watch the show quietly. (I should mention that although it was a child-friendly event and there were many kids of all ages there, Nile was the only one dancing wildly and talking loudly. Most of the other kids were on their parents laps happily watching the performance).

I had so many manic thoughts running through my mind: Why can't I control my child?...Why can't he just enjoy this like a "normal" kid? Why is he the only one behaving this way? What is wrong with him? What is wrong with me? (*note to anyone who might think I'm being over-dramatic: I wasn't always like this, but our run-ins with irate people have really put me on edge*).

Nile's wild antics resulted in me not being able to enjoy any of the performances because I was too busy trying to control his behavior and worrying what everyone was thinking of us. It was a really stressful evening. I got home and broke down into tears from the frustration and the worry. I felt awful and I realized then & there that I needed a parenting strategy, pronto. My days of freestyle parenting were over.

For the past several months I have subscribed to a daily parenting email called 'The Daily Groove" by a wonderful man named Scott Noelle. I have always loved his outlook and advice. It's based in NVC (non-violent communication), which is something that our family has been really getting into over the past year. We love it and really believe in it. In addition to the "Daily Groove" Emails, Noelle also has a great website and he also offers very reasonably priced telephone coaching for parents who are in a rut or experiencing a crisis - like me! So, at the urging of my dear friend, Sabrina, who has used his coaching service in the past and strongly recommended it, I called Scott and set up an appointment.

This is already getting to be a pretty long post, so I won't go into all the details & particulars of our session. But I will say that is was very helpful and I would really suggest him to anyone who is in need of a little parental inspiration. He was able to really shift my perspective on my situation and diffuse a great deal of the fear and frustration I was experiencing. It's been a few days since the consultation and I am feeling really inspired and hopeful.

Noelle advocates creating a "child-honoring" space for our kids as opposed to constantly forcing them to conform to the rules of our grown-up world. One of the biggest gems that I took from our conversation was his suggestion to approach each incident of "difficult" behavior by asking, "What is wonderful about this?". I know that this sounds really touchy-feely, but I am really beginning to believe in it.

Here's a real-life example, the other day Nile found a full watering can in the bathroom and proceeded to "water" the bathroom floor. I asked him to stop, but he ignored me and headed out towards the rest of the house to continue his mission. At that moment I began to feel really frustrated and aggravated with the mess, the disobedience, the entire situation. My instinct was to snatch the watering can away & clean up the mess. But I stopped to ask myself, what is wonderful about this? The answer: Water is wonderful and Nile is discovering that right now. He is curious and playful and having fun experiencing what will happen when you wander around the house with a watering can. Looking at it from this perspective (his perspective) I was immediately able to shift my energy from being annoyed and snappy to being a co-creator in his experience. I scooped him and the watering can up and transferred them both to the garden where he could continue to explore and have fun with the water.

This may seem like a no-brainer to a more highly-evolved mamma, but prior to my conversation with Scott I was finding myself constantly getting stuck between satisfying my own needs (ie: a clean, dry house) and my son's need to be a curious, fun-seeking toddler. It truly felt like an impossible conundrum.

I feel so much lighter and more optimistic knowing that there is a middle ground and I'm slowly learning how to walk it.

"A place to share sad secrets"

2007-04-15T21:47:00.000-07:00

I’m pregnant. But at the same time, I’m not.

My body is currently housing an approximately seven-week-old embryo. But that embryo’s heart has stopped beating, probably just a few days ago, or so the ultrasound technician tells me. So right now, I’m in limbo till an appointment with my doctor in a few days, where we’ll talk about next steps. By “next steps” I mean “how we will get this dead embryo out of me.”

I don’t know why that last paragraph came out sounding so clinical. I don’t feel clinical. But I keep mentally approaching this subject from different angles, and it’s hard to find words to talk about it. I feel disappointed. I feel very, very sad. But I feel like there’s some aspect of this that I’m not feeling. Or else I’m feeling it, but because I don’t have words for it, I don’t know what I’m feeling.

I thought I’d be better at this – that I’d be more self-aware, or more capable and efficient at managing my grief -- this time around. Because this isn’t the first miscarriage I’ve experienced. I was pregnant once before Sam, and that pregnancy failed at around five weeks, something I didn’t find out till a couple of weeks later. Both miscarriages are alike in that I never experienced any of the warning signs: cramping, spotting, or bleeding. Both times I thought I was pregnant right up till the moment an ultrasound tech told me otherwise.

I hate ultrasounds, by the way. Though I feel huge sympathy for the people who perform them. What a shitty job.

Both of these miscarriages are similar in another way. Both times, I felt an acute, unaccountable, unshakeable sense that something was wrong. I didn’t feel this way when I was pregnant with Sam. That’s kind of weird, don't you think?

When I miscarried three years ago, it was at a time when I wasn’t doing any personal writing. I didn’t write about the experience, and by extension, I didn’t talk about it. I was really messed up for a long time, and I think that my silence was the reason why. So I’ve decided to be more forthcoming this time around.

When I think about why I was so quiet, a few reasons come to mind:

Being a private person by nature (which sounds weird coming from someone who writes about their life on the internet, but some of you other bloggers will know what I’m talking about)
Feeling ashamed and embarrassed
Thinking that by talking about it, I was “dwelling on it” and therefore “not getting over it” – and I desperately wanted to get over it
Not wanting to be a downer for other people

In retrospect, most of these reasons seem stupid or, to be a bit kinder to myself, ill-conceived (no pun intended). I don’t know what I was ashamed or embarrassed about. And it became patently obvious that not talking about it wasn’t making me feel better, so I should’ve ditched that strategy early on. And I don’t know why I worried so much about whether other people – especially my closest friends – would consider me a pill for being a tad depressed over the greatest loss I’d ever experienced.

This last point still sticks with me. It seems like I was doing my friends a huge disservice in assuming they would get tired of me and my sadness. I wonder why I wasn’t able to give people the greater benefit of the doubt. Especially since, both then and now, my friends have been universally wonderful – thoughtful, concerned, helpful, touchingly sympathetic, and offering their willing ears any time I want to talk or cry.

It also seems like, in being so quiet, I was doing other women a disservice. There’s so much silence around this subject, so few personal stories, that the statistic that one out of every five (or four, or three, depending on which source you cite) pregnancies ends in miscarriage feels like just that: a statistic. And while, yeah, I usually tend to find a certain amount of comfort in statistics, this one feels a bit hollow. (Actually, I feel completely detached from this particular statistic. When the miscarriage stat for the general population is 20 percent, and your own personal stat is 66.6 percent, you can see where the disconnect happens.)

So now, belatedly, I’m going to make my first miscarriage story part of the public record. I’ll totally understand if you want to stop reading at this point. And don’t feel guilty if you need to stop reading! I want my story to help the people who need it. If it can’t do anything positive for you, please, please don’t feel obligated to trudge through it. Also, this story gets somewhat graphic, so it’s not for the squeamish.

My husband and I decided to start trying to have a baby at the very beginning of 2004, and we were shocked and excited when we got lucky on the very first cycle of trying. In mid-February, when I was only about four or five weeks pregnant, I started to experience sharp pains in my lower abdomen. My pregnancy with Sam later taught me that these were just run-of-the-mill pregnancy pains from my uterus and ligaments stretching, but at the time I was paranoid about ectopic pregnancy, so I had an ultrasound that showed a yolk sac but no embryo, which was to be expected at the time.

At about the same time, my doctor, slightly concerned by my “weak” pregnancy test and minimal symptoms, scheduled a series of blood tests to measure my HCG (pregnancy hormone) levels. I had blood drawn every two days for a week, and at first things didn’t look so great, but then they seemed to pick up and we were all cautiously optimistic. My doctor scheduled another ultrasound at seven weeks. And this was when we found out that the fertilized egg hadn’t progressed past the fifth week. This is called a “blighted ovum” in some circles, though my doctor made a point of telling me this isn’t a medically recognized term. I’m still not sure why she was adamant about this.

At that point, I was told that I had three options:

I could wait for my body to miscarry naturally.
I could have a D&C.
Or I could opt to try an at-home procedure using a vaginal suppository called misoprostol, which would induce miscarriage.

I opted for Plan A, which seemed the most “natural” to me at the time. Also, in Vancouver, you can’t just schedule a D&C. You have to show up at the hospital without an appointment and put yourself on a waiting list, and then wait in the emergency room, possibly for hours, until they can squeeze you in for the procedure. I didn’t seriously consider misoprostol at the time, because I didn’t know anything about it and because I’d been warned that inducing a miscarriage could be much more painful than having one naturally, in much the same way that induced labour can be more painful than non-induced.

So I waited to miscarry naturally. And I waited. And waited. I’ve never realized how long a mere couple of weeks can feel. During this time, I couldn’t think about anything but this misstarted life, this failure of my body not just to create a healthy new life but to reject an unhealthy one, and my growing need to just get this phase of things over with so that I could start over.

After two weeks of my body stubbornly holding onto this poor little failed egg with no sign of letting go, I was done waiting and, not wanting to endure a hospital visit, ready to skip Plan B and move right to Plan C, the misoprostol. I received a prescription from my doctor and picked it up at my neighbourhood pharmacy, trying not to wonder if the pharmacist was looking at me pityingly or not.

But in my fuzzy-headed haste to finally get things going, I misread the instructions. Believing that it would take hours for the misoprostol to work, I inserted it just before bedtime, assuming it would start working at some time the next morning. And of course I started feeling the first cramps about an hour later. At the time, I remember thinking, ‘How bad can cramps get?’ The answer is, pretty bad. Pretty horrific, actually. In fact, in comparing them to labour contractions, with labour being a ten out of ten on the pain scale (note: I’m not saying that labour is an absolute ten on the entire spectrum of pain; I’m just creating a basis for comparison), these were about an eight-and-a-half. Maybe a nine. And of course, since this whole experience seems to be a testament to Murphy’s Law, it was by now well after midnight and the strongest painkiller we had in the house was extra-strength ibuprofen. For some reason, too, I had this stupid idea that I shouldn’t wake up my husband, who had a big day at work the next day. (He’s still incredulous at this bit of reasoning, and again I’m left to wonder what purpose I saw in trying to be stoic and keep my pain away from other people.) So from about midnight until 7am, I paced the house, moaning quietly and making frequent pit stops to the bathroom, where I’d rock back and forth on the toilet, still moaning. Finally, when it was getting light out and I was completely exhausted, the worst of it seemed to be over. I went to bed and slept most of the day.

From this point, all I wanted was to have a normal period, after which my doctor told me I’d be ready to try to conceive again. So I waited. And waited some more. Weeks passed. A month. Another month. Nothing happened. During this time, I became horribly depressed, something I didn’t realize until after it was over. I didn’t want to see people. I would go to work, then come home and stay in until it was time to go to work again. I only ate what I needed to for sustenance. I slept a lot. At one point, I booked a last-minute trip for my husband and I to Cuba, thinking it would be therapeutic. We were there for two weeks, and I hardly remember anything about it. Now, when we look at the pictures from that trip, which we generally feel strangely disinclined to do, we realize how sad and lost we look.

I became obsessed with the fact that I needed to become pregnant again, that it was the only thing that would pull me out of this terrible, empty place I was in. And once again I felt that my body had failed me in refusing to let me do even this.

In late May, which marked ten weeks of waiting for my long-lost menstrual cycle, we were invited to stay with friends at their family chalet in Whistler. Thinking that it would be good to get out of the house, we agreed and made what we hope was a valiant effort to be charming houseguests. And of course, invoking Murphy’s Law yet again, THIS was the weekend my period decided to return. With a vengeance. If by “vengeance” you mean “a horrible gush of blood and tissue that soaked my pants all the way down to my shoes.” In front of everyone. Thank god these were some of my closest friends, is all I can say. I ran to the washroom, where I stayed for the next eight hours, pretty much repeating the misoprostol-induced experience of two and a half months ago. When I later described this incident to my doctor, she said that it sounds like I’d only had a partial miscarriage earlier, and that my body had decided to wait a while for the sequel.

My body is kind of a dick.

It’s taken me longer than I’d expected to tell all this, so I’ll try to wrap things up quickly and on a positive note. My normal period returned. After just a couple of cycles of (admittedly tense and rather joyless) reproductive sex, we conceived again, this time with the healthy little bundle of fun we later came to know as Sam. And believe it or not, I managed not to be a basket case. (Well, I was kind of a basket case until that first ultrasound; see above re: hating ultrasounds.) In fact, at around the twelve-week mark I developed this semi-unflappable Zen calm about the entire pregnancy. I take no responsibility for this, and am perfectly willing to assign full credit to shiny-happy pregnancy hormones. Which, let me tell you, after suffering from what, in retrospect, was probably a full-on case of clinical depression for five months, was like winning a trip to Club Med with my own personal cabana boy.

The only residual effect (I thought at the time) of this experience on my pregnancy is that, when I did go into labour, I had a very negative emotional reaction to the pain of contractions. I wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that they were so similar to the pain of miscarrying. At any rate, I was very happy with the noble efforts of my friend, Mr. Anesthesiologist, and my labour experience was actually pretty first-rate, as such things go.

I'm now realizing there are other residual effects, and I'm still trying to sort them out, which is why I'm writing this.

There are as many different miscarriage stories as there are birth stories. This one is mine. In a few seconds, I'm about to hit the "Publish" button, and I'm more nervous and anxious about it than I expected to be. If you’ve read this far, you have my undying gratitude. If I’ve caused you any sadness, I’m sorry. If I’ve helped you, I’m glad. If you've been grossed out, well, that's your problem, dude.

If you want to read a more cogent discussion of miscarriage, there's an excellent epistolary piece from Slate's archives, called "Motherhood Lost", that my wonderful friend Libby found for me. Reading it has helped me. At the conclusion of the series of letters, one of the writers thanks the other for creating a "place to share sad secrets" online. I liked that idea, and that expression, so I used it in this post title.

*As an interesting footnote to this post, and on the subject of silence, when I was typing this entry in Word, it was interesting to note how Word’s dictionary didn’t recognize many of the negative words surrounding pregnancy: words like “ectopic” and “misoprostol”. (You could argue that the last is a drug and can be excused for being omitted, but try typing “penicillin” or “Viagra” or “lithium” into Word and see what happens.) Funny.

Is your toddler...?

2007-04-11T15:17:00.000-07:00

Is your toddler... obsessed with the story Jack and the Beanstalk (but secretly you don't mind, because now you can always get him to eat beans by telling him they're magical)?

Does your toddler... refuse to call his or her father "Daddy", "Papa" or even the more distinguished "Pater", instead choosing to refer to him as "White Guy" (or "Blue Guy" or "Red Guy" or "Black Guy", depending on the colour of his shirt)?

Does your toddler... hold treats temptingly close to the dog's face and then say loudly, "No Dobbs, that's Sam's cracker!"

Is your toddler... impervious to your frequent slips into full-on swearing, except for that one time you said "Oh my!" which has now become his or her favourite exclamation?

Does your toddler... make the fakest laugh imaginable every time you point out that something is funny?

Does your toddler... know they can sucker you into letting them use markers if they ask you if they can "Use mawkahs make cawd foy Mummy?" (Translation: Use markers to make a card for Mummy?)

Speaking of which... does your toddler call you "Mummy"? Because suddenly you're either British or you've been locked up in a sarcophagus for three thousand years?

Is your toddler... cracking you up daily with new tricks? Share!

Things I'm Loving Lately

2007-03-03T15:05:00.000-08:00

The Gruffalo.
I love this book! My sister-in-law brought it over for Nile when she visited from the UK last summer. It's a favorite of Nile's and mine, too. The people who wrote it also have several other kids books, but I like this one the best.

The Learning Tower.
I love this thing! I just did a post on my blog about it... it's a neat little gadget that you put up against the counter in your kitchen & your child climbs in to be up at your level. Since we got it it's been a lot easier to get dinner prepared or dishes washed because he is able to be participating with me helping out or playing with play dough (as opposed to squawking on the floor for my attention). It's really great.

Hold me. I'm scared.

2007-02-26T21:56:00.000-08:00

I'm not the only person who -- when confronted with a 22-month-old who pitches a one-day nap strike, with ensuing erratic behaviour for the rest of the day, culminating in a bedtime tantrum from hell -- says to herself, "That's it. Toddlerdom is here. Game over, man. Game over."

Or am I?

Can any of you been-there-done-that folks reassure me? This is just a 24-hour aberration, right? Things will go back to normal tomorrow? Or has a year of the (relatively) easy life with a happy-go-lucky kid made me soft?

grad school, ho!

2007-02-16T21:53:00.001-08:00

Possibly I am going to grad school, like going on a journey. Or maybe I mean I am a ho for grad school. Or maybe it’s both!

They are also giving me money. Delicious grad school money!

2007-02-11T22:29:00.000-08:00

Yea Anne Marie! Too right!

We were trying to teach Rian Texas Hold 'Em... poker face eh?!

Aw, but he cheered up at the Aquarium - great picture that his Nanna took!

Kris

It's a mad, mad, mad, mad, mad toddler world

2007-02-10T23:13:00.000-08:00

Heh. Anne-Marie, you've shamed me into posting for the first time in I don't know how long. Thanks for the kick in the butt! I've been anything but a bored housewife, and not a whole lot is new with Sam, other than one thing...

Is anyone else's toddler practising his or her tantrum skills? Sam hasn't had any real tantrums, other than one post-vaccination blowout, but every so often I catch him in the middle of doing his homework assignment for The Theory and Practice of Whining 101. I finally managed to catch the tail end of one of these sessions on video.

Note that there was absolutely no catalyst for this little incident, and there's no real emotion behind it. He clearly hasn't committed to the role.

And notice how he stops as soon as he notices me taping him? What gives? A few seconds later, I rolled the camera again, and he's all nonchalant, like, What? Me? I'm just sitting here eating toast and minding my own business. Nothing to see here.

Oh where, oh where, have the Bored Housewives gone?

2007-02-07T22:11:00.000-08:00

Oh where oh where could they beeeeee????

it's been too long since anyone's posted any fresh bitching, moaning and complaining! I know a few of you are pregnant again - you must have aches and pains you can share with us! And Kris - tell us more about the real estate market on the Sunshine Coast and Nelson! And Dopps, how's that Sam of yours? Libby - how was the yoga retreat????

News ladies, I want some news!!!

Cyber hugs,
Anne-Marie

p.s. we are well - (my) Sam's a nutbar these days; chat chat chat all day long. Tonight I made the bath a teensy wee bit too hot - he spent the rest of the night reminding me "mama bath too hot. Mama bath too hot." Way to make me feel guilty.

Severe Posting Lapse

2007-01-11T19:48:00.000-08:00

I credit Melissa with getting me back over to BHN to catch up on what i've missed. I posted in the comments section to her recent post, but i'm expecting #2 as well. I'm due at the end of March so i'm actually heading into the homestretch. I can't believe that starting next week i start to go to the Dr. every two weeks from now on. This pregnancy has passed pretty quickly-- although i'm already gigantic and just can't imagine what i'll look like in 3 more months!

One cool thing is two other friends that live near me are pregnant with their first babies and are due slightly before and slightly after me. I'm really hoping it helps me get out of the house once all the babies are here, and i've really enjoyed being a resource for all their questions. In fact i'm doing what i'm calling an "e-roundtable" for all of them. It involves me and another good friend (mom of two) laying out our two cents/what worked for us on a specifc topic each week. After we provide our little overview, we'll be available to answer questions from everyone on the topic all week. At the end of the roudtable i'll gather everything into a word doc and send it out so people have it as a reference.

These are the topics i've come up with so far, am i missing anything?

Baby Gear—How much stuff does this baby really need and what kind of stuff should I do/have on hand before the baby arrives?
Feeding—What are the nuts and bolts of breast and formula-feeding?
Sleeping—What should I expect regarding sleep, can I do anything to help my baby sleep better?
Taking Care of Mom—How do you find time for yourself, what are coping strategies for dealing with the new baby, what are warning signs of post-partum depression?
Partner Relationships—How does having a baby change your relationship to your partner, what can you expect, what can you do to help you grow into being parents?
Labor and Delivery—Natural, medicated, fast, slow—what to expect in labor and how to have the best birth you can.

Oops, I did it again

2007-01-03T17:36:00.000-08:00

I know, I don't post for months, but when I do, I have big news: A is going to be a big sister! I'm due in June.

Is anyone else thinking about #2 or am I the only crazy one?

Multi Media Holiday Spirit

2006-12-19T11:51:00.000-08:00

The other night we were decorating the Christmas tree and I was struggling to get the lights in place. Nile was getting impatient and demanding some of my attention. I told him that if he could wait a few minutes and let me put the lights on the tree it would be really pretty and he would love it. When I was finally done I plugged in the lights and asked if he liked it. He paused, smiled and said, "Mama, Love it".

Anyway, my main motivation for this post is to get some advice. I'm really getting into Christmas this year. I really love this time of year & I find that having Nile is motivating me to get some good, solid holiday traditions on the go. So, I went out and bought a few Cds of holiday music and I'm planning a holiday baking day with our neighbors, which I hope will become a fun annual tradition.

I've never been much into holiday movies, actually I've never really watched them at all - but the other night I was laying around flipping channels and noticed that Elf, starring Will Farrel was on. There wasn't much else on and I was feeling pretty unmotivated, so I watched it. And to my surprise I laughed out loud and really enjoyed it. A few nights later I was feeling equally unmotivated and ended up watching the second half of Santa Clause 2 (starring Tim Allen). I didn't really like that one quite as much but it got me thinking that I like holiday movies during this time of the year and I wouldn't mind watching more of them, especially as Nile gets older.

So, I was hoping that you mamas and papas would share your thoughts on your favorite holiday movies with me so I don't have to watch any more movies like Santa Clause 2 in search of the perfect Christmas movie! I'd love suggestions on good holiday music, too..

Happy Holidays!

Home is where the heart is? Or is it....

2006-12-05T21:14:00.000-08:00

So, lately, we've been talking a lot about where we want to raise Sam and what this neighbourhood/city/province looks like. Both hubby and I grew up in suburbian Ontario, home to the $139,000 4 bedroom family home and we have since moved many, many times, only to end up in "big-city" Vancouver, home to the $650,000 bachelor condo.

The thing is, we absolutely love our life in Vancouver - the weather, the mountains and oceans, the laid-back lifestyle. Growing up in Eastern Canada, Vancouver seemed like worlds away, and I'm kind of jealous that Sam got to be born in such a cool city (as opposed to Sherbrooke, Quebec).

Our problem lies in the fact that we currently rent a 2 bedroom condo in a somewhat inner-city neighbourhood. If we ever want to own a home, or even rent a larger apartment, or feel safe to have Sam ride his bike down the block, we either need to leave the city and move to the suburbs or, leave the city to somewhere else in BC, or gawd! Eastern Ontario (I can't believe I've even just written this).

I guess, at the heart of all this, is my fear of leaving everyone we've met and become friends with the last few years in Vancouver, to once again start fresh. This is the first time I've felt a sense of community and attachment to my neighbourhood and I worry that I will miss it terribly and everyone that is connected to it. I love that people around me know Sam and that he has little friends around the corner and that I am constanly running into other moms on the street. But, am I just being childish? Should someone just hit me upside the head and remind me "you'll make new friends at the new school" cause that's pretty much how I feel right now...

Do I want Sam growing up in the city, going to the art gallery, museum, riding the transit system or do I want a large yard for him to run around him, with perhaps some woods to run through and trees to climb? And, most importantly, am I willing to give up my new life in Vancouver and move, if after all this thinking, I realize that we need to leave Vancouver in order to give Sam the childhood he deserves?

These are my babbles and I'd love to see if this resonates with any one of you mamas out there? How do you juggle your sense of place with where you want to raise your child vs where you can afford to raise them?

trapped in the fifties?

2006-12-02T17:41:00.000-08:00

Last week, our town had its annual holiday parade. For some reason, the theme of the Bee's school's float was the Fabulous Fifties. Here she is in what we cobbled together for a costume--I was really happy that I had bought her that crinolined skirt months ago.

But it made me wonder why the fifties have such a stranglehold on our imagination, at least in the U.S. When I was in middle school, there was always a fifties dance every year, but I guess I attributed that to the fact that most of us were children of people who were in high school in the fifties. I thought (in my clueless, pubescent way) that it was just the moms trying to relieve their own glory days, or something stupid like that. I thought, "my kids won't have to suffer through 80s dances!" (Perish the thought! Where on earth would I find one of those fluorescent sweatshirts, for example?)

But this is at least the third thing that's happened at the Bee's school where parents who are my age or younger have opted to dress their kids in fifties attire. What's the deal with that? Is this something you Canadian moms have had to put up with?

Because if this is some yearning for the "Duck and Cover" era, I could live without it. And if not? Let's move on to some other eras. After last month's election, I could really get behind a 1960s Peace Parade, for example.

They're so cute when they're little

2006-11-22T21:47:00.000-08:00

"An unborn elephant, tiny but perfect in every way. A dolphin swimming in the womb, just as it will have to swim in the ocean the moment it is born. An unborn dog panting. Each one amazing and now, thanks to these remarkable pictures, they can be seen for the first time."

(Click on the "Gallery" link to see images.)

Via boingboing

Did someone order a ham 'Sam'which?

2006-11-07T22:32:00.000-08:00

Coming Right Up!

Sadly, I had nothing to do with it - it was all his dad's fault, who as you can tell, is the creative genius of the family!

Sorry....had to share since I ran out of friends and family to email this to....

Gddmned Mtherfcking Daylight Savings Time

2006-11-06T06:02:00.000-08:00

Am I the only person who's getting their ass kicked by the time change? Or more specifically, who's getting their ass kicked by their kid who seems to feel that 5:15 am is a reasonable time to wake up? Oh, not EVERY day, mind you... just the days that it's my turn to get up early and let the mister sleep in. How does he KNOW?

On the plus side, he's pretty chipper about it, if his frequent little visits over to the sofa to say "Hi! Hi! HI!" are any evidence. But you know how you feel about people who are super-chipper in the mornings while you're still trying to scrape the sand from the insides of your eyelids? Exactly.

Show me the pumpkins

2006-10-29T19:25:00.000-08:00

So it's pumpkin pics you want, huh, Melissa? How about this?

A call to action

2006-10-27T18:28:00.000-07:00

People, it is that time of year, and I demand pictures of children with pumpkins. Preferably the children should have pumpkin-like cheeks. Bonus points if the child is wearing some kind of pumpkin-like garb.

Oh, wait, I just happen to have an example here for you:

You have your assignment. Now get cracking!

(They have pumpkin patches in Canada, right?)

Honey, I shrunk the baby

2006-10-25T13:20:00.000-07:00

SCENE FROM SLATE.COM'S EDITORIAL OFFICE:

Editor: Come on, people. We need story ideas! Stories directed at anxious parents! Those are so hot right now!

Writer #1: What about a series of pieces from middle-class moms where they complain about their nanny problems? Those always get readers up in arms.

Editor: Nah, Salon's cornered the market on those. And besides, they're so 2004.

Writer #2: How about an alarmist piece that tenuously connects an ailment or disorder that parents worry about with a common household object?

Writer #3: Yeah! Like, um, ADD and antibacterial soap!

Writer #2: Or influenza and, uh, cats!

Writer #1: What about autism and TV?

Editor: Brilliant! Run with it! But we need another story. These alarmist pieces tend to be seven-day wonders. We want to pack a one-two punch with a follow-up story that makes the autism/TV story look like actual science.

Writer #2: How about a story about kids who see shrinks?

Writer #3: How about a story about BABIES who see shrinks?

Editor: Genius! Magnificent! Raises all around! Except for you, #2. You're fired.

The Old and the Restless?

2006-10-19T11:12:00.000-07:00

This recent article from the New York Times has given me pause. It describes several parents who have held their kids back -- particularly those born later in the calendar year -- to give them a chance to mature.

Both Dan and I are September-born and were always the youngest in our classes. To be honest, I never minded. I kind of liked it. Mind you, I mostly grew up in smaller towns, where months or years didn't necessarily determine friendship.

Since Jonah is a December-baby, the issue is bound to come up. In fact, given that I suffer from Type A-aholism, it already has, as Jonah is registered in a preschool for next September that normally only takes children who have turned three. But is this a good idea? Should I give him an extra year to learn numbers and tie his shoes? Or does it just depend on what his abilities are at that time?

All thoughts are welcomed!

Children's television troubles me

2006-10-18T14:19:00.000-07:00

Despite the not-at-all-inflammatory and certainly-not-trying-to-cause-a-panic "findings" of this Slate article that speculates TV might cause autism, we watch a fair bit of kids' programming in our house. Commercial-free programming, yes, but television nonetheless.

For one thing, Sam insists on having the TV on at all times (I think this may be genetic, and I'm not talking about the genes on his maternal side), even when he's playing in the other room, so it's easier just to humour him. And for another thing, man oh man, it sure is easier to make a coffee/go to the bathroom/prepare dinner ever since Sam discovered the boob tube.

In total, though, he really doesn't watch that much actual programming. He's generally too busy trying to ride his Thomas train through the wall to pay attention. No, I'm the one who ends up helplessly absorbing all this kiddie TV. And it troubles me. It's insipid, of course, but I'm not staking new territory in pointing that out. I'm just wondering about the weird messages that some of Sam's favourite programs might be sending him, creating questions I'm not in a position to answer, such as:

What kind of turtle IS Franklin that his legs are so freaking long?
Why do all the bears in Little Bear's family talk as if they've just been dosed with ether?
How come the dumber machines on Mighty Machines speak with southern accents?
Do the makers of Rolie Polie Olie know that Olie's mother sounds just like Cartman's mom on South Park? I keep expecting her to start explaining what a rim job is.
What's the deal with Miss Spider and Mr. Spider? Are they co-habitating out of wedlock while they raise their insect foster children? Are they fattening the kids up for future consumption? What about when the embarrassing questions start to emerge, such as what happened to the kids' parents? Will they be shown a secret web of horror full of parental exoskeletal husks? I'm not saying this isn't a darkly compelling story that needs to be told, but are children really the right audience for it?

Has children's programming always lent itself to such cognitive dissonance? I fear that, as I get older, I'm becoming more and more literal minded. Someday I'm going to be watching Sesame Street with Sam and finding myself sniffing, "A green monster who lives in a garbage can? And he has a pool AND a grand piano in there? As if!"

Am I the only one having this problem? I might be overthinking this a bit, but it never hurts to check.

thoughts...

2006-10-15T22:36:00.000-07:00

For years, I've been volunteering in various capacities at a Vancouver children's hospice that's well known in North America for the kind of work it does. I started out as a Kitchen volunteer, cooking and cleaning, then was accepted to train as a Family Volunteer - where I helped children with life-limiting illnesses and their families enjoy whatever amount of time they had left together. And through it all, I was so strong - I thrived on helping them, on being there and part of a wonderful community of caring and strong people.

And then, I had Sam. I tried going back for a few shifts but just couldn't get past the fact that these were someone's kids. Someone's Sam. And so, I've given it up. I'm still a part of the community, but in a different role; assisting at large fundraisers for the hospice. Last Friday, I had the pleasure of volunteering at a black tie event where Jann Arden sang an absolute beautiful set for the 400 special guests. She was hilarious and charming and that voice was crystal clear and in typical Jann fashion, oh so sad.

In the middle of the evening, they showed a video shot at the hospice where families and siblings and staff explained what it was all about and what it meant to them. I lost it - I stood in the back, tears flowing down my face just so fucking thankful that my Sam was happy and healthy.

It's times like these that I realize what it's like, really really like, to be a mom.

the baby has left the building...

2006-10-15T22:23:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, we got a flyer from Toys R Us in the mail, advertising a fantastic sale on all great things that kids want. I thought that Sam, being only 17 months, was still at that oblivious age of not knowing what was going on around him and still living in la-la babyland. Boy, was I wrong! Thinking I was just making conversation with myself, I pointed to the Thomas the Tank engine that was advertised as being on sale in the flyer and said "look Sam, it's Thomas like at Family Place'. His eyes lite up and he started blabbering on and on about what I can only assume is the very same train that's at Family Place! Really though, you have to see this - we go downstairs for breakfast, he find the flyer, brings it over, pointing only to the Thomas, yabbering on and on, as if to say "see mom, this is Thomas and I don't have one and I really really like it and so if you could buy it for me, I would be really really happy!.

It blows my mind that this little kid understands what we say - I was on the phone explaining to my mom what had happened, when Sam takes off and once again, brings me the flyer to make sure I haven't forgotten about Thomas!!!

Do they ever get any cuter than they are at 17 months?

Sunday Morning Cartoon (with some gabbery)

2006-10-15T12:21:00.000-07:00

Last night, Dan and I went out. We jumped in the car without planning a thing and had no plans to join pals. We had dinner, chatted up a storm, took a drive through rainy Stanley Park, and saw a movie. We grabbed coffees. We held hands. It was wonderful.

We are not particularly new to booking a baby-sitter and going out. The first time we did so, Jonah was two months old. (It was kind of funny in retrospect, as I ended up booking a very experienced nanny to watch Jonah, insisting on seeing her resume and interviewing her. I mean, what did I know about kids at that point?!) Jonah ended up sleeping through the whole experience, a pattern that has generally repeated itself through the many, many times we have hired a babysitter. Erin, his sitter in SF, was a hit, as are Jody, Pam, Kerry, and the 3 or 4 random nannies we have hired for nights here and there.

Despite the oft-booked sitter thing, the one thing we haven't been fantastic at is going out just the two of us -- we usually use the nights out to connect with friends. As much as friend time is crucial, the one-on-one me-and-Dan time makes all the difference in the world. Because, you know, the thing I miss, as much as Jonah is an absolute joy and delight, is just hanging out with Dan. Not really doing anything, just relaxing and reading next to each other in bed and strolling around without worrying about nap times or next meals or diaper changes.

Last night felt like heaven.

And, notwithstanding the cartoon above, we've decided to keep Jonah. As much as chilling out without any worries sounds appealing, having him is really so much better.

But that's not what they told me in grade 4!

2006-10-10T13:22:00.000-07:00

I was always the kid who looked forward to science class, especially when planets were discussed. For some reason, I found them fascinating. I memorized their order. I could draw them in relative sizes to one another. I dreamed of being the first woman to go to Mars, so excited about the letter I'd write to everyone once I got there.

So you can imagine that I'd be deeply intrigued by the gazillion new findings that have called into question my reasonably concrete (primary school equivalent) understanding of the solar system.

Truth be told, I am fine with all of it. I never felt particularly attached to Pluto and, as a result, am not at all traumatized by its recent expungement from the Big Nine. Maybe it is because it was so far away, but also because I was always more attached to the planets with rings -- no doubt a precursor to my affection for jewelry. And although the news is three years old, I feel a little tingly at the thought of a Kuiper Belt lying beyond Neptune. I can actually close my eyes and imagine how cool the Belt would have looked on the planet mobile I made for show and tell in grade five.

But what blows me away is how our knowledge about the Solar System and beyond is changing so quickly. I mean, now it appears that planets can just go ahead and form themselves. Doesn't that seem a bit bold?

Part of me can't wait for Jonah to start telling me about how retro my knowledge is when it comes to this stuff.

And it also makes me happy to know that, no matter how much has changed, he won't be able to say "Uranus" without breaking into a smile.

Come on, you try it.

Sunday Morning Cartoon

2006-10-08T10:57:00.000-07:00

Of Mice and a Woman

2006-10-07T08:27:00.000-07:00

I wouldn't call myself girly or squeamish. Oh, sure, I am increasingly fond of make up, but that's no indicator, and toss a bug my way and I'll casually pick it off my shirt. However, a recent set of home invaders has put this self-characterization to the test.

A couple of months ago, our tenants kindly sat me down and told me the news: mice had been spotted in their bathroom. How they intuitively knew that I would be horrified is brilliance on their part (although they could have left out the part about the mouse touching the sides of their legs). An exterminator was called and I figured the whole situation would sort itself out without my ever having to look at a rodent.

I was mistaken.

A while later, my sister gently informed me that mouse droppings were on my attic stairs. After some initial panicking, I googled. I performed thorough cross-examinations of mouse elimination strategies of those living in single-family-homes-circa-1920. I searched for inventive solutions at Home Depot. The results seemed to work: the droppings ceased and the tenants hadn't spotted a mouse in ages. My ears stopped perking up whenever I heard a rustling sound.

And then it happened. The thing I feared most. The experience I thought would lead me to jump on a chair and squeal: I saw one in my kitchen! The mouse and I both froze in place, staring at each other in horror. I don't think either of us could believe what was going on. I guess it was a blessing or whatever, as I ended up finding the place the darn things were coming in from.

But the weirdest thing was ... I found the mouse kind of cute. Seriously. The little ears and the nose and the soft white body. I mean, not cute enough to want the lot to stick around (ew), but not the worst thing ever. In terms of yuk, I would definitely put poorly drafted contracts ahead of mice.

I am not all zen about it, though. Since we are not out of the woods yet, I'd welcome ANY mouse eviction strategies you have. Like, now. Oh, and please.

Wheat from the Chaff

2006-10-06T09:07:00.000-07:00

As we all know, today's parents are subjected to a GAZILLION options in terms of reading material. (And toys, parenting philosophies, and diaper brands, but let's try tackling one thing at a time!) In my case, in addition to the many, many tomes I have given away, there are dozens littering my bookshelves. And a lot of them are scary looking -- pastel covers, overly adorable kids, childish fonts. (And what's with all of the weird names? I am not convinced that I want the Baby Whisperer involved with my child.) So, as a resident expert reader of the many baby books, here are my favourites:

Dr. Spock's Baby and Child Care: It seemed a bit old school when I received it as a gift. It also seemed a bit small -- only 800 pages for pregnancy, labour, infant care, toddlers, preschoolers, children AND teenagers?? But, you know, the darn thing works! It is kind of like wikipedia for kids -- you have a concern, you turn to the appropriate page, look it up and, bang, there are a few paragraphs dealing with the issue. The advice is always no-nonsense, combined with a dash of "think of the kid's perspective" and a vigorous mixing of "trust your instincts".

Becoming the Parent You Want To Be: A Sourcebook of Strategies for the First Five Years: It's hippie, I admit it. It can also be a little scary: a pregnant pal of mine asked after reading the sections on discipline, "Do toddlers actually BITE other children?" But it provides a good overview of major things that come up in the first few years of parenting, stuff like sleep, your relationship with your partner, and discouraging children from engaging in certain behaviour. What I really liked was how it made you question where your parenting beliefs come from, and to look long-term as to the choices you make when kids are small.

The New Father: A Dad's Guide to the First Year: I have vivid memories of Dan and I reading this book to each other when we first got home from the hospital after having had Jonah. It was sort of a stunning period, really, with us trying to figure out what to do with the new 8 pound wee thing that had suddenly ended up in our home. This book was so straightforward and informative without being preachy. It also had lists and charts! And, best of all, it made Dan feel genuinely involved with the whole parenting thing, which is surprisingly uncommon in the baby world.

And, a runner-up:

Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child: Jonah was a pretty good sleeper from the beginning, but I really liked reading up on the science behind sleep. I always figured you put your head on the pillow, counted backwards from 100, and that was that. Turns out that sleep is more complicated, and is actually learned behaviour. The book's strategies didn't really work for Jonah after the first 18 months, but the book was so good at saving us from sleep deprivation until then that I really can't leave it off of my list.

How about you? Are there any that have really stood out?

Current list of worries

2006-10-05T10:02:00.000-07:00

I read a great article in the New York Times Magazine over the weekend called, "So the Torah Is a Parenting Guide?". Aside from useful advice on not putting too much pressure on children and teaching them basic manners, the proponent of Torah-style parenting advocated limiting worrying to 20 minutes per day.

For the last couple of days, I have actively tried to identify my Jonah-related worries. Here they are in no particular order:

1. Is he too friendly? He throws himself into the arms of most adults within a short period of knowing them (or, in the case of Asian women, without ever having met them).

2. Although he seems well adjusted at the moment, will he become a drug addict and/or a serial killer as a result of: (a) living on Commercial Drive; (b) Dan and I both working full-time; (c) having few if any tantrums as a toddler, thereby waiting until he is a teenager to assert his independence and drive us bananas; (d) his being a vegetarian; or (e) both Dan and I being Type-A? (Before you provide any words of wisdom, please keep in mind that he likes to put my (clean) underwear on his head.)

3. While I am pleased to have a progressive male child, is it a problem that a lot of people think he is a girl? His name ends with an "a" sound; he has long hair; he is very attached to his doll, Paul. Should I cut his hair?

3(b). Does my worry in 3 above indicate that I am actually not progressive at all, meaning that I will send mixed messages to Jonah about all sorts of values, meaning that he may become a drug addict and/or a serial killer?

4. He still has eczema behind his knees.

5. How can he possibly not like tomatoes??

6. He does know that we love him like crazy, right? But then, does he also know about his responsibilities to be a good citizen and contribute to society and, for pete's sake, to let me brush his hair?

7. My god, could he know that we are making up this parenting thing as we go along??!

Gak. If you could please provide YOUR worries, I'd feel a lot better!

(photo credit for the picture of Jonah, Sam and Rian goes to Kris)

Nile's "tar"

2006-09-07T22:29:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

Ok, I'm totally pimping "This Boy's Life" blog now but y'all have to watch the video of Nile's new and shiny though structurally unwell 'tar'.... totally HILARIOUS!!!!

... and Melissa O is totally kicking our butts as the blogging Queen-momma! And all that video! I need to start upping my blogging game....

Kris

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

2006-08-31T19:38:00.000-07:00

Geez, it's been a long time since I've posted anything here. I'm having a tough time concentrating on things, because the Potato keeps waking me up at 5:45 a.m. Grrrrr!

Now, you'd think that a reasonable woman like me would do one of the following:

a) tell the kid that it's not time to get up if it's still dark outside (nope, he's just not listening to that one)

b) adjust her own bedtime, so that instead of going to bed at midnight, she's tucked in by 10:30 or so (what? and give up my blogging time?)

c) nudge her spouse, who after all is not working right now, and can TAKE NAPS during the day (but the guy sleeps sounder than the proverbial log)

So what's a tired mama to do?

Eat the noodle, Sammy

2006-08-23T22:03:00.000-07:00

This is what happens every time I leave my husband alone with Sam: they eat Ichiban noodles like a pair of frat boys. And he wonders why I micro-manage our mealtimes.

Ask a Bored Housewife: I want to have a family, but how do I get over my fear of everything?

2006-08-14T21:37:00.000-07:00

Oh my lord. Here's a doozy of a letter. It's only about, oh, everything.

Hello all,

I recently started reading 50books.com and cruised on over to boredhousewivesnetwork.com today, and am totally taking you up on your offer to ask questions. I'm 33, married 4 years, and trying to get my fears of pregnancy, labor, and motherhood reconciled with my desire to have a family.

Like Doppelganger, when I was 25, I thought I would never have kids... but as I get older I realize how important having a family is to me - but that doesn't change the fact that I'm afraid of vomiting, afraid of my body changing, afraid of the unknown, afraid of damn near everything... did you know that there is a lot of shit out there on the internets that will scare a poor neurotic girl right out of her mind?

I never was around babies in general, never was a babysitter, have no sisters or close friends with babies... so if you have any good stories, any stories of learning to cope, or any words of wisdom, all would be much appreciated!

With thanks,
Jackie

You can bet I'll be chiming in with my $0.04. I'm VERY interested to hear what everyone else has to say.

I'm Weaning my Telepathic Baby.

2006-08-13T21:36:00.000-07:00

It's day one of the journey. Words of wisdom appreciated.
Umm, and how do I get the milk to go away? I've heard sage tea? Cabbage leaves?

"Sorry, but my children bore me to death!"

2006-08-10T10:21:00.000-07:00

I read this article several days ago, and something about it just isn't sitting right with me. It's not the obvious fact that, WTF? If you find kids so boring, why did you have not just one but two of them? And it's not the even more transparent fact that The Daily Mail is clearly using this piece as reader bait to stir up controversy, because y'all know how much Joe and Jane Public love to judge mothers.

No, something about this piece just feels dishonest to me, as if the writer, Helen Kirwin-Taylor, isn't giving us the full story.

It's not that I'm disenfranchising Kirwin-Taylor of her right to feel occasionally bored by the routines of parenthood. God knows I've been there. It's her blanket statement that she unilaterally finds pretty much every aspect of motherhood boring. There's something she's not telling us. At some point in her own experience of being a parent or a child, she's experienced something that terrified her and made her afraid to really connect with her children. The false (to me) bravado she evidences in stating over and over again how bored she is, and how she'd rather be shopping at Harvey Nichols, just reinforces my theory. I feel it in my gut.

What do you guys think?

She's ba-ack!

2006-08-05T10:58:00.000-07:00

Let the de-spoiling begin! I am so glad to have her back, but man, did my parents spoil the snot out of her. "Grandpa made me 5 pancakes - fried in tonnes of butter - every morning! He didn't make me eat seedy ORGANIC pancakes!" "We went for ice cream EVERYDAY! You never let me do ANYTHING." "We have to walk to the store?! At Grandma's we didn't walk ANYWHERE! Can't you get us a ride?" "What do you mean, we don't have any pop? At Grandmas..."

And so on and so forth. Oh, but she's so darling when she's sleeping!

bad mommy

2006-08-04T09:55:00.000-07:00

So I have a brand new job, but I’m “transitioning” – that means that I’m working half and half for the month of August until I start it up for reals in September. It’s the same company, but a totally different building. I can describe my new office, position, and all of that together as fancy ass. Yesterday was my first day. I was hoping today was going to be my second even-more-impressive day. It was. Until ten. At ten the camp called to tell me that they found nits in Mia’s hair and I’d have to come and get her.

According to the medicated shampoo directions, we’re supposed to be nit-picking every night until next Tuesday when she gets another chemical blast, but apparently my ex-husband didn’t take this direction seriously when he had her last night.

I lied at work: I told them my daughter was ‘ill’. I guess that’s technically true.

Another bad parenting moment? When we finally got in (I had to pick them up at the rural site) at eleven, I let both of them play the play station while I took a cold beer out of the fridge and downed it before I got to the business of picking through her hair.

Thank god there were no crawlers!

the lousy evening

2006-08-01T19:54:00.000-07:00

What adorable children! Sure they’re staring off into space at some video game, but cute! Why are their heads so oddly coifed though?

It’s head lice! And head lice shampoo! And gross!

Seriously, people, ick! This is my first experience with the head bugs and I can’t say I’m very impressed. I’m so squicked-out right now. I had actually thought – the baby years behind us – that I was through with the gross part of parenting. How very wrong I was.

Wish me luck through these bad times. I obviously need it.

Don't open the box....

2006-07-19T23:56:00.000-07:00

Well, today marks the 18th day that I have been without child. Finn went to Regina, Saskatchewan to stay with my parents for 3 weeks and then on to her father's parents for another week. She flew by herself for the first time. I thought she would have second thoughts and burst into tears at the airport. No, not Finn - that was me. I watched and waited for when her plane would land in Regina, allowed an appropriate amount of time for the gathering of the baggage and driving home (it only takes 15 minutes to get anywhere there) and some time for familial civilities. I managed to call the moment she walked in the door. I wanted to hear everything about her first flight. Was it fun? Were you scared? Did the flight attendants treat you well? "It was fine...I didn't get to meet the pilot and all I got was a Coke. I gotta go." She hung up.

Okay, okay she was excited to be in a new place and distracted. So I called back an hour later. She couldn't come to the phone because Grandpa has Tivo and she was busy stopping and rewinding The Fairly Oddparents. Well, fair enough. I'd have taken a message too. Finally, I managed to speak to her at length. But only because she wanted a puppy. "Grandma and Grandpa are getting a puppy! Why can't I have one, too?" " I hate that we live in an apartment! Grandma says we should all move out here and you could afford a big house and then maybe somebody will buy me a dog!" My mother, ladies and gentleman...

So that wasn't a great conversation either. The next day she phoned me several times ...but only to ask how to start her own blog. I had to talk her through it over the phone and she is just like me - a miserable student. She broke into tears at one point because she couldn't log in. Turns out she was making up different passwords willy-nilly. I cannot tell you how complicated it is to explain online security to an eight-year-old, nevermind trying to console her over the fact that someone's already claimed the blog name "Blue Goth". Finally, we made it through it. I present to you Finn's blog, Poppyrock - created with zero physical adult assistance.

Now, where was I going with this. Right. Finn hasn't really missed me and although it stings a bit a friend of mine said something to reassure me. She reassured me that Finn must feel awfully loved and secure to be so comfortable out on her own. Now, that's a concept I can get behind.

I've been very busy since she's been gone and I won't tell you I haven't enjoyed my freedom. In fact, not a couple of hours ago I was marveling at how well I was handling the separation. And then I opened a box...

A friend of mine is pregnant andI offered to lend her some of Finn's baby clothes. (Yes, LEND. I am still holding onto the dream that I may procreate again some day.) So, I went into Finn's room and dug through her closet and pulled out a big box marked "Finn's Outgrowns". I wrote it before I went back to school - don't judge me!

Annnyway, the moment I opened the box the room filled with the smell of baby. And not just any baby - my baby. I pulled out the cherry print sundress she wore the first day we took her to the beach and sniffed it like a panty raider. Next came the batik dress her dad made for her in his first year of art college. And, God help me, I found the fluffy white snowsuit she used to wear that made her look like a star-shaped baby seal.

It was this snowsuit that did me in. I lost it. I wept and carried on uncontrollably until I started to worry a bit for my sanity. But just seeing that smallish clothing packed away in a box was unbearably hurtful. I wanted very badly to take all the sweet little things out, fold them neatly and put them away in her drawers. But, in some circles that is considered a "break with reality" and so I wiped at my snot and tears so as not to soil anything, resealed the box and shoved it back into the closet like a scary Ouija board.

The chubby little baby who used tear at her dresses and spit up on anything white is now a bazillion miles away writing blogs and macking out on TiVo. How in the hell did that happen? I realized I'd been kidding myself. I miss her terribly.

I don't want her to be a brave and self-sufficient little person. I want her to be terrified to leave her mother's side! Well, not forever... I'm not a lunatic. But, I want her home. I want to hear her complaining about how unfair it is that I won't buy her a Temper-pedic bed and I want to eavesdrop in on the very insane Barbies-and-creepy-bugs-from-the-garden tea parties she holds in her room. I want to let her sneak into my bed tonight and not even attempt to detangle myself from her hot-as-a-baked-potato limbs.

11 more days and a flight home to go and I'm a wreck. And, man is this a long post... I can't even bear to edit it let alone re-read it.

a recipe

2006-07-10T20:49:00.000-07:00

Ladies, here's a really good recipe. it's quick & quite delicious. mac & cheese with a twist. (i found it in Sunset magazine). i didn't have any asparagus, so i made it without & it was still really good. Makes 4 - 6 Servings. MMMmmmm.

1 bunch asparagus
2 leeks
4.5 tablespoons butter
1.5 tsp salt
4 cups dried penne pasta
3/4 cups frozen peas (or 1 can)
2 slices sourdough bread
3 tablespoons flour
2 tsp fresh thyme leaves
3 cups milk
2 tsp grated lemon peel
1 tablespoon dijon mustard
1/2 tsp fresh ground pepper
6 oz chevre (goat cheese)
1.5 cups shredded romano cheese

preheat oven to 400 F
snap off tough ends of asparagus, cut spears into 1/2 inch pieces. cut root ends & tough green tops from leeks. cut in half lengthwise & rinse well, then slice thinly crosswise.

cook asparagus & leeks over medium heat with 1 tablespoon butter and 1/2 tsp salt until tender (about 7 mins). set aside.

cook pasta. stir in peas at the end. drain & return to pan.

meanwhile, tear bread into chunks and put into food processor with 1/2 tablespoon butter. whirl until crumbs form.

melt remaining 3 tablespoons butter in a saucepan. add flour & thyme, stir until smooth & bubbly. slowly whisk in milk and stir until boiling & thickened (this may take a short while). add lemon peel, mustard and remaining teaspoon salt. remove from heat and add goat cheese and 1 cup romano cheese.

pour sauce over drained pasta and peas. add asparagus mixture & stir well. scrape mixture into a baking dish and top with bread crumbs and remaining romano cheese.

bake until sauce is bubbling & bread crumbs are browned - about 20 minutes.

enjoy!

More like the BUSY Housewives Network

2006-07-07T11:14:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you guys, but I've been gunned these days. And I don't like it. No sir, not one little bit.

Given that not working is not an option right now, if there were one task I could get rid of that would make me feel less crunched, it'd be worrying about what's for dinner every night. Sometimes just thinking about having to plan and shop and prepare and clean up... well, it makes me wish for a future when all our nutritional needs will be taken care of with a single daily food pellet.

So, my fellow BHNers, what's the one job you'd happily get rid of these days?

Ask a Bored Housewife: Peeing as a stalling tactic

2006-06-22T00:15:00.000-07:00

All of you been-there-done-that moms may be able to help out with this one:

Dear Bored Housewives,

I have a 3 year old. She's been dry for over a year during the day, but still wets herself when she sleeps (both nap and nights). I know that when her body is ready this will end... it's not the real peeing that bothers me. It's the "I need to pee" as a stalling tactic before bed (night only - she's fine going down for naps).

Peeing is one of the last steps in our bedtime routine. But between then and sleep she usually gets up 1-4 more times (sometimes within 5-10 minutes). Often "the pee didn't want to come out." I'd appreciate suggestions for nipping this one in the bud, without ignoring any real body cues she's experiencing.

Thanks,
Special Person

I wish I had some helpful advice, but I think I'm guilty of using the same tactic. Have at 'er, BHNers.

Eureka!

2006-06-21T15:30:00.000-07:00

i was baking a huge batch of carrot cakes yesterday in a very scattered and flustered state of mind and i forgot to add the sugar. needless to say, the cakes came out looking lumpy and decidedly unappetizing. they looked and tasted like unsweetened carrot scones. i was about to trash them when i realized they would probably be a good snack for nile. so, i gave him a little taste & he loved it (good thing too because i have about 10lbs). minus all that sugar i figured it's actually a pretty good snack for him. moral of the story: don't toss out botched baked goods, feed them to your baby!

heeeeellllllpppppp!

2006-06-20T15:31:00.000-07:00

I was inspired by Cataclysm's recent post with some photoblogging of my own. Look, I even fed my children to a giant frog for you, internets!

Enjoy!

My Life Is Better . . . No, Worse!

2006-06-20T15:28:00.000-07:00

Well, I haven't exactly been the most prolific BHNer around, have I? I haven't quite managed to figure out how to maintain two presences on the Web, if you will, without either repeating myself or depriving my precious main-blog audience of my wit and insight. Alas. But here's something:

You know those moms who have to one-up you every time you say something positive? You know, like "My baby got her first tooth!" "Oh, mine has two!" or "My kid is potty trained during the day!" "Oh, mine is potty-trained at night, too!" And so on. Well, I've discovered that there's something even worse: The mom who has to one-down your every negative experience. You say, "My kid was up all night coughing and sneezing" and she shoots back with "Both my twins have been puking since yesterday morning!" How can you possibly counter that? Or you say, "There's a boy bothering my kid at school" and she says, "Someone bit my kid!" What is with these people?

My big parenting insight!

2006-06-19T22:29:00.000-07:00

House renovations is really a lot more stressful with a little one than without! Yep. That's it of my big parenting insight.

Ok, ok, I know it doesn't sound earth shattering but life with a baby is abrasive enough without adding lots of dirt, tools, sharp nails, bolts, random powertools, chaos and oh yes, a total hazard off the patio doors....

This is the hole my little Bro fell through. And when we said, "ya break it ya fix it", he started complaining about whiplash and mumbling, "litigate, don't mitigate"... so we made a deal that we would hire him to build us a new one.

While I knew it would be 2 weeks of hell, it's still irritatingly slow.

Here I am staining the new deck frame at 10 pm last night.

But, I don't normally bring Rian to the local park so as we've been there A LOT recently, I managed to get some really cute pics of him looking at the older kids.

Hello!

2006-06-16T19:13:00.000-07:00

I have been shamefully neglecting you, BHN-ers! I do read faithfully and try to comment when I can, but it has been forever since I posted.

Just because I'm posting now doesn't mean I have anything earth-shattering to say, mind you. Just that my girl turned 14 months. Oh, and I finally weaned her. And I know I'm biased, but lately I have found her so freaking cute that I just want to take a bite out of her.

Ask a Bored Housewife: Diaper dilemma

2006-06-15T09:14:00.000-07:00

Boy, you forget to check the mailbag for a couple of weeks, and the letters pile up!

Dear Bored Housewives,

My first baby is due in two months and my husband and I are fretting about diapers. (Well, actually, it’s my mom that’s doing the fretting, really, but that’s a story for another day.)

We’d like to use cloth diapers as much as possible, though we are open to the idea of using disposables on occasion. We’ve been checking around in Vancouver for different options but, as with all things baby-related in this town, we’re overwhelmed both by the degree of choice (which ranges from cheapo disposables from Wal-Mart to fancy west-side diaper services) and by the charged ideological nature of choosing among the options. (The general consensus out there seems to be that you either hate the earth and use disposables (say the cloth advocates), or you hate your baby and use cloth (say the disposable enthusiasts).)

So we turn to you: what do you all think about diapers? For those of you who used cloth, did you buy and wash your own (and if so, any favourite brands or tips)? Or did you use a diaper service? (Any you’d recommend?) For those of you who aspired to use cloth but changed your minds after trying them (I hear it happens a lot), what swung the vote?

Yours sincerely,
Colleen

First, congratulations, Colleen! That's so exciting! And second, my apologies for taking so long to post your letter. Hopefully the collected wisdom of the BHNers will compensate for my tardiness.

Da Boys of East Van

2006-06-13T23:24:00.000-07:00

What summer is all about!

Rian & the Sams making the most of a lazy Sunday afternoon!

Love Love Love Da Sams!!

Not looking overly trusting in the swing, eh Sam?!

And then there's Sam's practical approach - if in doubt, check the 5-point harness!

Can't say you haven't now been warned, noisy motorcyclists... don't mess wid dis EastVan boy!!

Didn't get many pics of the boys together... the best of the bunch and I wonder if we're having fun yet?!

Guess who made the mistake of opening a box of raisons... got swarmed by da boys!

Awwww....

Dear motorcycle owners of the world...

2006-06-11T20:50:00.000-07:00

No, not you people who drive ordinary motorcycles. I'm talking to the people who drive those bikes where they've done something to the exhaust to make it extra loud. You know, so loud that it makes your windows rattle and your teeth vibrate in your gums. And then they like to rev them for several minutes right outside your house before they take off.

Let me start again.

Dear (aforementioned) motorcycle owners of the world,

Please know that when you drive your earsplittingly loud bikes down my street and wake up my tired, sleeping baby, who then screams and cries like his poor little heart is going to break for twenty minutes... please know that there is an unassuming-looking, otherwise peace-loving woman sitting in her house hoping with all of her heart that you hit an oil slick, wipe out, and die a slow, painful death as what little brains you have ooze out onto the road.

Hmm. Maybe that sounds a little vicious. But I still mean it.

Love,
Doppelganger

I'm being replaced

2006-06-11T10:23:00.000-07:00

Last night, the Bee went on her first sleepover. I actually managed not to call until about 8:30 this morning to see how it went. Like all sleepovers, it didn't feature much sleep. Also, in addition to making sundaes last night, her best friend's mom also made pancakes & bacon this morning. Regular readers of my blog know that I never cook--making blueberry muffins from a box is a big step for me.

After she came home, we had to go out to run a few errands, and the Bee began to tell me how she'd love to live with her best friend (we call her Peony in the blogiverse), and to ask why can't she just move in with them. I said, "because I love you too much and I would miss you. I missed you when you were just gone for one night!"

The reality is that the Potato and I had just rattled around the house all morning, once landisdad had gone to work. It's empty here with just a toddler. I know that those of you who have toddlers will find it hard to believe that a space that contains one can seem empty, but it's true. I never thought I'd turn into one of those people who wants their kid to live at home through college, but after last night, I might consider it.

Kicking ass and taking names, MA-style!

2006-06-09T00:40:00.000-07:00

She's too modest (and perhaps too exhausted) to mention it here, but our fellow bored housewife White Trasherati has just completed her masters degree. Woooooo!

(I hope you don't mind me acting as your PR agent on this one, WT. I'm just thrilled to millions of bits for you.)

Man, some days I sure could go for some of Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup

2006-06-08T21:07:00.000-07:00

"Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup was an indispensable aid to mothers and child-care workers. Containing one grain (65 mg) of morphine per fluid ounce, it effectively quieted restless infants and small children. It probably also helped mothers relax after a hard day's work."

(Link)

from the mouths of babes

2006-06-04T18:17:00.000-07:00

I was driving my daughter and her best friend home from a birthday party yesterday, and got a taste of what it's like to be a taxi driver. Every time I would interject something into the conversation, the back seat got really quiet, with a kind of 'oh, I forgot she could hear us' kind of vibe.

At one point, they started talking about what they were going to play when they got back to our house, and decided that they would play wedding (ugh!). After several minutes of back-and-forth about who would get to be the bride first, and who would get to be the boy, finally, my daughter said to her friend, "Okay, well then why don't you just be the guy who says, 'awful wedded wife'?"

Yes, why don't you say that.

Oh no he dint

2006-05-31T13:37:00.000-07:00

The following excerpt is factual. Seriously.

Says the 41-year-old, childless bachelor to the overwrought single mother, "I sometimes wish I had had a child. It would have made my life much less complicated."

Says the overwrought single mother, "Wh-... you can't be...are you high?"

Epilogue: After much sputtering and sparring it is with great sadness, frustration and can-you-f#cking-believe-it-ness that I must report to you all that the childless bachelor could not be shaken of his convictions.

He is lucky I find him handsome.

Friends

2006-05-25T20:26:00.000-07:00

One of the aspects of parenthood that i was pretty confident wouldn't affect me was the whole "become a parent lose your non-parent friends." And by and large, it really hasn't. I know that i went out of my way to accommodate my friends that became parents before we did and we have many friends without kids that do the same for us. "BBQ at your place, sounds good; Yeah, let's skip the bars and come have some beers on your porch; etc." So by and large it hasn't been rocket science to stay friends with people (with children or not) after our bambino arrived.

So, i was a little saddened when my best friend from high school came to visit, the one that i always pick up with where we left off and at the end of her visit i just felt very far away from her. The visit didn't draw us back into each other's lives or renew our closeness. At least for me, it made me feel how much we don't have in common and how she didn't seem to want to try very earnestly to find common ground.

Because that really seems to be the key. I don't talk about Henry all the time and my single friends don't talk about the woes of dating all the time. You pick a few key stories, you tell more if someone is interested, and otherwise you move on to mutually interesting topics. It's this give and take which generally helps structure a rewarding conversation and a good relationship.

I guess i just felt plainly that she wasn't truly interested in what parenting was really like, or what the struggles we were going through were. She was interested in providing her take on them from her own perspective.

I'm sure we'll see each other in another year or so and maybe by then something will have changed in one of our lives to bring us back closer together. But for now, i feel set-apart as a Mother for the first time.

Sick Rian

2006-05-23T22:18:00.000-07:00

Worst thing EVER to have your baby sick.

Much as their strong personality is a ton of work (and Melissa O called it, they might not be as fun as we would like... yep, and intense, and difficult, and frustrating)

But Rian got sick and became lethargic and dehydrated with vomitting. My usual chubby guy lost his buddha belly and the chipmunk cheeks. We didn't have to put the gates up as he wasn't crawling.

After taking him to the doctors every day of his illness (love socialized medicine... love being able to freely exercise our universal human right to health care!), he just wasn't getting better.

So off to the BC Children's ER where we were handed a syringe. A simple syringe to get the pedialyte into him (5 ml every 5 min). He was perky again in about an hour!

Here he is - feeling better - with a paper tray on his head!

And don't blame me for these 'tourist' pics - his Nanna thought he was cute! Grandmothers!

... and he's slowly gaining his belly and cheeks back!

My boy, the biped

2006-05-23T20:46:00.000-07:00

Sam took his first steps today! Yay!*

Sam woke us up at 5:30 this morning! Boo!

This confluence of events has made me realize that -- not today, but someday -- Sam will wake us up at 5:30 am AND he'll literally hit the ground running. I don't know if I'll survive that day. I'm going to cherish this crawling stage for as long as it lasts.

*We almost missed the big event, too. We haven't been expecting Sam to walk any time soon, since he hardly ever bothers to stand unassisted, so you can imagine our surprise when out of our peripheral vision we saw this little shape stroll confidently by (until he fell on his butt). At first I thought the cat had learned to walk on his back feet. He's repeated this performance several times since then, and you can tell he thinks he's the shiznit every time.

the battle of wills has begun

2006-05-20T22:30:00.000-07:00

I've heard of terrible twos, but how come nobody mentioned all the other terribles. in particular terrible 14 months.

book review--Sex Wars

2006-05-20T19:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I finished reading Marge Piercy's new book, Sex Wars, which I highly recommend to any mother, or any woman who doesn't want to be one. Piercy weaves together the lives of first-generation U.S. feminsts (Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Victoria Woodhull)
with the lives of fictional characters and others (Anthony Comstock, Cornelius Vanderbilt) in a tapestry that covers the suffrage movement and women's fight for contraceptive equity.

For those of us in the U.S., it's a pretty chilling look at what our foremothers had to go through to keep from having a gajillion children, as well as a disheartening picture into the mind of a man that equated all nude pictures--even those in anatomy books--with pornography. Check it out.

Pomp, and also circumstance

2006-05-19T00:19:00.000-07:00

Sam is officially one year and one month old today, so I thought I'd finally get around to posting some photos of the festivities. The pomp, as you will see, was matched only by the circumstance.

Trust me, Sam is not all alone in the room. There were many people present, all arrayed safely outside the Mister's sneaky photographic periphery.

What's that? You want a close-up of that rather nifty cake? Why, here you go. If Melissa O lived about 600 kilometres closer, I'd have ordered one of her unbelievably gorgeous creations, but as it was I found a very nice local practitioner of the baked arts who does lovely work.
Sam takes his cupcake eating very seriously. He gets that from me.
Unfortunately, he made a sacrifice to the Dark Lord Grondor to get another cupcake. This is the unfortunate result.

My boy likes a party.

Sometimes, when you've been givin' 'er for hours, you need to take a quick five to rejuice.
Despite the fact that oh my god I'M SO TIRED, this is one of my favourite pictures of me and Sam. I didn't realize the Mister was taking our photo at the time, or else I'd probably have made a stupid face. I'm a bit of a picture ruiner that way.

at our house, on the weekend

2006-05-15T09:52:00.000-07:00

Mia was sitting at the desk in the kitchen, working away on something while Ulysses washed up some dishes.

“What’s this music?”
“It’s funk. This is James Brown, actually. You know, James Brown is the Godfather of Soul.”
“Um, [Ulysses]? I just have to say that I can’t take in any new information right now.”

Here she is taking in some ice cream:

History in the making...

2006-05-14T21:16:00.000-07:00

Rian and his living Grandparents!

My Dad, Rian, my Mom and Pete's Dad! Together last weekend from Fort St. John, Halifax and the UK respectively. Sadly missing was Pete's Mum, a paediatrician, who passed away several years ago.

Even more freaky was the fact that my parents hadn't seen each other for 19 years about an hour prior to this picture.

So we made it into Rian's b-day and here he is again with the grandparents and a wonderful chocolate cake from Fratelli's (for those who know the Drive - the place you buy deserts from if you really want to impress your guests... if you're in Nelson BC, you go to Epiphany Cakes, owned and operated by BHN's own Melissa O!!)

Gotta love family!!!

Day of Mothers

2006-05-12T12:54:00.000-07:00

It's Mother's Day weekend! What are you all doing to celebrate?

Funny, I used to not really care about this holiday -- other than calling my mom and sending flowers, of course -- but I find this year I'm REALLY, REALLY INTO IT. What are your thoughts about this most hallowed of all the invented Hallmark holidays?

And then, he was one.

2006-05-07T21:21:00.000-07:00

At last, the little man is not so little anymore.

Today was Sam's very first birthday. We had an amazingly relaxed day with hubby, Sam & I - spent the afternoon at the Aquarium (thanks to Melissa for taking Nile and putting the idea in my head) - Sam loved it! Then had some chocolate cake although in typical Sam fashion (read - pretty cautious and not one for trying new things), he picked the sprinkles off the cake and ate perhaps a morsel of it. Oh well...

He's turning into a real joker lately or maybe I've finally come out of the first year fog and am able to see the humour in him.

Here are some of my favorite photos from the day...

Anne-Marie

I'm number 2! I'm number 2!

2006-05-04T23:48:00.000-07:00

Finn: I'm in love.
Me: Really? With who?
Finn: Aleka. He's in my class.
Me: Oh? Does he love you too?
Finn: Well, he loves Bea, but when Bea isn't at school he loves me.
Me: And that's okay with you?
Finn: Yes, Bea hasn't had the chicken pox yet.
Me: Well, fingers crossed.

Yesterday when I picked Finn up from school she pointed Bea out to me. A year younger than Finn, pixie-like with blond hair to her waist - Bea looks an awful lot like a Disney princess. Younger, thinner, blonder...poor kid hasn't a clue that her life will be littered with Beas. Damn you, Bea. Damn you.

Or maybe I'm just pre-menstrual after all

2006-05-04T15:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, my intent isn't to egregiously pimp my new blog, Vidiotbox, but can I ask you to please watch this video if you get a chance? I'm touting it as one of the more tearjerking things I've ever seen, but SOME PEOPLE ARE DISAGREEING WITH ME.

Am I crazy? Pre-menstrual? Well, yes, maybe... on both counts. But I still think this video is awesome.

busy body

2006-05-02T15:26:00.000-07:00

oh man, Nile has become the busiest busy-body that ever was. he is into everything and i'm absolutely exhausted. Today has been a day of pet-related mischief: repeatedly trying to grab handfuls of kitty litter, swiping milk bones from the dogs (and shoving them into his mouth) and trying to escape to the great outdoors through the doggie door. wish me luck!

rebelle without a cause

2006-05-02T13:38:00.000-07:00

Would it be wrong for me to buy my 6.5 year-old a black leather jacket? Because the girl has the attitude to rock this thing, for sure.

I have a confession to make. Before I got pregnant, when landisdad and I were just practicing to make babies, I was sure that I wanted a boy. I grew up with three brothers, and lots of male friends--I was sure I didn't know how to deal with little girls, even though I had been one. But when I did find out I was pregnant, I immediately began hoping for a girl. When we went for the ultrasound, I was certain it would be a girl, and I was right.

But I was also right that I didn't really know how to deal with a girl. Or rather, I didn't really know how to deal with a miniature version of myself. Because that's what the Bee is, a miniature, but not diminished, version of me. And just like I have my bad days, so does she.

There are days when I think, would it be easier if she was a boy? My son is a much more easy-going kid, but is that due to his second child status? His gender? His genetic code? We'll never know for sure. It's the kind of thing you could drive yourself crazy thinking about, and yet I persist. Because surely not every first child says things like, "I hate you!" and "you're not my real mother!" just because you make them do their homework.

Nearly every day, I mentally compose an apology letter to my own mother. I never send it, because I'm still too bitter about our relationship growing up.

You see, she never bought me the motorcycle jacket.

Ask a Bored Housewife: Three questions

2006-05-02T13:16:00.000-07:00

Dear Bored Housewives,

Three questions for you:

Assuming that, after one year, my body has become accustomed to its default state of sleep deprivation, when can I expect my eyes to stop burning?
Despite the fact that I weigh roughly the same now as I did before I was pregnant, why have my fingers gotten so skinny that my wedding ring keeps flying off? Is this a temporary post-partum thing?
I've already forgotten my third question. But this raises a new one: when can I expect my short-term memory to return? And as a corollary to that question, how much longer can I expect other people's patience with my memory loss to last?

Thank you in advance.

Your pal,
Doppelganger

Here is my girl, making me proud

2006-04-29T20:08:00.000-07:00

I love this picture and just had to share it with you all. It didn't take her long to find the liquor cabinet, did it?

I keep meaning to post here but I've been so busy. I'm taking a journalism class that takes up all my spare non-baby time. Lately on my blog I have been talking about puking, food battles, my baby turning one, family visits, haircuts, and other fascinating stuff. Come visit if you haven't stopped by recently!

More fun with nipples

2006-04-28T00:53:00.000-07:00

When I posted this picture a couple of days ago, Libby wondered in the comments section if I have any weaning plans. Of course, gracious soul that she is, she prefaced her question with the hope that it wasn't too personal for the internet. And maybe it would be a personal question for some people. But since I've written in the past about my firsthand experiences with post-partum incontinence and baby constipation, it's obviously not too personal a question for the likes of me. Also, Sam long ago made my boobs part of the public record without asking my permission, so why stop now?

Here's my weaning plan:

I don't have a weaning plan.

I thought about couching my lack of planning in some groovy terminology about "child-led weaning" and "organic development," but all of you who know me in real life would immediately call shenanigans. And you'd be right to do so.

Something I'm learning about myself in my mom role is that my parenting philosophy seems to go something like this:

If you're not sure what to do, do nothing.

It's great! It's kind of like procrastinating, but I'll let you in on a secret: it kind of works.

Oh, it didn't work on our sleep issues. I'll freely admit that. And I have a feeling that potty-training isn't going to take care of itself. But almost everything else? Not too shabby. Some for-instances, you rightly demand? Okey-dokey.

1. Tummy time. Sam hated it. Screamed his fool head off every time we tried it. I gave up. No more tummy time. Oh, maybe if I was at a playgroup and all the other moms and babies were doing tummy time I'd make a token effort for show, but that was it. And what do you know? Sam still figured out how to crawl on his own.

2. Solid food. "Hated" is too strong a word, but Sam definitely didn't see the use of it. I didn't push it at all, even though a well-meaning public health nurse told me that if babies aren't eating lumpy foods by the time they're eight months old, they'll never want to eat it. I could've fretted and stewed about this, which wouldn't have been unlike me, but I let it go. And lo! And also behold! At around the nine-month mark, Sam's dining motto suddenly became "I'll have what you're having." This philosophy extended to veggie sushi, Indian food, and lumpy mashed avocado. (I should point out that none of these foods had crossed my lips until I was at least 25 years old. My boy, the epicure.)

I could try to conjure up a third example, and it kills my expository-essay-loving soul not to do it, but I want to get back to my point about weaning. Or one of my points, anyway. Which is this: of all the women I know, everyone has handled weaning in her own way. And from my (admittedly total outsider's) perspective, every one of these fabulous moms has handled weaning in the way that best suits her and her baby. That's all any of us can do, right? This is what we're told: that as moms, we're the ones who know our babies best.

And yet... and yet...

Why does our culture seem to support this mom-knows-best belief on the surface, while at the same time completely negating this belief any time the public is challenged to accept something it finds discomfitting? And man oh man, do people ever have strong opinions about if and when you should stop breastfeeding.

There are, of course, the people who think you should never breastfeed at all because it's dirty and wrong and perverse and bestial and something that only happens on the pages of National Geographic. And then there are the people who think you should definitely do it for the first few days or weeks so that your baby can derive all the powerful benefits of early breastmilk, but then you should quit. If you soldier on, though, people seem okay with leaving you alone until the six-month mark, and then the questions start again. And once you get past THAT hump, you get another nice, long unmolested stretch, until you start homing in on one year, and boy, people sure come out of the woodwork then.* You can almost see what they're thinking: "But... if she doesn't stop at a year, when will she stop? Will she keep doing it... FOREVER?"

I have to confess to a perverse feeling of glee every time I see this anxiety flicker behind someone's eyes. Hee.

The great thing about still nursing past a year is that I feel like I've got this wildcard aura about me. As if all the people who might've challenged the value of breastfeeding early on are too daunted by my crazy extended-breastfeeding schedule to make a peep of protest.

Or maybe I'm overthinking this. It's been known to happen.

Something I learned during the first six months of Sam's life -- when he seemed permanently attached to my boobs -- is that, well, he really, really likes nursing. I've always gotten the sense that, for him, breastfeeding is only partially about food-related nourishment. He passes through phases where it's obvious that he gets powerful emotional sustenance from nursing as well.

I know that, as a parent, my job is to teach him ways to bolster himself, and this is a responsibility I take seriously. But as a pre-verbal one-year-old, he's just not there yet. Right now, nursing is by far the most powerful tool I have in my mothering toolbelt, and if I take it away, I don't know if I have anything comparable with which to replace it. And trust me, happy little clam that Sam generally appears to be, I'm constantly aware of the tempest that is always simmering in that innocuous-looking little teapot. Until Sam is more verbal and -- let's not mince words -- amenable to reason, my boobs are on standby.

There are trade-offs, of course. While Sam only nurses around four or five times a day (this may sound like a lot to some people, but it's a lot fewer than the BAJILLION times a day he used to nurse), this means that I don't stray far from home without him. It means that, when we go to parties or restaurants, I'll maaaaaaybe nurse one weak cocktail all night long. It means that I have to drink umpteen glasses of water every single day, because if I miss a day I wake up the next morning with skin that has the approximate texture of an alligator purse.

I sort of lied earlier. I actually do have a very rough plan to think about weaning at around 19 or 20 months. Of course, I was the person who originally didn't think she'd even have children. Or breastfeed. Or breastfeed past the first couple of weeks. Or the first six months. Or the first year. So you might want to take my words with a grain of salt.

If I become one of those moms with a three-year-old hanging off my chest like a baby possum, I do have one regret: that I can't travel back in time and freak the shit out of my 25-year-old self.

*I'm not referring to you guys. I'm talking about people with whom I normally don't discuss my breasts.

Workplace blogs - need your thoughts!

2006-04-27T23:04:00.000-07:00

Hi all,

I've been discussing the idea of setting up a blog at my work, the BC Centre for Disease Control. Essentially, we have a crap website that isn't due to be re-designed for years (health politics!) and I was thinking a blog with a variety of important health topics and research, updated daily, would be a great new direction for the organization.

Things we could talk about are H5N1 and pandemic influenza preparedness, the safe-injection site in Downtown Eastside which is one of the firsts in the world, food and water safety, poison control (did you know that 1 child every hour gets poisoned in BC?), roll-out of new immunization programs like influenza in infants, and loads more. It could be cutting-edge, informative and put the 'public' back into 'public health' - no other PH agency has a blog to my knowledge.

(this pic is an avian flu conference - looks fun, eh?!)

The problem seems to be that people at the BCCDC see blogs as informal, lacking professionalism, potentially politically dangerous, etc. I wonder if blogging might be like email that started off for military use but spread quickly to other areas. I mean, there are already 36+ million blogs in existence around the world... suggesting its a very popular way of interacting.

So, do blogs have a role in our world aside from the personal web-diary??? If so, what is it??

And would anyone here be interested in reading a health blog by the CDC?? Do you think it could be an important thing to do?

...In my research on blogging, I have found some fun health sites like H5N1 (mega-respect for Crawford running this amazing flublog!). And what I would consider a nice model of a professional health blog CIDRAP (though they specialize as an information warehouse too and don't have a comments section... and to throw it out there, big up to Minnesota for having a kick-ass public health research system).

Thoughts? Comments? ... this issue has been keeping me up at night but I haven't wrapped my tiny brain around the whole blogosphere yet...

Women Rock!

2006-04-26T21:17:00.000-07:00

...and The Economist thinks so, too.

Fun with nipples

2006-04-24T21:09:00.000-07:00

Sam must be going through some kind of phase, because these days, this picture pretty much sums up our relationship.

Good thing I work from home, huh?

(Photo found at Just a Little Guy)

some updating

2006-04-17T11:19:00.000-07:00

If you visit my blog and scroll on down past my socialist rant, there are some photographs of my apartment including one of The Boy. I’m not sure what he’s doing in that photo.

I was trying to take pictures of the books in the house and he jumped in front of his shelf and yelled, “yesssss!” as I took the picture. From what I remember from classmates and my brother, nine year-old boys tend to just do that, spontaneously.
After I took that series, I remembered that I’d forgotten about the cookbooks in the kitchen.

She did it her way...

2006-04-10T22:50:00.000-07:00

Well, despite my reservations Finn - the sunshine of my life - learned to ride a bike and she did her very own way. Basically, I was cut out of the deal. She refused to let me hold on the back of her bike and run alongside her. She informed me pointblank that she didn't trust me. Fair enough. She's seen enough movies to know that I was going to let go of the bike as soon as she built up enough speed and she was having none of it. Instead, she found herself a very small hill in the graveyard across the street from our house and for three hours straight she walked her bike up the incline and rolled down. Up and down, over and over again, red-faced and furious she kept at it.

When I gently suggested we take a break for dinner she very nearly tore a strip off of me - only our tenuous mother-child-respect arrangement prevented her from really telling me off. This was not the ideal experience I remembered from my own youth. There was a lot of whining and carrying on. At one point she actually yelled at the wind. Seriously. She stopped her bike and turned to face the breeze blowing her way and screamed "Stupid wind! I hate you!" Of course there were people nearby. Why wouldn't there be? Any advice I offered was recv'd with a scowl and basic frustrated carrying-on. It was terrible and familiar. I remembered how I screamed at my mother when she tried to teach me how to drive. I made a mental note to buy her something shiny for Mother's Day.

The sun was getting lower, it was nearly 6:30 pm and I was plotting to forcibly pull the bike out of her desperate grip when it happened. She was pedaling and pedaling. She went on forever. It was glorious. A wobbling vision of victory and pink streamers. I cheered. She grinned and hooted. We had our cliched moment after all - just not the way I planned it and that actually made it all the better. Nice.

Whining Weaning

2006-04-08T19:25:00.000-07:00

So my girl is about to turn a year old, and I'm still nursing her a few times a day. I was planning on weaning her around now, but I might not have to bother--I think she's weaning herself. She'll nurse happily a couple of times a day, but at other times she wants nothing to do with my boobs.

It's hard not to take this personally, because I went to some trouble to nurse A as long as I have. When she was six weeks old, I found blood in her diaper. It turned out she had an intolerance to dairy and soy protein, so I ate dairy- and soy-free for about seven months. When she was six months old, I discovered I was having major supply issues, so I ordered domperidone online from Thailand (because you can't get it from pharmacies in the U.S.) and have been taking it ever since to maintain my supply.

I know I'm being silly--it's just that she's growing up and there are more interesting things to do than nurse. But when I try to nurse her and she scowls at my breast or kicks me trying to get away, it kind of hurts my feelings.

Back to work...

2006-04-07T20:06:00.000-07:00

Yo all!

Just realized how long its been since I posted - and not for lack of drama in my little world!

To start, I've made a most wonderful discovery at my local wine shop - Hardy's, bless their big-time agri-capitalist heart, have put together two of my favorite white grapes into one fine bottle of $10 wine. Riesling Gewurtztraminer! Bring on summer!!

And work! Yep, I'm back at my job at the Centre for Disease Control and my only major f***-up was in a $100 million proposal letter of support misspelling 'Diseases' into 'Diseased' in the subject line. Those letters are a little too close on the keyboard, but not to sidetrack on this rant...

Yep, my main rant is DAYCARE! When I was pregnant, someone told me to get on the university daycare wait list... so at 3 months preggo, I did. I got a call last week saying that when Rian is 1 year and 1 month old, they think there *might* be space.

Other waitlists for good daycares are about 1-2 years long!

The reason our illustrious (minority) Prime Minister is featured here is because he decided that throwing $1,200 at families would help them find daycare - when waitlists are prenatal! I don't really need the money - I need good care for my son so I can do my job!

See, we opted for home-based care for Rian as I went back to work this week but that has been a pretty near disaster with one mom pulling out (after we let go of our precious daycare space) and the other pulling a muscle. So my first full day back turned out to be 1.5 hours in for a meeting, then up till 1 am working from home to try to make up for the hours I needed to look after the little guy. Day 2 wasn't much of an improvement.

Anyway, maybe next week will get better. I spent my afternoon buying Wonderbucks-art (like Ikea art only cheaper) for my little sauna, I mean, office.

And y'all know I'm a big fan of pictures and I've got some great ones:

Rian and the Sams!

I swear Anne-Marie's Sam is saying, "I don't know these guys - our moms hang out, sure - but look at them! Dopey and Angry. We're not like 'friends'!"

Nova, my previously black dog, getting stuck to a newly painted white kitchen cabinet.

NB: those handsome legs belong to my little bro who is still single, even after all my great advice on picking up chicks! He's 20, good at home renovation, a little snarky, likes to cook, awesome at Halo 2... let me know if there are any groovy grrrrls out there I can hook him up with...

And Rian - Canada's Next Top Model doing the 'catalog smile' with a shower curtain clip!

why I won't be "Mother of the Year" anytime soon

2006-04-05T09:26:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's spring, when a young girl's thoughts turn to light jackets, tank tops, skorts and other summery attire.

Today, my daughter refused to wear a coat to school. I decided, for once, not to argue with her about how she'd be cold.

Now, it's snowing.

Thank somewhere or other for little girls

2006-03-28T17:25:00.000-08:00

Today my daughter Finn informed me that she hates the way I walk. "Why do you have to wiggle your bum like that? It's embarrassing."

Of course, she said this in front of a group of people as we stood at the bus stop. My first reaction was to get very mad, but people were watching. So, I smiled sweetly and asked her what she meant by that because that's what you're supposed to do if you're a good mother - encourage your precious little gift to express herself.

"You walk like a sexy lady. You should walk more like me." She then stomped around a little bit to demonstate. "See? That's not all sexy."

I had to hand it to her - she definitely didn't look sexy. With the stiff walk, the blond hair and blue eyes and very severe expression you had more of a Hitler Youth air about her. An older gent smiled at her and then looked at me shaking his head with obvious amusement. Finn sensed a grown-up ally and so upped her game. She sashayed around the bus stop bench, playing to the crowd and trilling, "Ooh look at me! I'm mommy and I like to wiggle my bum!" Several people laughed outright.

I explained to her (in a commendably even tone) that when girls become women their hips change a bit and they walk with a more circular motion. That it has nothing to do with being sexy and that it isn't very nice to make fun of someone for the way they walk.

"Oh mom, shaking your bum is not a disability."

Then the bus came. We boarded and she immediately forgot the whole conversation. I was denied the rebuttal I had yet to come up with. She was pointing out a dog on the street and a woman with the same handbag as me. I was destroyed, humilated and really, really annoyed and she was chirping away and holding my hand, happy as a lark.

Little girls are scary creatures.

Ask a Bored Housewife: What to Do When Hosting Overly Rowdy Young Guests

2006-03-27T00:14:00.000-08:00

Dear Bored Housewives,

This weekend, my husband and I sponsored a going away party for some friends. We invited our circle of mutual friends and their children (approx. 30 adults and 10 kids/babies) for coffee and dessert. It was a laid back Sunday evening, nothing fancy.

Among our guests were three couples with a total of five 3- and 5-year-old boys between them. Said boys immediately began jumping up and down on our sectional sofa and pulling it apart. First graders were running around ON the couch. They were standing on the back, jumping off, then scrabbling up and over. Repeatedly. Couch cushions were placed in the middle of the floor to make a fort.

Setting aside my momentary embarrassment at the unexpected exposure of a forgotten hair clip, stray piece of popcorn and other detritus that collects under a couch's cushions, I was stunned that these kids would treat someone else's property that way. I'm fairly laid back about these things, and do not generally overreact to incidental property damage (earlier in the evening I watched a favorite vase fall and shatter due to a guest's enormous handbag and didn't blink -- these things happen) so please believe that I do not exaggerate when I say that my couch is destroyed. Cushions sag, springs audibly creak, one leg is cracked, and the hardwood floor beneath is scratched.

Aside from that, the jumping, whooping and wrestling kept the other guests from being able to sit in that room, or maintain a conversation over the din. The three mothers were sitting directly across from the couch in the only other available chairs in that room, watching bemusedly as their kids ruined my couch, and offered a half-hearted, "Sorry about this..." while my husband was literally lifting the section pieces back into place multiple times during the course of the evening. These are women who are intelligent professionals who generally appear to have their lives in hand. I've been to their homes and spent time with their kids, who are normally fairly well behaved, and have never seen this crazed behavior.

Neither my husband nor I made any overt comments (i.e. "Get the hell off the couch!") to the boys or their mothers (or fathers -- who were not in the room) but did comment pointedly that the boys were "spirited" and mused that they must really like the cookies. As a parent, I would have picked up on this hint, and done something about my child's rowdy behavior, but I am not unsympathetic to the fact that sometimes children just don't act they way you want them to in public. What puzzles me is that these women didn't even try to control their kids. They didn't split them up, give them a warning, or issue a lackluster "Honey, no." They didn't even make them take their shoes off!

My question is this:

Where do I draw the line between not wanting to make comment on a friend's lack of parental control, and protecting my couch from sofacide? Am I crazy for being angry at these moms who blithely murmured, "Sorry for tearing up your house" as they sailed out the door to go home? Did holding my tongue serve as tacit permission for the kids to act that way? My husband and I have crossed them off our list of people to invite into our home, unless we're having a strictly backyard affair, but we entertain a lot and I'd like to know what I could/should say if this situation comes up in the future. Thanks.

Sign me,
I don't live at Gymboree for a reason

Ooh, that's a juicy one to start the week. What do you make of this, O Wise BHNers?

A Full Regimen

2006-03-23T20:25:00.000-08:00

I've been absent for a bit because i'm currently feeling in-between mommy worlds. My little Henry just turned 11 months old and isn't crawling yet. He's also not standing, cruising, or pulling-up unless you really, really encourage him. My Pediatrician referred him to our state Early Intervention service when he was 9 months old and after a few weeks of scheduling wait, he was triple-teamed by a physical therapist, developmental therapist, and nutritionist. A few weeks later he received an assessment from an occupational therapist as well. He's now on a regimen of weekly PT visit and monthly developmental therapy and nutrionist's visits.

Because of all this we're not quite fitting in with the "my baby's in the range of normal" parents anymore and thankfully, because Henry's gross motor delays aren't huge, i don't feel completely comfortable in spaces designed for kids with delays.

All of this delay business has highlighted the emotional strain of parenting in a way that i hadn't yet realized. Foremost i worry about Henry. I want him to be able to have the mobility he wants, to not have movement be uncomfortable, and to not already be "checking" himself before he even turns one. From there, my emotions are like the swirly-paint masterpieces i created as a child. I'm grieving for the perfect vision I had of Henry and how he's not quite meeting it. I'm feeling selfish that even some small part of me is disappointed in him. I feel unhappy that he "can't be like all the other babies" and guilty that his delays are much milder than most and i'm still a basketcase. That leads to worry that i'm kidding myself-- that he's really much worse than i think. This is when i generally get tired and realize i need to go do something else and take my mind of all of this.

So i will. We're in the process of buying and selling our condo and moving into a new single-family house. This is completely exciting and exhausting, so at least i have ready diversions.

Linky goodness

2006-03-23T18:49:00.000-08:00

Lately I have been blogging about my girl turning 11 months old, another meme (that I tagged you all with but forgot to tell you--sorry!), having a daughter who looks more like her dad than like me, crazy hippie music, and my wish to have more patience.

Why getting a new babysitter is not unlike going into pon'farr

2006-03-23T15:18:00.000-08:00

Our first week with our new babysitter has come to its conclusion, and the conclusion is: two thumbs way up!

Even though my maternity leave doesn't end for another three weeks, I wanted to make the transition as easy and unstressful as possible for both me and Sam. Despite wanting a decent buffer period, however, I still procrastinated way too long before looking for childcare. I won't list my reasons for procrastinating -- most of them founded in anxiety -- because I'm sure almost all of you have been there or are there right now, so I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. But still. Anxiety. Gut-wrenching, waking-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-in-a-panic anxiety. It blows.

As I'm finding with so many things to do with parenting, the anticipation was much worse than the actuality. (Heeey... maybe being a parent will teach me Valuable Life Lessons! There's a thought!) When I realized I couldn't stall any longer, I posted my ad in a couple of places, and good old Craigslist delivered. Despite my somewhat vaguely worded requirements, I received a dozen or so responses and my spotty faith in humanity was restored when none of them were overtly nutbars. I did the back-and-forth email thing with a few people, did a couple of phone interviews, and -- praise the lord -- hit paydirt with the first person I interviewed in my home. Somebody pinch me! This must be a dream!

The main reason I like her is, not to put too fine a point on it, because she's a lot like me. More than ten years younger, yes, but still quite similar. Because as I mentioned to Kris once, all we want for our babies is a caregiver who can provide them with almost exactly the same brand of love and care we do... but of course without them ever winning our babies' affections as thoroughly as we have. Is that so unreasonable, I ask you?

Happy ending aside, this process has made me mentally revisit every conflicted-mom-and-nanny op-ed piece Salon has ever published and made me -- once again -- realize that when it comes to pregnancy and parenthood, I'm not the special, adorably unique creature I once thought I was. Those Salon moms and I? We have a lot in common. And now I want to go back and track down every person who's ever written a letter to Salon in response to those stories, letters reviling these moms and suggesting that they keep their "trivial", "privileged", "middle-class" problems to themselves, and I want to write them each a letter telling them to shut the fuck up.

I mean, seriously, anyone who thinks that the fears and concerns and psychological upheaval surrounding entrusting your tiny, innocent, trusting child to the care of another human being are trivial? Well, that person has probably never been a mom. When it comes to this issue, there is stuff going on in my mind and body that are beyond all ability to reason with, starting with, oh, the fact that every primitive instinct I have is constantly yelling at full volume, "KEEP BABY NEAR AT ALL TIMES!" To get to the point where I can blithely (or, let's be honest, fake blithely) say to another person, "Oh, sure, why don't you just put Sam in his stroller and go to the park. Have fun!" requires me to program over some pretty powerful biological imperatives. This has been a tough pill to swallow. Before I got pregnant, I didn't even realize I had biological imperatives. I thought those were things other people struggled with, while I, on the other hand, had nothing but cool Vulcan logic on my side. It's been humbling, let me tell you. When it comes to Sam's wellbeing, I'm still a lot like a Vulcan... at pon'farr.*

But as I mentioned, I'm really happy with Sam's new friend. She's sweet and calm and creative and fun. I can tell that he likes her a lot, which I reassure her of frequently, since he still tends to seek me out every twenty minutes or so. That's cool. It's a process, building this new relationship, both for me and for Sam. But we'll get there, and maybe we'll even learn a few more Valuable Life Lessons along the way.

*In case I'm the only nerd in the house, "pon'farr" is the time of mating, when the stoically logical Vulcans pay for their rigid control by experiencing a period of total emotional abandon. It gets pretty messy.

a date with my daughter

2006-03-18T17:38:00.000-08:00

The Bee and I went out to dinner tonight. This morning, the plan was for the whole family to go out to dinner, but then the Potato decided not to nap. And an un-napped two-year-old is not something I will inflict on myself in a restaurant, much less on total strangers. So he stayed home with his dad (sobbing all the while, I hear), and she and I went out to Friendly's. On the way out the door, she grabbed her journal (which she just brought home from school) and said, "if it's boring and we have to wait, I'll read to you from my journal."

My heart gave a little pitter-pat.

I don't remember if I had a journal when I was in first grade, but in all the time I can remember having a journal, I would never have read it to my mom.

We got there, and sure enough, it was packed, so we had to wait a while for our food. And she read her journal entries to me. It was a big insight for me into how early a writer's self-criticism begins, as she would skip over certain entries to get to "the good ones" or say things like "this one is boring."

It was also greatly affirming, as my daughter basically journals about the same kinds of things that I do (books she's reading, things she's looking forward to, visits with her grandparents), and while I'm not really surprised about that, I found myself thinking, "hey, that could be an entry on my blog, if it was more than four sentences long." And the most rewarding of all? She brought this journal home because it was full, and they had to get a new one (and journal version 2 evidently has entries that take up four pages!).

My work here, apparently, is done.

End of an Era?

2006-03-16T18:52:00.000-08:00

I think I am finally, finally over my ambivalence about whether to have another child. (My husband has no ambivalence; the last time I mentioned it—a few years ago—he wished me and my "new husband" loads of luck and promised to write often.) Today I got an e-mail that some old friends we'd been out of touch with had just had their third baby (we hadn't even known they were expecting!). And, you know what? I'm thrilled for them, but I'm also glad I don't have a newborn. I do still wish things had worked out so that I had 4 kids instead of 3, but I can honestly say that I know I don't now want another baby.

Bicycle! Bicycle!

2006-03-16T01:11:00.000-08:00

My daughter Finn is eight. I know I've told you all this before, but have I told you that she is eight and she can't ride a bike? As the weather gets warmer bike season looms. I tried to teach her last summer. It did not go well. I am impatient and she is so over-the-top cautious that it's almost laughable... if you're not the one hunched over tiny handlebars, pushing a 60 pound child, that is.

She is tall for her age and insists on training wheels. My dad had to customize her bike to accomodate the extra wheels. Kind of like "Pimp My Ride" but totally uncool. She pedals so slowly that small pebbles actually send her sprawling due to lack of momentum. She howls and cries and screams up and down the street. People look at me like I'm a bad mother - just because I walk a little bit ahead of her and kind of, sort of try to look like I'm just out for a stroll and not with the wailing nightmare on wheels trailng a half-block behind me.

This whole bike-riding thing makes me a bad mother. You know at the end of one particularly bad "session" I actually threatened the poor child? I told her that if she didn't at least try to pedal down the block that I would give her bike to her 2nd grade nemesis, Kiana. I got really into it, embellishing my plan with gusto. I would invite Kiana over for grilled cheese sandwiches (Finn's favourite food) and then bring out the bike. I would hand it over to her and let her know that it is hers for the taking since Finn couldn't even be bothered to try to ride it. I am a monster. But she pedaled that bloody bike half-way down the block - until she encountered a hair-line crack in the cement. Game over.

So, yeah, summer's coming. My darling little contrarian has set her sights on a cool banana-seat bike she spied in a bike shop window. She wants streamers on the handle bars and a bell. I will buy it for her, because every kid should get excited about a new bike. And maybe this year she will figure it out. Maybe I will be able to teach her instead of terrorizing her. And we'll go on long rides together around the seawall - me looking over my shoulder smiling benignly and she grinning adoringly up at me, skinny little legs pumping, the wind in her hair (the little bits that stick out of her helmet, of course) ... Or, you know, maybe Big Sisters covers this sort of thing...

My fellow BHNer went to New York and all I got was this lousy blog post

2006-03-14T21:17:00.000-08:00

Yo, BHNers! Here you can read about my trip to New York. Highlights include cake, wrestling, macaroni, and poop.

I know--I really know how to sell the sizzle, right?

(I just attended a moms' night out at which I consumed a very full glass of pinot grigio. Please pardon my tipsy blogging.)

Ask a Bored Housewife: How to Find a Reasonably Fabulous Baby Gift

2006-03-14T20:41:00.000-08:00

Dear Bored Housewives,

I am apparently entering that phase of life that comes before 'aged' but after 'childhood' called 'everyone is having babies'. My boyfriend's best friend is expecting a little girl with his fiancée, their first child. Mom is 24 and Dad is 28 and they are both very, very excited (and so are we!).

We have already decided on the requisite knitted baby gifts to be made (assorted bibs with creative and funny patterns if we can find them) but we would like to include some other interesting gift for these new parents to be at their upcoming baby shower. I'd like something to offset the homemade knitted bits, and I'm wondering what was the best or most unusual or most useful baby gift you received? Or gave? Or wish you had received?

We are loving the student life right now but are hoping to invest in the little bundle as much as our budget will allow, which sadly means no space-age carseats but could include a reasonably fabulous item.

Thank you all very kindly.

Signed,
I Had Better Get Used to This

Hmm... very good question. It's made me realize how little I remember about what I used or needed most with a newborn!

Poor Puppies

2006-03-14T12:24:00.000-08:00

Hi All. Nile has started to get really rough & (sometimes downright mean) with our pets .. we have a cat & 2 small dogs who are all very good natured, but none are used to the type of abuse that Nile is doling out - tail pulling, ear yanking, smacking in the head, screaming in their faces - i'm beginning to worry that one of them might swipe at or snap at him. i don't know what to do apart from chant "Gentle" over & over again (which doesn't seem to have any effect whatsoever). has anyone else gone through this? any tips? help!

New Orleans Public Library Seeking Book Donations

2006-03-14T08:50:00.000-08:00

I got this via email, and am cross-posting here and on my own blog:

The New Orleans Public Library is asking for any and all hardcover and paperback books for people of all ages in an effort to restock the shelves after Katrina. The staff will assess which titles will be designated for its collections. The rest will be distributed to destitute families or sold for library fundraising.

Please send your books to:

Rica A. Trigs
Public Relations
New Orleans Public Library
219 Loyola Avenue
New Orleans, LA 70112
ETA--a commenter on my blog says she checked, and they cannot be sent book rate, because only first class mail or better (UPS, DHL, FedEx) are being delivered in New Orleans. Sorry for the confusion.

Lunchbox Angst

2006-03-11T21:40:00.000-08:00

Sam isn't even one year old, and I already feel guilty about the inferior lunches I'll be sending him to school with.

I've already told Anne-Marie that I once had a bout of insomnia when Sam was about four months old, due to the fact that I realized I had NO IDEA what I was going to pack for his school lunches... a bout of insomnia that was only alleviated when I got out of bed, brainstormed a list of lunch options, and wrote it down. I've since lost the list.

I have an uneasy relationship with school lunches. I was the world's pickiest eater when I was a kid. I didn't realize until I was, oh, twenty-eight years old, that my pickiness was due to the fact that my mother was a terrible cook (except for desserts; my mom is a grand champeen baker).

Here was a stereotypical lunch for the Wee Doppelganger:

one sandwich, the contents of which I forget and which are destined to remain shrouded in mystery
one home-baked dessert (i.e. cookies -- always packed in threes, which to this day remains the quantity in which I consume cookies -- or cake or pie or tarts)
one store-brand granola bar
one apple

Most days, everything went in the garbage... except for the dessert, of course. When I think about the thousands of mom-hours spent packing those disrespected lunches, it makes me want to cry. And yes, it's selfish crying. Because the thought that I could spend thousands of mom-hours packing sad little abandoned lunches breaks my heart. Because, dudes, I hate to cook, yo.

Does anyone other than me worry about stuff like this? For you moms of older kids, how do you figure out what your kids will want to eat during the day? Do you have to come up with a brand-new lunch concept EVERY SINGLE DAY? How do you keep sandwiches from getting nasty? Is there a fruit other than the apple that travels well? How much bloody Tupperware do you have to invest in to keep this particular ship afloat? If you make crappy lunches but are really good at making little drawings and notes on post-its that you tuck INTO the lunchbox, do you get any points for that at all? Or are those embarrassing, and if so, at what age does this embarrassment commence?

Oh, and this woman here? With her perfect, home-made, nutritionally balanced, creative, cutely packaged vegan lunchboxes and her little kid who loves them and actually eats them... I kind of hate her a little bit. Sad, huh?

Ask a Bored Housewife: A How-To Guide for Conception

2006-03-10T09:52:00.000-08:00

Dear Bored Housewives,

For anyone who had difficulty conceiving, I'd love to hear tips for success. What's odd in our case is that this is (will be) our second. With number one, we conceived the first month. Now we've been trying for a good year and a half to no avail...

Signed,
A Special Person

Ah, if only we could control conception. Or can we? Have at 'er, BHNers.

Body Talk

2006-03-09T12:58:00.000-08:00

My hormones are talking to me. Has anyone else been feeling this way? I feel like it's waaaaay too soon!

Grimey Shower Curtain

2006-03-09T09:14:00.000-08:00

Dearest Bored Housewives,

How does one get a grimey clear plastic shower curtain to look clean & new again? Can I put it in the washing machine?

How do you spell "grimey" anyway? Grimey? Grimy?)

Your advice is much appreciated!

White Garbage Bags

2006-03-09T00:31:00.000-08:00

My daughter once referred to some rowdy rough boys as "White Garbage Bags". The poor child meant to say "white trash". Now, this isn't exactly a nice sentiment coming from a young girl, but then again, if you'd seen these boys...

Happy International Women's Day

2006-03-08T11:53:00.000-08:00

Here's a post I wrote on my conflicted feelings, this IWD. I'm especially curious in how my Canadian sisters are feeling about these issues.

The Obligatory Inaugural Post

2006-03-07T11:12:00.000-08:00

Hi everyone! I'm delighted to have been invited to join in the fun here—if for no other reason than it gives me a way to brag about something I'd normally feel kind of sheepish about: "I'm a bored housewife and you're not! Nyah-nyah!" That sort of thing. Sigh.