For Duck's Sake

Best Conversation of the Day:

2011-09-03T17:28:00.000-07:00

Setting: In the car on the way to yuppy heaven, the farmers market

Regan: rant...rant...rant.... should just go to WAR and blow themselves up... rant... rant... rant
Christine: "Regan, calm down, little pitchers have big ears."
Regan: "Christine she doesnt even know what war is!"
Christine: "Are you so sure about that?? She just told you you were her 'assistant when she investigates danger.' "
Regan: "Isla, do you know what war is?"
Isla: "War?"
Regan: "Yeah war. What does the word war mean?"
Isla: "Well..."
Christine gives Regan the stink eye.
Isla: "It's this big big big beautiful bird. It's so so special and flys all around. Its big big but not so big and it flies to the pink Bella Sara horses...."

Best Eats in Winnipeg

2011-05-08T14:18:00.000-07:00

So I feel as a Public Service Announcement I need to let all you wonderful people in on a incredibly delicious place Regan and I visited last night. Its a Lebanese quick service place in the North of Winnipeg (1783 main street) and oh my garsh they ever have some of the best eats I have ever put in my mouth. Baraka Pita Bakery is my new go to place for fast and ridiculously delicious and authentic food from out side the standard fare.
There is no decor to speak of and to be honest it looks rough around the edges. When I walked in my first thought was it was either going to be fantastic or very very scary. Luckily it was the former. What I saw as soon as we walked in should have been my first clue that we had no reason to fear. There is a large flame filled oven out of which comes the most gorgeous pillowy yummy pitas you can imagine. They alone make the trip worth while. Between us we tried the beef donair, the chicken shwarma platter and a fatire. All of which were so very very good. The meal with drinks came to just around $20.00 for two very hungry people. the portions were realy substantial (I couldnt best the platter) and everything was fresh and enjoyable.
All though its mostly a take out place there is about a half doze tables as well as a selection of Middle Eastern food stuffs. Check out this link to their menu
http://www.urbanspoon.com/u/menu/1433545
and give them a try. The people behind the counter are more then warm and welcomming, so in fact are their customers. While I was looking over the posted menue trying to choose between just a pita or the platter I had a woman come up to me and start preeching to me on the highlights on the menu (everything) and what I simply had to try. I back her up and say the Chicken Shwarma platter is for sure the way to go. Next time I plan on trying their Falafels and am already hatchign a plan for another visit.

Good Daddy Moment

2011-05-08T07:44:00.000-07:00

Another piece of evidence that I married the right man to Father my children; The drive by kisses. Regan on his way to get our daughter from the bath goes into the living room and plops a kiss on our sons head. Those are the moments I fall just that leeeettle bit more in love with him.

Mothers Day Micro Blogathon

2011-05-08T07:24:00.000-07:00

So be forewarned, today there might be many a blog post. Its mothers day which means my loverly family is giving me the best gift which is an opportunity to sit in my PJ's all day doing what ever the sweet heck I want. Which oddly enough is watching them, blogging and drinking cafe mochas. So by tonight's mothers day extravaganza at my own mothers house, I will be on a caffinated high and sporting a pair of nasty googly eyes thanks to excess amount of screen time.

Best conversation of the day

2011-04-24T06:09:00.000-07:00

Scene; Snuggling in her bed talking about what we were doing that morning.

Isla; "Oh no Mommy."
Me; "Whats wrong love?"
Isla: "I missed it all. I missed everything! The suns out now."
Me; "What id you miss?"
Isla; "The meteor shower, the moon, the stars, the comets! I didn't see anything!"
Me; "Well heres the thing Isla, you'll be able to see them tonight, the sun sets every evening and then its night so you can see the stars."
Isla: (Sounding relieved) "Oh good... Now wheres Colin Mommy?"
Me; "Hes sleeping on Mommy's bed."
Isla: "O.K. I want 'Os' for breakfast Mommy, with milk and a spoon."

Later on as I walk down the hallway I hear Isla and Colin

Isla; (sounding very sad) "Good morning Colin. Sorry, but we missed the meteor shower, the moon, the stars and the comets. But don't worry, they'll come back."

A Fine Example of my Skewed Sense of Hunour

2011-04-10T21:10:00.000-07:00

The above cartoons from http://www.xkcd.com have kept me laughing all day. I figured after the last post I should try to lighten things up. And yes, I do find The New Yorker cartoons just as funny. Thank you for asking.

What I'm Learning as I say Goodbye

2011-04-06T21:46:00.001-07:00

These past few weeks have been tough. I am in the process of loosing a woman who meant a great deal to me. Though I haven't seen her in years because of distance she continues to be a massive influence on who I am and what I do.

She is in fact part of a team of strong, smart, powerful women who have shaped my view on things as varied as political ideals, propriety, feminism and femininity, marriage, environmental awareness, and what it takes to through a good party. (If any one cares its copious amounts of liquor - Drambuie and Southern Comfort - and Disco, preferably Bonny M and when its closing time, a few melancholy songs from 'back home' with a wee bit 'o pipes)
Last week I wrote her a letter explaining how much she has formed who I am and I hoped she heard it. Tonight was my time to say good bye and I love you out loud.

I realized as I waited for the nurse to pass the phone over that there is no social protocol when it comes to saying the long good bye. There is no "How are you doing?" We know that answer; not good. Theres certainly no "How are you feeling" because we really know that answer and "Talk to you soon" just seems cruel. So I said Thank you, I love you and I am sorry I wasn't around more and I love you again. There was so much that I wish that one 45 second conversation could have held. But through tears those three things were the only ones I could get out. In return she told me not to cry, that all she wants is for us to have a big party in her honor and for us to dance. She told me she enjoyed life and she hopes I do to.

After each of us had our turn to say good bye my two sisters and I met at my parents house. It only seemed right. We got together and cried. We got together and started to refile through our parents closet in search of our life story and stories of the ones we have lost and are now in the midst of loosing. After the command for us to enjoy life the three of us decided tonight was a fitting time to look back and celebrate what our lives have been thus far. We found our stories and our celebration in boxes and boxes of photos.

This emotional walk down memory lane was done in the middle of our parents bed surrounded by hundred (thousands?) of images of tens of thousands of great moments and memories. Sitting there, watching our family being formed and grow in photos of weddings, Christmases, Christenings, camping trips, birthdays, dog walks, trips to the cottage, Bar-B-Qs, proms, anniversaries, showers, school plays, bike rides, etc etc etc I began to understand that right now, in my life, is the best part. It dawned on me looking through the images of those who mean the most to me, raising me, that right this moment I am sitting in the middle of what I am positive will be the best part of my life.

So much of the time I do my thing, parenting, wifeing (theres a new word for you...) even sometimes working, that I forget that as hard, tiering, financially difficult, stressful, and emotionally draining things are right now they are also so much fun. Even as a rather bizarre teenager I knew the home I came from, the family I had, was equal to a big win on a lotto ticket. I have people, I have roots and even still I thought I had to go above, go beyond. To do what, I wasn't sure, but I was convinced I should be doing something more. Yet here I am and it blows my mind that things have managed to get even better without not even one noble peace prize, oscar nod or book deal. In the finding of my partner, and the raising of my children I have found a way of reaching back to that golden time of my own childhood and realized that life is so much more then a set list of should dos and need to dos. My house may be filled to the rafters with the detritus that comes with young children and pets but it is also filled with more adventures, more fun and more love then I would have ever dreamed possible as a painfully awkward teenager. There is no number of banal distractions that should cause me to forget to appreciate that.

So today as what is possibly the last gift my Grandma will give to me me; she taught me the lesson that right now, even with its dirty cat boxes, dish filled sinks, piles of laundry and burnt dinners is what I will be holding tight to me decades from now. Because the on other side to that chaos and work are moments like I just had, holding my baby boy, warm and peaceful to my breast. Watching him dream and then sneaking a peak at Isla, limbs helter-skelter over top, around and under toys and pillows and bed clothes, talking in her sleep about horsies and rainbows. With the everyday comes the sublime, the adventures and the oh so (almost) sacred memories that make up what it is to be alive.

Today may not have been extra ordinary other then my all too brief phone call and the emotional evening with my sisters. It was a day filled with nursery school runs, lunch with a dear friend, an adventure with two kids, no map, a 40 minute drive and fierce determination to pick up a used baby carrier I scoped out on Kijiji. All of that followed by a experimental dinner invented on the spot. But each of those things, are the types of things that makes this life, a good life, one that I can enjoy, just like I was taught.

Fer Serious, Kay??

2011-03-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

Stop reading this. I mean it. At least, not while you could be reading this;

http://wendiaarons.com/2007/03/as-seen-on-mcsweeneysnet.html

http://wendiaarons.com/page/2

http://wendiaarons.com/2008/10/great-moments-in-housewifery.html

http://thebloggess.com/

So now. Go read and laugh your ass off. A great way to spend some time.

Opinions?

2011-03-25T11:32:00.001-07:00

What are your first thoughts on this?
I first heard of this through a blog I follow; http://backpackingdad.com
I thought, he must have it wrong. Its probably to prevent nippiness. Apparently not. The tag; "Push up Triangle" kinda threw that possibility out. I know A&F will once again be making major hay (check out their adult catalog photo shoot if you want to raise your temp a few degrees, NSFW) out of sexiness, but for the under 12 set... Thats a bit much.

Best conversation of the day, or where in Isla makes detailed travel plans.

2011-03-21T19:36:00.000-07:00

Scene; kitchen, dancing around to the music in her head

"Thats Colin. Hes a baby. But your pure Mommy and I'm pure pure Isla!!"
"Yes, yes you are pure 100% Isla."

Scene; Sitting on the couch reading a travel blog, watching the accompanying video.

"I wanna go there, I wanna go to the blamterm feshtable! I'm gonna go there today when it's dark tonight. Let's take Colin Mommy. We're gonna go there. Let's go get Daddy!"

We proceeded to watch the video ad nauseam.

Scene; Getting dressed to go to the dreaded grocery store with her Dad.

"Isla we've got to get ready, we are going to drive to the store."
"What store?"
"Lets go, you'll see when we get there."
"I know! We're going to the Bella Sara store in San Fransisco!"
"No, not quite Isla. We can't drive to San Fransisco tonight."
"But we can take an airplane!"
Regan looks at me.
"This is going on your blog isn't it?"
"You better believe it." I say.

Mommy Moment

2011-03-16T17:29:00.000-07:00

So I do have a post for both Isla's 3rd birthday and Colin's 6 month birthday. But something happened the other day and it made me realize I need to be much much more careful tow hat I expose my kiddos to. I figured I should pass on the light bulb moment as a friendly reminder that our kids do pay attention.

We have all heard the news that has been coming out of Japan. Like many people I have been plugged in and watching it unfold day by day, and even hour by hour thanks to the miracle that is Twitter. Estimates put the death told in the tens of thousands, millions are living a bare bones existence, millions more have been displaced from their homes. The people of Japan have faced a 9.0 earthquake, a Tsunami going the speed of a jet plane, and now a nuclear catastrophe not seen since Chernobyl. Understandably the world has been watching the events unfold.

Yesterday I had CBC on in the living room, with live streaming of the billows of radioactive steam streaming from The Fukushima plant. The broad cast cut away from the plant and went into a recap since the earthquake, and it included new footage. Isla was playing on the couch, rolling around seemingly ignoring the TV screen. When all of a sudden she stood up on the floor and pointed at the screen. "Oh no Mommy. Oh no! All their boats are broken. All the boats are smashed! I gotta go fix those boats up. Just a second I gotta go fix their boats." Well right then was a slap to the forehead moment.

So this is my friendly reminder to watch the news after your kiddos have gone to bed. Sure kids under 4 don't understand the difference between the real life news and an upsetting scene in your favorite TV drama, but I don't let Isla in on my Law and Order (the original, Jerry Orbach is my home boy) addiction and so I should be exerting just as much control over the news footage that flows into this home.

I think the PBS web site says it best;

Helping Children Talk About Their Scary Feelings

During troubling times, we'd like to offer some thoughts that may be of help to you and the children in your care. Talking about our fears can often help make them less frightening. Our mission has always been to help families grow in healthy, nurturing ways, and we hope our messages can be of service to you.

When children mention something frightening, find out what they know about it. (Their fantasies are often very different from the actual truth!) Listening carefully and respecting their concerns can assure them that they can talk about anything with you.
Somewhere deep inside each one of us human beings is a longing to know that all will be well. Our children need to hear from us adults that we will do everything we can to keep them safe and to help them grow in this world.
When Fred Rogers was a boy and would see scary things on the news, his mother would say to him, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping."
You parents and care givers are of prime importance in your child's life -- what you do, think and say are powerful influences on the children in your care. By helping them find healthy ways of dealing with their feelings -- ways that don't hurt them or anyone else, you're helping to make our world a better, safer place.

The above was produced after the attack in New York on 9 / 11. Mr. Rodgers came out of retirement to produce a few short videos on how we can help our children process events that no one can really explain. I really encourage you to watch the videos and think twice before leaving that TV on.

My new Crush

2011-03-10T13:41:00.000-08:00

Adele is the best thing I have heard in long time.
Seriously. For Adele I would consider switching teams. If anyone caught her on Q on CBC radio a few days ago, you know what I mean.
Isla and I have been listening to Adele on repeat. Go, listen, fall in love.

Your welcome.

Best conversation of the day

2011-02-12T17:42:00.000-08:00

Scene; On Friday, in the car with Daddy on the way to nursery school.

"Daddy I love pink."
"Is that so Isla?"
"Look at those big buildings Daddy!"
"They sure are big."
"I want to paint their roofs pink...I think I'll need a ladder."
"Yeah, I think you would Isla."

Why I wont be Posting much Today;

2011-02-11T08:52:00.000-08:00

I will admit to a more then fleeting fascination with politics. Any level, pretty much any country. The concept that every day things in an individuals life can be impacted by something that is decided a few provinces (or even a few countries) away is endlessly fascinating to me.

I love democracy. That's no idealistic-pie-in-the-sky "Isn't our system the best" line. I mean that it blows my mind daily that my country and therefore a part of my identity can be molded by the decision I make in a ballot box. Even stranger is that, that same part of my identity and they way I experience life can be dictated what other individuals do in a ballot box.

Anytime a large body, such as a country, swerves in its direction because of a series of personal decisions made by individuals I always stop and think "Holy Crap, I get how it works but that doesn't make sense." The change we are witnessing in Egypt is happening because of nothing less then thousands of every day people deciding that on that day they are closing up their shops/not going to class/leaving the kids with Grandma, going down to a square and deciding to say "no more."

I am trying to think what it would take for me to be in a position where right now I would shut down my computer, get the kids dressed, pack some snacks and diapers, meet my husband and go protest for 18 days. I am not sure I can grasp what it would take for me to do that. Because seriously I have laundry to do, food to buy, blog posts to write and gossip to share with my sister this afternoon, just like those Egyptians did.

So for today I wont be on Facebook much. Admittedly I will probably be all over Twitter like a dirty shirt filling my self with tweet of the people on the ground. I will be feeding off of the Egyptian peoples success and following their celebrations while I make lunch. I will be showing Isla some photos and videos from Egypt rather then watching PBSkids or Treehouse. I will be watching live feeds and pundits dissecting what all this means while I fold laundry. I will be busy thinking about how our country's democracy functions while I give the kids a bath. I will be explaining why those people are so proud, and why they have every right to be.

Second Best Conversation of the Day

2011-02-10T17:22:00.000-08:00

Scene: In car on our way to pick Daddy up from work

"Mommy look! It's a hospital car!"
"Yeah it is Isla, we call it an ambulance."
"It going to hospital."
"Yep it is."
"Mommy I soooooo sick. My nose is broken."
"Hows your nose broken?"
"It hurts. Its got boogers."
"Yeah you do have a pretty bad cold."
"The booger water wont come out."
"Did you just say 'booger water'?"
"Yeah. My booger water can't come out... I need to go to the hospital."
"Isla, Mommy is putting this conversation on her blog."
**I wonder how much her therapy bills will cost me in 12 years**
"Mommy. I need to go to the hospital so my booger water comes out."
"Well, let's go tell your Dad. He's good at getting booger water to come out."

Best conversation of the day

2011-02-10T11:11:00.000-08:00

Scene; In the car on the way to drop Isla off at nursery school, radio on.

"Daddy I wanna hear kitty cat music."
"Hmm ok, lets see if we can find any."
*fiddle-fiddle-fiddle with the radio
"How about this?"
*Daddy proceeds to sing "Meow meow meow meow" to this;

"Daddy, I like giraffes. They make a quiet sound. Can you do a giraffe sound?"
"Are you saying you want me to be quiet?"
*Isla looks out the window.
"I think thats your answer Regan."

Why I love Bella Sara / Why I hate Bella Sara

2011-02-08T13:47:00.000-08:00

Have you ever seen little girl crack? Here. Let me share it with you.

*warning if you have little girls in your house and expose them to this you deserve
what you get for not heading me when I say, proceed with extreme care.

This is why little girls love this game

1) Horses with flowing manes
2) Unicorns with flowing manes
3) Glitter
4) Fireworks
5) False economies
6) The colours pink and purple
7) Vague platitudes
8) playing dress up
9) Winged horses with flowing manes
10) Rainbows
11) Did I mention the flowing manes?

This list, I know may seem like one filled with gender stereotypes. Far be it from me to perpetuate such things. I do stand by the fact that a majority of girls harbor at least some spot in their hearts thats just ready for things in the above list to find a home. A little girls love of things pink, purple, glittery and that are surrounded by unicorns does not prevent her from loving dinosaurs and spiders and going through a goth phase. (Some argue that its only after really, truly immersing herself in glittery goodness can a teen girl really get her angst-y goth on.)
As a girl I had zero interest in glitter and shunned the colours pink and purple. I was more often embodying the antithesis of girly then embracing traditional femininity. But I did have a thing for horses. Especially when those horses came with flowing manes. I know deep in my bones that had this Bella Sara Phenomena been around when I was a girl I would have pretended to be too cool for them but then when given a pack by my well meaning parents became addicted on the first hit.

Why Parents Love Bella Sara
1) Its cheap. We recently got a box of 5 sets of five cards each. Total price of all 25 cards? $5.00 American.
2) Its adorable seeing your little girl so excited by something that completely appeals to them. I love seeing how Isla loves every bit about Bella Sara
3) Youtube has hours of videos of little girls displaying their collection of the horse cards. Thus providing huge tracks time where parents can check out and imagine what their children's lives would be like if they didn't have such crap parents.
4) The children get to learn all sorts of 'meaningful' drivel from the vague inspirational quotes such as; "Learn more about your family. You will feel closer to them."
"I will help you stay in a steady flow of abundance."
"Natures energy is all around you at any moment"
"Be the leader in your own life."
"Become the person you want to be. You will find joy along the way."
* note; these are actual quotes from the web site, I did not make these up.

Why Parents Hate Sara Bella
1) Did you not just read the crap quotes from above? Seriously my eyes are in danger of flipping out of their sockets, the quotes that pop up are so pedantic.
2) You will forever be hunting for decks of card that are more elusive then yes, Unicorns.
3) The music on the web site makes parents ear bleed.
4) You will have to wrench the computer away from your kid. Thats a fight that just can't end with both parties dignity and humor intact.

I guess at this point a discussion for me about the merits of Bella Sara is besides the point. Isla is addicted and has recently learned how to use the mouse on her own. Therefore I will forever more be negotiating computer time and forever looking in discount bins for shiny packages of little girl meth. At least, until she goes all goth and is only into overly self involved music, and the colour black.

Best conversation of the day

2011-02-08T10:40:00.000-08:00

Scene; Watching a video with Isla

"Whats that man doing to the maps mommy?"
"I dunno hun. Using them to make some insane point."
"Mommy what's that man talking about?"
"I have absolutely no idea hunny, I don't think anyone does. What do you think he's talking about?"
"Nothing."
"Your probably right Isla. He's talking about nothing."
"I wish he was talking about horsey's."
"I do too Isla, I do too."

Let's play Distract the Duck!!!

2011-02-07T19:22:00.000-08:00

Heres a fun game that anyone can play. Distract-a-Duck! Well I guess its more you can play as long as you have an Internet connection, a love of flights of fancy and/or juvenile and sarcastic sense of humor.

We are struggling with sleep over here on all fronts. Isla is experiencing something similar to night terrors every night and Mr. Colin is still struggling with the idea that his mommy will only feed him *gasp* 4 times between 7 and 6 am. This means that the adults in this house are spending many an hour gazing off into the middle distance and fondly (if not a little begrudgingly) remembering what sleep felt like. It also means that I am spending quite a bit of time being way too exhausted to actually do anything but not able to nap. Napping as a parent when the children are awake has never lead to anything good in my experience. At best, you awake with a sense of dread and foreboding, completely missing the gleeful feeling of stolen rest, and at worst it means waking up to a bombed out house with various government services, well meaning family members and nosy neighbors tut-tutting "Those poor children, to have such a lazy, neglectful mother..."

So I have become an artist of finding easy, passive things to do that can keep me awake. When I mean easy I mean, nothing more strenuous or thought provoking then emptying the dishwasher. Scratch that, emptying the dishwasher completely at this point would cause me to pass out, lets say emptying the top rack of said dishwasher. Just the glasses, no bending over and no reaching required.

So far this is my list of things I can do within those parameters. Please leave me a few ideas of more 'activities' that can help keep me from falling over but not sucking the life out of what remains.

1) go through crayon boxes and picking out the broken ones.
2) dust only the things at waist height.
3) raise the blinds up and down
4) help Isla sort her stickers.
3) change my paper towel roll
4) search the Internet for funny Superbowl ads (thus my last post)
5) wipe down the remote controls
6) convince Isla to count every one of her horse figurines (there are twelve-ity seven if your interested)
7) takes the dogs collars off
8) watch listlessly as Isla uses her entire upper body as a stamp on her easel and then use it as a learning opportunity as to how sometimes our hands and faces turn and stay blue when we cover them in stamp ink.
8) survey the devastation that is the living room and make a mental list (promptly forgotten because duh, sleep deprivation) of all the lacking storage containers.
9) write long winded, poorly edited blog posts, although the poor editing sadly can't be blamed on sleep deprivation.

Things that Make Me Smile

2011-02-07T10:29:00.000-08:00

I can not stop watching this video. In honor of whoever the heck won the Superbowl yesterday and TPS reports in offices all over the world I present to you this piece of high art...

Contemplating Mortality through Motherhood

2011-02-06T18:57:00.000-08:00

I know the exact moment I began to fear death. (Wow ain't that an opening sentence?) It was the exact second I felt Isla move in my belly for the first time. At that moment my understanding of what it would mean to leave this life changed fundamentally. Its was the beginning of motherhood that really taught me how massively important (a brutal understatement if there ever was one) life is.

At a relatively young age I had to confront mortality in a visceral, personal and devastating way when a close and beloved family member left us before what everyone thought was his time. Everyone in my family learned that our lives are not lived or lost in a bubble. When we are taken away our loss is devastating, the grief long lasting and the absence ever present. But even that understanding did not fully prepare me for the feeling that no matter what I had to hold onto this earth for as long as possible.

Before I had my own I heard the saying “Children give reason and purpose to life” and I would roll my eyes. I always thought that that was a heck of a lot of pressure to put on a kid. I would like to think that parents purpose in life isn't to make themselves so co-dependent with their children that if the kids some how mess up then all is not lost. But I think I was fundamentally missing the point of that statement. What it means is that there is nothing more important to live for.

I remember my mom telling me stories about the first weeks when she brought me home from the hospital. How, in the midst of folding laundry she would play the what if 'game'. What would she do if masked bandits forced their way into the house? How would she save me? What would she do if there was a fire? How would she get me out? The first time she told me about this I chalked it up to mild postpartum depression. And yet, no sooner was Isla in my arms was I thinking and preparing how to protect, guard and put myself between her and what ever potential threat I could think of. Now I do attribute some of that hyper awareness to hormones after birth. After all, it would make sense that thousands of years ago our monkey ancestors would need that boost of protectiveness to keep their off spring from the neighbourhood saber tooth tigers lunch table.

Beyond a rush of hormones I think simply going through the birth experience opens a person up to the fact that some times crap happens you wish wouldn't. Almost every woman I have spoken to about their birth experience has said that at one point they thought the pain was going to kill them. It might have been a split second before the reading, preparing, coaching, meditation, breathing techniques (or heavy narcotics) kicked in, But each one of us hit a point when we really thought we could not go on. I think facing that opens you more to 'the other side' if you let it.

Some moms I have spoken to about this have had those labour experiences you never want to hear. The stories you skim over in your “How to deliver a Baby” guide book, if the authors are brave enough to put them in. For those moms the trauma of facing a lethal tiger in the birth room leaves an indelible mark. It is not something that can be forgotten or that can be 'gotten over'. Facing their own, and some times their baby's mortality just as a new life is supposed to be beginning is not something anyone ever expects. That's a look into the other side that has profound effects on the way a person looks at raising a child or even more grandly, the way you look at life as a whole. Thankfully, thus far, I haven't personally had that experience. But I do feel that the moms who have do look at things in a different way. Not necessarily more profound but such a thing isn't gone through without it bringing change to a person.

But even your average labouring mom has a peek into the other side. To me it seems that in those last few hours of carrying that baby in our bodies mothers are walking the fine edge between 'here' and 'there', where ever 'there' is.

As a part of my own preparation to give birth to Colin I began reading “Birthing From Within”. I must tell you it was not exactly my cup of tea. It was a little too granola-y for me, a little too spiritual, a little too creative, just a little too much. Yet I read the whole thing because as a person who is employed to talk to Moms about to give birth, have just given birth or have long since given birth and are now focused on raising kids I like to read the parenting/birthing books that people are talking about. (My next read is Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother FYI)

Anyway at one point in Birthing From Within the author calls the state you enter into at the height of labour, when things are their hardest and when you are under the complete control of your body (the end of active labour into transition and the pushing stage to some extent) Labour Land. They explain it as a sort of head space you go into to block out the external world and you fully become all about whats happening internally. They liken it to meditation in fact.

I can say without a doubt I have visited labour land and its one whacked out place. The only way I can explain what that was like was I felt as though I was diving into the pain. It wasn't a wave washing over me as contractions are often compared to, I was deep in that wave just focusing on swimming with the current. Quite honestly Santa Clause, Colin Firth and Jane Austen could have showed up in my room and I wouldn't have given two shits. In those moments I felt like I was touching the other side. If I go really wavy-gravy it was like I had to go to the other side to bring my baby back from 'there'. Because the minute I pushed that new person out, looked in their eyes, there was no doubt that they just came from the place we all end up.

When my new babes looked in my eyes for the first time, I swear to you they both said the same thing to me;

“The big guy says “hi” and wants you to know that THIS is what love feels like, and he knows you will keep screwing up but forgives you for it, and don't worry, The Grandparents and Alex are doing fine. Now. Wheres the food?”

Dear Colin

2011-02-05T17:53:00.000-08:00

Dear Colin

Its been almost five months since you joined this crazy party. I know, five months and not one blog post about you. To be honest my Biggy Boy I did type out the long drawn out tale of your birth but thought better of posting it on here. Let's be honest; no 20 something wants to read about their mothers cervix, and as the media keeps telling me, whats put on line is on line forever.

We are in the midst of trying to teach you that sleep is something that you can do on your own. It. Is. Killing. Me. Its been three days since you slept in the big bed with me. I felt every single minute of those three nights. The first night you spent in your crib it was a physical ache. I missed, so much, those moments that can only really happen when you sleep next to another person.

I could tell how your night was by how you would spend the last few moment before you opened your blue eyes. If you had a good, restful sleep filled with cuddles and deep peaceful dreams (of what?) you would spend the last moments chuckling. Chuckling at what or who, I only wish I knew. It's a deep chuckle, one that bubbles up from your toes and rolls through your legs, through your tummy and up your throat and then out it comes, between your clasped hands that you always hold in front of you. It seems you are so pleased with the dream world you just cant contain that chuckle for one more second. If when you open your eyes and look straight into mine, or even if you just wake up looking at the light on the ceiling, you greet either of us with this smile that tells me you just can not wait to see what incredible things (Will the cat will walk by? Maybe Isla will dance for you? Will today be a bath day?) are going to happen today. You exemplify how everyone wishes they could wake up in the morning.

I will miss just quietly looking at you while you are in the deepest part of your sleep, when (almost) nothing and no one can wake you up. Your arms beside your head like some sort of infant referee signaling “Goal!!!” While you sleep, tucked into me or spread across the bed, but always oh so warm, your skin takes on this perfect colour and texture. Peaches and cream. Slightly darker under your eyes. Lips just that bit pinker then your cheeks, pushing and pulling against each other. Maybe your dreaming of eating? Maybe dreaming of when you finally, finally can talk to your big sister?

In those quiet moments when you are unaware of your Mothers almost unnerving concentration on you, are the moments when I am filled with absolute wonder and a love so all encompassing that classifying it as merely love seems an to insult the state. I am perpetually awed by the fact that I find every single part of you so engrossing. I am serious. I can be perfectly content staring at you for embarrassing lengths of time.

Before children I used to fancy myself somewhat intellectually inclined aesthete. I liked to think deep thoughts, contemplate the state of the world, discuss art, truth, the nature of beauty and love. But now I find that feeling of engagement by merely watching you sleep or your sister playing imagine. There is not one lecturer, text book, museum, art gallery that has made me see the external world or my own private, internal world more honestly, with more compassion or more insight.

I was saying to your Dad tonight that is blows me away how each baby is perfectly designed so every single part of them is appealing to their parents. From your pinky toe to your left eyebrow, each part of you is formed specifically for me to find endearing. Nature, genetics and evolution are frightening forces to reckon with.

Well my Biggy Boy. I can hear you crying again in your crib. How it rips at my heart. But maybe years from now you will read this and forgive me the therapy you had to go through because I decided to let you cry it out. Or, more likely, you'll just read this and roll your eyes (looking much like your Father I imagine) and think what sentimental, overwrought pandering. At which point I will smile and think, wait until you make me a Grandma before you judge this overwrought sentimental Momma.

I love you to the moon and back again.

Dear Isla

2010-09-01T00:07:00.000-07:00

Dear Isla,

We are hours/days (please don't say weeks) away from changing your life dramatically. You are about to become a big sister. I sit here at two o'clock in the morning more then a little emotional thinking of all the changes that are coming to our family, to your world.

Up until this point you have been the center of your parents entire universe. You came in to our lives and with your very first breath redefined what it meant for us to be alive and who we are as people. You changed what it meant for me to be in love with your father. It was as if you coloured in and highlighted with your crayons exactly why and how much I love the man who loves me so much he wants to raise a family with me and chooses me to be the mother of his children. Your arrival connected me in a way I can scarcely describe to my own parents.

How we are lucky/blessed enough to have been entrusted you I can't really wrap my head around. But every day when I wake up, before my feet hit the floor I thank God I get to wake up and be your Mommy.

Now change has come to how you will experience being in this family of ours. Things wont be the same for you. At this point nothing can alter the fact that your world is about to be rocked.

There are enough years between your Aunts and I that I remember the minute I met your Aunt 'lissa. I remember becoming a big sister. My dear, that is one experience I can not deny you. No matter how hard those first few years were, the gift of siblings in your Moms life has been so important I can't imagine functioning without them. So here I sit. Holding your future brother (we think) in my body hoping that you get to experience all the wonderful things I get to because I have two partners in crime, love, loss and life in general. I am holding under my heart a person for you to learn to fight with, learn to make up with, learn to plot against your parents with.

As difficult as a change this may be I want you to know that you, my funny girl, are and will forever be that same center of our universe. Only a few hours (please) or days from now that center will be a little bigger and you will have another person there to help you even out the ratios between parents vs children. Keeping in mind the levels of neurosis your parents sometimes exhibit, that evening of the ratio can only be a good thing.

I can feel my heart right now multiplying in size as I think of you as a big sister. Love never, ever divides it can only multiply. The miracle of it really is that sitting here at my computer in the middle of the night I can feel it happening. I can feel it happening as this baby prepares to meet us all in person. I can feel my heart expanding in ways I don't quite have words for, but please know this; it is spectacular how much I love both you and your brother. As your great grandma used to say "Baby's bring their own love." and well darlin' girl, I think this boy is packing a double load.

I can't wait for you to meet him and I can't wait to show you how to be a big sister. I know you are going to be spectacular.

Can I call this a Recipe?

2010-06-09T20:50:00.000-07:00

Hello all. I am posting this here so that I will feel guilty in the future if I don't at least try these for Isla as I have the recipe right here. Anyway if anyone out there tries this let me know and maybe that will convince me that the effort of cutting up messy mangos would be worth it.

Mango Lassi Pops

2 cups vanilla yogurt
1/4 cup white grape juice concentrate
2 large ripe mangoes, cut in chunks

1. Blend all ingredients in a blender or a food processor until smooth. Pour into paper cups and insert wooden spoons or popsicle sticks. Freeze for 6 hours, or overnight.

2. Peel off paper to serve.

Let them eat Cookies

2010-06-08T20:10:00.000-07:00

I make cookies a lot. I figure if I am going to get fat I may as well get fat off of stuff I make. That way I know what my jiggle is made of.
I have tried many many different recipes. To be honest most of them have been chocolate chip cookie recipes. Thats because Regan refuses to put anything past his mouth that is in the shape of a cookie that does not contain said chocolate chips. It just wont happen. No matter how many gorgeous batches of Soft Molasses Cookies, Sinfully Cinnamon Cookies or Imperial cookies I make he will not eat them. So I am now the goddess of chocolate chip cookies. I am sure my recipe trial count is now in the dozens. By far the best I have come across is the one below. Tonight after enjoying one of these puppies warm from the oven I figured I would grant the internets the opportunity to follow my lead and indulge.

A few notes on cookies

USE GOOD VANILLA!!!!!!! No artificial crap. Its crap people. Pure crap and alcohol. So as soon as it heats up the alcohol burns off and it messes the whole works up. Madagascar vanilla is the best.There is a reason this tip is first, because it is just that important.
The middle rack is the place for them. Keeps the bottoms from burning the sugar in them.
As for Cinnamon, Saigon Cinnamon is the one with the roundest of flavour and makes my mouth the happiest.
When you are dropping your cookies onto the cookie sheet try to do so on a cool cookie sheet. That way your dough of the first few cookies wont have started to spread on you before you fill the sheet.
Speaking of cookie sheets, if you can find them the ones without the sides are the best. They allow for more air flow I find and create a more even texture.
Check your cookies in the last minute of recommended baking time. Obviously each oven if different so if you know yours is hotter 'en hell check more often. Pull them out when you see colour on the edges of the cookies below.
If you want a chewy cookie pull them out right away when you see the edges begin to turn colour and then let them sit on the cookie pan for a few minutes before taking them off.
Use a cooling rack for your cookies. It allows the whole cookie to cool evenly and can save some recipes for the dreaded soggy bottom cookie syndrome.

OK I think thats all my tips.
So on to the recipe!

Soft Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup shortening
1/4 cup sugar
1 (4 ounce) package instant vanilla pudding
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon almond extract
2 eggs, beaten
2 cups chocolate chips

Directions

Preheat oven 350 degrees.
Combine flour and baking soda.
In a large bowl beat brown sugar, sugar, butter, shortening, pudding mix, vanilla, and almond extract.
Mix until well blended.
Add eggs and mix well.
Beat in the flour mixture.
Stir in chocolate chips.
Drop by rounded teasponful and bake 10-12 minutes.

It Was My Birthday I Can Change My Mind If I Want To.

2010-05-30T20:34:00.000-07:00

So last post I said I was going to review Ducky's Fish and Chip shop, and Kawaii Crepes. Well neither happened. What did happen is the heavens opened up and dumped enough rain that Noah would have felt at home.
Not conducive for a person like my self to be encouraged to leave the house. So instead my lovely husband went of a fish run. He went to Fergies Fish and Chips at a local market place/tourist trap, The Forks. He brought home a fmaily bucket of chips and Pickerel fish. My Dr told me the safest fish for a pregnant lady such as myself is local caught Pickerel fish, so as its also Regan's favorite we sat down to a feast of grease and fish and potatoes. The amount of fish was enormous. It would have easily fed another adult or two. The amount of chip on the other hand, pretty sparse.
The fish itself I think suffered form the drive to our house. 90% of it was still crispy and delicious but 1% was already starting to get soggy. An odd aside, Regan was convinced that one of the small pieces we got was actually Halibut. It must have been left over from the previous batch in the fryer.
The french fries were perfect. The right level of salty and fresh cut. Over all I would give it a *** out of five stars. The price was right at $25.21 for a large portion for 3-4 adults, with plenty of fishy left overs, if you like your fish batter congealed the next day.
There was so much fish eaten by yours truly and the water being dumped on us from the sky that Kawaii Crepes didn't happen either. But I can say that after taking another perusal of their on-line menu, that will be changing very soon.

Restaurant Review

2010-05-29T14:55:00.001-07:00

For tonights Birthday Spectacular we three will be heading out for a Cross the Channel Meal. We will begin at Ducky's English Fish and Chips Shop which will then be followed (if stomach's allow) by crepes at Kawaii Crepe. Reviews will follow shortly if I am not in a calorie induced coma.

Friday Featured Recipe

2010-05-28T16:48:00.000-07:00

This is one that I use often when I can't think of what else to make. Everyone in the house will eat it and you can add pretty much what ever strikes your culinary fancy. I often omit the sun dried tomatoes as I CAN"T STAND those suckers. Instead I throw in a couple of diced up tomatoes.
Other past additions include sautéed crimini mushrooms (yummy) canned asparagus (NOT yummy) extra Parmesan cheese (always yummy) corn (not yummy) diced then sautéed prosciutto (delicious) hot sauce (yummy but not toddler friendly) Asiago cheese (lets be real here I will eat any cheese with pretty much anything) are a few I have used int he past. As for the Cajun seasoning, Superstore sells it in a canister that has a grinder in the lid which I find provides even better flavour.

Creamy Cajun Chicken Pasta

Ingredients

2 boneless skinless chicken breasts, cut into thin strips
4 ounces linguine, cooked al dente
2 teaspoons cajun seasoning
2 tablespoons butter
1 thinly sliced green onion
1-2 cup heavy whipping cream
2 tablespoons chopped sun-dried tomatoes
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon dried basil
1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/8 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese

Directions

Place chicken and Cajun seasoning in a bowl and toss to coat.
In a large skillet over medium heat, sauté chicken in butter or margarine until chicken is tender, about 5 to 7 minutes.
Reduce heat add green onion, heavy cream, tomatoes, basil, salt, garlic powder, black pepper and heat through.
Pour over hot linguine and toss with Parmesan cheese.

Are you Funking Kidding Me?? A post in which I get overly dramatic about a TV show.

2010-05-26T19:46:00.000-07:00

Now I have never really gotten into the whole reality TV thing. That fad by and large just washed by me. Beyond a few episodes of The Amazing Race and maybe a few minutes of American Idol if nothing else was on I didn't tune in. I didn't understand the interest in it. Frankly my reality is dramatic enough I don't need to watch someone else's pseudo reality as entertainment.
That was before I was messing around on YouTube with Isla a few weeks ago and came across this and this and this. Then I began to watch, and watch and watch. I have totally developed a girl crush on Crystal Bowersox. She is the best I have seen on the random moments of the show I have tuned in for, and is phenomenal on YouTube. Regan can't stand to watch with me because I have to constantly flip over whenever they decide to make the contestants engage in some sort of abomination of a musical medley or some sort of demented advertisement. But even still between all the channel flipping, the hair gel of a certain Mr. Seacrest and the shouting of "Dawg", I still found a new musician to follow and cheer on. Thats why tonight when that other guy won (Lee Dewyze) I was floored.
A relative pointed out the main body of the voting audience is teenage girls so it figures that the dude with the soulful eyes and strategically messy hair would win over the mom with the dreads.

Socks + Music + Mispronounciation = Culture ?

2010-05-25T20:33:00.000-07:00

So I haven't posted on here in a very, very long time. But I wanted a way to document this and figured to trust what all the security guys say and believe that anything posted on the net is here forever.

Everyday miracles guys. Every freaking day miracles, thats what kids give you. That may make me sound like one of those kitty cat shirt wearing, Chicken Soup For The What Ever Soul reading woman, but its true. Today Isla said “Coltrane”. Now I know that wouldn't mean much to those out side of this house but here, where John Coltrane is the go to guy for background music its a big deal. She also sang along to her first REM tune. Ok, ok it was off a reality TV show and the guy singing it needed Isla to find the melody, but still my jaw dropped.

Kids this age are so intrinsically musical. Its in every cell of their being. We spend at least 10-15 minutes a night now dancing to something. Tonight it was to Coltrane and me doing the 'Manamana' song.

This all connects to what I have been thinking about a lot lately. What is our specific families culture? What defines our family as being different from another? I listened to a CBC radio program months ago, before Isla was talking, about how the misspoken words of children often become a marker in a families culture.

I hadn't ever really thought about each family having its own distinct culture and yet now I think we are making one day by day. Its in the Coltrane that plays in the evenings, the Lady GaGa (referred to in our house by Isla's name for her, Ba Ba Gace) that plays on the way to and from daycare every day in attempt to sooth the savage toddler beast. It's in the way we listen to Lou Reed on repeat during road trips and read Where the Wild Things Are, On The Day You Were Born, and Mama Mama until everyone in the house can recite them. I now call Macaroni and Cheese, “Cacamoni and Cheese” and strawberry flavored milk as “Bunny Juice”. Both of which are now served faithfully as every Saturday's lunch.

Although they maybe mundane details everyone of them seems to be creating this incredibly beautiful, detailed, multi-layered picture that I had no idea we were making. I guess instead of calling it an everyday miracle it should be called an incidental miracle. Because through all the mundane; pay the mortgage, pick up dog crap, throw the garbage out, trying to find at least one flipping pair of matching socks, no you can not eat that and don't put it in the dogs ear, the three of us have created something breath taking. Complicated as anything can be, as hard as hell, and as draining as a person can imagine or stand but still oh so precious.

Three years ago when I peed on a stick, saw two lines and then almost passed out on the john (and yes again I am shocked I am putting that into the technological ether) at the time I was focusing on how totally unprepared I felt to begin raising another human being. I questioned what right I had in creating and then developing another person when heck, “I cant even manage to make my bed or put my dirty clothes in the hamper.” what sort of credentials did I have for child rearing? But what I failed to see was that I wasn't creating a person like a plant. She wasn't going to be some sort of automaton who I had to mold into this perfect image. What we were and are creating is so much more beautiful, simple and possibly more terrifying, we are creating a family for Isla to grow up in.

Every single morning from the moment we put our feet on the floor in the morning Regan and I are creating family. Every morning when Regan makes Isla and himself toast and jam from the jam we made last year he is creating our culture and ultimately our family. Every morning when I run around begging the sock gods to find me just one blasted matching pair and finally settle on Isla going to day care with one florescent pink one and one stripy rainbow one and I wear a old mismatch pair of Regan's, I am creating culture. OK, its a culture of stocking feet chaos, but one to be proud of none the less.

795 Probably isnt a good thing, right??

2009-03-09T11:02:00.000-07:00

So I was reading an online article from a local columnist. She had decided to take some time away from her desk due to stress. She had taken a stress test and she was given a score of 552. Apparently anything over 300 is 80% indicative of having a major illness within the next 2 years. She provided a handy link so her loyal readers could take part as well. I did it.

I came back with the stunning score of 795. I always thought I was ahead of the curve, but 795. Really?? Now I can kinda get why my Doctor always want to talk about my stress levels. Click here to take the test your self. See if you can beat me!

2009-03-05T19:45:00.001-08:00

My sister just alerted me to this new campaign to make cancer suck it.

The Daily Show: F#*k You Cancer - watch more funny videos

Wordless Wednesday

2009-03-04T14:38:00.000-08:00

Some day.....

This REALLY pisses me off.

2009-03-03T20:25:00.000-08:00

This REALLY pisses me off. I found this image while looking for duck porn. That's what my husband calls my obsessive behaviour of searching the Internet for hours, merely looking at horses.

Some people don't deserve to own pets/livestock or have children. For the stupid dumb f*ckery of this image, this person deserves neither. Anyone who knows horses can see all sorts of catastrophes happening thanks to this dumb sh*ts urge to look good for the camera.

This stellar human being is longing a horse over a solid fence into a field filled with other horses. Stupid stupid stupid. By the looks of it the poor guy has to jump over a post which is right in front of the fence as well. Just as an aside, if that horse was to hit that fence the fence rails are positioned on the posts so that much damage would be done to the horses legs before the rail popped out. Again, stupid, stupid, stupid.

I just hope the twit of a woman has the skill to let out the line when that horse lands on the other side. That poor guy is giving it a good go. He is doing a good job cleaning up the humans mess, making sure things don't turn out tragic. The horses ability to be selfless in making the humans stay safe, and look good never sense to amaze me. I will say as well there is a healthy dose of self preservation as well, but even the fact his old guy approached the fence and is giving it a try says allot for his character. Consider that as a horse approaches a jump it disappears from view thanks to where their eyes are placed. This horse deserves an apology from its handler. It takes some sort of cruelty or spirit, mean spiritedness, or sheer ignorance to take that trust this horse is showing and abusing it in this way.

OK. Rant done.

Best Use of a Baby in Cinema EVER

2009-03-03T10:55:00.000-08:00

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/74/the-landlord-from-will-ferrell-and-adam-ghost-panther-mckay

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/33f2687080/good-cop-baby-cop-from-will-ferrell-and-adam-ghost-panther-mckay

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/4152/the-landlord-out-takes-from-will-ferrell-and-adam-ghost-panther-mckay

enjoy.

The Post Everyone Does

2009-02-28T18:42:00.000-08:00

Well as some of you may know my life has been turned up side down of late by a whirlwind of political activity. I have yet to grocery shop in the last three weeks so we are now officially living on freezer burnt pizza, meat I put in the freezer at least a year ago and the reminisces of various mixed veggies bags previously long forgotten in their dark hide-y holes of my deep freeze. So posting regularly on this blog has been relegated to the back burner some what. I will be posting again regularly soon after the 25th of March. So in the mean time think I will post links to baby/kid stuff I couldn't live without when baby girl was small, that I cant live without now or that I cant live without in my professional life working with kids. My things always seem to have stories to go with them. So if the entertaining I might add them as well. To start this off, behold;

This is something I use every single day but at the beginning didn't really want.

I was militant about researching strollers before baby girl came along. I knew what I wanted the stroller to be able to do. I knew how much I would have to pay for said stroller. (then about $400.00 I think) I decided I wanted the Peg Perego Uno.

At the time there was only one store in my city that sold the Peg Perego strollers as instock items. Time for us was of the essence. I was past my due date by over a week. We needed a stroller. So after several research trips and trial runs we were ready to lay down our money and take out prize home. Only thing is, on the day we went the store was having a massive clear out sale of all last years models. But being who I am I marched over to the Uno of my choice (the very last one in the store) barely pausing to glance at the women, about 7 months pregnant and the man gazing at the Uno.

They still had that newbie look. Touching the stroller, trying out the closing mechanism in an inept way. They were asking all the newbie, uneducated questions. I was the professor of strollers. I knew every feature, colour combination available. I knew that strollers weight and dimensions closed and open. I knew about the double shocks. I knew about the available options for special order. I knew about the warranty. I had studied that stroller, I knew it inside and out. Heck deserved that stroller.

So I pounced. I took that stroller right from under that pregnant woman's nose. Did I feel guilty? Not for a second. As I said before I DESERVED that stroller. The shocked look on the other parents-to-be didn't phase me for a second. I was a mother lion, I went in for the kill and was dragging home the feast. No room for emotion. This was all business. I had no qualms about taking my brand spanking new, orange stroller home and leaving the shaking, rounded form of a pregnant women crying in my wake. "Talk about classless" was my thinking. Imagine crying over a stroller!

The only thing that made me waver was the $400.00. $400.00 would essentially wipe out the last of my baby gear account. I knew I had most of what I needed, but four hundred dollars. That's a significant amount.

It was that blasted husband of mine. He wavered. He broke under the flood of tears the other preggo let loose. He saw my doubt on my face as I watched the store clerk write up the sales slip. He reasoned with me that if I had some doubt over paying the $400.00 then maybe this was divine intervention that I should get the smaller Pliko P3 instead of the Uno. It took a solid 15 minutes of him trying to reason with my hormone inflamed brain and the visual of the other woman sobbing into her husbands shoulder for me to let loose my death grip on the handle bar of my chosen stroller. Up until I let go, I was convinced that the only divine intervention was that we had a store clerk that could write up a sales receipt as fast as I throw away my pre preggo ethics.

In the end I did let go. I got the 'satisfaction' of knowing I had taken the 'high road' (read; got to watch the tears suddenly dry and a look of smug satisfaction spread on the other woman's face.) To my mortification as I watched them leave with my stroller, I felt hot pin pricks of tears behind my eyes and a large hormonal lump form at the base of my throat. I looked at the sales clerk and she ushered us to the Pliko P3s.

Well believe it or not, I am so glad she did. My stroller is perfect. It has taken a massive beating thanks to yours truly, the husband and baby girl. We have taken it on hikes where strollers are not meant to go, umpteen laps of the off leash dog park. Its been to the beach, over sand dunes and into the water. We have used it as a shopping cart and I have personally used it as a makeshift walker after an especially nasty ice storm. It hasn't let us down yet. Its super light, small enough we can fit it and our dogs in the back of our van if pressed. Its so very maneuverable and in the summer its not so closed in to make baby girl hot and claustrophobic. All in all it was the best buy of our baby gear.

Our idea of spending more on the things we use everyday has worked out really well for us. This is an item I use every single day and need for it to work well in all situations, in all weather. The Peg Perego Pliko P3 does just that. I recommend this stroller, very, very highly.

2009-02-26T13:45:00.001-08:00

As of late I have been looking for child care for baby girl. As a fully formed Early Childhood Educator with a level two certificate, minted circa 2004, I knew there was a shortage. But I guess all I can say is I didn't KNOW know.

I haven't been able to find anything in a day care so now I have down graded to looking for a 'babysitter'. This morning at 2:30 am I woke up in a cold sweat about finding someone to look after what is, essentially, my heart and soul crawling around out side my body. So I stopped at Kijiji.com I replied to a few postings of university students looking to make a little money under the table. I was pretty positive I would find someone i could be happy with.

Then I got my responses back.

I was SHOCKED by how many used the colloquialism "dat" for the word "that". I am sorry. But if you use "dat" in a email to what is a prospective employer, you are not going to look after my child. If you have an obviously all consuming fear of capital letters, periods and all other forms of grammar, and you are not ee cummings, you may not spend time with my child.

Thank goodness for the love and support of friends and family. I think I have enough people offering to help baby girl now wont be forced to spend time with people who use "wass up" or "what ev's" with a straight face.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-02-25T19:08:00.000-08:00

So I have noticed a lot of blogs do Wordless Wednesdays. A lot of them put in pretty photos of things they are interested in. Well I want to do my own version. I am going to put up two things that will brighten my week up, even if no one else appreciates them. In the spirit of "its by blog so I can do what ever the hell I want" I am going to have Foto Fridays and Somewhat Wordless Wednesdays.
So today is my first installment. My favorite show on TV right now is Bones. I laugh every time I watch it. Its not too gross or scary for me. (seeing as how I am a huge wuss, its hard to find a crime show I can watch, no CSI anything for me.) And lets face it, they have some, ahem, very talented actors on the program... Enjoy.

So this is interesting.....

2009-02-19T09:06:00.000-08:00

Baby girl feels better when I sing to her hits from The Culture Club. This morning she has been persistently whiny. Shes feeling sick still, and I am OK (so far) with the crying because how shes feeling, she deserves to share the pain.

This morning I found she loves her some Karma Chameleon. I wanted (read desperately needed) a shower (needed to scrub the snot off me) but she was not interested in letting me shower. So while we were both in the shower, her sitting on the floor of the tub, me frantically scrubbing my hair, we found our mutual love of singing eighties Brit Pop in the shower. I sang, she bopped and sang along. I changed the words, but I was impressed with her taste in melodies. She is most certainly my child. I remember thinking when I was about 4 that Boy George was funny name for such a pretty lady on the cover of my Moms record. I remember having a conversation with my mother about (what I can now identify as cross dressing and transgenderedism) it and how I just didn't believe her that she was in fact, a he. You see, I thought 'her' eye make up was "glam-o-rama"

Mamma's Can See Past the Mucous

2009-02-17T21:32:00.000-08:00

I love that baby. Man, I love her more then the sun is high, further than the stars and the moon. I just spent 15 minutes rocking my very sick baby girl back to sleep.

She was dripping, gargling with so much ick, standing at the side of her crib quietly sobbing. I came into her room and she reached for me. I scooped her up, settled into the rocking chair. She snugged her hand under the collar of my night shirt, against my skin and settled her head into the crook of my arm. (only after rubbing the remaining ick I couldn't swipe with a Kleenex, all over my chest) She sighed and as I rocked her, little snores mimicked the creak of the wood floor. Sigh. Even at her sickest, most mucous filled I still love her so much I can barely breathe, and I'm not the one with a cold.

Just wanted to share.

The perils of baby groups

2009-02-17T07:53:00.000-08:00

Last week baby girl and I made the rounds to four different baby groups. At each one there were children (notice the plural) who were sick enough to make me wince. Mucous flying everywhere. NOT pretty. Now baby girl is sick. Sick sick. Shes flinging mucous everywhere in an attempt to evade the Kleenex's I keep trying to mop up some of it with. Yuck. Its just yuck around here.

I try Internets, I really try to not gag when she buries her face into the crock of my neck. The thing is, I know that once she lifts her head she will leave behind a sticky, scummy mess of nasal junk all over my neck, shoulder and the ends of my hair. I will be able to feel it through my shirt. Its those moments I feel so frustrated and (I'll admit it) angry at those who bring their little ones to a baby group when they are so obviously sick. I understand how claustrophobic you can feel spending all day locked up in the house with a small child. Trust me, I get it. But oh man its way worse when they are sick. But I beg all mommies and daddies out there, please don't share the misery.

I guess in some ways I might just be projecting my guilt, the whirlwind of "Mommy and Me" drowned baby girl and I both. I over did it. I feel this compulsion I cant explain to go out and do everything that there is to do. I want to cram as much fun in as possible, and in the process have seemed to have made us both miserable.

I think I have learned my lesson Internets. One "mommy and me" thing per week. And if there is a sick kid, leave immediately.

Somebody's missing the point....

2009-02-15T08:38:00.000-08:00

This might be the funniest example of stick-up-the-assedness I have ever seen from Corporate America. Jill N. Johnson deserve a medal for keeping the stick so far up there.
http://www.aquabooks.ca/campbells.php

She returns victorious ????

2009-02-15T06:30:00.000-08:00

So its the day after my Micheal's run. That place exhausts me. I mean afterwords, for the rest of the day I was bone weary. Mentally exhausted. I had made this trip with my intrepid sister and at one point I was convinced Micheal's had eaten her. I searched and searched and searched but the walls of frames, do it your self rugs and paint by numbers had seemed to swallow her whole. I mourned and then picked out another roll of ribbon. After I found her and we escaped from Micheal's we discussed our mutual psychological exhaustion and emotional rawness back at her house. We realized its because that place demands that you must pay attention to what you are buying and you have to make decision after decision after decision. And quite soon after you enter through their doors you loose all sense of perspective. You begin to think that choosing the right kind of glitter might be the single most important decision of your entire life. At one point yesterday I was convinced that my choosing the exact right dye to dye the fondant for baby girls cake might either make or break baby girls whole birthday. Never mind that but, THAT DYE COULD RUIN MY BABY GIRLS WHOLE YEAR!! I felts for a brief moment that if the fondant wasn't the exact right colour that would meant hat obviously all the guests would think that I love baby girl less and that I am obviously a failure as a mother. The panic was sitting in the back of my throat, and I knew I had to back away from the cake decorating aisle. Quickly. I managed to get what I needed in under 2 hours. (well done me)
So today I am attempting to start my trial run of the birthday cake to end birthday cakes. It will be large, round, green and hopefully have an Iggle Piggle on it. Internets, stay tuned in. Photos to come.

Wish me Luck

2009-02-14T09:16:00.000-08:00

OK. I am screwing up my courage to enter that hallowed domain of crafty-ness, Micheal's. Filled with scrap booking women intent on finding the perfect sticker-stamp-paper combination Micheal's terrifies the hell outta me. I go in there and feel like I am suddenly transported to a world where everyone's home is decorated in raffia, gingham ribbon and cutesy painted wood cut outs. I feel suffocated by crafts there. Like I am drowning in cheap acrylic paint and being boxed in by floral foam. To be honest I think its the place where fine art goes to die.
Confused by the rows and rows and rows of choices in puff paint and ribbons and artificial flowers I suffer mightily trying to sort my way out of my own self righteousness and secret burning desire to be one of those who can create something using a hot glue gun besides third degree burns.
This is my second trip there in as many weeks. There is only one person on this whole planet that could make me do such a thing. Shes under three feet tall, can't walk yet (but likes to think she can) and has a birthday in the next month. I am attempting to put on my crafting goddess hat and create a birthday cake and invitations that she (and lets be realistic, I ) can be proud of. Wish me luck internets, wish me luck. I will report on the success of my hunting and gathering mission. Here's hoping I find the perfect vellum, card stock combo without too many panic attacks.

An effort to beat back stage fright....

2009-02-13T20:07:00.000-08:00

For Fear of a blank page

This is it. I am really doing this.
Eighteen months ago I thought blogs were for those who lived in their parents’ basement at the age of 35, claimed World of War Craft as their number one social activity and were looking for a way to connect with other WW addicts. That or blogs were for insiders wanting to dish dirt on employers they hated. To be honest I was totally unaware of the internet beyond basic searching and email. I had a deep seated fear that amazon.com would steal my credit card info and that ebay was possibly run by Russian mobster’s intent on stealing my identity.

Then I got in a car accident, and was unable to walk much past the end of my bed without blacking out in pain. At the time of my accident I was 6 months pregnant and more then a little overwhelmed. We had sold our house, couldn’t find one to buy, I got in a car accident, was fired for being injured while pregnant (yes my boss actually said that) my husband lost his job and it was five weeks till Christmas. Not a good time for us.

One day I was trying to keep my mind busy enough to not contemplate what our situation really was and came across babycenter.ca. On that site there was a bulletin board of other women all expecting their babies around the same time I was. I wasn’t sure what a bulletin board was but I had enough time on my hands to find out. So I did. I became totally addicted. I was on that thing every opportunity I got. I referred to the women on there as my ladies and in conversations between my husband and me, they were making regular appearances. Those wonderful women I now consider my friends and they are my go to folks for advice and support for anything to do with my new role as mommy and as sounding boards for all the weird hormonal/emotional junk that comes along with that title.

A few months after my first introduction to the world of bulletin boards (wow I am a late bloomer) a friend of mine started her own blog. I was surprised. She was a ‘real’ person. She had a ‘real’ life. My world shifted. She told me she read a bunch of blogs from all sorts of people. I was intrigued.
I started looking for these things called blogs. I can now say I am converted to a full time blog consumer. I used to read magazines, now I read blogs. I read them everyday, many multiple times a day. I love being able to peek inside other peoples lives and minds. Now I see that the draw of blogging extends way past those basement dweller types, past mommyblogs, past dieting blogs, past political blogs.
It’s a new (to me) way of reaching out, of creating, of expression. It gives people space to explore what they think, what interests them, how they can fill up a page. It gives people a chance to focus on themselves and their experiences. And when done well, that exploration is always interesting to others. As an avid consumer of blogs I figured it was high time I got me one for myself. So here it is world, my blog.

For Duck's Sake

Best Conversation of the Day:

Best Eats in Winnipeg

Good Daddy Moment

Mothers Day Micro Blogathon

Best conversation of the day

A Fine Example of my Skewed Sense of Hunour

What I'm Learning as I say Goodbye

Fer Serious, Kay??

Opinions?

Best conversation of the day, or where in Isla makes detailed travel plans.

Mommy Moment

My new Crush

Best conversation of the day

Why I wont be Posting much Today;

Second Best Conversation of the Day

Best conversation of the day

Why I love Bella Sara / Why I hate Bella Sara

Best conversation of the day

Let's play Distract the Duck!!!

Things that Make Me Smile

Contemplating Mortality through Motherhood

Dear Colin

Dear Isla

Can I call this a Recipe?

Let them eat Cookies

Soft Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ingredients

Directions

Combine flour and baking soda.

In a large bowl beat brown sugar, sugar, butter, shortening, pudding mix, vanilla, and almond extract.

Mix until well blended.

Add eggs and mix well.

Beat in the flour mixture.

Stir in chocolate chips.

Drop by rounded teasponful and bake 10-12 minutes.

It Was My Birthday I Can Change My Mind If I Want To.

Restaurant Review

Friday Featured Recipe

Creamy Cajun Chicken Pasta

Ingredients

Directions

Place chicken and Cajun seasoning in a bowl and toss to coat.

In a large skillet over medium heat, sauté chicken in butter or margarine until chicken is tender, about 5 to 7 minutes.

Reduce heat add green onion, heavy cream, tomatoes, basil, salt, garlic powder, black pepper and heat through.

Pour over hot linguine and toss with Parmesan cheese.

Are you Funking Kidding Me?? A post in which I get overly dramatic about a TV show.

Socks + Music + Mispronounciation = Culture ?

795 Probably isnt a good thing, right??

Wordless Wednesday

This REALLY pisses me off.

Best Use of a Baby in Cinema EVER

The Post Everyone Does

Wordless Wednesday

So this is interesting.....

Mamma's Can See Past the Mucous

The perils of baby groups

Somebody's missing the point....

She returns victorious ????

Wish me Luck

An effort to beat back stage fright....