Buddha Was A Pretty Popular Guy

I am moving on....

2010-07-06T13:58:00.003-06:00

I am so happy to share the news! I am moving on out of my cozy little space here on blogger. I am still unpacking and making everything look pretty over at www.pocketbuddha.ca but come on by and check it out!

I will still be writing about my experiences as a new mom, and on the subjects of breastfeeding, attachment parenting, and all other kinds of interesting ~~to me~~ stuff. Thanks for reading, I hope to see you over at my new home!

Wordless Wednesday: When Life Gives You Lemons

2010-06-30T18:12:00.004-06:00

A Bleb in the Road

2010-06-29T10:14:00.002-06:00

I am no stranger to breastfeeding adversity.

The uncertainty, doubt, and worry of undertaking a BFAR relationship is something I have talked about on a few occasions. Taking on a task that should come naturally when your anatomy has been augmented takes a lot of research, determination, and a lot of faith.

Even after leaking colostrum for the last weeks of my pregnancy, putting my child to breast and waiting for my milk to "come in" was still a bit of a hail marry attempt. An attempt that I had little real medical support in undertaking (that's another post altogether).

With the overwhelming success of my breastfeeding experience to date, I literally felt bullet proof, like there was nothing that could stop us now. Well, there isn't really anything that could stop us now... But there are apparently things that can give me a little more understanding for those who do give it up early.

I have a bleb. Otherwise known as a milk blister. I am not sure exactly how or when I got it, but the fact remains that nursing Oliver on my right side is becoming increasingly painful.

Thanks to twitter friends and awesome online resources like kellymom.com I know how to treat myself physically. I have started an Epsom salt and hot compress regiment, and am attempting a couple different nursing positions to alleviate the pressure a bit.

But I am unsure about how to come to terms with it emotionally.

Not the milk blister itself anyways. I mean, what is there to overcome emotionally about a milk blister? Aside from the really gross reality that I have a blister filled with breast milk bulging out of my nipple?

It's surely taken the wind out of my sales that's for sure. I find myself deterring and distracting Oliver when he wants to nurse (which I know is a big no no and can lead to other problems). Which makes me feel sad and guilty, not only am I refusing (well, delaying anyways) his comfort and nourishment, but I have never not wanted to nurse him before.

I love nursing; I would happily sit on my ass and breastfeed all day long if I could. For the closeness and bonding, it's relaxing and calming for both of us, and because it's a welcome break chasing him around the house now that he's mobile. I take pride in making milk for him. Every ounce he gains is triumphant and glorious.

But now that I am experiencing pain and discomfort I find myself not so willing to spend hours letting him come and go, playing and nursing as he pleases.

I know that the blep is temporary, but this dramatic shift it's caused in our daily routine is disconcerting. We are both put off by it, and well, it just really really sucks. For now I am trying to encourage comfort cuddling over comfort nursing, taking extra care to ensure a good latch at every feeding, and praying that this thing goes away very soon.

I wouldn't dream of weaning because of a tiny Bleb on the road, but boy is it tough to face each feeding with excitement and enthusiasm when there are problems.

I am Back!

2010-06-28T10:33:00.005-06:00

It’s been a few weeks I know. . . I had every intention of posting pretty much the moment I got home from our vacation at the lake but then life happened. We didn’t end up getting home until very late at night, Oliver got sick, the internet was broken, and I was just too dang lazy.

But whatever, here I am, I am back, hope you liked my post about bears . . . we didn’t see any while we were away, only a billion deer, a moose, two foxes, a dead minnow, and served ourselves up for the dining pleasure of eleventy jillion mosquitoes.

because while I did manage to find a breastfeeding friendly insect repellent made from all natural essential oils and all that lovely hippie jazz the fact of the matter is that I live in Saskatchewan, the mosquitoes here are gigantic tough as nails mutant mosquitoes. They laughed in the face of my all natural essential oils. On day 3 I gave up and covered myself and my family in Deet. Fuck you environment, and the threat of cancer, I just couldn't take the buzzing or the itching any longer!

Aside from being eaten alive by bugs, we had a great time. Not only did it go well enough for me to consider tenting next time, I would love to do the cabin thing again. It was so cozy and relaxing!

Camping Bear Safe With Kids

2010-06-11T14:41:00.003-06:00

In just two more sleeps we leave for our week long vacation in the woods of northern Saskatchewan with a friend of ours and her 2 year old. I am really excited, and as all of the week's meals come together and get frozen, camping gear gets dusted off and tested, and lists get checked and rechecked, I am also a little nervous.

Aside from a weekend music festival with friends last year and my memories of camping with my parents and younger siblings, I have never camped with small children and babies. For that reason we have opted to start the summer by cheating and staying in a cabin.

I can hear my past self from two or three years ago calling my present self a total wuss, but that's ok. My past self may have had the guts to hitch hike across the country with no money, a couple bags of trail mix, and a mickey of rum just to see Tom Petty and The Heart Breakers, but my past self didn't have anyone to worry about but herself. This year I want to start out easy.

My biggest worry about camping, or in this case simply spending a large amount of time outdoors in bear country, with small children isn't how or what to pack for a week, or if we'll have enough to eat and snack on, or what the bugs will be like. It's the fact that we will be spending so much time hiking, swimming, and playing in bear country.

Staying bear safe on your own as an adult is as second nature to me as walking and chewing gum. But children, as we all know, are crawling/walking crumb machines who give off all kinds of smells that could be potentially attractive to bears. And bears, being furry, can easily be potentially attractive to small children who think that big+furry=puppy.

Not to mention that if I get between a mama bear and her cub, mama bear is going to rip me apart. If a bear gets between me and my cub, I'll certainly do my best but I am much smaller and weaker than a bear.

So how do we go about outdoor activities that we enjoy with our kids while still keeping ourselves bear safe? I've done a lot of research and remembering how my parents dealt with it and have come up with my own list.

1) Talk to your child, in an age appropriate way, about the difference between pets and wild animals. Make sure they know that it is ok to play with and trust their own dog or cat, but that it is not ok to approach any strange animals without a parent or trusted adult present.

I am hesitant about talking to Oliver about bear safety specifics too early. When I got the bear safety talk at around the age of 10, it terrified me and camping wasn't really very fun that year. If your child has the tendency to worry or be nervous about new or different situations, it may not be helpful to put the image of tattered tents and angry hulking bears in their heads.

2) Do not allow or encourage your child to feed wild animals. Personally, I won't even let Oliver feed the local geese in town because I do not want him to learn that feeding wild animals is ok. As the bear safety guide lines on the BC Parks website state; A fed bear is a dead bear. Once an animal starts associating humans with easy food they become dangerous, there is no sure way to break that association and those animals usually need to be destroyed.

I once fed a cherry to a wild rabbit while camping and had my mother totally flip out about it. I didn't understand at the time that loving and respecting nature means leaving it to it's own devices. Bear safety isn't just best for humans, it's best for the bears!

3) Always keep your children in sight and travel or hike in groups. Bear attacks on humans are much less likely in groups for a number of reasons. The most obvious being the strength in numbers. Groups of people also tend to be noisier than a lone person. A bear who is startled is much more likely to attack, if they hear you coming most bears will high tail it away from you before you are even aware of it.

4) Tents are for sleeping, not for playing. I was originally going to make this the "no food in your tent" rule, but no playing in the tent makes more sense. Children, especially small children, snack a lot, especially if they are running around outside all day. Many children also like to snack on the go. To avoid small children forgetting to leave their food outside of the tent, or just sneaking it in there cause it's a cool place to hang out, make your tent off limits during the day time. This will also keep the bugs out of your tent by stopping the in and outs and keeping the flap closed.

5) Take a tour of your campsite. To avoid any bear attracting waste being left out, make sure your children know where it is safe to put their garbage, spit their toothpaste, go to the bathroom, and wash themselves or their dirty clothes or dishes. (Even the perfumes in disposable diapers can attract a bear so make sure you know where and how to store your garbage as well!)

6) Avoid letting your children help themselves to food or drink while camping so that you can make sure that air-tight lids are replaced properly, food stored safely, and waste disposed of properly.

7) Do not let your child throw garbage or left over food in the campfire. It seams like the ideal way to get rid of waste without having to pack it out with you, but the fact is that many plastics and food waste do not burn away completely and even the smallest amount of garbage left smoldering in your fire pit can attract a bear.

8) Give your child a loud emergency whistle or other noise maker to carry with them. To be honest, I though it was really lame to wear a big orange whistle around my neck on vacation, but I understand now why it was necessary. Make sure your child knows to only blow the whistle in an emergency. If your child gets lost, he or she should sit down and blow the whistle long and loud until someone comes to get them.

Sources vary on whether or not it is wise to have your child blow the whistle if they see a bear. Some say (and I was always told) that blowing the whistle or yelling, or making other loud noises will scare the bear away from you. Others say that the loud or sudden noise may infuriate the bear into attacking. I would personally tell my child to blow the whistle, if it doesn't scare the bear away I guess I would at the very least be alerted and have the chance to throw myself between my child and the bear.

In general if you are planning to spend any outdoor time in bear country I encourage you to do your own research! Plan ahead to find solutions to fit your specific situation, and make sure you know at least a little bit about all of the animals you may encounter on your adventures.

For more information about bear safety:

BC Parks

Canada Trails

Ursus International

Be Bear Aware Colouring Book (PDF) - This one is directed to children who live in the Yukon, but has valuable information that every kid should know. It's pretty blunt in some areas so reading through it before you print is best to make sure it will not scare your child. My personal favourite parts are the bear bums and human bums, the dead cartoon moose with X's for eyes, and the part where they tell children not to play near garbage dumps. . . Do many children in the Yukon play in garbage dumps?

Beautiful Blogger Award

2010-06-09T14:51:00.004-06:00

I have been given a Beautiful Blogger Award by Jennifer over at Connected Mom!

The rules are really very simple: 1) link to the person who nominated you, 2) tell 7 things about yourself people might not know 3) nominate 15 more beautiful bloggers!

Before you read the 7 ~~super-duper interesting~~ things about me, go check out the Connected Mom Blog! Jennifer writes about many of the things I love like breastfeeding, baby wearing, and natural and attachment parenting. She is TEH awesome!

1) When I was a little girl I wanted more than anything to be a marine biologist when I grew up. I made this decision living on the bald Canadian Prairie having never even seen the ocean with my own eyes. When I finally did see the ocean I still loved it and everything in it, but realized that I was far too frightened of it to go any further than ankle deep and would probably not enjoy a career than involved actually getting IN the ocean.

2) I recently took up the Ukulele. I always thought that I could be a really musical person. Never mind that I never really learned to play an instrument, and was rarely given any choir or musical theatre solos in school, I was convinced that I possessed the hidden talent to be a rock star. As it turns out the best way to test ones musical acuity is to try tuning an instrument by ear. . . I just can't do it. I can play several simple Ukulele tunes, but I need Das Piper to tune my instrument for me every time.

4) Despite my long time Vegetarianism, when I was pregnant I craved stove-top turkey stuffing. I did my best to ignore this craving. Not only was I set in my decision to remain vegetarian throughout my pregnancy, I also knew that introducing that amount of pure sodium into my system would be asking for trouble. I finally gave in around my second trimester. I had been so sick that I simply convinced myself that it wouldn't really be eating it if I was just going to throw it up again within the hour. . . I ate the whole box, on several occasions. . . and ya know what? Not only did I develop a pretty bad case of preclampsia late in my third trimester, but IT WAS DELICIOUS!

5) I have to touch the car window every time we drive over train tracks. There are several reasons why that I have some up with in my head, but the fact is I just have to, there is no good reason.

6) FRINGE SPOILER ALERT! I don't believe that the Walternate is trying to build a machine to close the holes between our universe and the alternate universe, I think he is building a weapon to take over and occupy our universe when the alternate is destroyed.

7) When I was pregnant with Oliver, Das Piper and I had already settled on a different name for him. We were going to name him Duncan. 4 months before he was born I was at the grocery store and realized that with that name his full name would sound very similar to a brand of instant cake mix. . . I contemplated not saying anything and using our original name anyways. . . I am pretty sure just contemplating giving a kid such a ridiculous name makes me a pretty terrible person.

Ok, there you have it, 7 random things about me that you may or may not have known. I know what you're thinking, you're thinking "How does she know what I am thinking?" and after that you're thinking, "This woman is really quite boring". So here are 15 bloggers who are much more interesting than I am that I would like to pass the beautiful blogger award on to!

1)Breastfeeding Moms Unite
2)Lulusparrow
3)Bloomy Mommy
4)Beatnik’s beat on life
5)Chaotic Mama
6)Mommypotamus
7)Brisbane to Brooklyn
8)Abigail’s Road To Nowhere
9)I am the Diva
10)Accustomed to Chaos
11)Feminist Breader
12)Blacktating
13)Schmutzie
14) Tori Klassen
15)Hobo mama

Baby Haiku

2010-05-31T10:27:00.003-06:00

Glasses
What's that on your face?
Perched so neatly on your nose.
I want to grab them.

Jumping
How I love to jump!
Jump jump jumpity jump jump!
Mom's arms are so tired.

Remote Control
These buttons taste good!
Sorry, were you watching that?
Daddy in training.

Guest Post: My Mom's Thoughts On my 24th Birthday

2010-05-28T09:01:00.004-06:00

It's true! Today is my 24th birthday, and instead of spending the whole day singing my own praises, I thought I would invite my mom to sing them for me and share her thoughts and insights on my life thus far. My Mom normally blogs on her own site, torriklassen.com.

Each month, my oldest daughter, “Pocketbuddha” sends me (and the rest of the family) an update on Oliver’s progress, which is titled “Oliver is [x] months old.”

Well, today I get to update you all about Pocketbuddha, because it’s her birthday, and because I’m her mother, and because - damn I am proud of her.

She was born 24 years ago in Kindersley, Saskatchewan. There was still a Soviet Union then, and a divided Germany. Jello Biafra was in his last months as a member of the Dead Kennedys. A two-headed baby was flown somewhere for surgery - luckily not my baby. I didn’t want to think about such things back then. No. Wait. I still don’t.

It was hotter than hell the week she was born. The little maternity ward was full and the water pressure in that small prairie town failed from overuse - there was no running water in the hospital for a day or so. You can imagine how much I wanted to take my little girl home to Kerrobert, an even smaller town where we lived. After three days, we did just that.

Me: barely 21 years old, not much prior experience with babies or toddlers of any kind (not much babysitting experience, no small cousins, etc.). We come into our home (a two-bedroom apartment), I took my baby out of her car seat and laid her on the bed.

Baby Pocketbuddha: tiny. Black hair. Sleeping peacefully.

Me: Ye gods. This is an entirely new human being depending on me 24/7 from now until - well like 18-20 years.

What. Do. I. Do. Now???????

Like any new mother - no worse, because I was so inexperienced - I had hopes, dreams, expectations. But Pocketbuddha was from the start her very own person who didn’t feel the need to follow any path but her own.

I’ve always admired that about her, even while I was admonishing her to “Question authority, NOT your mother!”

This is what she taught me: children are their own people, they’re not little “minime” copies of their parents. Not necessarily.

So you can be horrified all you want when you carefully raise them vegetarian until age 4 when suddenly at day care they grab a sausage and wolf it down.

Yes, she did this.

Yes, I was horrified.

But look at her now: she’s the vegetarian, I’m the carnivore. Closing the circle. Nyah.

Over the years our relationship hasn’t always been close. At one point when she was a teenager I actually had serious doubts as to whether she could actually take care of herself on her own given the horrific state of her room and her generally slovenly attitude toward household chores.
I didn’t realize at the time, but it’s just a developmental phase teenagers go through. Pocketbuddha is the eldest of three; she had to train us to be good parents. She did her job well, because I felt more prepared for it with her younger siblings, much to her chagrin.

But one thing I never had any doubt about: that she would be a wonderful mother. When her best friend had a baby at 17, she pitched right in and had that little girl in her arms as much as she could. Same with another friend’s baby boy a year or two later.

One night I was driving up to her dad’s house for a visit, or to pick up something, or drop something off, I can’t remember now. It was summer, it was fairly late (9 or 10 in the evening). There was my teenaged Pocketbuddha with her friend’s baby on the front porch, on the rocking chair.

“Mom,” she said with a pitiful expression on her face. “She’s been up for hours and she won’t go to sleep! I’m exhausted!”

“Oh no!” I said, seizing the teaching moment by the horns. “Gosh, well. Babies do that sometimes. It won’t last. Eventually, she will go to sleep." I beat a hasty retreat without offering to help, figuring the lesson here would be: don’t have children before you’re damn good and ready.

So when my beautiful, smart, sassy, creative, artistic daughter called me a year ago February to tell me she was pregnant, I cried tears of joy. My little baby was going to be the best mother, EVAR. Better than me, because she knew exactly what she was in for.

And when I walked into her home that she shares with my son-in-law (a man I quite like, respect and admire) and my grandson: I saw everything in its place, neat and tidy, and a mother completely in love with her baby boy (c’mon - what’s not to love?) and I knew that, just as her namesake wrote in the 14th century:

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.

WordFUL Wednesday: Robert Munsch

2010-05-26T10:09:00.005-06:00

My 8 year old niece won 6 tickets to see Robert Munsch from a draw at her school, and was very thoughtful in choosing who to invite.

Her mom, her two best friends, and of coarse me, her auntie JJ, who has been buying her Munsch books nearly every birthday and Christmas for the last 8 years.

Needless to say I was ecstatic! I have loved Robert Munsch's books for as long as I can remember. Without his stories I don't think I would love books half as much as I do now.

For anyone out there who has never read on of his stories stop reading this (you can come back to it in a bit, just humor me here), get in your car, or on your bike, bus, or train and go, right this very second, to the nearest book store and get at least one, or as many as you can. You'll thank me when you do, and your children will thank you.

(If you find yourself overwhelmed by the selection, my personal favorites are "Purple, Green, and Yellow", "Millicent and the Wind", "The Mud Puddle", and "The Paper Bag Princess")

The man is quite simply a genius. His story telling speaks to not only every child, but to every person. Every character is us, our children, our brothers and sisters, our nieces and nephews.

Along with very relatable characters and plots ranging from a girl who finds a baby in a hole, a boy who won't go to sleep, a girl who makes friends with the wind, to the experiences of a young immigrant's first days of school in Canada, Robert Munsch also builds his stories with story time in mind. His stories are meant to be read out loud and interacted with.

Hearing his stories come to life through his own telling was magic.

At one point, while he was telling every mother's favorite Munsch story 'love you forever', all the babies in the audience aged 0 to 13 and beyond rested comfortably in their mother's arms without any resistance or embarrassment. It was a shared moment so peaceful and powerful that there was not a single dry maternal eye in the house. I got the feeling that many of the mothers of older children had not had the opportunity to hold their babies so closely in quite some time.

There is a funny thing that happens though, when you hear stories you remember from your childhood told by someone other than the person who told them to you in your childhood. It's not unlike listening to a cover of your favorite song in that it's often hard to stop comparing the two versions and just enjoy it, and yet it's so much more than that. There's a disappointment that sets in, and something akin to home sickness. The man who wrote the story could never tell it as well as my parents did.

So tears and laughter and nostalgia were had and at the end of the show I eagerly rushed for the autograph line. We stood there for 2 hours, despite the fact that the children were getting bored and Oliver overtired. (Thank god for those girls though, Oliver hardly fussed at all he was so busy soaking up the attention!)

I got to meet one of my childhood heroes, got to thank him for his contribution to my childhood, and to Oliver’s. And even though my camera suffered a sudden and mysterious crap out at that exact moment causing me to miss a great photo opportunity (Robert Munsch holding my son). I couldn't have asked for anything more.

Thou Shalt Not Put Baby In A Corner

2010-05-24T07:15:00.008-06:00

As I am sure you’ve already heard, Better Homes and Gardens is currently under fire for letting THIS ARTICLE go to print. In the article, BH&G writer, Heather (who obviously does not have any children of her own), shares with us her “commandments” for eating out with your small children while making “helpful” suggestions for keeping your children at home and out of public where the rest of society won’t have to look at your whiney snot-nose crotch droppling.

Note: Better Homes & Gardens has since apologized for this article on their Face Book page siting a lack of editor impute and vetting procedures for online articles. Now that this problem has been brought to their attention I certainly hope that steps will be taken to make sure it doesn't happen again.

While I appreciate the apology, my grievances with the article still stand. The opinions expressed in this article, and many of the comments from those who agree with those opinions are a symptom of the misogyny that is ingrained in our society. When you perpetuate social taboos and set limits on breastfeeding and other forms of mothering you are marginalizing women. The hurt that was caused by Better Homes and Gardens providing an unwitting platform for these opinions can not be mended by a simple apology, but I appreciate it none-the-less.

Well Heather, I am sorry that we parents of the world have inconvenienced you, but you know what? Single childless people aren’t exactly the model of acceptable behaviour themselves. So I’ll make you a deal; I will take your incredibly offensive commandments under consideration if you consider my commandments for eating out with your lonely bitter self:

Thou shalt not park your car in the specially reserved parking spaces for parents of young children.

Yes it’s true that those parking spots are purely convenience, and are not protected by any sort of by-law. You will not be fined for parking there without children, but it forces parents of small children to find parking elsewhere and then navigate their small children across a possibly busy and dangerous parking lot. What's more, it makes you look like a total dooche bag.

Thou shalt not use the folding bathroom change table as a convenient place to set your purse.

It may look convenient, but if you had children, you would know that the festering microscopic germ farm growing on that public change table is not a place you would want to set anything without a quick wipe down and a change pad underneath. Not only that but it’s also really irritating for the woman standing there with a stinky baby in her arms waiting for you to get out of the way, ~~especially~~ even if you flash a cheesy smile and say ‘oh sorry, just a second’ in a laughing tone.

Thou shalt not swear loudly enough for my children to hear you at the next table.

Regardless of whether or not there are children at the next table, it is just polite to keep your voice down if you feel the need to be crude. I totally get that it is often necessary, I certainly do not have the cleanest mouth in the world, but I have enough trouble trying to watch my own mouth, I don’t have the time or energy to shield my children from other people’s bad language as well.

Thou shall not smoke your cigarettes right beside the entrance of any establishment.

I didn’t work so hard to kick the smoking habit when I got pregnant just to have insensitive jerks blowing smoke in my baby’s face when I am coming or going from a restaurant, or any other building. If you must slip out for a cigarette in the middle of your meal please make sure to step around to the side of the building.

Thou shalt not stare/glare at me while I am nursing my child.
Yes I breastfeed at the dinner table. No, I do not cover when I do. Some babies just won't eat with a blanket over their head, my son is one of those babies, but that doesn't mean that I should have to go somewhere as unsanitary as a bathroom (no matter how nice it may be) to feed him. In fact, it is my legal right to breastfeed wherever I happen to be. I do, however, have that blanket handy if you would like to eat with it over YOUR head.

Thou shalt not sit around gossiping with your friends in the designated nursing area.

It is my right to breastfeed my child wherever I want, covered or not, but if I choose to use one of the few designated nursing rooms provided by some businesses the last thing I want to deal with is a giggling gaggle of obnoxious women distracting my baby while he’s trying to latch, or just taking up the space I need to care for my child.

Thou shalt not drink too much during your quiet adult dinner and then drive home.

It’s happened too many times for me to count. My family and I go out to eat and while we are enjoying our meal (despite the dirty looks and holier than thou attitudes of the childless patronage.) someone at the next table starts to get a little louder, and little sloppier, and well, just a little bit drunk. I have no problem with that; enjoy yourself while you can, if you do ever have kids you will look back on these days fondly. However, when you then get in your car you are putting my children, yourself, and the general public in harms way.

Thou shalt not bother your wait staff with complaints about other patrons.

Maybe I am crazy, but someone could walk into an establishment totally naked and I probably wouldn't say anything to the wait staff. It is their job to take your order and bus your table, not be your social babysitter. Deciding what behaviour is or is not acceptable, or who is and who is not welcome in the establishment is up to the management, human rights legislation and local licensing laws. By complaining about other patrons to your wait staff you are putting them in a really uncomfortable and sometimes impossible position.

If any of these commandments cannot be met for whatever reason, there are plenty of great recipes out there to recreate the dining out experience in your own home where you do not have to interact with anyone you find annoying, inappropriate, or distracting.

Wordless Wednesday: Swing

2010-05-19T09:26:00.003-06:00

Boys and Body Image

2010-05-15T19:51:00.003-06:00

Not too long ago I posted about BFAR and body image for the Body Image Carnival hosted by Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! and MamanADroit. It was such a wonderful experience to share my story, and to read the stories of other women & their body image experiences.

The issue of body image plagues all women it seams. Not surprising in a society that equates beauty & sexuality with worth, and then defines that beauty & sexuality with an airbrush.

But what about men?

My little man is barely aware that he and I are two separate people, so I doubt that he's overly concerned with how he measures up to the rolly-polly blond haired blue eyed happy squealing babies on TV. But the experience of reflecting on my body image lead me to thinking about what body image will mean to my son in the future.

Naturally I asked my partner. 'When young boys see pictures of hulking muscle men with shiny abs and bulging pecks, does it make them feel not good enough?'

He doesn't seam to think so. Or at least, he doesn't remember having those kinds of feelings, or comparing himself to any masculine ideals as a child.

I am a little skeptical. Women aren't the only ones whose bodies are idealized, skewed, and misrepresented in the media. So why would women be the only ones feeling shamed and pressured by those images?

I don't believe that we are the only ones, so why isn't their more talk about the ideal of masculinity that is being marketed to our boys, and the effects that these images have on them?

I am well aware of the behaviour that will be modeled to my son by the media. I find myself determined, if a little daunted, to raise a peaceful and respectful boy who treats women and all beings with kindness and mindfulness despite the fact that every TV show, album, toy, and game marketed to him will be working against me. Even so, until recently I hadn't really thought about how the marketing of masculinity would effect how he feels about his body.

Will he see the barrel chested and over-muscled features of super heroes and action figures as something to aspire to? Will he compare himself with eerily hairless square jawed billboard models?

I expect that he might, and I am unsure of how to prevent, or deal with any self image problems that may arise from the media's version of what it is to be male.

Is guiding a son through all of these unrealistic messages about body and behaviour the same as guiding a daughter?

How does one help any child, male or female, find their way through the muddied waters of gender and body image?

Wordless Wednesday: Fun In The Sun

2010-05-12T15:54:00.004-06:00

What I Want For Mother's Day

2010-05-07T10:09:00.002-06:00

This Sunday will be my first mother’s day.

Last mother’s day I was swollen and irritable and out of my mind with nausea and fatigue, and working my ass off building a tiny human in my womb, but for some reason that didn't count.

So Sunday will be my first mother's day. To be honest I am not sure how to feel about it. There is a part of me shying away from the attention and sentiment.

I spent 38 weeks sustaining a life within me, and 7 months now sustaining that same life outside of my womb. I feel like a super star. I feel powerful, capable, and female. I appreciate having a day marked on the calendar for everyone else to recognize all of those wonderful things.

But more than all those things I just feel tired. I feel lost and stretched thin. Worst of all I feel guilty for feeling that way. That's right; I said it, guilty, the most common cliché in the mom-verse.

There is no other word for it though. When my partner asked me last week how I would like to celebrate mother's day I didn't imagine spending the day basking in the loving glow of my family appreciating the shit out of me. My first thought was to ditch the kid and spend a few hours as far away from the word mother as I could get and just be my own sovereign being for a while.

I almost followed that up with the statement 'don't get me wrong, I love my family'. I caught myself though; I refuse to buy into the ridiculous idea that being tired means I don't love my family. Being frustrated and exhausted doesn't make me a bad mother, or a bad wife. I do know that.

I do not feel guilty because of some misguided idea that loving my family means having to like them 100% of the time. I know better than that.

It's the pressure of the day that's bothering me I think. It's MOTHER'S day, and on a day set aside specifically for others to celebrate and appreciate my motherhood, shouldn't I be appreciating it too?

On Sunday while I am eating my special mother's day breakfast, and reading my cheesy mother's day card and participating in whatever other activities my family has planned for me. I will be feeling tired and guilty because they are so wonderful and thoughtful, and all I want to do is run away and hide for an afternoon of quiet solitude.

Wordless Wednesday: That Baby's High on Life!

2010-05-05T13:59:00.003-06:00

Culinary Countdown to Summer - Lemmon Blueberry Cake

2010-05-03T13:45:00.002-06:00

I think I got this recipe out of a magazine... I don't exactly remember, maybe Canadian living or some other such thing that was at my doctor's office. I DO know that it's delicious and really easy to make! Which is huge for me because while I am really into eating cakes, I am not overly fond of making them.

You will need:

1 cup fine cornmeal
1 cup flower
1/4 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 lemon
1 cup yogurt
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup honey
2 eggs
1/4 cup canola oil
1 cup frozen (or fresh I guess if you've got them around!) blueberries

Preheat oven to 375 and oil 9 inch round cake pan.

Whisk together dry ingredients and set aside 2 tbsp of it.

In another bowl zest lemon and add wet ingredients.

Fold together wet and dry ingredients and pour batter into your cake pan.

Coat frozen berries in that extra 2TBSP of dry ingredients you left laying around.

Then gently fold berries into cake batter. If you want to be all Martha about it and make it look nice you could deliberately place and submerge the berries... But I think it's weird when food looks all deliberate like that so I don't!

Bake 35 to 45 min... You know, till it's done.

A Social Life For Mommy

2010-04-30T12:49:00.002-06:00

This weekend I have plans; real honest to god social plans that will involve having adult conversations with grown up human beings about things other than boobs and poop and teeth and sleep. Well... We may talk about some of those things I guess, but none of them need pertain to me or my immediate family.

While musing about these adult conversations and going as far as to practice a few in my head to make sure I hadn't forgotten how to have one, I also started thinking about the social life of moms.

Being a new mom is a really awkward time socially. Your old friends seam distant and weird because of the vastly different lives they are living. I am often very surprised to remember that that was my life not too long ago, it seams like ages, and I suppose it’s technically a lifetime ago.

You may seek out new friends in support groups and play dates, but if you're anything like me you find making new friends and playing nice with others excruciatingly tedious and irritating. If you're not like me this avenue may be successful for you, but hanging out with only other moms usually results in the kind of comparing and competing that will only serve to drive you completely insane.

On the off chance that you do make or have a close friend with children around the same age as your own you soon realize that coordinating your schedules and wrangling your kids to meet up is actually a super huge pain in the ass. Of coarse you COULD pick up the phone and invite them over, but there's a So You Think You Can Dance Canada marathon on, and you really couldn't be bothered to put on your real clothes and entertain guests.

So as you can see, it's quite easy to fall into a routine that involves little to no contact with the world outside your living room.

Some of the breastfeeding nay-Sayers I know site a social life (or lack there of) as a reason to opt for the bottle over breastfeeding. To them I say: On what world do you think a bottle is going to make ANY difference in the amount of time you spend out of the house or away from your baby?

You're still going to be too tired to stay out past 8 or 9 (probably more so with all the extra work involved with formula feeding).

You will probably still have nothing to talk about other than your baby, (or maybe the SYTYCDC marathon, but I am not the type to admit that I am into that kind of thing.) when your friends get bored of hearing about your little bundle of joy you will feel just as awkward and out of place. Because it’s like word vomit, you would love to talk about something else, but every time you open your mouth your baby’s name falls out.

Bottle for not, your partner is still probably going to call you every hour to ask ~~stupid~~ questions, or to tell you that the baby's crying… 'But you don't have to come home! I just thought you should know.'

Not having any real social life is not a product of 'being tied to my baby' through breastfeeding. It has more to do with the natural social shift that takes place when you have children.

Every so often a birthday or other event comes along with enough notice that I can schedule a babysitter. Other times BBQ's or other get-togethers are early enough and in an environment that I can simply take my nursling with me. These times can be few and far between, but they are enough for me. I get quality time out, if not quantity, and I am happier and more appreciative for it.

Seriously though, I am terrified of those adult conversations! What to people without kids talk about these days? Certainly breastfeeding stats and the results of the latest attachment parenting studies I've read will have no use to me this Saturday night. What am I to do?

Wordless Wednesday - My Peas!!!

2010-04-28T17:09:00.001-06:00

Walking For a Cure. . . But Mostly For My Partner

2010-04-26T13:52:00.007-06:00

I lay in bed Saturday night before the MS Walk thinking. Going over my game plan for our early start the next morning, wondering if Oliver would have the patience to spend at least part of the walk in the stroller (He didn't by the way, he put up with it for less than a block before I put him in the 'Baby Trekker'.), which carrier I should take to wear him in when he inevitably had enough of his isolation pod.

I thought about how I should have gotten those weird looking running shoes that make your butt look good, and if my not so good looking butt would even make it the 10 km with a 15lb baby strapped to me.

And at last I thought about why I was doing this. What possessed me, completely at random one day to sign up for this walk?

When people ask me I usually spew some gobbledy gook about wanting to set a good example for Oliver about charity and activity and all that good productive citizen stuff. That is all true, but that's not really why I did this.

I knew when I got involved with Das Piper that he had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. I had no real idea of what that meant, it worried me some, but he had told me that having been diagnosed for 10 years with little to no progression it was nothing really to be worried about.

I believed him, and in our daily lives I don't really ever think about it. But as time wore on and I started to take stock of all the things that Das Piper has lost I began to realize that MS is never far from his mind.

From having to relearn to tie his shoes, having to give up playing his bagpipes, which he loved, and having tremendous trouble learning to change a diaper because of nerve loss in his hands, to being limited in his work as a contractor because of vertigo, fatigue, and occasional weakness in his legs, Das Piper is reminded of his disease constantly, and in a way that I can sometimes forget or overlook.

I know he wants me to overlook it. He doesn't like to admit when his legs are bugging him, or let his frustration show when he's having trouble reaching the next cord on his guitar but I see it.

The day I signed up to do the walk Das Piper had just gone to work. Moments before, Oliver had been laying on the floor by his father's feet playing and watching him getting ready to head out.

'No-one ties their shoes like I do' I heard Das Piper say. 'Your mom will have to teach you how to do it the right way.'

I have raised $500 for MS research in the last few months, it's not much, but I am proud of it. Experts say that they are close to a cure. But more than a cure, I wanted to do this walk to show my partner that I am here, that I love and support him, that I have accepted him MS and all, and that I am willing and able to help him in any way I can, that I don't mind if Oliver learns to tie his shoes differently. I need to show him these things because I know that if I were to say them out loud I would cry, and he would tell me to stop being mushy, and that I don't need to worry about him. He hates it when I worry about him.

He wouldn't even let me wear a tag with his name on it to tell other walkers what had inspired me. But that wasn't that important to me. He knew that I was doing it for him.

As far as teaching Oliver anything about charity and all that, well, he slept through most of it and was a little oblivious to the whole thing. But he did think it was a pretty nice walk despite it being a bit on the cold side.

Breastfeeding My "Older Baby"

2010-04-24T18:27:00.002-06:00

I don't know how anyone could wean at 6 months.

I mean, if you did and that's what worked for you I mean no offense at all, but I personally would be heartbroken if I had to stop breastfeeding now for any reason. Yet that seams to be the expected next step.

More and more in my reading I am coming across the term 'older baby', and while I do know on some level that to some people 7 months is 'getting a little old to still be nursing don't you think?', I was really shocked to notice that subtle message being thrown at me from every direction.

There has been a shift in the tactics being used to undermine my breastfeeding relationship with my son. I have made it 6 months without 'supplementing' or 'choosing to introduce infant formula' or 'picking a healthy alternative for my baby' despite the billions of dollars spent trying to convince me to do so.

Now that I have made it this far though, I start hearing things about my breast milk no longer having any immune benefits, not having enough iron, not enough vitamin D, not enough calories, not enough, not enough, not enough. Breast milk is no longer enough, but it just so happens that there are several products available to.... You get the idea.

Of coarse I have introduced solid foods, and understand that eating something other than breast milk is part of Oliver's development. But I also know that Oliver should continue to get a MAJORITY of his nutrients from me, and not from the cereals, biscuits, and convenience foods made and marketed by formula companies, until he is at least 1 year of age my milk has most, if not all of what he needs, and continues to have countless health benefits for him. (Food for fun until they're one!)

That is not the message I am getting from anyone BUT my doctor. The message I am getting from the world around me is that my breast milk is no longer suitable. What I am hearing from many of the books, the ads, the popular belief, is that breastfeeding is important for only the first six months, because nobody bothered to listen to the rest of the sentence.

According to the World Health Organization, breastfeeding EXCLUSIVELY is important for the first 6 months, then with complementry foods for 2 years and beyond.

I love breastfeeding my 'older baby'. I love knowing that while these new and exciting solid foods are delicious (mostly) and even satisfying, only my milk has the power to calm and comfort. I love the heavy lidded milk-drunk look of pleasure on his face as he falls asleep every night. I love that he constantly smiles, pats, and coos while eating to tell me how much he appreciates nursing. I love that he has started testing his sense of humor and experimenting with movement while at the breast when he tries to nurse with his legs up over his head and then laughs at his own sillyness.

What so many fail to understand is that breastfeeding is so much more than just nutrition. Breastfeeding is comfort, bonding, and communication in their purest forms.

In our society, successful breastfeeding is not easy, establishing a breastfeeding relationship is an uphill battle. 43% of women who fully intend to breastfeed, fail to make it to their child’s 3^rd month. Why would I give it up 6 months later after working so hard to breastfeed in the first place?

Wordless Wednesday - Big Fluffy Rock Star Hearts

2010-04-21T09:56:00.006-06:00

All photos this week are courtesy of Wenchwire

Baptism

2010-04-18T13:41:00.003-06:00

I would like to have Oliver baptized.

Anyone who knows me at all may be somewhat shocked by that statement. My father sure was, the simple massing priest nearly choked on his dinner when I asked what I would have to do to have Oliver baptized.

It's not that I am particularly anti-religion, and I am certainly not anti-god, though I have been known to make statements to that effect for sheer shock value, and find great humor in making jokes at god's expense (with love though, really, please don’t smite me), I have no particular beef with god, any of the gods, or the majority of their followers.

More than anything I would say that my lack of defined religious affiliation comes from a kind of spiritual apathy more than anything else. I have no story of faith lost, or religious rebellion, I simply failed to find any interest in god or his worship.

There was certainly no pressure for me to do so despite the fact that my father is a priest and therefore, presumably, a religious and spiritual man of god.

My siblings and I were never to my recollection forced, or expected to attend any kind of Sunday school, or engage in regular prayer. But the option was always there.

When the time came my brother chose to be confirmed, I did not, and aside from a few gentle nudges from my father there was never any real issue taken with my decision.

The way I see it, my baptism was my parent's way of saying 'god, this is our daughter, who we intend to raise to be a moral and loving person. Daughter, should you choose to pursue a life of faith, we recommend you start here because we think this god is a pretty cool guy'.

By baptizing Oliver I wish to say 'god, while I do not lead an overly spiritual existence, and pay more inclined to study the Zen teachings of Buddha than I your holy gospel, I want you to meet my son whom I intend to raise as a moral and loving person, should he choose to be a spiritual man, please welcome him with open arms. Son, should you choose a path of faith, here is a pretty good place to start your journey.'

Das Piper isn't religious either. But he is 'not religious' in a very different way than I am. Where I am simply indifferent to religious practice, Das Piper has what I can only describe as distain for religion, spirituality, and god.

We have never talked about it in any detail, and I am sure he would deny/disagree with my premise here. But only someone who has been let down by faith and religion could hate it as much as he seams to.

This of coarse has lead to some friction on the subject of Oliver’s baptism.

While he would never forbid me from baptizing our son, it is fair to say that he really would prefer that I didn't. In an effort to keep the whole process from being something he may feel forced into I am going out of my way to keep him involved, and Das Piper is doing his best to have no involvement whatsoever. He has consented to have Oliver baptized, and agreed to show up to witness it happen, but beyond that it's been made clear that I will get nothing more.

This, of course, makes me wonder if I should even go through with it.

It's not like I am dead set on having him baptized, or think that his life would be lacking in any way if we chose not to.

Regardless of whether or not we do it, he will have some exposure to the church I am sure, and will have the option to join a church or religion on his own terms and in his own way. It's not like he will be banished from god's house never to be welcomed again if we don't baptize him, and even though most people are baptized as infants, there really isn't an age limit on it. He can just as easily be baptized at a later time if that's what he wanted to do.

What makes me so uneasy is that until this point, Das Piper and I have pretty much agreed on every parenting issue we've come across. We agreed that attachment parenting would be the best style for our family, we agreed that Oliver would not be circumcised, we agreed that we would introduce meat to his diet even though I don't eat it and let him become vegetarian on his own should he choose to, we agreed that he would get all of his vaccinations (though the chicken pox one is still up in the air), and we even agreed that Oliver and I would co sleep after it became apparent that it was the only way anyone would get any sleep around here.

But in this one area, an agreement can not be reached and that bothers me. He will give his consent because he knows that it's important to me, but I just can't seam to decide if that is enough.

Is it enough for me to have his permission, but not his support?

Is it really so important to me to baptize my son that I would do so even though the very idea of it makes his father, my partner, so uncomfortable?

Culinary Countdown to Summer: BBQ'd Jerk Tofu Kabob With Fresh Mango Salsa

2010-04-15T09:41:00.000-06:00

Somewhere along the line I lost my recipe for Jerk tofu! Luckily by scoping out and comparing a few recipes on the internet I was able to remember everything I put in it, but not all of the exact amounts, so I will list all of the herbs and spices and you can play around with the ratios and make your jerk marinade to taste. (I very rarely measure my spices anyways)

Also note that while the marinade is of my own creation (though loosely based off a number of different recipes), the mango salsa is pretty much verbatim out of the REBAR modern food cook book (a MUST have in my opinion)

Marinade ingredients:

1-3 hot peppers – pick your poison! Anaheim or jalapeños can pack some spice in larger quantities, but just one scotch bonnet or habanero would pack a wonderfully powerful punch for more adventurous diners! (ALWAYS wear gloves when handling something as potent as a habanero pepper and be sure to wash up afterwards!)

1 large red onion, chopped

3-5 green onions, chopped

5 cloves garlic

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 1/2 cup orange juice

Juice of 1 lime

Fresh thyme

Fresh grated ginger

Nutmeg

Allspice

Cinnamon

Salt

Pepper

Mango salsa ingredients:

2 mangos finely diced

¼ red pepper finely diced

¼ red onion, finely diced

1-2 hot chilies, Serrano chili is suggested, but others can work too!

1 tbsp lime juice

1 tbsp chopped cilantro

Other ingredients:

1 extra large block of extra firm tofu

4-6 rounds of naan or other flatbread

Combine all marinade ingredients in a food processor and puree until smooth.

Cut a large block of extra firm tofu (or some chicken if you’re into that kind of thing) into 2 inch cubes and put on skewers. If you are using bamboo or other wooden skewers remember to soak first!

Place skewers in a large bag or other container with your marinade and place in the refrigerator for a few hours, or overnight. Note: you can choose to skewer after you marinade, some prefer to, but I don’t like digging through my marinade to find tofu chunks, so I marinade on the skewer!

To make your mango salsa, chop all ingredients into a fine dice or larger chunks depending on your preference. Combine into a large bowl.

Have your man slave bbq skewers until tofu is golden brown on the outside. Just before you are ready to take skewers off the grill, brush a small amount of olive oil onto flatbread or naan and heat on grill for 1-2 minutes.

Serve Tofu skewers on warm flatbread with mango salsa and lettuce or any other fresh veggies you would like.

Wordless Wednesday - Jammin' With Daddy

2010-04-14T14:54:00.004-06:00

BFAR, Breasts, and Body Image

2010-04-11T21:00:00.001-06:00

This post is participating in the Body Image Carnival being hosted by Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! and MamanADroit who will be posting articles on themes pertaining to body image all week! Make sure you check out their blogs everyday between April 12-18 for links to other participants' posts as well as product reviews, a giveaway, and some links to research, information and resources pertaining to body image.

As a BFAR mother it isn't easy to admit to yourself or others that there could possibly be any draw backs to breastfeeding.

Every Woman who has ever been told that she may not be able to breastfeed knows the relief, pride, and joy at being able to breastfeed, whether exclusively or with the aid of at the breast supplementation systems. The months before birth are filled with constant reading and research, and many prayers that you will be able to instantly sooth and satisfy your baby unaided and with the fluidity and grace that nature intended.

For me in particular, the fact that my body is able to exclusively breastfeed is nothing short of a miracle to me and I thank the gods and goddesses every day that I have had this experience. Because it wasn’t always a given for me I feel as though I get to appreciate breastfeeding so much more than I would had I never had my reduction surgery, or been told that I may not be able to breastfeed because of it.

Every milky smile, every ounce my baby gains, even the dark wet circles that occasionally appear on my shirts are sources of great pride for me. They are each their own triumph and success. They are each a sign of my power and worth as a woman.

And yet, the many and varied reasons I had for undergoing breast reduction surgery did not simply go away the day I became a mother. The growth in size of my breasts during pregnancy and in breastfeeding is no less uncomfortable and undesirable to me just because they are suddenly functional.

Regardless of my husband's reassurances, and my son's health and happiness it still bothers me that my breasts are now only 2 cup sizes away from what they were pre surgery. All of the dainty dresses, tops, bathing suits, and bras that I had delighted in after my recovery are once again off limits to me, and the stress and pain of the surgery and my recovery feel as though they were for nothing.

Just as it did before my surgery, clothing makes me feel like a shapeless blob, as though with these massive breasts preceding me into every room the rest of my body, my personality, my entire self just melts into the background.

As proud as I am with myself for meeting all of my breastfeeding goals, I am none the less disappointed with my body for changing so dramatically, and disappointed with myself for being disappointed, for being so vain. I have trouble accepting that my size and shape are signs of fertility, motherhood, and womanhood, and that I should be proud of what my body has been able to do in the last year.

Coffee Can Garden

2010-04-09T10:35:00.000-06:00

So, last year around this time. I wrote about the concept of a balcony garden being really appealing to me... but as I was too pregnant and lazy to actually plant anything, the only garden that came out of it were Das Piper's tomatoes.

This year though, I am totally motivated! After a sunny stroll to Canadian tire, a bag of dirt, a few seeds, and some old coffee cans, I have a garden... Isn't it pretty?

Ok, so right now it just looks like a row of dirt filled coffee cans, but later this summer they will be peas, cucumber, carrots, and several kinds of peppers... Once the farmer's market starts up again I am sure we will also add another tomato tree or two as they turned out really well last year.

I am really excited to have actually made my small balcony garden a reality this year. While I know that a couple of peas and carrots will make little to no difference in the grand scale of things, it is important for me to show Oliver that a small amount off independence can be found even in an urban setting. I want him to grow up knowing that food doesn't always have to come from a store, and that everything tastes better when you've grown it yourself. I am hoping that his helping to grow a few small coffee cans of food every year can turn into fun memories and important lessons for him as he grows.

Though, I may have to wait a while before those lessons get through... As you can see, his 'helping' didn't amount to much this year.

Wordless Wednesday - Our Sunny Balcony

2010-04-07T13:10:00.007-06:00

Cyber Bullying: Are We Leading By Example?

2010-04-03T09:15:00.005-06:00

It has been all over the news for years now, and is a growing concern for the parents of pre-teens and teens. Cyber bullying has taken the torture and agony that is bullying from the playground and brought it into our homes.

Parents do their best. They limit computer time, make sure to keep computers in plain sight where they hope to catch any wrongs done, bullying or otherwise, and lobby law makers to adjust our laws to catch up with the social media/instant media world we live in.

But are we mothers leading by example?

Before I go any further I want to say that my writing this is NOT an attempt to continue, drag out, or re-start any past arguments. I will be more closely moderating the comments on this post in an effort to keep any follow up discussion on the topic of cyber bullying and from getting out of hand. (Basically what I am saying is that I am moving on to the part where I learn from what happened and take from it what I can.)

A few Wednesdays ago I made a few frustrated and angry online comments via twitter about a mom's group that I had been attending regularly. I am willing to concede that making these comments so publicly was at the very least a bad idea and at the very most inappropriate considering the private nature of said group. Part of me knew that at the time but I went ahead and did it anyways, oh well, my bad, can’t go back and do anything about it now.

After a few days to cool down, I went about writing down my thoughts on the subject discussed and the pressure I feel mothers receive in regards to that subject. I tried to do so in a way that articulated only my personal beliefs in regards to MY situation and my reasons for holding those beliefs.

What happened in the comments was immediate and profound. My opinions were challenged (which is a-ok with me, that's what the comment section is for), the things I said on twitter were attacked (which, while my comments were unacceptable my intention while writing that post was not to use my blog as a follow up to those comments, but rather a more calm and rational stating of my beliefs. Hence I did not mention my previous tweets, or the moms group involved in my original post.), and finally I was personally attacked repeatedly and anonymously by a fair sized group of people, many of whom, I would later find out, are known to me 'in real life' and have access to both my phone number and email address. Had these people contacted me with their concerns about my behavior in another way I likely would have apologized. (After what has happened though all phone calls or emails on the subject will be ignored/deleted, the previous paragraph is as close to an apology as I will come.)

Before we can do anything to protect our children from cyber bullying, we must first take a good hard look at the way we conduct ourselves online.

At the same time that I would never decline to write or say something important to me on the off (or inevitable) chance that my opinion will offend someone. I would also NEVER go out of my way to gang up on and attack an INDIVIDUAL no matter how offended I am by their words. I prefer to challenge ideas. (I realize that my twitter comments came perilously close to doing so, but I stand by the fact that I did not single anyone out, use the names of any group members, or even the name of the group itself. I also followed up my comments by stating that I knew my outbursts to be unfair over-generalizations but was acting out of frustration at being bullied myself... Yes, I was very much belittled, disregarded, disrespected, and excluded in that group on a number of separate occasions.)

Situations similar to this one are certainly not unheard of and could even be described as common place.

Heather Armstrong, author of 'It Sucked and Then I Cried' and blogger at dooce.com is flamed on a regular basis for opinions and actions she shares online, including in my most recent memory, something as small as complaining about poor customer service.

A mother I follow was once berated and chastised when, while reaching out for help, tweeted that she had locked herself in a room separate from her screaming children because she was feeling on edge, and overwhelmed.

And of coarse I could write a whole post about the thousands of hateful personal attacks by many on the internet, including mothers, on famous moms Kate Gosselin and Nadya Suleiman. Both of whom, famous or not, attention seeking or not, are human beings with very real feelings.

On a smaller scale I have often seen message boards and chat lines explode with similar behavior over any and every issue.

Mothers, myself included, are horrendously hard on other moms, and the differences that divide us more often spark cruelty and conflict than understanding and acceptance, especially on the internet.

It is said that having children is like having a mirror constantly held up to you. Could it be that we moms are modeling cyber bullying in some way to our children? Or is it just in our nature to forget our humanity and decency when faced with a computer screen in lieu of a human face?

Infants & Sleep: Why I Will Never Leave My Son To "Cry It Out"

2010-03-29T11:38:00.006-06:00

'Is your baby sleeping through the night yet?'

For some reason this is the question new mothers get asked more than any other by friends and family, as though an accurate picture of mother and baby's health and happiness can be judged on their sleeping patterns alone.

It isn't just friends and family though, it's doctors, Childcare providers, authors, and other mothers. Our entire society seams to be oddly preoccupied and grossly misinformed about infant sleep.

Hollywood shows us quaint scenes of mothers and fathers looking in from the doorway at their peaceful cherub faced babies sleep soundly in cribs before heading off to talk and make love uninterrupted.

Companies produce baby products like night lights, sound machines, special blankets, and mobiles that they tell us will soothe and calm our babies into sleeping soundly through the night.

Every tom dick and Harry has a son/daughter/nephew/godchild/grandchild that slept through the night the day they were brought home from the hospital.

The worst part is the words we use to describe these sleepy infants. the labeling of babies who sleep through the night as 'good babies' suggests to the desperate over tired parents of babies who do not sleep through the night that there is something 'bad' or wrong with their children.

If you are one of these desperate and over tired parents, or someone without children who has bought into these ideas about infant sleep I have something to tell you.

THAT IS NOT HOW BABIES SLEEP!

What's more, that is not how babies are MEANT to sleep.

It is time for our society to stop expecting so much from infants who can not and should not meet these ridiculous expectations of their behavior.

It is a baby's instinct to wake up in the night for two very good reasons.

1) To eat. Whether you breastfeed or not, your child's need to eat in the night should NEVER be ignored. Frequent eating is needed at regular intervals over a 24 hour span to replenish the calories that babies need to grow. Even formula fed babies NEED to eat during the night, despite what the formula companies tell you about formula keeping a baby fuller longer.

2) To build and maintain milk supply. Contrary to popular belief breasts do not store milk, they MAKE milk. What's more they make milk on a supply and demand basis. The more frequently and the longer a baby nurses at the breast the more milk the breasts create. Even if a baby is formula fed, his/her instinct is to eat frequently day and night to ensure supply.

There are some that believe that the need for night nursing passes after the 6th month. It is my belief that these people are wrong. Every baby is different, and while a 6 month old baby may medically be able to go through a night without eating, it certainly doesn't mean that they should or have to. In fact, as babies become more active and interested in the world around them and less interested in sitting still to eat their need for extra nighttime calories increases to make up for what they may have been too busy to take in during the day.

With our sleeping expectations so high for our infants it is no big surprise that the disappointment and desperation of many a tired parent has lead them to believe that a baby who does not sleep through the night needs to be fixed or 'trained'.

When these parents reach out for help, there is no shortage of 'helpful' (and sometimes expensive) advice out there for them. Sadly, much of this advice is dispensed with little to no consideration of the facts listed above.

Much of this advice encourages the idea that infants will never be good sleepers if they are not 'taught' to sleep and taught to sleep without the assistance of a parent or sleeping aid. According to our society, babies 'have to learn to put themselves to sleep' in order to be 'good sleepers' in later life.

And so, tired and desperate parents are told that all of their problems will be solved if they simply leave their babies to cry themselves to sleep.

Not surprising in our society that values independence above most everything else, the idea of crying it out has been stretched much further than sleep. Not only are parents told that they're sleep problems will be solved, but the advice to cry it out often comes with other false promises of less whining and better behaved children.

Many proponents of the cry it out method go as far as to tell parents that failing to leave a baby to cry will 'spoil' the child and sentence those parents to a long hard life of servitude to a demanding brat.

Well cry-it-out supporters, I am quite obviously not buying it.

I will never leave my child to cry it out, and here are my reasons why:

First of all I believe that it is cruel. My baby's instincts tell him that to be alone is to die. He needs me to fulfill all of his needs so that he can survive; it is my job to be available to him.

What's more it is MY instinct to respond to his cries. There is a reason why the cry it out method is so hard for mothers, our response to our baby's cries is so strong it is often physical. For our babies it is much worse. Where we have the ability to reason that they are in a safe place and are not in danger, our babies do not yet have that ability.

Secondly I believe that responding quickly and consistently to my baby's cries is a vital part of his development. Part of learning to communicate is learning that his actions affect the world around him. When he is hungry he says so and I feed him, when he is frustrated he says so and I can help him, when he is hurt or scared he says so and he is comforted.

When I respond quickly and consistently to my baby's cries he also develops confidence and independence. As he grows my baby will play and explore, learn and experiment with the knowledge that I am here if he needs me. He will also develop security with his own sovereignty in knowing that his actions can affect the world around him. It is my belief that children who are left to cry do not develop this kind of confidence so easily.

We are the models by which our children base their own behavior. From day one they are watching us. As my baby gets older and starts interacting with people outside of his immediate family group, he will take how he has been treated as an example of how to treat others. By responding quickly and consistently to his cries I am teaching him compassion and kindness.

By responding quickly and consistently to my baby's cries I am making him a smarter healthier human being. I don't really have any hard evidence to back that up, but it makes sense so me that the less time and energy my baby spends crying for my attention, the more energy he will have for growing, and more time he will spend learning.

Most importantly, by responding quickly and consistently to my baby's cries I am accepting that he is after all, just a baby. His needs do not have to be in conflict with my own, they are simply different.

He will not be a baby forever, and when these quiet (and sometimes not so quiet) nighttime moments are gone I will miss them (a little anyways). He will eventually learn to sleep through the night, and even learn to fall asleep on his own, and I will teach him those things gently with love and support.

I would not leave my baby to cry himself to sleep any more that I would refuse him training wheels and a helping hand to learn to ride a bike, or leave him alone in a room with a book to learn to read.

Night waking is simply part of being the parent of a small baby. There is nothing wrong with that.

I am not saying that tired parents need to remain tired (well, over tired, you're going to be tired the rest of your life whether you sleep 8 hours or 2). Part of taking care of your baby is taking care of yourself.

My advice to tired parents:

Sleep when your baby sleeps whenever possible, day or night.

Household chores, emails, showers and phone calls can all be done when baby is awake with a little practice and determination... Or done when your partner or someone else is with the baby... or can even be done by your partner or someone else.

The fact is that even a baby who does not sleep through the night will sleep anywhere from 12 to 16 or more hours in a 24 hour period. If you're sleeping when your baby is sleeping you will be getting that much too... Just not all together, and not always when you think you should be getting them... But you will be getting them!

Culinary Countdown to Summer: Edemame Salad

2010-03-27T15:38:00.000-06:00

I actually got this one from Alton Brown's 'good eats', (only I always at least double the garlic in all of Alton's recipes. He never adds enough in my opinion!) one of my favorite shows for sure!

This salad is packed with protein and is therefore great for vegetarians.

Because it can be served chilled or at room temperature it's great for summer picnics, bbq's and potlucks, and leftovers are great for lunch if you're brown-bagging it.

You will need:

2 cups frozen edemame
1/2 cup corn (2 ears)
1/4 cup diced scallion
2 cloves garlic minced
1 TBSP olive oil
3/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground black pepper
1 fresh chopped tomato
1/4 cup chopped basil leaves
1 TBSP red wine vinegar

To make:

1)Combine edemame. Corn, scallion, garlic, olive oil, salt and pepper on 13 by 9 baking sheet.

2)Roast for 10 to 15 min or until browned at 400 degrees F. (oven works fine, but we all know that the word 'roast' really means bbq!)

3)Cool in refrigerator for at least 30 min.

4)Add fresh tomato, basil, and vinegar and toss to combine.

Food & Mobility

2010-03-22T12:06:00.006-06:00

It has been 6 months since Oliver was born. 6 months! That's half a year that has already sped by!

As if it wasn't bad enough that it's been a whole half a year already and I am feeling dizzy and sentimental about how fast the time is whizzing by me, it turns out that a lot of stuff happens in the 6th month of life to further prove to me that my little sunshine won't be a little baby forever.

The first of which is food. Solid food. Food other than the food that my body makes especially for him with all of the love and extra calories it can muster.

At first it looked as though I need not worry about food just yet. Which was just fine with me. Solid food may be the start of a whole new and exciting adventure in a child's life, but it is also the first step in weaning.

I do not plan to fully wean until at least 18 months of age, even the thought of partial weaning is breaking my heart, but my many and varied thoughts on that are another post all together.

So I digress, at first it looked like I wouldn't have to worry about food yet. Although at 5 1/2 months Oliver was very interested in the food on my plate and watching me eat it, he would immediately spit out/gag on any food I offered him and then shudder with disgust.

That is until we tried sweet potatoes.

Oliver would like sweet potatoes to be his new best friend.

The other major development that throws itself at you in or around the 6th month is mobility.

Oliver doesn't crawl yet... Though he's definitely interested and determined... But he has devised a system of rolling and wiggling that can pretty much get him wherever he wants to be.

And some places he didn't exactly mean to be.

Just the other day I came back from the other room to find him wedged under my armchair and grunting with exertion trying to get out. He looked almost embarrassed that I'd found him that way.

Culinary Countdown To Summer Sundays

2010-03-14T14:45:00.003-06:00

Do you hear that? That tiny background buzz that has come over the bald Canadian prairie? It may be the wind, after all, this is, as I mentioned just a second ago, the bald Canadian prairie! But it's different, warmer than the wind that's for sure, and uplifting! It’s in the wet splash of car tires on the melting road, and the musky smell of dead grass poking out from under all that snow! It's the buzz of summer on its way!

I love this time of year, for me this is resolution time! January, while the official 'new year' is always so bitterly cold a depressing that it is really hard for me to look forward and feel energized, because let's face it, in January the rest of the year is still stuck somewhere after February, and February is stuck under quite a few feet of snow.

Mid-late March though? Mid-late March is an excellent time for looking forward and feeling energized and making hopeful resolutions, as the oppressive weight of the dark winter cold is melting away and flowing in babbling steams down the sewer drains and out to wherever it is that sewer run off goes.

The sickening pulse of the morning after Saint Patrick’s Day is also pretty helpful in stealing ones resolve towards positive changes in their lives! Not that I get to have hangovers anymore, but I do have vague memories of them.

One resolution I've made for myself is to spend more time on this blog. And I figured a good way to do this would be to have a challenge or series or some other such thing as a kind of assignment for myself to keep the words flowing.

It seams like a really good idea, but the reality is that more than a year after starting the Grace in Small Things challenge I've only completed 37 of 365 entries. And after only one actual contribution to (w)rite-of-passage I have all but given up on having any real time to devote to something so creativity intensive.

So what fun thing can I come up with that will equal content without being labour intensive and something that requires a bit less than 365 days worth of time commitment?

How about a culinary count down to summer? Because when one does nothing but watch endless hours of food network TV between diaper changing and breastfeeding, there is no shortage of really awesome cooking ideas!

I am going to start off with something easy, because I really like to cook but have no patience for anything overly fussy everything I make is easy! But this one is particularly easy, it's the quintessential taste of a hot summer afternoon, tasty homemade lemonade with a ginger twist!

It’s simple really; Find a bunch of lemons, some sugar and water and you’re laughing! Well, not exactly but pretty damn close, you will need:

4 cups fresh squeezed lemon juice

4 cups simple syrup – (equal parts water and sugar)

Frozen grated ginger

Lemon zest

The 1^st step is to create simple syrup by heating equal parts sugar and water in a large sauce pan. As your syrup is heating grate in your ginger and lemon zest, don’t worry about measuring it out, just add as much or as little of each as you would like.

Once that has heated to a boil, you can add your fresh lemon juice and set aside to cool. Once cooled simply add 4 cups of water, some ice and tada! Yummy ginger lemonade.

Once you have your lemonade there are an infinite number of delicious things that you can do with it. Like adding Grenadine to make your home-style lemonade into home-style pink lemonade.

Das Piper suggests you add Gin. . . Lots of gin, and some club soda, to make yourself a Tom Collins.

I am Still Fat, But Getting Thinner!

2010-03-09T10:24:00.005-06:00

After 30 days at curves I have gained 2 pounds. . .

At first this information came as a devastating blow to my confidence in the work I’ve been doing there. At my first work out my coach Avril told me that this would happen, after all, muscle weighs more than fat, but I had convinced myself that I would be an exception, that my work outs combined with the extra 300-400 calories burned per day by breastfeeding would put me on the fast track to skinny.

I was wrong of coarse, but as my 30 day check in went on I did find some pretty cool results. I’ve lost 1 ½ inches on my bust (ya know the ‘misshapen milk pustules’ I mentioned before), 1 ½ inches on my waist, 2 inches on my abs, and 1 inch on my hips. That’s a total of 6 inches lost in just 30 days! And as I went on thinking about it through the rest of my check in and that days work out, I found that I took more comfort and pride in the immeasurable results of my membership; like the camaraderie and friendships I am forging, the energy I am finding, and the stress relieving awesomeness of a good work out.

My gym membership has also had great results for the rest of the family as well. My first few work outs were a little stressful for everyone really. Das Piper was still nervous about being alone with Oliver, and Oliver was still nervous about being anywhere where his mommy wasn’t, but now, after just over a month of my being away for an hour three times a week I no longer come back to a screaming and inconsolable baby reaching desperately for me, but a happy baby full of smiles and coos telling me about all the fun things that happened while I was gone.

When Mommy’s at the gym it’s jam time for my boys, who spend the hour playing guitar, harmonica, rain stick, chanter, rattle and ukulele. Both of them have gained a new confidence in being left to their own devices, and along with a stronger bond that I can see between father and son it has also given Das Piper the confidence to comfort, cuddle, and nurture and otherwise take and even more active roll in all of Oliver’s daily activities. In fact, when I came back the other day Oliver had ACTUALLY FALLEN ASLEEP WITHOUT ME! It hasn’t happened since, but I’ll take it!

I can feel myself getting stronger, and now, as the weather is getting progressively warmer, little bits of brown muddy grass are poking out from under the snow, and the city smells like dirt and melting dog poop, I will continue to go to the gym 3 times a week and I can add daily walking to our routine to practice for our MS walk at the end of April!

GIST #36 of 365

2010-03-08T10:35:00.000-06:00

1) Spring is in the air and on the 7 day forecast!

2) I lost a total of 6 inches this month!

3) Coffee

4) Little baby hands stroking my face while baby is nursing.

5) Das Piper mindlessly rocking back and forth despite the fact that he is not holding the baby at this time!

Multiple Sclerosis Walk For a Cure

2010-02-17T15:13:00.005-06:00

Oliver and I have Signed up For the Multiple Sclerosis walk for a cure on April 25th. The decision for us to do so was an easy one, we may not have the extra cash to donate our own money, but we do have time and energy to give.

In Saskatchewan especially, MS effects many families, including ours, in a huge way on a daily basis. I find a lot of hope in recent research and breakthroughs. With a little luck, and a lot of hard work and generosity we could see an end to MS in our lifetime.

I have decided on a target donation goal of 500$. If you would like to contribute to our goal you may do so here.

Oliver's Favorite YouTube Video

2010-02-13T20:31:00.002-06:00

When Oliver and I get really bored during the day we watch youtube videos. This one, if left on repeat could hold Oliver's attention forever.

Pocket Buddha's Covet List #2

2010-02-10T17:00:00.000-06:00

I know it's only February, and that stupid groundhog is a big stupid fraidy-hog. But I am telling you I can smell spring, I can feel it looming, I just know it will be here soon. SO of coarse I've been looking at all sorts of fun summer type things that would make this next summer awesome!

1) I am so tired of carrying our bulky awkward diaper bag around. . . The purse I coveted before I had Oliver is amazing, but sadly not big enough for both mine and Oliver's things. So of coarse, I am gonna need a bigger bag! A giant tote bag that I can throw a "diaper clutch" , "ouch pouch", Toy, icky bag, and camera into along with my wallet and other necessities would be awesome!

2) The Devinci Lifestyle is a beautiful if expensive bike designed for leisurely rides through the park. I like the step through frame because it makes the bike easy to mount, so when I get Oliver a seat on the back I won't need to swing my leg over his head when getting on the bike.Its also designed with the seat further back over the rear wheel, this gives me the ability to plant both of my feet while still sitting on the seat giving me a comfortable level of control and balance. Important for when I have Oliver's weight at the back!

3) Safety First! The Little Nutty line of adjustable size helmets for toddlers and small children by Nutcase are both safe and adorable! Many of their designs also come in adult sizes! Among by favorites: Tie-dye, Caution, Polka-dot, and Eight ball.

4) I know I already have one that I love! But one can never have too many baby slings and wraps! I would love to have one of these cozy Moby Wraps on hand for festival season! I recently bought Oliver a teething necklace from the Babe on U Boutique and saw that she had an impressive collection of slings and wraps, as well as many eco-friendly, and mama-made products. I will definitely be heading back there to buy one!

5) Grocery shopping sucks, and while I am a frequent shopper at the weekly farmer's market, I still think it would be awesome to have a bin of fresh organic produce delivered to my door every week! Body Fuel Organics has such a program that I hear is relatively inexpensive.

6) The Vintage Pearl makes some really cute personalized jewelry! Without all the extra sweaters and scarves of winter I would really be able to show off my new motherhood even when Oliver's not around with one of these!

The Truth About Sleep

2010-02-06T11:24:00.002-06:00

From day one I decided that I wanted to be an on demand parent. Which was one large part of the heart break surrounding Oliver's one night stay in NICU, for that one long sleepless night, I was unable to promptly and lovingly care for my son's needs as they came up.

On demand parenting is a phrase I coined myself, some call it attachment parenting, some call it baby lead parenting, others who don't know any better call it spoiling. The idea is that when my baby is hungry I will feed him, when he is tired he can sleep, and when he is fussing I will comfort him without ever letting him cry longer than it takes me to pick him up and put him to the breast to suckle. . . Cause that's basically my cure for all of the above mentioned.

But as it turns out, just letting him sleep when he falls asleep and be awake when he wants to be awake is really not a good rhythm to get into after the first few months of your baby's life. Why? Because after the first few months babies simply loose the ability to just fall asleep when their body is tired because; OMG! Look at all these shiny new shiny things in this shiny new world and wow do these toes ever taste good, and hey mom, did you know that if I put my lips together like this and blow my mouth can make the same sound my butt does when I poop?

What I have learned in the last week is that after the first couple of months babies hand the responsibility of sleep over to us, and it is our job to make sure they get it. As it turns out, a 4 month old baby needs about 4-6 hours of naps a day, preferably spaced out between 3 or 4 naps, because in order for a nap to be a restful and restorative nap it must be at least one hour long.

So why was my 4 month old baby playing and fussing and kicking and nursing and playing until almost 3 am most nights?

Not because he was napping too much like I was inclined to think, what with his 8 cat naps a day, but because he wasn't getting enough of the right kind of naps and was therefore incredibly over tired by the time I tried to settle him to bed around 10 or so.

The solution: get up earlier, nap regularly when baby shows signs of tiredness like yawning, zoning, or whining, and get to bed at an earlier hour to avoid over stimulation. Because over stimulation is kind of like this:

Hey mom and dad, check this out! When I kick this toy it lights up and plays me a song! Isn't that great! And look, over here is this shiny glass thing with that cute little baby in it, look at how much hair that baby has! This is great I think I will smile and laugh! But wait a second, now that I am smiling and laughing I am starting to think that those lights and songs and that other baby are all kind of scary, and I think I've changed my mind, I think I might cry instead! just let my kick it again to make sure. . . Yeah that's kind of fun but I think I am gonna cry anyways, ya know for good measure.

I was able to turn our sleeping troubles right around in a single day by realizing this one fact.

Babies need sleep. They need us to create a dark quiet environment where they can sleep, and it's our job to help them find a rhythm and learn to sleep well by cuddling, singing, nursing and otherwise relaxing our babies into sleep at regular intervals until they get the hang of it again. It doesn't just happen on its own.

So we have the tools we need to work towards sleeping through the night. . . Next stop, sleeping in his own bed.

Oliver's First Joke

2010-02-02T13:44:00.002-06:00

What do babies eat for breakfast?
. . .

Jam on Toes!!!!!

GIST#35 of 365

2010-01-27T20:40:00.000-06:00

1) My little guy is growing up so fast. . . Which is both sad and amazing. . . He's got his first teeth!

2) He hasn't tried to bite me with them!

3) I feel great after my work out today!

4) Home made veggie pizza was waiting for me when I got home from the gym.

5) Das Piper got a hair cut, and it looks fabulous!

Be Kind to Pedestrians!

2010-01-23T18:55:00.002-06:00

Here is a copy of the angry letter I have just sent to Boardwalk Rental Communities. I wanted to share it here just to underline the point I've made in the letter that I not only don't recommend their company, but am absolutely and full heartedly in favour of taking the people who run and own this company, tying them to trees, and giving everyone who has ever had the misfortune of doing business with them the opportunity to throw rotten garbage at them.

I think they must be aware of their own ass-hattery as they have removed the 'complaints' section of their "contact us" page since the last time I had to write them an angry letter, so I had to sent it as a "rental enquiry".

Dear Boardwalk;
This is just a reminder that in the city of ******, ****. your company is responsible for the maintenance of all public sidewalks that border your property. The reason I felt the need to remind you of this is that in the 5 blocks along south *** ******, from my apartment (That I do not and would never rent from you.) to the bus stop at the ****** **** ******** ******, your properties were the only ones not cleared of snow at 6 o'clock this evening. Even after the incredibly large snow fall we had last night and today, every apartment manager in every one of the buildings on this street not owned by your company had managed to clear the sidewalks, on a Saturday no less! I should think, what with the sky high, and practically criminal, amounts of money that you charge your tenants for rent, that you would be able to afford to have someone take care of that. This is just one of the many reasons why I will never rent from your company, and will continue to tell every person I know that being homeless would be preferable to doing business with you.

Thank you so much for your time.

Angry pedestrian:
J***** W**********

Fat

2010-01-21T13:26:00.000-06:00

I am fat. I have always been fat. . . Well maybe not always. There were a few years when I was a small child where I was positively scrawny. But for all of my adult life I have been fat.

That isn't to say that I haven't experienced times in my life where I felt healthy and attractive, though I am certainly not going to win any self esteem awards I have spent a lot of my adult life feeling just fine about my curves.

Now is not one of those times in my life. At this moment, I feel like a disgusting blob. A feeling only encouraged by the regrowth of a problem that I had undergone surgery to get rid of.

That's right; my breasts, due to breast feeding. Have nearly doubled in size. Leaving me only two cup sized away from my pre surgery, back killing, disgusting, sagging, stretch marked knockers. And even if they aren't quite as bad as that, it's still hard to feel sexy with two gigantic misshapen milk pustules on your chest.

Of coarse the 20 pounds that remain from pregnancy aren't all in my breasts. Much of it has also settled in my thighs, my lower back and love handles, and of coarse, the sad looking empty lump of loose skin and fat that is my stomach. . . Oh and my arms, which sprouted some bright red stretch marks to match my stomach during pregnancy.

This, as vein and self centred as it may sound, is the only complaint I have about motherhood.

Never mind that my partner is sleeping on an air mattress in the living room so that the baby can nurse to sleep. And never mind the buckets of drool that have started coating everything we own with its cold slimy film in the last two weeks. And never mind that I haven't had more than the time it takes me to take a shower completely to myself in 4 months.

I am only concerned with putting my body back together. How it used to be at the very least, although better than before would be nice.

It's not even really entirely an image issue either. In the last two weeks of my pregnancy, pre eclampsia set in, my blood pressure sky rocketed to 150/95, my left hip started to go on strike, and it was frighteningly difficult for me to breath beyond what is normal for a woman in her 36th week of pregnancy.

These health concerns, it was pointed out by my doctor, were not necessarily directly contributed to by my weight, but my obesity certainly didn't help. And this scared me and das piper a lot more than we copped to at the time.

All that being said. Today I took a walk in this unseasonably warm weather to my friendly neighbourhood curves gym and after a long talk with one of their trainers, I purchased myself a membership for 2 months.

I am hoping that this, combined with our weekly fit for 2 aqua fit classes will be enough to help me start feeling a little less like a disgusting blob. And a little more like the healthy and attractive woman I know I can be.

See Him Learning?

2010-01-19T13:14:00.005-06:00

When I have the good fortune to witness moments like this one where you can see him learning about the world around him, all is right with the world. I know that I must be doing something right.

Gist #34 of 365

2010-01-15T19:04:00.002-06:00

1) 50$ worth of books are ordered and on their way to me, thanks to the Christmas money my mother sent with very specific orders to spend it on myself. . . I may have snuck in a couple chunky board books for Oliver. . . But it was just to qualify for waved shipping fees!

2) Oliver has learned to laugh. . . And it is music to my soul!

3) We have been consistently sleeping 8 hours a night with only one night feeding.

4) Das Piper, Oliver and I have been able to spend every day of the last month together. It will be tough on all of us when he goes back to work.

5) All of this beautiful weather has resulted in many a refreshing walk around the neighbourhood. It is so nice to get outside after that horrible cold snap.

Write of Passage Week #5 Challenge

2010-01-10T16:10:00.002-06:00

I finally found time to complete a ‘write of passage’ challenge!

This weeks challenge was to write about a job, Which reminded me that I am really good at getting jobs, and then working and working and working at them non-stop until I burn out and quit on an exhausted and overly-emotional whim. . . Like the time I worked as a customer care representative for a cell phone company:

I couldn't do it anymore. I left. I logged out for lunch and all but ran, straight away from the noisy humid streets of downtown.

Past the buskers, the bums, past the business men and women in their grotesquely over prices suits. Walked tall and sure through allies and side streets, past the hustlers and the dealers and got out.

I walked to the cemetery. Though not entirely sure what drew me there. All I know is that when I slowed enough to look around that's where I was.

I threw off my shoes, and my jacket. The wrappings of my so called dignified life, and I walked by every stone with the souls of my feet meeting the cold soft earth. As though I could absorb, through the muddy grass, the soul of someone long past and forgotten,

the strength of a woman who's life began and ended with the world at war.

The innocence of a child, whose one day in the world hopefully brought his mother enough happiness to bare grimly his later loss.

The bravery of a family lost. Sickness perhaps, or an accident, one way or another, their love was strong enough that the rest did not last long after the first had gone.

I wonder about them. What did they look like? What did they do? Were they happy? Are they happy?

When I got home, after the chill that ran through my feet to chatter my teeth had gone. I applied for a job in a funeral home; which I was turned down for, apparently ‘Because I am sick of the living.’ was not an appropriate ‘Why do you want this job?’ answer.

Sovereignty

2010-01-10T12:29:00.000-06:00

This past Friday, an interesting book fell into my lap, Everyday Blessings: The Inner Work of Mindful Parenting by Myla and Jon Kabat-Zinn.

Before I go any further, I should mention that I, regardless of what anyone might say about how no baby is by the book, am an avid reader of all things baby and parenting.

Reading for me is not just a lifelong passion, but also my first choice weapon against becoming overwhelmed and panicked in new and unknown situations. And even though I have had plentiful past experience with babies and children, motherhood is absolutely new and unknown and overwhelming at times. It is so much more than simply caring for an infant in a way that I can not put into words.

And so my reading had taken me far and wide across the entire spectrum of parenting philosophies. But it wasn't until this book that fell into my lap on Friday that I found one that helped me put name and deliberate technique to the feelings I have about motherhood and the kind of parent I wish to be.

Mindful parenting is about striving to be present and aware in every moment of your child, who they are, and what their needs are. And realizing that what works for them and you one day may not work the next.

One aspect of this that I found particularly interesting was the idea of sovereignty.

Sovereignty in that he is his own person, in that he will make his own decisions. It was a concept that I had not taken notice of until I picked up this book. And yet I feel like I had been unknowingly grasping for it the past few months.

This concept of Oliver's sovereignty allowed me to finally put into words what I believe my roll as a parent is: To create an environment where my son can safely explore, develop, and exercise this sovereignty.

Sometimes that will mean providing direct guidance and support. Sometimes that will mean letting him try and fail and learn on his own as I watch on. Sometimes this will mean setting clear and consistent boundaries. And sometimes it will mean letting him set his own.

The over all idea being that I need to be present and mindful, I need to be in tune with my son and who he is as a person to know when and how to take these actions.

In picking up this book, I was able to realize and pin down that to acknowledge and have respect for Oliver's sovereignty is at the very heart of the kind of parent that I want to be.

So thank you to whichever cosmic force or Deity or whatever is responsible for thrusting this book into my lap.

Hey! That Apple Has A Worm In It!

2009-12-20T23:42:00.000-06:00

Babies are like 'LOL Catz'. . . And this one is saying; "NomNomNom"

GIST #33 of 365

2009-12-20T23:28:00.000-06:00

1) Oliver has finally found his thumb and can take over some casual part time human pacifier hours for me!

2) The nice Christmas-y must of the 7 foot live Christmas tree Das Piper brought home last week.

3) Pakoras

4) My blue ukulele

5) That I have been able to hold my tongue about the presents I got people this year despite my excitement. . . I usually break down and tell everyone long before Christmas.

A Post by Oliver;

2009-12-15T16:08:00.000-06:00

This is what it would look like if I was a girl. . .

This is also what it looks like when my mom forgets to pack a spare set of clothes and I decide to explosively poop all over myself in the middle of our moms group, and the only other baby still in size 0-3 month clothes is a little girl.

Thank you Ann and Mary!

-Oliver.

Anne Geddes is Sick in the Head

2009-12-08T19:12:00.000-06:00

The Canadian Baby Photographers were nice enough to send me a photographer today for a free sitting. And of coarse I was like, hells yes you can put my baby with totally humiliating little outfits and props and take pictures because it’ll be adorable and he’s too little to do anything about it.

Last night I was nervous about it. The woman on the phone had given me a run down of how the session would go, that there would be several ‘Anne Geddes-esc’ shots in only his diaper, and then a few snapshots in an outfit of my choice, and that I didn’t have to clean or worry because no part of my home would be seen in the final product. But that didn’t stop me from desperately running around the apartment with a confused baby in one arm and a duster in the other. Not to mention of coarse that even when it’s clean, having strangers come into my home is kind of really awkward and slightly stressful for me.

Don, the photographer was really great though, and put me at ease about the whole thing right away. That is, until he sat my wobbly little bobble head on a platform 3 feet off the ground and then LET HIM GO SO THAT HE STARTED FALLING BACKWARDS!

I always wondered how they got those tiny little month or two old babies to sit up straight for photos. I had always just kind of assumed that they were propped up by their mother’s unseen hands or held up with strings or something. I had even considered that maybe Anne Geddes had been secretly drugging her little models to get them to happily take those positions.

Nope! It’s worse than that actually! The trick, apparently, is to hold them in the position you want then take your hands away, snap the picture, then catch them again before they fall. I am convinced that this information has been deliberately concealed from the general public so that when we become parents we will actually agree to the whole production.

In the end though, once my heart started beating again. The results were absolutely adorable, and well worth it. After all, Don assured me, he’d been doing this for nearly 40 years, and he’s never dropped a baby.Or so he says, it's not like he would ge around bragging about it if he had.

GIST #32 of 365

2009-12-04T13:49:00.000-06:00

1) Finding little notes of love for me in Oliver's little pockets. I think he may have had some help from daddy.

2) Oliver likes to lick everything. . . It sounds gross I know, and it actually really is. . . But it's wicked cute at the same time.

3) The hoarfrost on the trees today is breathtakingly beautiful.

4) Now that he's discovered playing. Oliver is less insistent on nursing constantly and more interested in going to daddy for more that 10 minutes.

5) That I am finished all of my Christmas shopping. Except that I haven;t found a stocking that I like for Oliver yet. . . It's an important decision, we're stuck with it for life after all.

Oliver's First Snow

2009-12-01T14:29:00.000-06:00

Well, it's Oliver's first snow that will actually stay with us.

He doesn't look too happy about it.

GIST#31 of 365

2009-12-01T14:22:00.000-06:00

1) Big fluffy snow falling silently outside my window last night.

2) I am done my Christmas shopping!

3) Watching Oliver's eyes bug out at a new toy.

4) The clusterf*ck of cow licks on the back of Oliver's m akes his hair stick up like Alfalfa.

5)BK veggie burgers.

Romance Is Dead

2009-11-27T16:48:00.000-06:00

Because THE BABY IS NAPPING!!! ON HIS OWN!!! WITHOUT ANYONE HOLDING HIM OR LAYING DOWN WITH HIM!!! Pocket Buddha walks over to Das Piper and gives him a snuggle and some sexy kisses.

Das Piper: Um, why do you taste like pepperoni?

Mood effectively ruined.

What did we learn? If you're trying to catch a little intimacy for the first time since your baby was born 10 weeks ago, make sure to brush your teeth first.

Also, eating a felafle wrap with copious amounts of Tadzhik from 'Opa' will apparently make your mouth taste like pepperoni.

GIST #30 of 365

2009-11-23T17:50:00.000-06:00

1) Staying cozy and cuddly on this long cold day

2) Sugar cookies

3) Baby smiles

4) Das Piper

5) Oliver enjoying a private concert by his favorite band, 'Daddy and the Red Guitar'

Tangy Time Sugar Cookies. . . Just The Thing To Ruin Any No Fun Diets This Winter

2009-11-21T16:33:00.000-06:00

Yesterday morning, Das Piper took Oliver for a little walk leaving me alone at home for the first time in 2 months. Instead of pacing and worrying like I wanted to do, I made these cookies instead.

1/4 cup Butter
1 TBSP vegetable oil
1 egg
1 cup sugar
1 3/4 cup unbleached flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 lime

1) Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit

2) With a whisk, cream together room temperature butter, oil, and sugar with the zest of your lime until it's nice and fluffy.

3) Add in your egg and the juice of your lime.

4) Mix in your flour and baking soda to make a nice sticky dough. If, like me, you don't have a fancy electric mixer it's easiest to mix the flour in a little bit at a time.

5) Drop balls of your dough onto a cookie sheet (about the size of a loonie is best) and press them down with a fork. Remember to leave space for the cookies to spread! Bake for exactly 8 minutes, then let cool on a wire rack.

For Christmas I think I am going to try and work with the green tinge that these cookies have because of the lime and make some red and green pin wheel cookies.

How do I do that?

Dye half of the dough red with food colouring, then roll out both colours into 1/4 inch thick rectangles. Stack the two sheets of dough one on top of the other and give it a roll or two with the roller to make sure they stick together. Roll the stack into a log like you're rolling sushi then chill it in the refrigerator for an hour or so. Cut into rounds and place on you baking sheet and bake.

I've never tried that with this particular dough, but I am sure it will work out like it does with other sugar cookies. (I made some pink vanilla pinwheel cookies for my god daughter a while back and she loved them.)

GIST #29 of 365

2009-11-21T16:09:00.000-06:00

1) Oliver stops eating and unlatches himself then smiles a huge smile up at me before latching back on and resuming his meal, as if to say 'Thank you mommy, this is really tastey!'

2) Breakfast in bed thanks to my lovely Das Piper.

3) Learning to skate again. er. well learning to skate, I wasn't any good at it the first time 10 years ago.

4) 11 degrees and sunny on November 21st! So we're still able to go for nice walks outside for now.

5) Found a free blackberry app that makes my blackberry SMS look like iphone SMS. . . Why not just get an iphone? Because I said so that's why!

How I Made My Flu Shot Unnecessarily Stressful

2009-11-16T13:28:00.000-06:00

In an effort to shield Oliver from this year’s media boogey-man, the N1H1 virus, Das Piper and I got our N1H1 vaccinations last week. After hearing constant discussions about it in my mom’s group, and on the radio (btw CBC, could you maybe find something else to talk about soon?) Das Piper and I decided that when it comes to our son safe is definitely better than sorry.

Oliver being 4 months away from the 6 month eligibility mark did not get one, and for that I am kind of glad because his regular 2 month vaccinations are only days away and I am having a hard enough time gearing up for that. But as the parents of a child under 6 months, we became eligible for the vaccination shot on Thursday the 12th.

Now, I have never been afraid, or even a little nervous of needles. In fact, I remember as a child wanting to go have blood taken at the doctor’s office because I remembered getting to pick a toy out of the prize box, and clearly a super bouncy ball was worth the momentary slight discomfort of a needle in the arm. But being ushered through the dark dank abandoned hallways of an old high school, my anxiety level went from none at all, to damn near terror.

Something about the check in desk and releases and forms, and holding room, followed by an awkwardly quiet queue room the atmosphere reminded me of the dirty hazy hue of every apocalyptic movie I've ever seen. At first in a way that I could joke and be sarcastic about.

Of course, anyone who knows me knows that I am really good at joking and being sarcastic to the point where I really freak myself out. Like the one time I tried to tell my sister that there was a little undead man with no legs living under the basement stairs and that he was waiting for her to walk by so he could cannibalize her, and ended up terrified of the room myself I was so convincing. Or the time I was so excited about participating in a zombie walk that I talked about zombies for days and days to the point where I made someone walk with me anywhere I was going to act as my ‘zombie decoy’, ya know, just in case.

In this case, sensing that Das Piper was feeling a little nervous, I started making ridiculous comments about N1H1 being developed and spread by ‘Purel’ and the government injecting computer chips into our arms to that they could track us, or maybe it’s like that episode of the X-Files where Mulder find out that small pox vaccinations were actually alien DNA experiments to try and create an alien-human hybrid. And of coarse I just kept talking because Das Piper was smiling in amusement until a tiny irrational part of my brain started to buy what the sarcastic part of my brain was coming up with and by the time I got to the chair, my heart was racing.

The shot itself was incredibly anti climactic. I barley felt it. And aside from a bit of stiffness in my left arm for an hour or so afterwards there was no lasting effect at all.

All in all it was a minor inconvenience that will give me peace of mind. While the chances of me or Oliver catching this flu was small considering that neither of us spends too much time outside of the house, it was still enough of a worry that I was nervous about going to our mom’s group, and swim classes. Now we can go out without any worry at all.

Eco Parenting: It's The New Black

2009-11-13T11:48:00.000-06:00

Since being thrown into the roll of responsible adult and contributing member of society I have also found myself in a new and fascinating marketing demographic. That of the yuppie mommy set. A quick look at the vast amounts of money that we’ve spent in the past year and what we've spent it on pretty much confirms that I am eating it up just as eagerly as the next yoga pant wearing new mom out there.

The secret to driving me and every other new mother mad with desire for the latest diaper, toy, or onsie? Make it sound ‘super’ adorable. If of coarse you mean ‘super’ as in super hero save the planet and all life as we know it super. Throw words like 'natural' 'organic' 'eco friendly' at us and you can pretty much guarantee that at least 90% of us are not only going to pick your product over a similar product right beside it, but be willing to pay extra for it too.

You can charge upwards of thirty dollars per cloth poop catcher so long as it's certified organic bamboo (because bamboo is the new hemp).

How about 40 dollars for that eco friendly t shirt with a cute 'save the planet' bumper sticker across the front to let everyone know how responsible a public citizen your baby is for the two weeks it will fit him?

And of coarse 100 dollars is no cost at all for the baby food kit that will help you make all natural baby food for the health of your little one and the environment.

It all sounds really obviously stupid when I put it like that. But I really do eat it up.

Guilt is probably the most likely reason why I am so suddenly seduced by such an obvious ploy. Residual guilt over bringing yet another carbon eating person into this train wreck is really at the heart of it. Not only is this little person probably making the problem worse. But I also know that the most devastating effects of today’s environmental doochery will be felt by him and his children more so than me.

So maybe buying these products makes me feel like I am doing something. Maybe what they're really selling me is a lifestyle in which I feel in control and empowered. A lifestyle in which I am providing the brightest future for my child.

Well let me tell you, if the me from a year ago could see this. She would slap me upside the head.

Today I find myself sitting in my son's room surrounded by expensive organic toys folding his expensive environmentally friendly clothes wondering when I forgot my old mantra.

Consumerism cannot fix what consumerism broke.

I'll have to do More than try to buy my way out of this if I want that feeling of control and empowerment to be meaningful and lasting.

Of coarse making socially and environmentally conscious decisions as a consumer is important. But it's time for myself, and I am sure many others to get real about which decisions are actually effective.

Buying as much locally grown food as possible. Effective.

Buying super deluxe pocket snappy organic cotton diapers where a simple 3 dollar prefold will due. Not effective.

Making local all natural baby food with the food processor I already have. Effective.

Buying bamboo cotton clothes when the drawers are already bursting with hand-me-downs. Not effective.

But most importantly. I think it's imperative that we pair these responsible consumer choices with hard action. I want my son to grow up with the knowledge that although personal changes towards a More socially and environmentally responsible lifestyle are important. He also has the power to effect change in many other ways

Here’s where I go for ideas and information on environmental issues. Getting myself excited is the first step in raising my son to be excited and passionate about the health of our planet.

Green Nexxus - Is an online community for sharing tips, thoughts, and information on anything green focusing on the real impact of little changes.

Contact your government - An online listing of Canadian government contact information, so that you know where to send letters urging our government to make bigger changes, and to take environmental issues seriously.

David Suzuki Foundation - No eco link list would be complete without him, because he knows what he's talking about. A great site for information on both small actions, and the bigger issues as well.

Roots and Shoots - A campaign championed by Jane Goodall to encourage young people to think critically and find solutions to problems effecting animals and humans alike.

No One Ever Suspects The Frog

2009-11-08T12:03:00.000-06:00

West Coast Sling

2009-11-02T12:19:00.000-06:00

Oliver is 6 weeks old today, and in the last 6 weeks we have learned a great many things.

We have learned that caffeine is in fact passed along through breast milk, and that caffeinated babies are no fun at all. We have learned to worry less about comfort and more about fastening the diaper tight enough to prevent catastrophic poop events. We’ve learned to only buy food that is easy to prepare and eat with only one hand. And that the purchase of a bassinet to put beside the bed was a total waist of time and money, even if it can hold more books than my bed side table.

We have also learned a thing or two about the portability of babies. Basically, with the help of a good baby carrier, the world is your play ground.

The baby carrier we’ve been using is the West Coast Sling from Baby Slings Canada. The sling is secure and comfortable, and can be used in a number of different positions depending on the age and mood of your baby or toddler.

Wearing your baby may not be for everybody. I’ve met a few mothers who either didn’t like, or weren’t comfortable with the idea. But for me, being able to wear Oliver has been a life saver. Not only can I wear him around the house when I am doing chores, but with the bus and my own two feet as my only means of transportation, the sling has given us a freedom that would have otherwise been difficult or impossible with a stroller, or just my bare arms. Nestled snuggly in the sling, Oliver falls straight to sleep, and usually stays that way through anything I may need to do be it out and about errands, or puttering around the house.

The best part about this particular sling is that it gives me piece of mind that my son will be warm enough throughout this upcoming winter. While the main sling, the part that actually holds the baby close to you, is made of a light jersey material to keep your baby happy and cool in the warmer months and can even be worn at the beach or in a pool, it comes with three covers that slip on and off as easy as a sweater to make the sling a great option in any weather. A fleece cover for warmth, a rain cover that is also great for blocking the cold prairie wind, and a UV cover that I will no doubt be using come summer. The combination of fleece and rain cover feel like completely cocooning him in my own body heat and a winter parka, which saves me having to worry about little mittens and toques staying on, or the wind hitting his tiny face.

I could go on about this sling all day, and some days I do when a number of women stop me daily to ask about it. This sling in the single most useful and awesome gift that I have received since Oliver was born; I don’t know what I would do without it.

GIST #28 of 365

2009-11-01T11:15:00.000-06:00

1)Waking up to big open mouthed baby smiles

2)Today, bulk candy will be the cheapest it is all year!

3) French toast! It tastes way better when it's made by someone who loves you.

4) Oliver's Halloween shirt glows in the dark!

5) I actually saw a fair amount of trick-or-treaters last night, the last few years they have been so sparse I was concerned for Oliver's future Halloween experiences.

An Aspect of Motherhood I Never Took Into Consideration

2009-10-25T17:35:00.000-06:00

It’s been 5 weeks now since Oliver made his entrance into the world, and those 5 weeks have mostly been spent at my breast in front of the television, or at my breast in the bedroom under a book, or at my breast while I try to fold laundry with one hand, the monotony of which is occasionally interrupted by a car ride to Tim Horton’s, and our weekly mommy meeting.

Our mommy meetings (The YMCA’s ‘Y’s Moms program that I’ve mentioned before) have been instrumental to my sanity thus far as it provides me with a hole room full of people to talk to other than Oliver and Das Piper.

At first I was so happy to have these people that if I were a puppy I would have wagged my tale so hard I fell over, then piddled on the floor. Not only were these other mothers PEOPLE TO TALK TO! But they were people to talk to who didn’t mind me talking at great length about my new favorite subject! They were people who would listen with actual interest as I went on and on about Oliver this and Oliver that. Best of all they were people who wouldn’t raise their eyebrows in disgust when I started talking about boobs and poop and barf.

Now I am, realizing the true cost of this opportunity. . . Having to smile and nod and talk to people that I would never ever in a million years put up with if it weren’t for the fact that our children are only weeks or days apart.

My usual blunt self would have absolutely no problem saying ‘Hey, you know what? We have nothing in common, you’re really boring/annoying, I don’t really want to be your friend.’ It’s not like our children are old enough to have any kind of awareness of, let alone relationship with each other. So why am I so hell bent on being nice to some of these women? It’s not like also being a mother automatically makes me their friend.

As Oliver grows up this problem will only get worse, as he grows I will no doubt find myself on sports sidelines, and parent comities, or in play groups with people that I absolutely cannot stand. And in a city this small I may end up on sports sidelines and parent comities and in play groups with many of these very women, most of whom I like just fine, but some of which annoy the shit out of me. How on earth am I going to deal with that? He’s only 5 weeks old and I am already having trouble. Am I just being a big baby for complaining about having to be nice and bite my tongue for once?

GIST #25 of 365

2009-10-18T16:14:00.000-06:00

1) A little warmth after a week of cold, rain, and snow.

2) The quiet laziness of an empty Sunday after a bit of a whirl wind week.

3) Fussy baby finally sleeping. . . . Oops I spoke too soon. . . But the last 10 minutes were blissful.

4) Almost forgotten Thanksgiving leftovers in the freezer.

5) The smell of Penitin diaper cream.

Dear Oliver;

2009-10-14T22:01:00.000-06:00

I know that you're only 3 weeks old, and that you have been working very hard on your 3 week old duties. . . Like that extra leg roll you grew over night, and adding 2 seconds to your holding your own head up record. . . But could we maybe work on a facial expression other than looking bored and unimpressed with me?

Also, I am worried that people won't believe me when I tell them that your toes are so cute that I want to eat them, so as you may have noticed I've been trying to take pictures. I would appreciate it if you could keep them still long enough to get a decent snapshot.

On a third and final note; I know that you're your father's son and all. . . but I don't appreciate you hiding your little face behind rude fingers when the camera comes out.

Love you forever and ever;

Your Mommy

GIST #24 of 365

2009-10-10T21:58:00.000-06:00

1) A 3 1/2 hour nap for Oliver and I in the middle of the afternoon.

2) My old jeans fit. . . . Sort of. . . They're really tight, but I can button them up!

3) Oliver may be a bit young yet for the Twilight Turtle, but it sure works to relax me.

4) Being able to appreciate the beauty of all this early snow because I don't have any reason to go out in it unless I want to.

5) Dorky camera angles make sleeping babies more interesting. 6) Das Piper has somehow managed to sucsessfully move said sleeping baby from my lap to the bed without waking him! My tired breasts are most thankful for the extra hour of rest!

Off To A Rocky Start

2009-09-30T18:07:00.000-06:00

A toxic environment.

That’s what my doctor called my uterus.

He didn’t really mean it to sound so harsh. “The infection in your uterus made it too toxic an environment; we had to get him out fast”.

Getting him out fast meant distress, which earned Oliver an express ticket to the neonatal intensive care unit, Das Piper told me later that at one point his heart rate went from a terrifying 189 beats per minute to an even more terrifying 45 beats per minute just before he was pulled out.

Getting him out fast meant less time for my body to adjust to Oliver’s shape and size, which earned me a long and painful repair and recovery. All told Oliver and I were not discharged from the hospital for 5 days after his birth.

At the beginning of our 5 day stay in hospital, I thought little about it. The doctors and nurses assured us that we were both healthy, and that the IV antibiotics were routine and harmless. In short, we would be bringing home a totally healthy and normal bouncing baby boy, just a few days later than expected.

A number of contributing factors meant that we would be spending this time in a tiny curtained off corner of a larger public room watching other families come and go. There was the teenager who spent most of her stay alone and crying while frantically text messaging on her phone, the east Indian family with the delicious smelling food that made me even less excited about the hospital slop I was eating, the family from out of town who were evidently hard of hearing judging by the astronomic levels of their television’s volume.

I took it all in stride. I smiled and nodded at the nurses trying to tell me how to breastfeed, all of whom had different ‘facts’ and opinions about how I should be feeding my child. I didn’t punch the lab techs that came in every morning to draw blood from my baby right there beside my bed. (They don’t just use a needle on infants; they cut their little feet and squeeze out drops.) And I stayed calm and optimistic while learning to clean, calm and feed my son around the IV and the hoses attached to it, all the while telling myself that after 5 days, I could bring him home and never have to think about it again.

On the 4^th day, when Oliver was in the nursery receiving his daily medication, they told me that his IV needed to be redone, again. I'd heard him crying on my way back from a soak in the gross hospital tubs. I entered the nursery to see his arm swollen around the IV. I had just enough time to kiss his head and find out that the IV had slipped out of his vein and allowed some of his antibiotic to be injected into the tissue rather than his blood stream, before they whisked him away to the NICU for the third time to have it fixed. When they brought him back I lost it.

For lack of anywhere else to put it they had stuck an IV line in my son’s head, then handed him back to me along with a bag of the hair they had to clip away to do it.

I know it sounds really stupid to be upset about a few little pieces of hair, especially when it was medically necessary and part of keeping him healthy. But that little bag of hair completely ruined every ounce of strength, patience and calm that I had in me. That little bag of hair, and the barely noticeable bald patch it left behind on my son's head would be a constant reminder to me that my body had made my baby sick.

When I saw that little lock of hair, the one that looks almost identical to the one my mother still carries with her from my late sister, a little voice in the back of my head said ‘There! You see! Proof, physical proof of your negligence.’ That same voice that had been quietly asking why I hadn’t mentioned having a slight fever to my doctor, why I had been so quick to assume that my flu like symptoms were one final bout of morning sickness, and not a sign that my uterus was infected and becoming less hospitable by the day.

That little bag of hair was a reminder that my uterus had been a toxic environment for my baby, and I was suddenly terrified that the toxicity wouldn’t end there. What if there was something wrong with my milk? What if there was something wrong with our home, and the environment we were taking him to? What if I dropped him, or bumped him, or somehow injured him by accident? What if I fucked this kid up so far beyond repair that he became an axe murderer or something and the police and all the news papers would say that it was as a direct result of his toxic home environment?

Thank God for Teresa the night nurse who sat with me and rubbed my back while I clung to my baby (who was fine and slept through the whole procedure by the way) crying how sorry I was for the 15 minutes it took Das Piper to throw on some clothes and drive like a mad man back to the hospital. And thank God for Das Piper, who managed to calm me down and reassure me enough to breastfeed and then go to sleep.

Since being home I have calmed and reassured myself that everything will be ok. I’ve come to accept his little tiny bald spot that no one but me notices, but even more important than that I have come to accept the profound vulnerability that comes with being a parent. I have come to accept that pretending everything was ok in those first 3 days in the hospital would never have worked even if they hadn’t cut his hair, because even without the bumpy start, I would still be worried about doing the right thing, I would still be worried about being good enough for my son.

Today Oliver and I attended our first Y’s Moms group. Y’s moms is a totally free walk in social group for mothers of small children held at the YMCA. The purpose is to have a place to talk about what has been going on in yours and your child’s life, whether that is good or bad, and to provide a support group of other parents. When I mentioned this vulnerability, that I hadn’t been prepared to be suddenly so fragile, there was nothing but complete understanding in the eyes of the other mothers there.

‘It’s that vulnerability that makes us good mothers’ one woman said. ‘If there was nothing on the line we wouldn’t work so hard to give these babies the best we can give.’

Now, instead of symbolizing all of my guilt and terror over an infection that was not my fault, and not something I could have prevented, that little bag of hair is a reminder of the extraordinary change that this little boy had made in me. For better or worse, I am his mother, and I am giving him nothing but my absolute best.

GIST # 23 of 365

2009-09-29T12:49:00.000-06:00

1) Waking up to the gentle murmurs of Das Piper talking to his son.

2) Banana pancakes.

3) Reassurance from the home visit nurse that I am breastfeeding correctly, and recognition of the fact that I stuck with it even though the doctors and nurses at the hospital were getting jumpy about my ability to nurse effectively after breast reduction surgery.

4) Teeny tiny baby socks.

5) Finally being together as a family at home in our own beds.

He's finally here!

2009-09-28T21:10:00.000-06:00

Look!
It's the first honorary passed-out-naked photo of Oliver!
He's such a rock star.

Oliver Malcolm Blair
September 21st, 2009
8 lbs 11 ounces
22.5 inches long

Pregnant Bellies Are Not Fashion Accessories.

2009-09-20T16:14:00.000-06:00

This lazy Sunday morning started with a big bowl of cereal and Project Runway. This week’s designer challenge: to create a look for pregnant celebrity Rebecca Romijn. (Ok, so it wasn’t really this week’s challenge at all, it was a re-run, but I am really not the kind of dedicated T.V watcher who sees things on first airing.)

To my horror, the episode featured the usual skinny, cellulite free, un-swollen models of the show who’s only reason for feeling ill or woozy would be the meal or 5 they missed to be so skinny and cellulite free, with pillows strapped to their otherwise perfect midriffs while they strutted down the runway in 6 inch heals.

I would look and feel that good in heels too if I wasn’t so swollen that my ankles disappeared about a month ago! I could wear short shorts and confidently strut down the street if I could bend far enough to shave my legs or use make-up to cover the varicose veins! Sure those leggings look great on the model, but they’d be tight enough on me that the whole world would be able to see the diaper sized maxi pad I have to wear to catch the copious amounts of mucus and discharge that no one ever warns you about. I would love to show off that much cleavage too, except that there’s no room in those tiny cups for nursing pads, a definite must have when your boobs start squeezing out sticky colostrum every time anyone even mentions a hungry baby. And last but not least, I would like to think I could rock a runway walk like that too, except that cramping, ligament pain, extra weight, and a baby in the way makes it absolutely impossible to walk without a waddle, let alone any faster than a slow meander.

Maybe Heidi Klum is just better at this whole pregnancy thing than I am, I mean, she’s certainly had more practice having had almost four children to my almost one, but I doubt that even she believes her own line.

Yes pregnant woman can be sexy; yes we can still look good. Occasionally, even feel good and sexy, and thank God we are no longer subject to the horrid maternity fashion of old. But the image of pregnancy being portrayed in Hollywood is completely ridiculous and unattainable. On the whole, women are constantly held to impossible image standards by the fashion and entertainment industries every other day of our lives. . . Is it too much to ask that we be given a 9 month reprieve while we are growing your future consumers?

If I have learned nothing else over the past 9 months, I have learned this lesson the hard way: There is absolutely nothing glamorous about pregnancy.

Don’t let those cute little Hollywood starlets fool you, the next time you see a tabloid photo of a glowing Gisele Bundchen, or an even bustier than usual Kendra Wilkinson, do me a favour and spit on it.

The reality is that between the clumsiness that makes you feel like a bull in a china shop, the weight gain and swelling that make you feel like a beached whale, the morning sickness that has the potential to be so bad that you literally loose four months of your life, The many and varied substances that your body discharges, and the number of different people that need to poke and prod and swab and look in your most intimate of places, you are lucky to even feel human most days. What makes it awesome is the little bundle of joy that’s wrecking your body to get to you; there is simply no other way to dress it up.

GIST #22 of 365

2009-09-14T10:39:00.000-06:00

1) Das Piper somehow managed to make hamburger helper out of veggie meat. . . I was obviously suspicious at first, but it was delicious. . . The upstairs neighbour must be leaving red neck germs in the hallways or something; enjoying Hamburger Helper today. . . Watching Dog the Bounty Hunter tomorrow.

2) Only two more days before my doctor goves me some natural induction methods to try. This baby will be here soon.

3) TSN may suck gigantic balls in the sports coverage department, and I may have had to watch said shitty coverage with people I really really don't like. . . But it's hard not to be happy with a 45 point win over Winnipeg in yesterday's banjo bowl. . . Especially when people I do like bring me ice cream at half time.

4) The Food Network.

Still Pregnant.

2009-09-10T12:41:00.000-06:00

In the excitement following last Friday's doctor's appointment I made the mistake of telling everyone I know, including the faceless masses of the Internet that I am 3 centimeters dilated and can expect to go into labour any day.

OK, mistake is a strong word, it is exciting and I don't regret sharing this excitement with everyone else. Nor am I not extremely appreciative of all the support that I am receiving from friends and family.

Our cellphone provider is going to be extremely appreciative as well. Since Friday afternoon our phones have been ringing off the hook.

"Have you popped that baby out yet?"

"Still pregnant?"

"Hey! haven't talked to you in a while, weren't you supposed to be having a baby this month?"

And of coarse, the most common one:

"Am I a Gido/Baba/Grandma/Grandpa yet?" (To which I can only say this: Have I done something to make you think that I won't call and let you know when you are?)

Yes I am 3 centimeters dilated, and yes I am experiencing other pre-labour symptoms, and yes the doctor seams to think that, though it is possible, I won't be going all the way to my estimated due date. BUT that does NOT mean that I am in active labour, from what I've read pre-labour symptoms can precede active labour by up to 4 weeks.

You've made it through the first level, but sorry Mario, our princess is in another castle.

What it DOES mean is that I am exhausted, uncomfortable, and irritable. So while I appreciate the support, I cannot be held responsible for what kind of response well wishers will get when they call. Here's how to avoid having to call.

1) If you are just calling to see if I am still pregnant, the answer is probably yes, I promise you that I will be shouting with glee from roof tops (And by roof tops I mean this web page, and twitter, and mass text message) and you will know.

2) If you are calling to see if I need anything, the answer is not really, but here's a wish list of things to make you feel useful.

- Frozen casseroles and other such things to heat up and eat after the baby is born when I don't have time to cook.

- Movies and or TV series to watch/play in the background so that I don't forget what adult conversations sound like after the baby is born and Das Piper goes back to work.

- In suit laundry.

- Books to read. . . In the last few months, having nothing better to do, I have run out of things to read. If you have anything interesting, I would love to borrow it.

- A million dollars. For obvious reasons this would be VERY much appreciate.

3) If you are calling because you want to drop by for a visit. Then by all means, call and see what I am up to, I'd probably love to have visitors, but don't call when you're already here, or only a block away. I may need a few minutes to find pants that fit, or put some deodorant on.

The Great Epidural Debate

2009-09-01T00:42:00.000-06:00

The great epidural debate is one that I had originally decided not to touch on in my writing here, or really discus at all with anyone else. I believe that whether or not a woman chooses medication as a form of pain relief during labour is a decision that she can make with her doctor and partner. I am apparently the only person who believes that this topic is none of anybody else’s business.

At a certain point in pregnancy every second person you meet wants to know one thing. ‘Are you going to get the epidural?’ When I tell people that I don’t want to but am not ruling it out I get one of two main reactions, both of which are extremely annoying.

Reaction #1, the most common reaction comes from the people who I’ve written about previously, the ones who are about to tell me all about how horrible it was to birth their children and seam to think that telling me this is at all helpful to my own birthing experience.

One of these people actually rolled their eyes and laughed at me before delivering her lines; ‘You know there isn’t a special place in heaven for mothers who give birth naturally. Oh you’ll end up taking it, trust me’. It’s that last part that gets to me the most, the part where the say ‘trust me’ in the most ominous voice they can muster.

I’ve already addressed these people in a previous post, and when I address them in person I usually calmly explain that my partner and I have talked about it, and my doctor and I have talked about it, and I am comfortable with the birthing plan that I have made for myself.

Reaction #2, usually comes from people who either don’t have any children, or feel very smug about having had there children sans epidural.

‘By even making it an option you’ll use it, do you know all of the horrible things that those drugs can do to you and your baby?’

Why yes, I am aware of the possible side effects of an epidural. I am aware that it can slow down labour, that it can be ineffective or partially effective making the rest of my labour worse, and most of all I am aware of the studies suggesting that the epidural drugs can have negative effects on bonding and nursing in the first few hours of my child’s life. I am however, very satisfied with my doctor’s reassurance that it will not turn my baby into a three eyed flying cancer monkey, nor affect his ability to thrive in any other way.

Once again what I actually say in real life, because I am not as cool in real life as I am on the Internet, is much the same as what I tell the first category of people. I am comfortable with the birthing plan that my partner, doctor, and I have agreed upon.

Said birthing plan is relatively simple, if I can stay calm, and stay focused, then I should be able to avoid the use of the epidural, and if I do ask for pain relief Das Piper knows to talk me through the contraction, and ask me again so that I don’t end up making a rash decision in the heat of the moment.

My reasons for wanting to avoid an epidural are simple as well. In general I’ve never been one to take medication for anything unless it is absolutely necessary, that applies to antibiotics, pain relievers, and anything else. I always like to give my body a chance to heal itself before resorting to drugs.

What experience I do have with being under anesthetic also makes me weary. Waking up from my breast reduction surgery was unpleasant to say the least. The shaking, vomiting, and headache resulting from the anesthetic were far worse than any other part of my very painful recovery. While I understand that an epidural would be administering different drugs than those from my surgery, I also know that these are possible side effects of an epidural as well and would prefer not to feel like that during one of the happiest moments of my life.

Regardless of my reasons, or my birthing plans, or anything else though, the point remains that there are many different pain relief options to choose from during labour, and I believe that I have done sufficient research to make a well informed decision for myself.

GIST #21 of 365

2009-08-30T11:19:00.000-06:00

1) Fresh garden peas

2) The fact that I totally lucked out on weather this summer. I know it was kind of lame for everyone else, but I am eternally grateful that didn't have to share my body with this kid through a heat wave summer.

3) Cramps, discharge, and a number of other symptoms of pre-labour that no one wants to hear about in any detail, that signify that this pregnancy is almost over, which, of coarse means that this discomfort will soon end!

4) Das Piper made me chocolate chip cookies, which he served hot from the oven with a giant glass of milk. . . He's a keeper for sure.

5) The teeny little teddy bear booties my parents got for the baby. I haven't been able to put them away yet because I like looking at them, and feeling them, and imagining little feet in them.

Passing Judgment On Those I Have Never Met

2009-08-25T14:10:00.000-06:00

Dear Upstairs Neighbour;

I feel the need to apologize. Without ever having met you I have found myself jumping to many conclusions, most of them negative, about you based on the many very annoying things I have witnessed over the past few months. The final conclusion I have drawn about you is that you are a family of uneducated red-necks who must have had some good luck at some dark VLT one night and decided to trade in your trailer for an apartment in the city and a sound system.

Ok, so I am not really apologizing, these conclusions are totally backed up by fact. I am just trying to be nice in the hopes that you will take the following suggestions under consideration:

1) Please keep in mind that I can hear you. The thing about these fancy apartment buildings in the city is that your neighbours are much closer than they were in the trailer park, so when you use that fancy new sound system to listen to the same Kid Rock song over and over again, or yell at your child causing him to stomp and slam doors, or yell at each other while stomping and slamming doors the people around you can hear it. Although I do have to give you props for being this annoying in a cement building, it’s much harder to get all of that sound through cement than it would be through wood and dry-wall.

2) It is not acceptable for your son to stand on the front lawn and yell at your window (the one right above mine) for you to let him in. If you really think that a 7 year old is old and wise enough to wonder the neighbourhood alone and unsupervised, then teaching him to use the buzzer shouldn’t be all that difficult. I know, intercom technology may be new and scary to you, but I promise that it is wonderfully convenient.
- Also, the next time I hear you tell him to go away and play a bit longer when he just wants to come in for a glass of water on a hot day, I am calling family services.

3) The window is not an appropriate garbage disposal. When you throw your fruit pits, cigarette butts, rotten eggs, and food wrappers off your balcony, they end up on my barbeque, in my tomato plants, and on the front lawn. I am sorry that you feel the giant garbage bin located at the back entrance is not convenient enough, or perhaps it’s the cost of garbage bags seeing as how you never leave and therefore couldn’t possibly have a job, but it’s not a suggestion, it is mandatory for you to bag and dispose of your garbage.

4) Do some laundry every once in a while. I have noticed on the laundry schedule that you have booked the 3 hour block of laundry time right before mine on Tuesdays. I am not really complaining that you have never used this time in the 6 months that I’ve had that laundry slot, it gives me the extra time I need to wash all of the new baby stuff we’re getting. But it does make me wonder. . . I mean, if you don’t care to dispose of your garbage properly, I can’t imagine what your other house keeping skills are like. I just hope you’re not growing anything up there that may become a health concern for others living in the building.

These are only a small few of the many things you do to make me judge you on a daily basis, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you. When you feel you have mastered these tasks I would be happy to give you another list of things you may want to consider.

Thank you for your time:

-pocket.buddha-

P.S. Please note that the noise and garbage complaints have been passed onto the building manager, and will probably only get worse should any of your obnoxious sound pollution wake my sleeping baby.

Breast Feeding After Reduction Surgery

2009-08-20T14:58:00.000-06:00

At the age of 16 I underwent breast reduction surgery. It was one of the best things that I have ever done. At that age the larger than average size of my breasts was causing a lot more than physical pain although there was quite a bit of that.

At that age, the larger than average size of my beasts, combined with the very early appearance of them, was causing my usually outgoing and bubbly teenaged self to shy away from pretty much any situation where I thought they may be noticed.

In grade 9, after 3 years on the elementary basketball and volleyball teams, it was assumed if not expected that I would try out for the high school teams. But after 2 minutes in the changing rooms outside of the gym I quickly got myself out of there. Hardly any of the other girls trying out had breasts, let alone ones with stretch marks that hung lower that a teenaged girl’s ought to, and adding the bulk of my chest to the good foot of height that I had over each one of them made me feel like a bumbling giant.

I struggled almost daily in front of the mirror of my bedroom making sure that the tags of my shirts, the ones that were clearly marked ‘plus size’, would not be spotted, and that the giant straps of my specialty bras, the ones that looked like a 60 year old woman should be wearing them, would not slip out into the open. I wonder to this day if my ending up befriending the punks of my high school didn’t have to do with the bulky black sweaters I wore as often as the weather would allow, to try and hide my chest.

It was all of this and more that got my 16 year old mind set on breast reduction surgery. I knew that it wouldn’t be covered, nor would I get my doctors approval just because I wanted to shop at a store for 16 year olds and not at a store for middle aged women. So I played up the pain, let them put me on pain killers before booking another appointment to tell them that I didn’t want to be on pain killers the rest of my life, and that I wouldn’t if they just removed the problem. I was quickly added to the waiting list, and received a surgery date a few months later.

At about this time in August of that year, I went under the knife. My mother looked terrified while they were preparing me. But I don’t remember feeling much of anything as the doctor marked his incisions and the nurses put me in a gown and walked me down the hallway. I walked right into the room, laid down on the bed, and took the deep breaths the anesthesiologist asked me to all without blinking an eye.

At 16 years old I wasn’t thinking about the future. I wasn’t thinking about having children and whether or not I was going to breast feed them. I don’t even remember if I asked about it, or if the doctor told me on his own that I would have a 50-50 chance at successful breast feeding in the future. It didn’t matter, and to tell the truth, even if it did my decision would have been the same. I do not, in any way, regret having the surgery.

Now though, I am 23, and not only am I thinking about having children, I am 40 days away from having one. The question of whether or not I will be able to physically provide for my baby has haunted me from day one, and I’ve spent countless hours reading about breast feeding after reduction surgery.

At first I was put off by what I was reading. You wont know until you try is the consensus with most of the material, and the Le Lache League’s literature offers eight billion different ways to supplement while still maintaining a breast feeding relationship most of which sounds just as, if not more frustrating and tedious than bottle feeding, and offers little in way of hope that I will be able to breast feed exclusively.

My doctor seamed optimistic when I first asked about it, my young age at the time of my surgery, the fact that I continued to grow a bit puberty wise after it, and from what he can tell on physical examination all is well. My breasts are acting exactly how breasts should act when preparing for breast feeding. ‘Just make sure to let me know about anything you may notice about your breasts’.

About a week ago I noticed that my nipples were dry. . . Really dry, almost as if they had dandruff. Not wanting to sound stupid I neglected to call my doctor to report dandruff nipples. Over the course of the next couple days it was less like dandruff and more just crusty nipples. Two days ago I went to wipe away my embarrassing nipple crust and found that it was wet.

At yesterday’s doctor’s appointment my doctor smiled. ‘That is exactly normal, your breasts are preparing to produce milk, and it looks like both of yours are working.’ I managed to avoid hysterical pregnancy crying with joy about that until just this moment as I am writing this.

I feel like I’ve finally been given permission to say ‘yes’ when people ask if I plan to breastfeed without following it up with an ‘if I can’. I finally feel like I can BE a mother. I feel less trapped, even if I didn’t want to, even if it wasn’t so important to me to feed my child this way, it would be MY decision; my 23 year old decision, not my 16 year old decision. Instead of grasping at the straws of pigment changes and occasional swelling or soreness, I can confidently say that this is going to work; I can go buy a nursing pillow.

Even though there is still the question of how much I will produce, I am overcome with relief about the fact that I can produce milk for my child. Should it turn out that I need to supplement, it will simply give Das Piper the opportunity to take part in such a large part of caring for our baby, and I refuse to see that as a bad thing.

Tempting Fate.

2009-08-19T07:36:00.000-06:00

I've been taking full advantage of the perinatal programs offered at the local YMCA. Said programs are awesome! The prenatal class was mostly fun, very informative, and cleared up many of my nerves about giving birth. The prenatal aqua-fit is similarly geared towards labour preparation, I highly recommend it to anyone who can keep a straight face while a 75 year old woman is screaming at you to squeeze your vagina really tight.

These classes are also really good for meeting other pregnant woman, you know, for camaraderie and what not, but also scoping out those due the same week as you, aka the ones you'll be fighting for the private rooms in the mother-baby unit.

Last Thursday at said aqua-fit class, one of the women also due the last week of September, and myself were chatting in the pool before class.

Me: Can you believe my partner wants me to pack a hospital bag already? We have like 5 weeks left.

Her: Oh I know what you mean, my husband hasn't stopped hassling me, it's not like I am going to go into labour tomorrow, we have loads of time.

Well, she didn't go into labour tomorrow. . . She went into labour later that night. She and the baby are both fine, she had a boy, 6 pounds 4 ounces. . . But really, if I didn't know any better I'd think Das Piper had planned this whole thing to make me pack that hospital bag.

It's worked, to not pack that bag now would just be tempting fate.

6 Weeks: Split Second, Or Near Eternity?

2009-08-11T11:34:00.000-06:00

Das Piper pops his head up over his computer with a big-eyed look on his face:

"48 days? is that really all we have left?"

I lift an eyebrow at him:

"um, yeah, that's just over 6 weeks, you knew that."

My calmness doesn't seam to sooth him at all:

"maybe you should pack your hospital bag tomorrow."

This causes my eyebrow to move higher yet, I haven't seen it since, I think I may have lost it in my hairline:

"We have 6 weeks! We could order Ikea furniture in that time!"

Maybe it's because he's a carpenter and has therefore never ordered Ikea Furniture, or maybe he secretly has and was impressed with their speedy service, I am not sure, but his eyes only got wider:

"Pack your bag tomorrow, please?"

Me thinks that Das Piper is getting a little jumpy already. . . I think it's really sweet, but to me right now, in this very uncomfortable moment, 6 weeks feels like a lifetime.

Pocket Buddha's Covet List:

2009-08-08T22:03:00.000-06:00

"Enough baby stuff!" my mind screamed at me about an hour and a half ago. "You've been spending all of your time and all of your money on things for the baby, what about you?"

I totally agree with my brain. . . 6 months of constant baby things is a little excessive, if totally understandable.

Here are a few things I covet for myself:

1)Awesome recipe cards from boygirlparty.com

2)'Prey for me' T from threadless.com

3)Angry pirate ninja kitty buttons from Maustudio.com

4)Attack of the friendly octopus tote from cutoutandcollect's Esty shop!

GIST #20 of 365

2009-08-08T14:52:00.000-06:00

1) Good music on the cool grass in the warm sun.

2) A frozen chocolate covered banana.

3) Purchasing a fun new percussion instrument that sounds, and is shaped, like a frog.

4) Homemade lemonade.

5) Putting my swollen feet up when we finally got home.

On Discipline And Negative Expectations

2009-08-07T10:52:00.000-06:00

Das Piper and I attended a wedding last weekend. A beautiful wedding that brought to town many friends of Das Piper’s and mine from the west coast that we hadn’t seen in a long time, and quite a few that I’d never met before. The service was beautiful, outside at a gorgeous location, and the reception was the perfect size with awesome food and lots of dancing.

The reception also triggered another one of those annoying parenting conversations that I know we need to have, but I can’t help being bothered by. I am bothered because the conversation usually starts with Das Piper saying something along the lines of, ‘what do we do if our son does [insert random defiant/terrifying/undesirable behavior here]’.

I understand why he does this. Not only does he have considerably less experience with children than I do, a fact which makes him nervous about what to expect, but also because of the circumstances of his own childhood; which he seams to think happened as a result of his bad behavior, and not the other way around.

What upsets me is that when he does this, my hormone filled brain flips it around to mean that he is assuming our child is going to be a bad kid. So I get frustrated and tell him that we won’t have to deal with it because I am not his mother, or my mother, and he is not his father and our child will be much happier and well adjusted than either of us ever were. My frustration, of coarse makes him frustrated because, as I mentioned before, he seams to think that his childhood unhappiness was the catalyst for unfortunate circumstances, and not a result of them, and is worried that he will pass this unhappiness on to our son.

I think he also thinks that I am naïve in saying that there is absolutely never a reason to spank a child. Because I believe that if you rule out the option of hitting your child from day one, then you will be more likely to show greater patience and be able to find better solutions to family problems than simply jumping to a spanking because it seams like the easy way out, and that spanking only teaches a child that it is sometimes ok to hit. Whether you believe that to be true or not, a child does not possess the social knowledge and tools to know the difference between those times and other times. It’s just asking for trouble if you ask me.

Of coarse by the time we get to that point in the conversation Das Piper is just arguing for the sake of arguing and no longer actually cares what side of the argument he’s on, or what the result will be. I know this sounds like a horrible trait in a person, but I have it too. It’s part of what attracted us to each other, and it resulted in many of the hours long pub arguments that eventually turned into ‘we may as well just argue about this in your bed, wouldn’t that be convenient?’ arguments that resulted in our eventual close relationship and now domestic lives together.

So, because he’s arguing for the sake of arguing, he starts presenting me with tough scenarios that depict our unborn son doing horrible things like bullying other children, and making older friends to pull him beer at the age of 12, or buying an ABBA record. At which point I usually snap and tell him that by even entertaining that possibility it will become a self fulfilling prophecy if that’s what we expect from him, and totally shut down on the conversation.

At the wedding reception, the issue being discussed in this manner was that age old right of passage; at what age is it ok for an irresponsible adult relative to sneak your child sips of beer or wine?

Well, I huffed, no one on my side of the family would ever dream of doing such a thing, and by the time it’s even an issue your Uncle will be too old to do it, so never. We can decide when he’s older, depending on what kind of a teenager he is, if limited under-aged drinking is appropriate, but I couldn’t possibly make that decision right now.

I was so sure of this fact, that I turned back to my plate with a smug smile and continued eating. Until Kevin agreed that I was right, there wouldn’t be many relatives on his side of the family, only a grandfather and elderly aunt and uncle, none of whom would be in a position to slip our 8 year old any beer, my brother on the other hand would be clamoring to pop a nipple on a bottle of Jamison whiskey and take our son out for a night on the town before he was even out of diapers.

This made me angry. At first at Das Piper, not because it was kind of a rude thing to say about my brother and I felt a little protective, though it was and I did, but because he was right. Then I was angry with my brother. Not only had he already made jokes to this effect when talking about my baby, but in the past year or so my trust and respect for my brother has taken a beating due to his irresponsible behavior when it comes to, and as a result of alcohol.

I stewed on this for days. I was not only angry at him for any number of the stupid and hurtful things he had done in the last year, but also I realized, for the future sip of wine or beer that he would sneak my son at a family function. So angry that when I heard about the knee injury that he sustained well working out in the back woods of Alberta, I couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic grumble about whether the alcohol content in his system had anything to do with him ‘Stepping the wrong way’ and tearing a ligament in his knee.

When I found out that this injury would require him to wear a brace on his knee ala Forest Gump until he could get in for surgery to repair the ligament I immediately felt horrible. Who was I that I couldn’t show my own brother any support or sympathy in a shitty situation because I was already mad about something that may or may not happen 8-10 years from now?

Wasn’t that what I had been cautioning Das Piper against? How could I be encouraging my partner not to develop any negative expectations, or predetermine punishments for things that hadn’t happened yet because he is trying to prepare for fatherhood and at the same time turn a cold shoulder and emotionally punish my brother in the same way for things he hadn’t, and may never do?

With all of this in mind, I have two new goals: 1) Try to be more accepting of Das Piper and his incessant need to look further into the future than I am willing to, and accept that he has his reasons for concern that I should take seriously. 2) Stop hating on my brother for being irresponsible, it’s not like I am having to pick up after him or anything, and he is still my brother, who despite having bad judgment is still family and will love me and my son as family no matter what.

Roasted Garlic And Red Pepper Hummus

2009-08-05T08:38:00.000-06:00

A few years ago, I told a friend that I would put my hummus recipe on the internet so that she could make some herself. At the time I had every intention of forgetting to do so. That way she would have to stay my friend forever and not run away and stop calling the moment she got my recipe.

Since then I have received an e-mail every few months or so ‘gently’ reminding me that I have yet to actually cough up the secrets of my hummus. This is me giving in . . . Sort of.

This is not my original hummus recipe but a roasted garlic and red pepper version that I created earlier this summer. The original recipe will stay with me simply because I’ve held my ground too long to give up now. So hah!

Ingredients:

1 head of garlic
1 red bell pepper
1 small yellow onion - minced
1 large can of chickpeas/garbanzo beans - drained
1 tsp each: ground cumin, ground coriander, chili powder.
½ tsp cayenne
1 tbs each rosemary and oregano
1 – 2 tbs tahini
Juice of 1 lemon

To make:

1) Get your resident grill master (In my house that’s not me because Das Piper is still over protective of his shiny new barbecue) to roast the garlic and red pepper. If said grill master is you, here’s how you do it:
- Cut the top off your head of garlic so that the tops of all cloves are showing.
- Poke with a fork several times to score the surface to let more heat in.
- Drizzle with olive oil and wrap in tin foil. (You may also top with spices, I prefer a few shakes of Italian Mrs. Dash, and simply use your roasted garlic as a cracker spread with a nice soft cheese and forget about the hummus!)
o Depending on your barbecue or oven the Garlic may take anywhere from half an hour to 45 minutes. It’s done when the cloves are soft and sweet.
- The red pepper you can simply throw on the grill and cook until the outside is all charred and the inside is squishy.
o TIP: the easiest way to peel a roasted pepper is to throw it in a paper bag, close the top, and set aside to cool. For some sciencey reason this causes the skin to separate and you can then just pull it off with your fingers.
- Also keep in mind that you can roast these things in the oven if a shiny new barbecue and/or man slave are not available to you.

2) In a frying pan, heat your onion along with all of the spices until the onion becomes translucent. (That’s what all the cook books say . . . but I’ve never had see through onion, just heat it until it’s cooked.) Then set aside to cool.
o Tip: If you’re using fresh rosemary or oregano it’s sometimes nicer to add those later so that they keep their fresh taste. If you’re using dried, however, cooking them now will release all of their flavour.

3) Take your roasted garlic and scoop all of the soft and delicious roasted cloves out of garlic skin into a food processor, or blender, or large bowl that you will later attack with a hand blender. You’ll also want to add your roasted pepper, make sure to pull out all the innards and seeds before you chop it up and throw it in.

4) Add the chickpeas, cooked onion and spice mix, Lemon juice, and tahini, and blend to your heart's content.
- Make sure to taste as you go. The quantities listed above are to my tastes, you may like more or less of something, or may want to add your own spices.
- If you find that the mixture is too dry you may try adding a little olive oil, or more lemon juice, or some of the bean juice out of your chickpea can to moisten it.

5) Once your hummus is the texture of hummus you may start stuffing your face with it. Left over hummus is even better after a night in the fridge exploring all of its own flavours.

Making My Niche On The Internet A Little Prettier. . . And Bigger.

2009-08-05T00:29:00.001-06:00

It would seam that today's boredom not only created the previous post's haiku's, but also a new layout. which I managed to paste together in my own, extremely technically limited, way.

Pretty no? In a 'You get a gold star for not eating all of your paste' kind of way.

I also got bored enough to Join Twitter today. . . Which is weird, because Twitter was on the list of Internet fads I would never consider joining, right after Face book.

I am still not going to join Face Book. I just needed an outlet to complain about general pregnancy discomfort and I figured if John Mayer can complain about his penis falling asleep from sitting cross-legged and get away with it, I can bitch about Braxton-Hicks contractions without putting anyone too far out.

Fetal Haiku

2009-08-04T07:35:00.000-06:00

Wiggly swish squish!
Sorry, was that your bladder?
Kick, kick, wiggle, squish!

***

Move over Daddy!
We need way more room to grow.
This is our bed now!

***

It is four A.M
You ate just before bed. Yet,
I am still hungry.

I'll Hold My Real Vomit If You Hold Your Word Vomit

2009-08-03T11:25:00.001-06:00

As you may have noticed from the fancy baby widget to the right over there, we now have less than 60 days to go before this baby makes his grand entrance into the world. It seams that every day there is a new flashing neon sign to remind me of impending motherhood.

One week ago, by best friend, who was only 9 weeks 'more pregnant' than me, gave birth to Charlie. He is a darling and oddly alert little boy with more hair than Das Piper and adorable little hands that I would love to chew on if they weren't slapping me in the face saying 'Hey wait! Don't you get one of these in just 9 weeks or so?'

This week marks the end of our prenatal classes. As my instructor Sally puts it, as soon as we 'graduate' it's on, we're ready to have a baby. . . I think maybe my O.B.G.Y.N was a little more accurate when he said this: "Prenatal classes are great, when labour starts Dad will know exactly what to expect. . . Mom, you will have no idea"

Saturday was August 1st. Saturday morning I woke up and the only thought I was able to think was 'I can now officially tell people that I am having a baby at the end of next month.'. When I rolled over a told Das Piper this he looked a little pale, but quickly smiled and said something sweet to cover it.

These are only a few of the signs, some of the cosmic reminders that I really should stop procrastinating and actually buy an ear thermometer, and a diaper pail, and eight thousand more blankets, because for some reason I am utterly convinced that we will need all of the blankets in the world.

Anyways, the point is that, yes, I know that I am about to birth a child, I am thinking about it constantly, and there are a thousand million little things reminding me along the way, and staying calm and relaxed and positive about the experience is getting a little tougher every week. So I do not need anyone to take it upon themselves to further remind me.

If you should see me on the street, reach out and touch my belly without asking if you absolutely must, but please, do not tell me about your birthing experience, or your friends birthing experience, or that woman you read about in Argentina who had three episiotomies, the vacuum, and the forceps turned on her after 68 hours of labour before they finally gave up and gave her a Cesarean section. It's really not helpful.

What I really don't understand about this word vomit epidemic that seams to have hit friends, family, and strangers alike; is that not one of these woman has anything positive to say about it. This makes me really sad. Maybe I am just being naive in that glowing pregnant woman kind of way, but it makes me really really sad that not one of the women who have chosen to regale me with every detail of the birth of their children seams to have enjoyed the experience.

Yes, I know, it's going to hurt, even more so if I do have the drug free labour that I would like. My point is that it's supposed to hurt, and it's supposed to take a long time, and you're supposed to feel exhausted and overwhelmed. A woman's body in labour is working 10 times harder than it has ever worked before in her life, and even with support and self education, and pre-determined coping techniques this is bound to take a mental and emotional toll. But at the end of the day it's what the last 40 weeks has been leading up to, it's the hard stretch right before the finish line, the prize at the end being your child. I can see this being a hard experience, but I refuse to believe that it is not a positive one.

If this is doesn't jive with your experience, please keep in mind that it is just that, your experience, and in the coming 56 days and beyond I will have my own, and I would prefer to interpret the experience myself, without anyone else's influence.

GIST #19 of 365

2009-07-14T06:41:00.000-06:00

1) Even though I have yet to get a final answer from MY doctor as to whether or not I can wear bug repellent, I am excited about our camping trip this weekend to the Ness Creek Music Festival. Even more excited than the time a few friends and I painted 'Ness or bust' on the back of the jeep we would be driving. . . p.s, I am sorry Heather's sister that the paint we used took multiple rains and washes to be fully removed from your truck.

2) Even though I am overcoming the crushing disappointment at being told that, under no circumstances, am I allowed to ever paint anything on the back, or any other part, of his car. . . I think Das Piper is the bees knees for being brave enough to spend three nights on an air mattress with a woman who is 7 months pregnant. . . I can see myself rolling over and the weight of the belly creating enough force to bounce him right out of the tent.

3) I know I am tooting my own horn here. . . But I am super excited about all of the delicious food that I've been cooking over the past few weeks for this trip. . . How is it I always manage to eat better while camping than at any other point during the year?

4) I am even excited-er about all of the good company I will have at the festival this year. . . Not only will we be surrounded by other young families that will be grooving to our same beat. . . But travelling and camping with our friend and her 1 year old will give us some much needed knowledge about exactly what this same trip will be like for us next year.

5) I bought a new sun dress (on clearence!), and I am sure you can guess how I feel about wearing it and staying cool and comfortable at the festival. . . That's right! I am excited!

How Many Hours Of YOUR Life Has Micheal Jackson's death Stolen From You?

2009-07-07T12:20:00.000-06:00

OK, I am done. . . . I am fucking sick of it. . . Is it really necessary to put a live memorial for a psychotic child molester on every second damned channel?

The 24-7 coverage is not only becoming tiresome, but also offensive. For anyone else who was wondering, here are the headlines that CBC news world could have been covering. . . A few of which have a lot more impact on my life than Micheal Jackson's death.

The bodies of two Canadian soldiers, who were killed when there helicopter was shot down 50 miles north of Kandahar, Left Afghanistan and are being returned home. These deaths bring the total to 124 Canadians killed on the Afghanistan mission since 2001.

The Chinese Xinjiang province has been put under curfew as part of a crack down on protesters as Han Chinese clashed with Uighur in the capitol yesterday. Reports say that there have been 156 deaths related to the ethnic dispute.

A report from the parliamentary budget office says that Canada will continue to rack up insane debt. . . By the 2013-2014 fiscal period the deficit is projected to be 16.7 Billion dollars.

The city of London unveiled a memorial for the victims of the July 7th bus bombing 4 years ago.

U.S Government finalized new stem cell research regulations, the regulations have opened up 700 stem cell lines to tax-payer funded stem cell research.

GIST #18 of 365

2009-06-29T16:40:00.000-06:00

1) The stranger in the mall who told me I look pretty. . . . Even though I do maintain that I look like a giant swollen preggo hell's beast.

2) The sun dress my parents brought back from Mexico last winter that I forgot I had until today and is roomy enough to accommodate both myself and the baby.

3) Dad Piper's sexy bits. . . And the rest of him too I guess. . . But especially the sexy bits.

4) spicy chili popcorn.

5) Jurassic Park showing for free in the park tonight. . . I get the feeling the walk back to the car is going to be a spooky one for me. . . Because I am a giant baby who jumps at shadows.

My SECOND Inappropriate Public Attire Story This Month.

2009-06-29T10:20:00.000-06:00

Das Piper: I am bored, wanna go for a drive? Maybe get some ice cream?

Pocketbuddha: Ok, But I am not changing.

We drive up and down one of the two main streets, through all of the construction and other such nonsense, enjoying the cool wind of the car's air conditioner, the giant milkshake (since when was a 'large' an entire freaking liter of milkshake?) numbing the palm of my hand.

Pocketbuddha: Are you sure you're not embarrassed to be driving around with me wearing a too-short tunic dress with sweatpants and flip-flops like one of those Walmart sweat pant people?

Das Piper: Yep, and to prove it, we're going to Walmart, I need blank CD's.

Pocketbuddha: That's nice, I am waiting in the car.

Das Piper: No your not. I am taking the keys in with me, you won't have any air.

Pocketbuddha: I am not even wearing a bra! If I go in there looking like this we'll definitely run into someone we know.

Das Piper: Everyone we know is out camping this weekend. . . and when was the last time we saw anyone we knew in this Walmart? It's the south end.

Fine, we go in. . . I try not to fidget and keep telling myself that no one is staring at me. . . and that there are in fact no less than six other people in similarly unacceptable attire lurking the aisles. We get the blank CD's, which took Das Piper eight million years to pick out just to spite me, we pay for them and . . . . oh thank god we can leave. . . And just as we're stepping over the threshold, just when I have the safety of the car in my sightes I here someone say hello behind us.

I cringe and try to keep walking, praying to every Deity I could think of that the voice was talking to someone else. But Das Piper's voice stopped me.

Das Piper: Oh Hey so and so!

I stopped, I turned, I saw my partner greeting an acquaintance of ours from the local pub with a smile and evil glint in his eye.

Pocketbuddha: I fucking told you so.

And even though the acquaintance in question is known more for his dirty cover-alls and questionable body odor than anything to do with fashion, I took the keys from Das Piper's hand and walked as fast as I could to the car where I proceeded to pout.

Would it really have been so hard for me to change my clothes before leaving? I now have TWO pairs of perfectly comfortable maternity pants to wear. . . not to mention a number of nice cool skirts and dresses to choose from. . . I have absolutely no excuse!

Micheal Jackson Is Dead

2009-06-25T20:52:00.001-06:00

Really? . . . Are you sure? . . . Was a stake driven into his heart? Or a silver bullet of some kind used?

My theory. . . Somewhere in the fine print on those tickets for the 50 show tour he was supposedly going to do . . . There is a clause that fans cannot get their money back if the show is canceled due to the prince's death. . . He's not really dead, he's just living on an island somewhere with a bunch of fresh money. That way he doesn't have to remove the mask and show the world that, in fact, his entire face has fallen off.

Thank you MJ, for your contribution to music. I am sorry that you had to be so fucked up in the process that your more recent behaviour makes it hard for me to do anything but make jokes about your death. I really do wish that your career had brought you the same joy that it did thousands of others. If it had we could have avoided such heart breaking incidents as baby dangling and other varying degrees of inappropriate behaviour in regards to young children.

GIST #17 of 365

2009-06-22T13:54:00.000-06:00

1) Although the rest of the day was a grumpy one for both of us, the Teething Toddler and I took a 35 minute walk during which neither of us cried or sighed in frustration. . . Well, I walked, he lounged in his stroller and pointed at interesting things along the way.

2) I had yogurt and granola for lunch and it was DELICIOUS!

3) The teeny weeny owl hat I ordered for the baby from Madhelmeteer on Etsy should be here any day!

4) Also on their way; 25 prefold diapers that I only paid about 3$ a piece for. . . sweet deal!

5) Das Piper had a great first father's day. . . and I enjoyed it too. . . There's nothing like gorging yourself on three heaping buffet plates followed by a long nap and a baba cooked meal. . . I am pretty sure I gained 10 pounds yesterday.

My Hump

2009-06-21T11:46:00.000-06:00

In which the two ACTUALLY PREGNANT! stars of the upcoming movie 'The Baby Formula' work their 'lovely lady lumps'.

Fun Stuff To Do In Regina This Weekend

2009-06-19T10:53:00.000-06:00

I used to think that the vast amount of drinking and chain smoking I did was in direct correlation with the lack of anything better to do all summer.

Now that such activities would be counter productive to my current project, I have found that, in fact, I was just too lazy to look very far for anything better.

Bazaart is this Saturday. . . This annual fundraiser for the McKenzie art gallery is basically like esty fell off of the Internet and landed in the parking lot of the Tommy Douglas building. The money raised by your gate admission helps to ensure that the McKenzie art gallery remains a free admission gallery for the rest of the year. And the money you spend on the many arts, crafts, and buskers inside support local artisans!

Ska band, The Realdeal, plays this weekend at the Distrikt night club. . .where you can still drink and smoke your face off if you so choose, but just going for a little live music on a Saturday night is a pretty good time all on its own as well. (except last time when I threw up over the side of the upper level of the outdoor smoking section surrounded by drunk guys being all disgusted and shouting 'dude! She's so drunk!'. . . I was offended, I have never thrown up my alcohol thank you very much, it's just that morning sickness doesn't only happen in the morning.)

If free is the aim of your game, the Spray Pads located around the city are now open. It's got the same refreshment power of an outdoor pool, only in sprinkler format. I personally like the one located Kinsmen south. . . Make sure to wear water shoes though, it's grad season and the drunken not-so-high-school students think it's funny to break their beer bottles around the park.

See! there you have it! plenty of fun stuff to do around this city that doesn't have to do with chain smoking or drinking lots of beer. . . Although I really wouldn't mind spending an afternoon on the pub patio. . . anyone interested in a game of scrabble this weekend? I am sure the wait staff aren't sick of serving me water quite yet.

GIST #16 of 365

2009-06-18T08:31:00.000-06:00

1) Thunder storms.

2) Waking up feeling rested because I somehow managed to go from 10 pm to 6 pm without going to the bathroom.

3) The Tomato plants survived the hail.

4) Das Piper forgives my new found klutziness, even when it results in his injury.

5) Watching the baby shift from one side of my stomach to the other. . . Like an alien is going to bust out and a damp and sweaty Segourney Weaver is going to appear somewhere.

2009-06-12T10:20:00.000-06:00

My work life has fallen into an easy rhythm. . . the toddler eats naps and poops like clock work. . . A quality I find very convenient if a little creepy. . . like really, how do your tiny bowels know that it is 8:35 am? The convenient part about it is that his afternoon nap (aka: I can turn off the cartoons and listen to adult conversation on the radio) starts at the same time the news ends and The Point starts on CBC, and continues until his mother returns home at 3:30, which means that I can pretty much mentally check out at 2 o'clock every day.

Yesterday on The Point, they were discussing the perfect summer mix tape. Not only did my heart give a tiny swoon over that fact that they used the term 'mix tape' and not 'play list', but it, and todays heat, also got me thinking about my own summer soundtrack. The links under the artist's name will take you to their home page, and for the songs that have videos on YouTube, the link under the song title will take you there!

Corrine Bailey Rae - Put Your Records On - I can't get enough of this song! Want to know why? Put on your prettiest summer dress and go for a walk, run errands, walk to the pub, whatever, if you do it with this song in your earphones you'll feel an extra bounce in your step.

Joel Plaskett - Run Run Run - Some summer days it's just too hot to move very quickly. . . The slow classic rock beat of this song from his newest album, Three, is perfect for just such a day.

Prince - Musicology - Need to funk out and feel sexy in the worst way? plug this one in and get ready to strut! I would love to link you but there is no official Prince website, and no video for this song on YouTube. . . so you'll have to go find it on itunes yourself.

Dala - Drive Through Summer - This duo just released a new album, I haven't heard the whole thing yet but I am sure it's good. If you're into folky chicks with cowboy boots and peasant skirts, this songs a good bet. . . And P.S. Whoever I lent their first album to, could you please call me and return it?

Ron Sexsmith - Brandy Alexander - Leslie Feist also has a version of this song that the two wrote together on her album The Reminder. I like this version because of the jazzy brass in the background.

The Be Good Tanyas - littlest bird - Blue Grass is the sound of summer on the prairie as far as I am concerned. This song is perfect for driving through the never ending fields of southern Saskatchewan.

Bedouin soundclash - Gyasi Went Home - What summer mix would be complete without a little reggae vibe? Any song off any album from this band would be perfect, but this has caused me to embarrass myself while walking around town with it's dancability, so it has a special place in my heart.

flaming lips - do you realize - It may have been the contact high, but when I saw the flaming lips perform this song live last summer at the Pemberton music festival, I cried. . . Ever since then I can't get enough of it.

Portishead - roads - If you've ever taken the bus through the prairies, you know that the key to keeping your sanity is to stare into the distance and just go zen. . . This song saved my life last summer, I dare you to try not being hypnotized by the lead singers voice.

Goldfrapp - happiness - This song just has an airiness to it that will surely cool you down this summer. . . a good travelling song, it's definitely a toe tapper. . . and you must check out the video! It's one of my favourites.

GIST #15 of 365

2009-06-11T14:58:00.000-06:00

1) These super cute embellished prefold diapers from Four Green Monkeys on etsy! They would definitely make a great gift for any sassy mama's you may know! (hint)

2) Today's beautiful warm sunny weather after almost a week of clouds and rain.

3) It's Thursday! Which is one day closer to the weekend than Wednesday.

4) Staring at the teeny weeny sandals my mom sent for the baby. . . even though they will fit him in January when there is snow on the ground, it's the thought that counts.

5) Das Piper is feeling better and is therefore MUCH less grumpy than he was been the last week.

I Covet Cheese!

2009-06-08T18:03:00.000-06:00

Pocket Buddha: I want a cheese pizza.

Das Piper: oh?

Pocket Buddha: well, actually, I want a pound of melted cheese dipped in ranch sauce. . . But I can put up with a crust because it would make it easier to eat.

Das Piper: It's nice to see that you think these things out before you demand them.

Update 2 hours later:

As it turns out. . .Pizza Hut actually offers a pound of melted cheese with ranch dipping sauce conveniently folded over in pizza crust so that it is easy to eat. . . like a big old pound of cheese sandwich.

I walked 3 blocks. . . outside. . . Where people could see me. . . In yoga pants that were too short for me and a hooded sweatshirt that was 3 sized too big and not entirely clean to get this pound of cheese sandwich.

One woman was so disgusted with me that she could not contain her reaction and took her toddler to wait outside rather than stand next to me in line.

Then I ate the entire thing while watching Jon and Kate Plus 8 with my big stretch marked gut hanging out.

I am officially too pregnant to care what you think!

GIST #14 of 365

2009-06-04T17:19:00.000-06:00

1) Blue Freezies make teething toddlers my friend.

2) Teething toddlers who are my friend nap on the proper schedual for the first time in 3 days.

3) And eat all of their lunch without throwing any in my general direction.

4) We were such good friends today that we even made up a new game called 'throw toys in the air and then laugh'. I am not sure I got the point, but I suppose we had fun.

5) My new friend even gave me a hug good-bye as I was leaving and waved at the window with a smile.

GIST #13 of 365 A.K.A Grocery Shopping Is My New Favorite Pass Time

2009-06-02T16:57:00.000-06:00

1) Corn on the cob.

2) Fresh cherries.

3) Brie from the Bulk Cheese Warehouse.

4) Watermelon

5) My favorite yogurt on sale.

Pregnant Woman Are Smug

2009-05-31T12:59:00.000-06:00

I have really mixed feelings about the song. . . it's funny sure, and I laughed at things that have come out of my own mouth in the last 24 weeks.

It also brought up some very frustrated feelings I have towards a large group of people that I would have called friends up until this last Christmas. A group I partied with, marched in protest and in celebration with. A group that I once identified with.

I think that it's unfair to make woman feel guilty about their giving you the answers you want to hear because. . . as was pointed out. . . you ask to be polite but you don't actually care.

Of coarse I am going to tell you that vomiting 3 times a day for 3 and a half months was totally worth it and not a problem for me at all. . . If I were to tell you that I hated every moment of it I would receive looks of accusation. . . as though I didn't love my child as much as I should just because vomiting is unpleasant. If not that then you would think I was just whining and complaining to get attention.

Of coarse I am going to take a tiny jab at the triviality of your life when hurtful words like 'breeder' are being thrown around, and I've been taken off of the party invite list because I can't possibly be an Ani Difranco loving feminist and a mother at the same time. And when the news about these new changes in my life were met with looks of pity and hesitant half hearted congratulations, I felt forced to downplay my very close and fulfilling relationship with the father of my child so as not to bring further looks and eye rolls from the room. If that isn't trivial and meaningless, then I don't know what is.

I am over the moon happy about the changes in my life. . . And I think that it is hurtful and petty that there were people in my life who couldn't get over themselves and the stereotypes that they claim to hate and yet fulfil with every breath in order to be happy for a friend.