Project 365 - January 31st & Attn: Fredericton Drivers

Another combo post!! Aren't you lucky!!

So with my being on maternity leave for a year, very seldom did I have to drive during peak hours, so I didn't deal with other drivers in nearly the quantity I do while working. Remembering the joy of dealing with other drivers was an unexpected "perk" of my return to work today. As a direct result of my recent dealings with my fellow motorists, I have developed this far-from-exhaustive list of requests and suggestions for my friends behind their respective wheels.

• You see that little stick jutting out from the left side of your steering column? When you flick it up or down, lights on the front and back of your vehicle flash, indicating that you will be turning. I know that you've been advised of this little tidbit before, because, as a child, I heard my mother teach a similar lesson, using somewhat more colourful language.
  
  
• Right-of-way is your friend. It prevents accidents and keeps traffic flowing. Learn it, love it. By the way, just because you are turning left does not mean you have to wait for all of the other traffic at the four-way stop to clear out before going. Just sayin'.
  
  
• And while I appreciate your attempts to recreate your childhood dream of joining the circus as a tight-rope walker, I would appreciate it if you didn't straddle the white line into my lane while living out your imaginings. You use your lane; I'll use mine and we'll all get where we are going without my needing to hire the team from CSI to hunt you down through analysis of the paint transfer left behind after you side-swipe me in your ugly taupe car.
  
  
• If you can't park, you can't drive. I think this is reasonable. No matter how amazing you are at conducting your vehicle, if you can't manage to leave it somewhere in a sensible and respectful fashion, the fact that you can get it there is a moot point. I'm talking to you Mr.I-drive-a-GIANT-Hemi-powered-pickup-so-I-can-park-across-as-many-parking-spots-as-I-want. Those of us who had to drive around for approximately ten minutes in order to find a spot in the movie theatre parking lot salute you and your douchebaggery.
  
  
• Finally, you may be following too close if I can't see your headlights in my rearview mirror, but I can see you picking your nose, despite it being dark out.

Project 365 - January 30th & Catelogue of Izzy

This one needed its own post because there is a story that goes with it. As Isabel and I were driving to the grocery store, she piped up from the backseat:
Isabel: "I want to do elastics."
Me: "What honey?"
I: "I want to do elastics."
M: "I don't know what that means, hon."
I: "EEEEELASTICS! I want to do eeelastics. With the boy. The big boy."
M: (repeated what she said and looked in the rearview mirror to see her doing this...)

(I am completely boggled, so I repeat it again, at which time it dons on me what she is saying)
M: "WAIT! Are you saying you want to do GYMNASTICS?"
I: "Yeah!! Elastics! With the big boy!"
(I start laughing. The hand gesture is her trying to gesture "big" and by "big boy" she means the male coach who was instructing them at the school's field trip to gymnastics on Thursday.)

For the nervous nellies out there, I asked her to do the hand gesture again for me once we'd stopped in the parking lot...she is not riding around Fredericton without a seatbelt on.

Project 365 - January 28th & 29th

The kids and I turned a giant box into a playhouse. We then treated the playhouse like a clown car and jammed all three of us in it.

A weekend full of laundry :P

Project 365 - January 26th & 27th

The Wall - we bought a Super Yard in order to better contain Orin because is a wild and crazy baby.

My birthday card made by my girly *hearts*.

Tyger, tyger, burning bright....stick with mommy and I'll be alright.

Caveat - I read. A lot. This doesn't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me. Being a parent and a teacher, one of things I am reading the most about these days is parenting/teaching (there are many, many instances in both of my jobs where the two are indistinguishable from one another). Some of my most recent selections: Mayim Bialik's blog for TODAY, Raise Your Kids Without Raising Your Voice, Raising Cain: Protecting the Emotional Life of Boys, as well as many articles posted on PhD in Parenting and KellyMom.com. I also watched Babies yesterday, which was WONDERFUL. Some favourite reads from Isabel's babyhood are No Cry Sleep Solution, Happiest Baby on the Block and nearly anything by Dr. Sears.
When it comes to parenting, I've rarely said "I will never..." because that is often just an opportunity for failure. I've always had a vague idea of what I thought I wanted to do and be when it came to parenting though. Isabel was a handful because she is very sensitive and cautious and, in infancy, that was reflected in her fear of sleeping alone and her VERY strong desire to be held all the time. I had various people tell me that I was spoiling her and not doing her any favours. I was told that I needed to let her cry-it-out (the few times we tried it, when at my wits end, we ended up cleaning up vomit and - not fun for us and not fair to her, as far as I am concerned). I was told she'd NEVER sleep on her own, along with other such high quality advice.
It was at this time that I was incredibly thankful for my love of reading. I plowed through many books that came highly recommended by friend and foe alike. I held firmly to things that made sense, while still trying things that didn't necessarily. The thread through much of my reading that has resonated with me time and time again though is that babies follow their instinct and we, as a 21st century, "logical" society, find this inconvenient and frustrating. Oft times, this leads to extreme, sink-or-swim type measures, like crying it out.
How many courses have you taken where the teacher starts the course with the exam, giving you little assistance or insight into what is expected of you (and you are unable to deduce the expectations yourself)? What's more, you come back the next day and the exam is administered again. Next day? Same thing. And so on, until through trial and error, and exhaustion, you finally succeed. How much do you suppose you would learn from this experience? This is kind of how I see CIO (keeping in mind, I have tried it many times myself with both children with absolutely no success - possibly in part because I subscribe to Einstein's theory that "insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results"). I think that the frequency with which children who CIO in order to learn to fall asleep on their own regress supports my theory that there is little learning that happens with CIO.
When we learned to recognize and value the instinctive nature of our babies, life was easier for everyone. Babies don't know that they are being born into 21st century Canada. For all they know, they have entered 2nd century Asia in a forest infested with Saber-tooth Tigers. Would YOU sleep away from your tribe if there were a chance of being eaten by a tiger? Would YOU be okay with your tribe wandering away, leaving you alone in this same, potentially dangerous place (while they go make supper in the next hut, for instance)? Go camping in a place where there's a bear warning and let me know how you do ;) (I may use this analogy a little too regularly as, when an issue like this comes up in our house, I can just say the words "sabertooth tiger" and my husband knows what I mean).
In all seriousness though, babies have ONLY their instincts to go on. They have no reason or logic or life experience with which to dampen their fears. And until they can run at about 1 1/2 or 2 years old, they have no ability to act on their "fight or flight" instinct, which leaves them only one option: stick close to those who CAN do these things. What does this mean? Well, for us, it meant co-sleeping, baby-wearing, an untidy house, a little less time on our own (though, over the course of a lifetime, a drop in the bucket) and very happy and healthy babies who cried less and still learned to walk, talk and sleep on their own (or are at least starting, in the case of Orin).
The more I read and observe and experience with my own babies, the more I realise that a lot of the things that we were told we "had" to do in order to raise "well-adjusted" children, was mostly stuff people did to make their own lives easier. I am not saying this is wrong and I am a strong advocate for balance because without it, everyone will be unhappy, but I found a lot of success when we approached scenarios like sleeping and potty-training as teaching. This meant taking into account the readiness of the child, the lessons that needed to be taught in order for the skill to be mastered and that it would likely take time (just as we wouldn't expect a teenager to be able to perform the part of Hamlet after only three days, why would we expect a toddler to be able to use the potty in that amount of time?). Once again, my Education degree to the rescue ;)

Apologies to all my Literary-type friends who are offended by my butchering of Blake. Heh.

Project 365 - January 24th & 25th

Isabel and I were working in her workbook yesterday afternoon when we realised that we were going to be late for her dentist appointment if we didn't leave right that moment, so I woke Orin and away we went.

Isabel's class went on a field trip to a local gymnastics club's facilities where the kids were allowed to play on the equipment with instruction from a coach. They had oodles of fun and the coach was great with these little guys.

Project 365 - January 23rd

I spent about an hour today wracking my brain, the brains of my friends and the internet for some great songs from my childhood to put on the CDs that we are making as favours for Orin's birthday. This song is probably my all-time favourite; though Puff the Magic Dragon also holds a pretty special place in my heart. Both of those made the cut. Any other suggestions?

Project 365 - January 22nd

PHOTO JACKPOT!!!

Orin has discovered the joy of the cat door and throwing things down the stairs through it. As you may be able to tell, Slinky Dog was a recent victim of his attempts.

Dave donned the parka from 1976 in order to snowblow and shovel yesterday. This photo was taken well into the process. His expression hovers between a Mona Lisa smile and a dagger-filled stare.

Isabel helped with the shoveling, of course

Project 365 - January 21st

Hello, Winter! Finally decided to show up to the party, eh? Those are Dave's tracks from when he got home a few hours ago. We already had a few inches down, the roads were bad, the visibility was practically non-existence and any evidence that any of us had been out of the house at all today is slowly disappearing.

Project 365 - January 20th

The boy at bath time (Isabel has dance class Thursday evenings, so O gets the bath to himself).

Project 365 - January 18th & 19th

Getting my school stuff out of storage.

Orin trying out some toys at daycare during our visit today.

Project 365 - January 17th

I am prepping the paperwork for Orin to start daycare. So sad :(

Project 365 - January 16th

We went for a walk with our snazzy new wagon/sled.

BONUS PICTURE!!

The babes inside their new ride

Project 365 - January 15th

Dave makes himself into a human gate (keeping Orin in the play area) in order to "rest", using the box of toys as a pillow....desperate times call for desperate measures.

The Catalogue of Izzy - Issue #2

Isabel loves to sing. I was reminded of some of her hilarious rewrites of popular songs by this morning's gem:

"What do you want, Amy?" aka Adam Lambert's What do you want from me? (one of her teacher's names is Amy)

We have been having a hard time remembering some of the others, but the all-time favourite - it will likely go down in history as one of the things out of Isabel that has gotten the most laughs - is her rewrite of Lady Gaga's Bad Romance:
I want your lovin'
I just wanna be friends
You and me can make some badger pants
OooooOooooOoooOOO Oh Oh
Caught wearin' badger pants

She has no idea what a badger is, so I think she was just making stuff up, but I don't think I have laughed so hard as I did when we imagined "badger pants" (are these pants made for or made of badgers?).

I am sure there'll be another installment of "Isabel Sings", but this should amuse you for now.

Project 365 - January 14th

I introduced Isabel to Lego Indiana Jones yesterday and she went from not being able to control her guy at all to moving with purpose. She is pretty good for a 3-year old with about 1 hour of practice.

The Catalogue of Izzy - Issue #1

Orin's a baby.
When I was a baby, Gramma carried me.
When I'm big, I'll carry Gramma.

Project 365 - January 13th

"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio."

A 3-year old with a concept of personal space...who'd have thunk it?

A little anecdote from the catalogue that Isabel seems to be producing lately.

We were standing in line, waiting to sign her out of preschool on Tuesday. We were chatting with another mom and her daughter, my friend Shannon and her son and one of the teachers. The other little girl (M) has a crush on my friend's son (N). She asked her mom if she could hug him and her mom said that she could, after they'd signed out and she did. Then she approached Isabel for a hug. Izzy was talking to her teacher and standing kind of with her back to M. Isabel turned to speak to me and found herself about an inch from M, who had her arms splayed for a hug. Izzy jumped a little because she was surprised and immediately put her hands up and stepped back in order to reclaim her personal space. I didn't really expect this, mostly because no kids this age seem to have a concept yet of personal space. Isabel, for instance, spent the entire holiday climbing all over her grandpa, gramma and aunts, with absolutely no acknowledgment of their space, even after having been spoken to about it.
After Isabel assessed the situation, she approached M (who had kind of wandered back toward her mom) for a hug in a more respectful manner than I would have expected too (walked over, spread her arms and waited for M to come to her). Maybe she is getting the message very. very. slowly.

Project 365 - January 12th

Look at the snow fly beyond Toy Country.

Project 365 - January 11th

What? Do I have something on my head?

Slightly obsessive...

I am, that is. When I get it in my head that I love or want something, sometimes, I fixate so strongly on it that it becomes an obsession.

My newest one? My hair in my profile pic --------->

This was achieved by using a cone-shaped curling iron. I am obsessed with finding one now. Locally, they seem nearly impossible to find. I've found one on the internet: Le Angelique, but the reviews on it are only so-so and I know that because my hair is thick and heavy, I need an iron that will heat up quite hot.

Anyone else have any suggestions?

Truer words haven't been spoken...

"The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what others think or say or do. It is more important than appearance, giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company...a church...a home. The remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will embrace for that day. We cannot change our past...we cannot change the fact that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. And so it is with you...we are in charge of our attitudes."

~ Charles R. Swindoll

Project 365 - January 10th

This potty business is serious.

How my Education degree helped my parenting

I have had a few experiences lately, with my kids changing moment to moment it seems, that have hit home the importance of readiness when it comes to milestones and expectations.
I first learned about readiness in university. I learned about it within the context of teaching students - are they ready for the skills and information you are imparting to them? It made a great deal of sense to me within that context, but it never really dawned on me that it would be integral to parenting my babies and, subsequently, toddlers and preschoolers.
Isabel gave us a primer in readiness right out of the starting gate. She was, and still is, very sensitive and cautious. This meant that, as an infant, she wanted to be attached to someone (and preferably me) 24/7. We used our baby carrier more than the crib in the first year because she was worn the better part of the day and we co-slept. She was just NOT READY to sleep on her own at that time. I could go into the gory details of how she told us this, but I will save that for another post about sleep-deprivation and colic.
Gradually, starting around 6-months, she began to nap on her own more regularly. She was still in our bed, but given her firm resistance to mobility, her falling out wasn't an issue for quite some time yet.
By 10-months old, she was sleeping through the night in her crib, which was still attached to our bed and had naps in her bassinet in her room. We moved the crib into her room not long after this point and she's been fine since, depsite all the warnings that she'd be sleeping our bed through high school if we allowed her to sleep with us as an infant (is that not the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard, but I can't tell you how many people told us we were "starting bad habits" in a 2-month old).
Fast forward to Orin, this guy was a cuddler. The NICU nurses worried that they'd created a cuddler, but he was like that from the beginning. He was happier in someone's arms or next to a warm body. I'd seen this before, so it didn't faze me. I wasn't allowed to co-sleep in the hospital, but, given that he slept half the night in the arms of a nurse, I figured that once I got him home, he may need it for the transition.
Night one, I tried to lay down with him to nurse, figuring I'd get some shut-eye while he got some food. He was having none of that! He hollered and thrashed until I sat up and cradled him. When he was finished eating, I didn't want him to cry and wake Isabel if I put him in his crib, so I laid us both down for a snuggle and a snooze. No Sir! More wailing and thrashing until I put him in his crib, at which point he turned his head to the side and fell asleep.
Apparently, some higher power either thought I needed the lesson in readiness again or thought I got it well enough the first time that they figured they could safely throw me a curve ball. Whatever the reason, I got a kid with a whole different readiness level when it came to sleep.
My most recent lesson in readiness came this morning. If you don't want to read about baby poop (nothing gory, I promise), stop reading now.
Orin has been struggling with solid food poop. He cries and makes a big fuss about the whole thing. More troubling and messy is the fact that he has only been able/willing to poop a little bit in his diaper. We then think he is finished and start changing him, only to have him finish pooping in an open diaper, on the change table or, and this is my favourite one, into a towel after bath. Not fun.
In thinking about this, I wondered if he had reached the point where he didn't like poop on him. My understanding is that this is what fuels lots of kids in potty-training. I also suspect that the increased bulk of his diapers is playing a part in his discomfort while pooping in them. Imagine the average kid's diaper after sleeping in it all night - Orin's is like that after only 2 hours. Whatever his motivation, I decided that the next time he made a big show of pooping, I'd plunk him on the potty to see if this made things a little easier.
This morning, the opportunity presented itself and I went for it. Lo and behold, the boy pooped on the potty. Now, there was still a little drama, but there are tears no matter what, so it may just be part and parcel to his getting used to a non-liquid diet. Most importantly, this was tidier and faster than the previous incidents. If he's ready, I am too - bring on poop potty training. If it is a fluke, that's ok too, though I should note that it only seems fair that he should poop train early, given that my understanding is it will take about four years to pee train him. *lol*

Project 365 - January 9th

Isabel and I enjoying hot chocolate after a bit of sliding.

Project 365 - January 8th

Playing around with the multiple image filter that was amid the old camera equipment my mom dropped off over the holidays.

The Boy is Turning 1!

And all of our friend and family are invited to celebrate with us. Just drop us a line to let us know you are coming.

Project 365 - January 7th

Taking a picture of me taking a picture.

BONUS PICTURE!!

Christmas packed up and gone for another year.

Project 365 - January 6th

My newest candy addiction is peanut M&M's. I have been eating them nearly every evening off and on since September. The largest bag you can get here is 525g (18.5oz). When we went to the U.S. most recently, I was puttering around the the food section, looking for Dave's Twinkies and came across this beauty! 42oz!! More than TWICE AS MUCH M&M's for the same price!!! I am in heaven.

It Takes a Village to Raise a Child

Since the family left and after reading this article (about an experience I would give me left arm to have), I have had a few opportunities to ponder the truth in that statement.
As I've grown up, my thoughts on the definition of family have evolved. As a result of my parents divorce, I had a much different family than many of my peers. The nice thing about this was that I had more people to "choose from" for lack of a better term. I was a very sensitive kid and needed to be treated gently and with support - tough love didn't do a damn thing, but develop within me a sense of mistrust. Having some really great friends in my mom's circle and an aunt and uncle and cousin who took us in as though we were their own whenever necessary really benefited me at the time and long term, helped me to feel okay surrounding myself with supportive, kind people who genuinely care about me, rather than a huge group of fluff friends and acquaintances. This is how my village helped me.
The village that took up residence in my own home over the last month benefited my children as well. They are still quite small, so the benefit was less specific, but their needs were better fulfilled than I could ever manage on my own. They had lots of playmates, reading companions, cuddle-givers and general supervisors. The house was kept more orderly than it has been in months, despite the fact that logic dictates more people equals more mess. Most significant though was the fact that the children saw different people - different personalities, different problem-solving styles, different mannerisms. They heard conversation and jokes and human interaction which, with a small household, isn't in as great a supply and isn't nearly as dynamic. They heard stories and learned their family's history. I could go on and on, but suffice to say that I am now a firm believer in this philosophy and look forward to the next insurgence of villagers.

Project 365 - January 5th

Doesn't appear as though my boy is ready for a one nap per day routine.

"the law that muzzles the press"

I found out about this when I puttered over to piratebay.org and then read more about it in European newspapers. Apparently, Hungarian law-makers passed some pretty harsh legislature just before Christmas that intends to regulate everything from TV and print news to blogs. It sounds like something straight out of the Soviet Union that they defended so voraciously against in the Cold War years, so it is a little surprising and upsetting. Therefore:


Add it to your site:

<a href="http://blackout4hungary.net/" title="we support the blackout 4 hungary.net campaign for a free internet"><img src="http://blackout4hungary.net/en/blackout-052x052.gif" alt="we support the blackout 4 hungary.net campaign for a free internet" /></a><br/>

Project 365 - January 4th

Looking like a GAP ad for hoodies

BONUS PHOTO!

Fun with Photobooth

Project 365 - January 3rd

The girly posing with her family in horses. The big brown horse is Daddy, the small one is Orin, the large unicorn is Mummy, the small one is Isabel, the large grey horse is grampa, the crazy haired zebra is gramma and the two smaller zebras are Courtney and Sarah (from L-R). What a kid!

Project 365 - January 2nd

We lowered the boy's mattress today.

Holiday Rundown

December was a wild ride with lots of events, guests, food, festivities and fun! If we play the numbers game, this is how the month would look:

• 11 human guests, the longest stay was 28 days and the shortest was 2 hours
  
• 6 furry guests, same visit lengths as their human counterparts
  
• A handful of "disagreements" between furry friends - only a couple resulted in flying fur
  
• 3 trips to the vet, one of which had us taking Ivy to a dignified and graceful exit from this world
  
• 2 days of heat pump installation by a really professional company - they were a pleasure to work with (Degree Technologies)
  
• 3 batches of shortbread
  
• 3 doctor appointments, all with SHINING reviews
  
• 2 performances by a little lady (dance class recital and preschool Christmas concert)
  
• 1 GoogleChat in which the soon-to-be new in laws were introduced
  
• 3 nights of Shadows Over Camelot (I was a successful traitor 2 of the 3 :D)
  
• SO MUCH good food, including a huge turkey dinner and a few nights of delectable cheese.....there was other finger food too, but mostly cheese ;)
  
• 3 delicious breakfasts
  
• 3 cans of Awesome
  
• Innumerable thoughtful gifts, including, but not limited to, my mother-in-law's helping with the housework in a huge way, my sister-in-law's leaving me her much-coveted circle scarf, my new MacBook Pro from my dear husband and my son's showing me just how healthy he is and convincing me he will be fine when I go back to work :)
  
• 7 inches of snow AFTER our green Christmas
  
• 1 3-year old who is absolutely smitten with her grandparents, aunts and uncle
  
• 3 indoor/outdoor cats who are likely just recovering from a serious bout of cabin fever
  
• 1 visit from Santa that injected a bit of magic into all of our lives
  
• Many nights of unbathed, over-tired children - all of which were worth it to be able to share the holiday with our families :)
  
• 3 sliding afternoons, followed closely by hot chocolate, of course
  
• 1 very handsome Christmas tree (good call, honey!)
  
• 1 batch of peanut butter balls
  
• 1 viewing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (SO glad to have seen this - thanks mother-in-law!)
  
• Over 200 photographs of everything from Cricut crafts to cookies, from my first baby performing on a stage for the first time to my second baby standing on his own
  
• More than I can count craft projects from school, daycare and home
  
• 7 Christmas specials from my childhood that have now been introduced to my little girl
  
• 1 seriously fast bum scooter who kept us all on our toes (the boy can cover the length of the living room in about 10 seconds)
  
• 4 batches of chocolate chip cookies
  
• 38 Christmas cards sent to loved ones near and far
  
• 6 blog posts
  
• Dozens of repetitions of "the hippopotamus song".
  
• 1 tooth NEARLY cut through the gum (it has been bulging and causing symptoms for a few weeks now
  
• 7 people with sniffly noses or fevers thanks to some crappy little flu bugs and allergies
  
• 1 last minute road-trip to the US to pick up a few things
  
• Many hours spent alternating between a pink princess dress with high heels and nudity by our little furnace girl

That about covers it. If I think of anything else, I'll write an update :)

UPDATE (thanks to Dave)

• A tableful of candy
  
• An unknown number of illicitly acquired jellybeans
  
• Thousands of Santa sparkles in the house and yard
  
• 2 runs with the snowblower to clean out the driveway (and my friend still had to park practically on the road when she and her daughter came sliding)
  
• ~70lb of cat litter
  
• 11 silly hats, 6 racing penguins and, inevitably, a few missing cracker prizes

UPDATE (via Courtney in the comments)

• about 15 trips down the stairs to lug Lily the wanna be cat-ambassador out of the basement
  
• 25 Tassimo Coffee disks
  
• Lots. And lots. of Tea.

Project 365 - January 1st

Do you feel like you are experiencing deja vu? Those who've been with me from the beginning will remember that this is how this blog began, but with the chaos surrounding Orin's birth, I sort of fell off the wagon. Well, I've recommitted to the project because I am really interested in seeing what will come of it.
Here's today's:

Our furry guests all packed up to head home.

More from the Creative Mind of an Unemployed Educator

Not for long, admittedly...I am back to work on January 31st, but until then, you lucky folks get to endure the absurd things that my mind puts out there.
Last night, we watched the first two episodes in a British mini-series called Misfits , which is about a group of young offenders who acquire super powers as result of being caught in a very curious storm.
This morning, at breakfast, my father-in-law handed me the pancakes in such a fashion that demonstrated his amazing thumb strength (his hand was upside down in comparison to how most of us would have picked it up, resulting in his thumb being on the bottom of the plate and taking the better part of the weight). When I commented on this, making light of it, the others chimed in with comments about his "super strength." This fleshed out in my mind to a "superpower." Not only are his thumbs superstrong, but they also summon people from miles around. People are uncontrollably drawn in his direction as soon as he sticks out his thumb in order to hitchhike. Really a very useful superpower....for a hobo.

Reflection

I have been thinking a lot lately about 2010 and the wild ride it has been. I have been thinking about how it has been both wonderful and terrible. I have been thinking about how lucky we are and how grateful I am to so many. I want to reflect on this a little here as the final hours of 2010 tick away.
Our families have been invaluable over the course of this journey. When we needed them, they jumped in and did what was asked without question. Our mothers took over our household while I was in the hospital - my mother-in-law was here for nearly six weeks. They dropped their own lives to help us with ours and things would have been absolute chaos without that.
Our friends, both near and far, have offered help whenever possible and have understood when I didn't have the time, energy or, in the case of the early days, wherewithal to be a good friend myself. I am sorry for my seeming laziness when it comes to our friendships and I promise that, as things calm down (which they already are) and I start getting more sleep (not really on the horizon yet), I will rekindle our relationships.
My babies have been so incredibly tolerant. I have not been the parent I want to be in recent months. This is changing on a daily basis, but I appreciate that the little people in my life are understanding and patient.
The hospital staff, the NICU nurses and our doctors (both on-site and at the IWK) have been SO supportive. I have tried dozens of times to write a letter, expressing my gratitude, but I can never find the right words. I am aware that my living in the NICU was unorthodox and I imagine that it was not ideal for the nurses who work there. They went out of their way to not only get my son healthy, but also to keep me well-fed, well-rested (as can be expected) and emotionally-well. Their dedication to us and to all of the families who passed through their sanctuary was inspiring and we will never forget it. Everyone else, from the doctors to the toll-booth attendants (who never commented on my tears and made a point of making me laugh whenever possible) made an impact on me.
My husband is second to none. Relationships have been strained to the point of breaking by lesser stressors than we've experienced and somehow, we are still here. I have seen sides of him that I didn't even know existed over the course of the past year. He has done his best to calm me when I was pulling my own hair out over Orin's health, my own lack of sleep, Isabel's behaviour or the state of the house. He has taken on huge responsibility in our household due to my simply being unable to manage as much as I once could. He has taken on the challenges we've faced with strength and grace and he has helped me to do the same. I am eternally grateful to have such a teammate in parenting and partner in life.

Santa Claus on the Brain

I'll be honest, I've been thinking a lot about a man other than my husband lately. A man who finds me funny (or at the very least, he belly laughs at nearly everything), has good taste in colours (red and green are my second favourite colours) and has a sweet tooth nearly as large as mine - as evidenced by all the cookies he eats over the course of Christmas Eve.
Yes, I am talking about Santa. Isabel is at the age where she is really starting to "get" Christmas and Santa and is developing that sense of wonder that encapsulates childhood as we all remember it. She is not keen to sit on the knee of a stranger - no matter how jovial or how many treats he is willing to hand over. But she understands that a magical man will be coming on Christmas Eve while she is sleeping and will be leaving us all gifts. She knows about Santa's reindeer and his elves. She knows that he likes cookies and that his deer like carrots. She's got the gist of it. As a result, we've decided to go whole hog with the Santa gig this year. We have seen Santa at the mall. We've written him and received a letter back. We've received a video email from him. We will be following him via NORAD on Christmas Eve and we will be leaving the requisite treats by the tree before going to bed.
After the children have gone to bed, the real magic will happen. Isabel has asked for such simple gifts - a pair of pyjama pants because the ones she loves are too small and an electric toothbrush (which she calls a "big toothbrush") because hers broke. She will be getting both of these items and I've put the bug in her ear that she might like a Jessie costume so that the chest of costumes will be absolutely amazing in her mind. We will be leaving a trail of sparkles throughout the house and yard where Santa will have walked. We are making sled tracks in the snow in the front yard and her stocking will be moved from the spot it is hanging on the bookshelf to her doorknob. I've no doubt that this will 100% solidify in her mind that Santa is indeed real and did, in fact, visit our home. My hope is that it will ignite a spark in her imagination so strong that it will take years of non-believers to squelch it.
Why, then, do I still have Santa on the brain, you ask? Because I have begun noticing that around every corner there are people either actively or inadvertently doing things to foil my plan. Why, in heavens name, do companies feel the need to allude or flat out state Santa's being a myth in their advertisements? Why do shows, aimed at children, talk about Santa in such a grown up way (the fact that he is the spirit of giving in all of us, for example)? And why do parents who choose not to practice "Santa" not also teach their children tact and respect for the beliefs of others, thus keeping them from unceremoniously taking away a beautiful part of childhood that other parents have created for their children?
This blog post actually angered me with its condescending tone and disrespect for the innocence and wonder of childhood. He makes a lot of assumptions too (like the emotions he attributes to every child who learns the truth about Santa - smugness and superiority) and sweeping generalizations never sit well with me. He lost me entirely though when he scoffed so entirely at "invocations of magic or mystery." Yet another conceited, middle-aged man who thinks that because he cannot sense it, it obviously isn't real and is therefore worthless. I think this, in a nutshell, is why I can never identify as an atheist. While I don't believe in anything in particular, I certainly can't say that I believe in nothingness either. I can't say that his theories are all bad because I do appreciate the value in teaching children problem solving skills and honing their questioning by turning their questions about Santa Claus back on them, but to say that belief in Santa is just evidence as to "how completely we all can snow ourselves if the enticements are attractive enough" suggests to me that he and I see Santa VERY differently. With that in mind, I am going to close the tab containing this man's blog and tell you about my Santa.
I was a full-on believer in Santa until the ripe old age of 8, if I had to estimate. It was around then that I either started to question myself or could no longer ignore the signs around me that suggested there may be more to the story.
For lack of a better description, I stored away Santa-related information until I was about 10, gradually realising that there may not have been a dude in a red suit sliding down my chimney, but still not willing to let go of the magic yet. Unfortunately, Santa as I knew him ceased to exist rather suddenly around this time and it was entirely of my own doing. (Mom: Turn away now if you don't want to learn that I was, in fact, not perfect ;) )
All of my peers snooped and bragged about their finds. They had for a couple of years at this point, but I had steadfastly refused, partially because I didn't want to get into trouble, partially because I didn't want to ruin surprises and partially because I was afraid of what I might discover. Well, in a moment of weakness, I rummaged lightly in my mother's closet, making a half-hearted attempt at snooping, sure she had hidden things well. With a light tossing of some clothes, I found a Wheel of Fortune board game. I was IMMEDIATELY remorseful and regretful and disappointed in myself. I covered it back up and bolted. For the weeks leading up to Christmas, I prayed to whatever deity would listen that the game not be from Santa, but it was not meant to be. On Christmas morning, the game was labeled from Santa and the whole thing was shattered. You may think that I would be angry at my parents or feel betrayed, but mostly I was just disappointed in myself. I had ruined Santa for myself.
The next Christmas, I held my breath for what was sure to be the worst Christmas possible - a Santa-less Christmas. To my surprise though, the disappearance of Santa didn't ruin Christmas at all. As a matter of fact, Santa was still there, in my heart. He was made up of all of the things I loved about Christmas - the tree, the music, the baking, the family - the magic. This new Santa warmed my heart just as much as the old Santa had, so it was easy to keep believing for the sake of my little sister and my family and even myself.
Since then, Santa has grown to include the joy of giving and the compassion and goodwill toward others that come with maturity. There is a little bit of Santa in all of us. I am hoping that we, as a society, don't forget, or heaven forbid, become scornful or dismissive of it.

"Becoming a mom made me a better person."

This is something that lots of people say. Lately, I have been reflecting on just how true that is for me.
Isabel made me a better person in the traditional ways - I became more patient, my understanding and compassion increased, my appreciation for the little things and that special view of the world that only children have was rekindled. I was bettered simply by becoming a parent.
Orin bettered me because I became *his* parent. Firstly, I am better at taking help from others. This is something I really struggled with - I was independent to a fault. I had no choice but to take help from our parents in the form of childcare and from various friends in the form of visits and general support. Most notable though was the help from the nurses at the NICU, the willingness to allow me into their space to care for my own child in the way I wanted. I know that my staying there long-term and being so involved in Orin's care and the nurses being so involved taking care of me was unorthodox. I don't think they will ever know just how much I appreciated their allowing this to happen. I am sure that, not only our short-term family dynamic, but also the long-term one benefited from my closeness with Orin as a newborn.
The other major change to me as a person is the increase in confidence. I have always had strong beliefs and, as a rule, would voice them when I thought it appropriate or important. However, there were still people with whom I "didn't want to argue" or with whom I felt less confident in my opinions (people I felt were smarter than me). My experience with Orin has reignited my confidence in my own opinions and beliefs and intelligence. I am a large factor in Orin's being as healthy and happy as he is. I made major decisions on his behalf, sometimes with less support than I should have had, and not only has he continued at the status quo, but he has thrived and surpassed expectations. I consider that a notch in my belt.

The Case of the Missing Sophie or The Steel Trap Strikes Again

This is a story from way back. There was Halloween stuff in the stores, to give you some perspective. We were walking into Walmart. Orin was in the child seat of the cart and Isabel was in the cart itself. She knows she is supposed to sit, so when she stood up and started flailing her hands and talking a mile a minute, I stopped the cart. I told her to sit down, doing that terrible parent thing that so many of us do where we tune out the kids in order to make our message heard.
She didn't sit, despite my repeated directions to do so, so I asked her what had her so wound up. She pointed at a shelf to our left and started talking about a giraffe and "some kid". I couldn't see what she was talking about at first, but after a second a small white hoof caught my eye from under the shelf. It turned out to be Sophie the Giraffe. "Some kid" had dropped Sophie and lost her and "was sad without their Sophie." She knows that Orin likes his Sophie and was SO upset about this child being without their beloved Sophie.
I calmed her down enough to suggest that she take Sophie to the customer service desk where they had a lost and found and where the child and his or her parents could find her. This seemed to appease her, so that is what we did. She was very serious as she told the customer service associate that "some kid lost their Sophie and they should be sad without her." The associate wasn't entirely sure what to make of this, so I explained that Sophie was the giraffe's name and how much her brother liked his.
Why am I telling you this story? Well, in spite of her not having mentioned it since about a week after the incident, she started talking about it as though it were yesterday as she picked up our Sophie to put her away this morning.

Giggles!

Rather suddenly, Orin has started giggling at every slightly humourous thing. He is actively playing with us and laughing about the silliness that ensues.
For example, at supper, the game of the day is "drop the sippy cup on the floor over and over and over again and watch the nearest adult retrieve it every time." Well, I tried to stop one dropping before the cup hit the floor by catching it just as he dropped it. He caught onto this element of the game quite quickly and starting making like he was going to drop it, but kept hold of it and laughed hysterically when I grabbed the other side of the cup. Then I had a tug-of-war on my hands and this too incited uncontrollable giggles.
After bath, a similar scene played out. Dave pulled Orin out of the tub and placed him on his towel. As he was handing him off to me, Orin threw his had backward and laughed a belly laugh like no other I have heard. Apparently, this was so fun that it had to be repeated several more times before I finally had to rain on his parade and actually get him dressed for bed.
As I laid him down to dry and dress him, he got a little surly because I was ruining his fun and he hates this portion of bath time on a regular day. If he is kept distracted though, he can usually be kept from falling to absolute bits. In an effort to distract him, I started talking...I was telling a story. This is the nonsense I came up with and which drew Dave from the bathroom to give me an eye roll.

THIS JUST IN! The babies of the world, on this odd day in December, have all become rather giggly, rather suddenly. There is no rhyme or reason to the occurrence. They have just become silly or seem to appreciate the silliness of the world much more readily. To help us understand this strange happening, we have baby expert, Dr Flugalheimer.

[in my best Freudian/Schwarzenegger-esque accent]"Eet vood seem zee babies 'af all been abducted by zee aliens. Zee aliens 'af put zee radio transmitters in zee babies' brains and zee babies' laughter is transmitting zee informassssion collected to zeir new masters. Eet ees only a matter of time before zee aliens come to earssss to keednap us ohlll and take ohfer zee planet."

Well! That sounds terrible! Thank you so much for your time Dr Flugalheimer.

[insert accent]"Vee don't 'av time for your silly formalities, you fool! Run from zee babies, for zee luhf uhf Got!"

It did the trick...there was little crying, but I may have just confirmed that I need to get out more.

A Childhood Memory - Shattered.

I've been on a kick over the last week. I've been downloading all of my favourite Christmas specials and movies. Izzy and I have been watching them together. Today's lineup - ALF Christmas special, The Peanuts and A Very Brady Christmas. I remembered that ALF had a penchant for cats as cuisine and the running "meat" jokes with regard to Alice on the Brady Bunch, but I figured both would go over Isabel's head.
With no obvious need to sensor, I plunked us both down after Orin went for his nap. The Brady Bunch was up first. In the first 5 minutes, Mrs. Brady's behaviour kind of made me a little embarrassed as she chased Mr. Brady around the house begging and sulking like a small child because he wouldn't tell her about his gift to her. After Alice arrived (having been dumped by her beau - the butcher), there was a conversation with regard to Mr. Brady's desired breakfast. Mrs. Brady chastized Alice for offering to make it because she didn't work for them anymore and bragged about how she'd taken over all of Alice's duties when she left. Then the Mrs proceeded to make an elaborate bacon and eggs breakfast, while Mr sat on his duff and then bustled out the door with no more than a glass of orange juice in her so she wasn't late for work. I knew that this was all stuff that Isabel was missing, but the red flags were up. And good thing they were. Fast forward a bit and we find Peter chatting with his boss about his holiday plans. We come to understand that they are dating and he is unhappy with the fact that she is higher up in the company than him. When asked "would you be happier if I had a desk out there and you had one in here?", Peter responded with an earnest "yes", not because he wanted to be the boss, but evidently because he was uncomfortable with his girlfriend having a higher up job than him. I started to outwardly scowl at this point, but actually shut off the TV when she seductively plunked herself on his lap and told him, "Nine to five, I'm the boss, but five to nine..." and he perked up, "I am." I nearly barfed. Now, I am just sad that something I remembered so fondly has been marred by the grossness my grown-up-self recognizes in it.

My Cricut is My Enabler

I am a creative person. I like to make things. I like to see pieces come together into a whole, especially when it can be enjoyed by others. I hesitate to say that I am crafty because that has a connotation that feels too kitschy for me. I am not keen on wreaths or swags of dead branches strapped together with an elaborate bow or smiling geese with large gingham bows tied around their necks, hanging out in my kitchen for no particular reason. So I say I am creative.
I have been eying the Cricut cutting machine for a few years now. I can't draw or write neatly enough to do my own lettering on my creations and stickers are horrendously expensive, so I've been limiting myself in the way of the types of projects I take on because they will inevitably disappoint due to my bunging them up or them costing more than I am willing to dish out. The Cricut would solve this problem. Admittedly, the cartridges are expensive, but I figured that if I limited myself to 2-3 fonts and bought them online, it shouldn't be too bad.
One day, I discovered software that would allow me to connect my Cricut to my computer and use whatever fonts my little heart desired. Brilliant! For the cost of one cartridge, I had just eliminated the primary drawback to the machine. And yet, I hemmed and hawed.
One day, I brought up how it would help me do a cool project that a friend had made and Dave sighed, "just buy it already!" That's all it took. I spied one on eBay for a fraction of the cost it would be to purchase locally or through many established retailers and I snapped it up.
Since then, I have been a veritable machine! I've made cards, dress-up dolls for Isabel and my two big projects:
A menu board


and an Advent calendar


When Dave came home to find me working on the menu board, he smiled, shook his head and said "it has become your enabler." I suppose he is right.

Martha Stewart, look out!

The quest for lower-sodium foods

It is not a mystery that the dependency of North Americans on sodium for flavouring has gotten way out of hand. You can find lots of low-sodium versions of products that people know to have high levels of sodium (i.e. soy sauce, condensed soup). The problem comes in the form of foods that aren't known to have high levels of sodium, but are sneaking it in there all the same and the items which have dramatically varied levels of sodium, depending upon the brand. My trips to the grocery store are entirely different than they were about 5-years ago and even differ from what they were a year ago. I spend half my trip reading labels and what I have discovered is shocking.
In the deli department, I was looking at cheese. It is "common knowledge" that cheese is high in sodium (my husband has a clip of Mike Rowe, of Dirty Jobs fame, sprinkling a huge quantity of salt into a vat in which he was making cheese). My comparison revealed that the sodium content in cheese (I looked at feta, cheddar and gouda) can range between 140mg and 650mg per 30g serving. One might assume that the lower number is a "low-sodium" product. Not so. Baby Bel Gouda rounds (the ones wrapped in the red wax) have 135mg/20g serving. The feta was where I found the most variation - 290mg/30g serving and 650mg/30g serving.
On to the bakery where bread truly boggled my mind. I have never tasted a "salty" piece of bread and yet many of the commercially produced loaves of bread had more sodium that one of the pieces of cheese listed above. We buy whole wheat bread, which, ironic as it sounds, has higher sodium content on average than white bread. The "low-sodium", "healthy" bread contained 165mg of sodium/slice (note that this more than one whole Baby Bel). The bread we used to buy all the time has 450mg/slice!! I was blown away. How had I not noticed this. How had I been feeding my daughter 900mg of sodium (for a child her age, nearly 100% of her recommend daily sodium intake!) at one meal? And that doesn't even include the sandwich filling.
From here, we move to the cereal aisle. I spent a lot of time in this aisle because Orin's favourite food is Cheerios. He would eat an entire bowlful if given the opportunity. I was hoping to find something with no sodium at all (I mean, who has ever had salty cereal, so it must be possible, right?) or at least something lower in sodium than the 210mg/cup in Cheerios. Much to my surprise, this was one of the better options overall with regard to both sodium and sugar content - it beat out both the store brand and the "organic" brand for lower sodium. The moment you could have knocked me over with a feather though was when I read the Shreddies box. The summary - you would be better off eating frosted Mini-Wheats than Shreddies! I am sure you are surprised - I can tell you that I was. Take a look:

In a larger serving size, Mini-Wheats (on the right) has 10 more calories, the same amount of fat and a smigeon more carbs (made up in the extra 2g of sugar, I suspect). The sodium is where the rubber hits the road for us, of course, and the difference blew me away - Shreddies: 310mg and Mini-Wheats: 0mg. Shreddies has the most sodium by far than anything else in our cupboard (6 different types of cereal). When you consider the fact that I put brown sugar on Shreddies when I eat them, I am sure that makes up the difference in the carbs, meaning that it is likely better for me to consume Mini-Wheats at brekkie than Shreddies. I would never have guessed that. The more you know...

"...a society in which there will be no roles other than those chosen or those earned..."

"That's for boys." These three words have created a lump in throat and a fire in my heart. Why, you ask? Because they came from my 3-year old daughter's mouth with regard to toy dinosaurs. Still seems pretty benign, right? Not to me. To me, it represents a huge problem with the beliefs with which we are allowing our daughters to grow up. It represents something I have and will continue to fight tooth and nail against because my daughter deserves better. Allow me to explain.
Isabel loved her dinosaur flashlight and to talk about dinosaurs (even though she also claimed they were scaring her as she fell asleep in her dark room). On her Thanksgiving project from school was written "I am thankful for dinosaurs." She seemed to really enjoy playing with the dinosaurs at her school. The few times we've watched Dinosaur Train, she was enthralled by it and talked endlessly about it for days afterward. So for Isabel to tell me, "I no like dinosaurs. That's for boys." breaks my heart. When I asked Isabel why she thought that, she told me that one of the little girls at her preschool told her that she wouldn't play with the dinosaurs with Isabel because dinosaurs are for boys. This little girl didn't just come up with that rule, so she must have heard it somewhere. Not surprising since there are no shortage of widely perpetuated, unfounded and pigeon-holing gender-biased rules out there. I've described just a few below.
Purple - it's (not) just for girls anymore: Orin has a hand-me-down generic fleece sleeper that is various shades of purple and adorned with snowmen. I can't tell you how many times I've heard, "Look honey, the baby's wearing purple so you can tell she's a girl." Not to mention today, a mom flat out told her daughter that the reason one of the boys wasn't wearing purple today (that was the colour of the day) was because "purple is more of a girl colour." Seriously? WTF? Is it not enough that we've made camps of pink and blue, but now we are segregating purple too?
99 Princesses in Pink on the Floor, 99 Princesses in Pink...: At the school's Halloween party, in a class containing 9 girls, all but 2 were princesses (except one who was a "witch princess..."). Isabel was a dragon (see the photos of Halloween to see our AWESOME family costume) and another little girl was a cowgirl (she loves Jessie too, as it turns out). Now, I don't care what other people do with their kids, but my problem came in that when photos were taken, the two odd-girls-out were grouped with the boys and the "princesses" all had their photo taken together. Talk about setting the kids up to see what those two girls SHOULD have dressed as in order to be "girls."
"I'm sorry ma'am...we no longer carry the original red Etch-a-Sketch because we felt it was outdated and too gender neutral.": Alright, you got me. The Toys R Us employee didn't actually say that, but the gist of the statement is accurate. When I went looking for a regular ol' Etch-a-Sketch, all I could find was the pink and blue versions and the mini-version. There wasn't even a home for the original red one. When I asked the employee if they had it somewhere in the store, he said that they hadn't had it in the store in quite a while, "but here's a pink one for her" (pointing at Orin in his purple sleeper *palmface*).
I could go on, but long story short, I feel strongly that we are doing our children (boys and girls, alike) a disservice by sending and perpetuating these messages. Today, it is just nonsense about colours and Halloween costumes, but I worry that tomorrow, it will mean that Isabel will choose to be a teacher (if you know me, you know I have nothing against teachers ;), but fully admit that it is a role typically thought of as female) instead of a paleontologist because that is what she thinks/thought was expected of her. I worry my son will choose hockey instead of ballet because "dance is for girls" and most of all, I worry that my kids will somehow come to feel inadequate or weird because they don't fit the norm. Our kids deserve better.

The Bucket List

Inspired by my friend wildmudturtle's post about her 40 Before 40, I am going to post my Bucket List. It was a 40 Before 40 until very recently, but it started to get big and unwieldy, so I decided to tweak the list and make it a Bucket List. It also seemed sensible since, at nearly 32, I have two very small children and expect to be dedicating a lot of my 30s to raising them and doing family things (not to the exclusion of doing things for me, but I think balanced moms understand what I mean). Without further ado, here's an edited version of my list. Why edited, you ask? Because a few things are a little too private to be shared with the whole of the interwebz. ;) That said, there were only a couple removed and the bolded ones are ones I've completed. Enjoy :)

♦ Get Master’s
♦ Choose a topic and seriously consider PhD
♦ See the pyramids
♦ Tour Europe by train with the kids as teenagers
♦ See Auschwitz
♦ Look into requirements for becoming a lactation consultant or baby-wearing educator
♦ Relax on a terrace in Florence, Italy with a cup of cappuccino and some pastry
♦ Camp through the Rocky Mountains
♦ Roadtrip across Canada
♦ Go to NYC with girlfriends
♦ Go to Disney World
♦ Learn to play violin/fiddle
♦ Learn to speak Mandarin Chinese
♦ Perform a non-chorus role in a musical production
♦ Learn to run and run a 1/2 marathon
♦ Scuba dive in the Great Barrier Reef
♦ Go skydiving
♦ Make a piece of clothing
♦ Go whale watching
♦ Learn a style of Latin dance
♦ Make a pie from scratch
♦ Keep a saltwater fish tank
♦ Have a Nova Scotia Duck Toller
♦ Learn to ski
♦ Get phoenix tattoo
♦ Go horseback riding
♦ Take the kids scavenging for fossils in Pugwash
♦ Participate in the Amazing Race (or something similar)
♦ Own one really nice dress or suit
♦ Get my driver’s license
♦ Get jaw surgery & braces (in progress)
♦ Design a distance education course in Advanced Literature (Children’s or WWII)
♦ Try a year or two in a district/department position
♦ Write an short story and have it published
♦ Build a Habitat for Humanity house
♦ Take a photography course
♦ Have a hedgehog
♦ Drive a convertible roadster
♦ Go White water rafting
♦ Shop at a bazaar in a foreign country

A Mind Like Both a Steel Trap and a Sieve

How is it that Isabel can't remember what she ate for snack at preschool half an hour before I pick her up or why she received a time out (after having been informed at the onset), but the girl randomly interjects about her grandmother's forgotten socks (last discussed a month ago, at least)? I honestly don't understand it. It baffles me.

Most recently, she mentioned to Dave, entirely out of the blue, that "mommy slide down the stairs long time ago." This fall hasn't come up in months...probably since around the time Orin was born. The really eerie part of this - she brought it up on the 1-year anniversary of the fall.

Slippin' through my fingers all the time..

I can't believe that it has been over a month since I blogged. It has just been a matter of hanging on for dear life. I am so desperately trying to hold onto time as it slips away - my maternity leave, in particular, is slipping away. I am going back on January 31st and, given the whirlwind that always accompanies the holidays, I know that date is approaching like a fast-moving train. For the record, I am really hoping for a lottery win to make leaving my babies with someone else a moot point.

In the meantime, we have had so much fun that I don't even know where to begin. My family came up for Thanksgiving for a visit and some good food. We've been to The Country Pumpkin a few times to indulge in the local produce, feed the animals and take pictures with pumpkins:



We went bowling - Isabel's first time. She had a GREAT time!


Dave and I went to David Usher in concert:



Then there was Halloween!




Most recently, Orin and I went with my friend Amanda on a shopping trip to the US for a weekend. Nice trip, great deals - we had a wonderful time and made a real dent in my Christmas shopping.