"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio."
4 months ago
Thursday, January 13, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
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?
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?
Monday, January 10, 2011
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
~ Charles R. Swindoll
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*
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*
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Saturday, January 8, 2011
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.
Friday, January 7, 2011
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.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
"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:
Add it to your site:
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Monday, January 3, 2011
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!
Sunday, January 2, 2011
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:
That about covers it. If I think of anything else, I'll write an update :)
UPDATE (thanks to Dave)
UPDATE (via Courtney in the comments)
- 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.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
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:
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.
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.
Friday, December 31, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, December 20, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
"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.
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.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, November 29, 2010
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!
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...
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...
Thursday, November 25, 2010
"...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.
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.
Friday, November 19, 2010
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
♦ 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
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, November 12, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Kijiji-tastic!
I decided it was time to downsize dramatically. I had a bunch of baby stuff (mostly Isabel's old clothes and shoes) that I wanted to sell. We found some household stuff while we unpacked the last few boxes that ha been left in the basement when we moved in and I have realised just sitting here on the couch, looking around, that there are a few more things we could get rid of.
Last night, in kid stuff alone, I listed more than $300 worth of stuff (selling price, not cost...eeks!) I have another $100+ in kid clothes to list, some books, adult clothes (my maternity clothes should bring a pretty penny) and a few householdy type things. I am hoping to pay off my Cricut and have a little left over for more crafty tools and materials.
Kijiji has honestly saved my life and pocketbook as a parent. Between buying stuff for cheap and being able to sell stuff for about 50% of retail, I can't tell you just how much I have saved.
Last night, in kid stuff alone, I listed more than $300 worth of stuff (selling price, not cost...eeks!) I have another $100+ in kid clothes to list, some books, adult clothes (my maternity clothes should bring a pretty penny) and a few householdy type things. I am hoping to pay off my Cricut and have a little left over for more crafty tools and materials.
Kijiji has honestly saved my life and pocketbook as a parent. Between buying stuff for cheap and being able to sell stuff for about 50% of retail, I can't tell you just how much I have saved.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Huge, Gigantic, Magnificent News
The NG tube is gone! It has been 10 days since it was removed and he is doing great! We are struggling to re-establish the complicated dance between keeping him hydrated with water and keeping him gaining weight with milk, but that will come. Here's my beautiful boy in his entirety.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Medication time at the nursing home...
That is how mealtimes have felt around here since Isabel and I have been on antibiotics for our chest infections. Let me give you the run down:
Breakfast
Me
Isabel
Orin
Lunch
Me
Isabel
Orin
Supper
Me
Isabel
Orin
Heck, I am even feeding one of the people on this list mush...the similarities are eerie.
Breakfast
Me
- Multivitamin
- Vitamin C x2
- Vitamin D x2
- Fenugreek x4
- Blessed Thistle x3
- Antibiotic
Isabel
- Multivitamin
- Vitamin C
- Vitamin D
- 4ml Amoxil
Orin
- 100ml water with shot of .33ml of NaCl
Lunch
Me
- Antibiotic
- Fenugreek x4
- Blessed Thistle x3
Isabel
- 4ml Amoxil
Orin
- 100ml water with shot of .33ml of NaCl
- 1.4ml HCTZ
- 1.4ml Amiloride
Supper
Me
- Antibiotic
- Fenugreek x4
- Blessed Thistle x3
Isabel
- 4ml Amoxil
Orin
- 100ml water with shot of .33ml of NaCl
Heck, I am even feeding one of the people on this list mush...the similarities are eerie.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
An update...
Lately, it has just been a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. We have been up to our ears in stuff, but it is nice to feel like we are doing things.
Isabel has started both swimming lessons and preschool and *loves* both.
She has a ball at swimming and while she isn't the best at staying focused when not receiving direct instruction (the first day, she got up and headed toward the water slide, telling the instructor "I be right back." when she was called back to the group), she is doing so incredibly well. Little fish in the making.
Preschool is also going well. She comes home with elaborate stories every morning (she attends Tuesday and Thursday mornings). I knew this would be a great place for her - she needs more stimulation and challenge that I can offer right now with Orin being a little high maintenance and she gets it here.
This week, she will be starting tap class. She is ridiculously excited about this and, to be honest, so am I. I am sure she will enjoy herself and be cute as a button doing it.
Orin is your typical, gregarious, energetic 7-month old. He has cracked four teeth total, is sitting unassisted and is into EVERYTHING that he can see. He also attracts a great deal of attention when we are out. I tease him about his "adoring public." Seriously though, people are always stopping to talk to and coo over him. We went to the mall on Monday and, at one point, had three separate groups/individuals stopped at the same time to chat with him. I had to keep from laughing out loud over it. The most hilarious encounter from this trip was the gentleman who asked about Orin's NG tube and then went on to tell me that he was going to pray that the Lord would heal Orin and "take this condition from him so he can live a happy and normal life." He touched Orin's foot at this point and it felt kind of like those crazy "healers" that you see in southern churches. Strange to say the least.
Most interesting new thing with Orin has been the venture into solid food. I wanted to do baby led weaning exclusively this time around, but the doctors really wanted us to get started on solids so as to ramp up his thirst mechanism and eliminate the need for the NG tube. As a result, we are doing a mix of BLW and purées. He doesn't seem to enjoy consuming any of it at this point, but for little guys with NDI, it can be a process, so we are just slogging away at it.
I guess that is the update. Carry on with your regularly scheduled programming :)
Isabel has started both swimming lessons and preschool and *loves* both.
She has a ball at swimming and while she isn't the best at staying focused when not receiving direct instruction (the first day, she got up and headed toward the water slide, telling the instructor "I be right back." when she was called back to the group), she is doing so incredibly well. Little fish in the making.
Preschool is also going well. She comes home with elaborate stories every morning (she attends Tuesday and Thursday mornings). I knew this would be a great place for her - she needs more stimulation and challenge that I can offer right now with Orin being a little high maintenance and she gets it here.
This week, she will be starting tap class. She is ridiculously excited about this and, to be honest, so am I. I am sure she will enjoy herself and be cute as a button doing it.
Orin is your typical, gregarious, energetic 7-month old. He has cracked four teeth total, is sitting unassisted and is into EVERYTHING that he can see. He also attracts a great deal of attention when we are out. I tease him about his "adoring public." Seriously though, people are always stopping to talk to and coo over him. We went to the mall on Monday and, at one point, had three separate groups/individuals stopped at the same time to chat with him. I had to keep from laughing out loud over it. The most hilarious encounter from this trip was the gentleman who asked about Orin's NG tube and then went on to tell me that he was going to pray that the Lord would heal Orin and "take this condition from him so he can live a happy and normal life." He touched Orin's foot at this point and it felt kind of like those crazy "healers" that you see in southern churches. Strange to say the least.
Most interesting new thing with Orin has been the venture into solid food. I wanted to do baby led weaning exclusively this time around, but the doctors really wanted us to get started on solids so as to ramp up his thirst mechanism and eliminate the need for the NG tube. As a result, we are doing a mix of BLW and purées. He doesn't seem to enjoy consuming any of it at this point, but for little guys with NDI, it can be a process, so we are just slogging away at it.
I guess that is the update. Carry on with your regularly scheduled programming :)
Sunday, September 19, 2010
"Is Mummy n Orin!"
There is oodles of wildlife around our home. We see deer, foxes and various frogs and toads regularly. In particular, there is a doe and fawn pair who frequent our yard on a weekly basis. Isabel had decided a while ago that the mother fawn was me ("Look mom! Is you!"). Recently, she's christened the fawn Orin.
This evening when the pair were in the backyard, she ogled and cooed at them ("SO cute, mummy!"), but when the doe wandered back into the thin woods behind our yard, she became rather concerned for the fawn. She was telling him very seriously, "Orin, you got to go with your mummy. She goin', so you got to go to, Orin." Eventually, he wandered out too, to which she gave a relieved, "he go with his mummy. They go have a nap."
I am pretty sure she couldn't be any cuter.
This evening when the pair were in the backyard, she ogled and cooed at them ("SO cute, mummy!"), but when the doe wandered back into the thin woods behind our yard, she became rather concerned for the fawn. She was telling him very seriously, "Orin, you got to go with your mummy. She goin', so you got to go to, Orin." Eventually, he wandered out too, to which she gave a relieved, "he go with his mummy. They go have a nap."
I am pretty sure she couldn't be any cuter.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Another label for my side bar? I think so.
This blog got me thinking about my own beliefs. I have become a lactivist and really didn't see it coming, mostly because, until I was really in the thick of it, I didn't realize there was a need for such a thing.
See, where I come from, breastfeeding is normal. My mom nursed us, my aunts nursed their children, my cousin nursed her little ones when I was a teenager and lived with them. It was talked about as commonplace. I remember one particular conversation where my uncle spoke scathingly about our neighbour, who sent his wife down the hall to the bathroom when she had to nurse their children while visiting our house. Casting my mind back there, I don't really remember giving a thought to the existence of formula. The only instances in which I knew it was used were instances where I was babysitting, so it made sense that I was given a bottle of something to give to the baby.
My first encounter with the breastfeeding vs formula controversy was when the aforementioned cousin put me on the spot, asking why a family friend with a baby the same age as hers wasn't breastfeeding. I remember having that deer-in-the-headlights feeling. I had no idea why she wasn't. I hadn't given it a thought. I got the distinct tone of disdain in her voice though and muttered something about her breasts being too small. It was the best I could come up with at 15, not having a sweet clue about any of this, knowing it was none of my or her damn business, but feeling like I had to defend someone I cared about. She told me that this wasn't possible and that EVERYONE can breastfeed. I changed the subject.
When I joined my online community and we started having children, I started noticing threads popping up where claws were bared by defensive formula-feeders and high-horses were ridden by self-righteous breastfeeders. It was also at this time that I first heard the motto "breast is best", which has always sounded weird to me. You see, to me, breastfeeding was normal, the way things were - there was no need for it to be best. I guess, as a young adult, I still didn't see formula as an option, but rather a back-up plan.
When I was pregnant the first time, I had my first run-in with someone who was anti-breastfeeding. My mother's neighbour made a snide comment about not allowing my mother the opportunity to bond with her granddaughter. When I asked my mother about it, she explained that her friend felt breastfeeding was a selfish choice on the part of the mother that disallowed the rest of the family from bonding with the baby. I knew this was nonsense, but I wasn't confident enough to speak up, so I just rolled my eyes and moved on. The same neighbour also made a nasty comment at my baby shower for Orin when I unwrapped a breastfeeding pillow. I didn't respond this time because I knew it wasn't worth it.
Luckily, as the women in my online community became more mature and better debaters, I learned a lot more about the overall cultural situation with regard to breastfeeding and realised really quickly that what I knew was not normal. Culturally, what I grew up with - many women in my immediate circle who breastfed, public breastfeeding being commonplace, men who are incredibly comfortable with breastfeeding and may be considered lactivists themselves today - is not what most people grow up with. I also learned of the many factors that sabotage women in breastfeeding - formula companies making false claims about their products, workplaces not allowing women the opportunity to pump (not to mention the whole maternity leave system in the US), the discomfort of the general public, the belief that not being able to breastfeed is common, etc.
I have, over the course of being a parent, become more vocal in favour of breastfeeding. I have encountered many people on both sides of the debate - some very vocal (I will never forget the crazy parents in Florida who stalked off angrily because they obviously felt I was trying to scar their toddler by sharing googly faces with her while nursing Isabel in a courtyard). Through these experiences in particular, I have grown more confident in my beliefs. What I have been careful not to do though is demonize formula or women who formula-feed - this is neither productive nor kind. What I do firmly believe is that breatfeeding needs to become normal for others the way it was for me because breastmilk is the most complete and appropriate food for human babies - just like cows milk is compete and appropriate for baby cows. For this reason, I make a point of breastfeeding in public with no cover on a regular basis. I talk openly about it and support others in their endeavours to breastfeed their babies - I do for others what my friends and family did for me.
See, where I come from, breastfeeding is normal. My mom nursed us, my aunts nursed their children, my cousin nursed her little ones when I was a teenager and lived with them. It was talked about as commonplace. I remember one particular conversation where my uncle spoke scathingly about our neighbour, who sent his wife down the hall to the bathroom when she had to nurse their children while visiting our house. Casting my mind back there, I don't really remember giving a thought to the existence of formula. The only instances in which I knew it was used were instances where I was babysitting, so it made sense that I was given a bottle of something to give to the baby.
My first encounter with the breastfeeding vs formula controversy was when the aforementioned cousin put me on the spot, asking why a family friend with a baby the same age as hers wasn't breastfeeding. I remember having that deer-in-the-headlights feeling. I had no idea why she wasn't. I hadn't given it a thought. I got the distinct tone of disdain in her voice though and muttered something about her breasts being too small. It was the best I could come up with at 15, not having a sweet clue about any of this, knowing it was none of my or her damn business, but feeling like I had to defend someone I cared about. She told me that this wasn't possible and that EVERYONE can breastfeed. I changed the subject.
When I joined my online community and we started having children, I started noticing threads popping up where claws were bared by defensive formula-feeders and high-horses were ridden by self-righteous breastfeeders. It was also at this time that I first heard the motto "breast is best", which has always sounded weird to me. You see, to me, breastfeeding was normal, the way things were - there was no need for it to be best. I guess, as a young adult, I still didn't see formula as an option, but rather a back-up plan.
When I was pregnant the first time, I had my first run-in with someone who was anti-breastfeeding. My mother's neighbour made a snide comment about not allowing my mother the opportunity to bond with her granddaughter. When I asked my mother about it, she explained that her friend felt breastfeeding was a selfish choice on the part of the mother that disallowed the rest of the family from bonding with the baby. I knew this was nonsense, but I wasn't confident enough to speak up, so I just rolled my eyes and moved on. The same neighbour also made a nasty comment at my baby shower for Orin when I unwrapped a breastfeeding pillow. I didn't respond this time because I knew it wasn't worth it.
Luckily, as the women in my online community became more mature and better debaters, I learned a lot more about the overall cultural situation with regard to breastfeeding and realised really quickly that what I knew was not normal. Culturally, what I grew up with - many women in my immediate circle who breastfed, public breastfeeding being commonplace, men who are incredibly comfortable with breastfeeding and may be considered lactivists themselves today - is not what most people grow up with. I also learned of the many factors that sabotage women in breastfeeding - formula companies making false claims about their products, workplaces not allowing women the opportunity to pump (not to mention the whole maternity leave system in the US), the discomfort of the general public, the belief that not being able to breastfeed is common, etc.
I have, over the course of being a parent, become more vocal in favour of breastfeeding. I have encountered many people on both sides of the debate - some very vocal (I will never forget the crazy parents in Florida who stalked off angrily because they obviously felt I was trying to scar their toddler by sharing googly faces with her while nursing Isabel in a courtyard). Through these experiences in particular, I have grown more confident in my beliefs. What I have been careful not to do though is demonize formula or women who formula-feed - this is neither productive nor kind. What I do firmly believe is that breatfeeding needs to become normal for others the way it was for me because breastmilk is the most complete and appropriate food for human babies - just like cows milk is compete and appropriate for baby cows. For this reason, I make a point of breastfeeding in public with no cover on a regular basis. I talk openly about it and support others in their endeavours to breastfeed their babies - I do for others what my friends and family did for me.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Where to begin? It has been a whirlwind couple of weeks!
It has been a wild couple of weeks! As I mentioned, we were on holiday during the first week of August. We had a great time. I will include some photos at the bottom of this post.
The first two days were spent in Moncton. We visited with my family. My mom threw a little get-together where our friends and family could come by to meet Orin and visit with us. The rest of our time in Moncton was spent at Crystal Palace. We got a package that included the room, a family pass to the park, a bunch of food and movie passes. I wasn't sure how Isabel would feel about the rides in the amusement park, but I really hoped she would like some of the tamer ones at least. So I was surprised, to say the least, when she was an absolute dare-devil. She went on the kiddie rides over and over and over again - carousel, jumping star, submarine, rinse and repeat. She BEGGED to go on the roller coaster and swings. She sat to have her face painted for the first time. She played a few of the games in the arcade (though even they were a little beyond her). In short, she had an absolute blast. I was so pleased to see her have such a great time. For my part, I made sure to get a dip in the pool, a ride on the swings and a nightcap of a Starbucks' white mocha and a piece of peanut butter and chocolate encrusted cheesecake (mmm....diabetic coma). Dave ate lots of good food, had a nap or two and indulged in his own brand of nightcap (tea and cherry cheese cake). Orin was just along for the ride for the most part, but did seem to have fun hanging out with us.
After our amusement park adventure, it was off to Halifax for a few days. Here, we celebrated our 9th wedding anniversary with Dave's family, visited a good friend and her family - she has a daughter the same age as Isabel and twins the same age as Orin, shopped a little, took in a bit of the busker festival and relaxed a little.
On our way home, we stopped many times because Orin decided he was done with his car seat and chose to scream through large swaths of the drive. The good part about this is that we got to see Mastodon Ridge, which I have never been to, and stopped at the farm, where we chatted with Uncle Larry, whom I rarely see now and miss terribly. Despite the screaming, it was a nice trip.
What did I learn from traveling with a husband (who doesn't like to travel), a preschooler (who is coming into her own and demanding independence) and an infant (who specialises in his own brand of high-maintenance)? Leave the husband at home, bring another mom (and her kid(s)) with you and don't try to jam too much in (which tends to be the way I travel...I don't want to miss anything). Overall though, it was a great time and I am glad we did it.
Since then, it has been a mad dash to get the house and preparations ready for Isabel's party this past weekend. I think the party will get its own post, so that is all I will say here.
The other big news is that we had a tube-free day this past week. That is to say that Orin's tube came out accidentally in the middle of the night and rather than riling him up and waking Isabel, we thought we'd try not putting the tube back in and see how far he could make it. I suspected that, if he could take that middle of the night feed, I wouldn't have to put it in until bedtime and it turned out I was right. He drank all the water he needed until bedtime, when he was just too tired to drink, so in when the tube. I really can't say I was overly disappointed though - he's come so far that the small hump of a couple of feeds at night is nothing.
Alright, that is the brief version of our recent adventures. There will be more to come, including more reflective posts. For now, here are the pictures:
The first two days were spent in Moncton. We visited with my family. My mom threw a little get-together where our friends and family could come by to meet Orin and visit with us. The rest of our time in Moncton was spent at Crystal Palace. We got a package that included the room, a family pass to the park, a bunch of food and movie passes. I wasn't sure how Isabel would feel about the rides in the amusement park, but I really hoped she would like some of the tamer ones at least. So I was surprised, to say the least, when she was an absolute dare-devil. She went on the kiddie rides over and over and over again - carousel, jumping star, submarine, rinse and repeat. She BEGGED to go on the roller coaster and swings. She sat to have her face painted for the first time. She played a few of the games in the arcade (though even they were a little beyond her). In short, she had an absolute blast. I was so pleased to see her have such a great time. For my part, I made sure to get a dip in the pool, a ride on the swings and a nightcap of a Starbucks' white mocha and a piece of peanut butter and chocolate encrusted cheesecake (mmm....diabetic coma). Dave ate lots of good food, had a nap or two and indulged in his own brand of nightcap (tea and cherry cheese cake). Orin was just along for the ride for the most part, but did seem to have fun hanging out with us.
After our amusement park adventure, it was off to Halifax for a few days. Here, we celebrated our 9th wedding anniversary with Dave's family, visited a good friend and her family - she has a daughter the same age as Isabel and twins the same age as Orin, shopped a little, took in a bit of the busker festival and relaxed a little.
On our way home, we stopped many times because Orin decided he was done with his car seat and chose to scream through large swaths of the drive. The good part about this is that we got to see Mastodon Ridge, which I have never been to, and stopped at the farm, where we chatted with Uncle Larry, whom I rarely see now and miss terribly. Despite the screaming, it was a nice trip.
What did I learn from traveling with a husband (who doesn't like to travel), a preschooler (who is coming into her own and demanding independence) and an infant (who specialises in his own brand of high-maintenance)? Leave the husband at home, bring another mom (and her kid(s)) with you and don't try to jam too much in (which tends to be the way I travel...I don't want to miss anything). Overall though, it was a great time and I am glad we did it.
Since then, it has been a mad dash to get the house and preparations ready for Isabel's party this past weekend. I think the party will get its own post, so that is all I will say here.
The other big news is that we had a tube-free day this past week. That is to say that Orin's tube came out accidentally in the middle of the night and rather than riling him up and waking Isabel, we thought we'd try not putting the tube back in and see how far he could make it. I suspected that, if he could take that middle of the night feed, I wouldn't have to put it in until bedtime and it turned out I was right. He drank all the water he needed until bedtime, when he was just too tired to drink, so in when the tube. I really can't say I was overly disappointed though - he's come so far that the small hump of a couple of feeds at night is nothing.
Alright, that is the brief version of our recent adventures. There will be more to come, including more reflective posts. For now, here are the pictures:
Monday, August 9, 2010
Happy Belated World Breastfeeding Week!
We were on holiday during Breastfeeding Week. I had every intention of blogging a little something about it, but vacation fun got in the way.
I thought I might talk about the fight I fought in order to breastfeed my son.
There was no doubt in my mind that I would nurse my daughter and I did and loved every minute of it.
When I became pregnant again (a mere 4 months after I stopped nursing Isabel, it dawned on me one day), there was no doubt I would nurse that baby too. When we found out it was a boy, dramatically increasing the concerns with regard to NDI, my determination didn't waver. I read various places that there was no reason that a baby with NDI couldn't be exclusively breastfed (while being supplemented with water).
My boy was born and within less than a day, it was determined that he was dehydrating and there was little doubt that he had NDI and wasn't getting enough fluid from breastfeeding. This was the first blow to my self-esteem and determination.
He had an IV put in and then a central line, still breastfeeding on demand the entire time. Once he was hydrated enough, the medical intervention was gradually removed and we tried giving him water in bottles. For another two weeks, we tried a multitude of different solutions for getting Orin eating, drinking and, most of all, healthy. When things were at their worst, Orin wasn't really getting enough water from the bottles, preferred the flowrate of the bottle to that of the breast, so he fussed at the breast every time I tried to feed him, meaning he wasn't eating either. Neither of us was sleeping because, as he dehydrated again, he became fussier and fussier - I slept a grand total of 1.5 hours one day. I was slowly losing my mind. I was losing confidence in myself and my ability to take care of my baby.
At this point, the paediatrician suggested we may need to start giving him formula. The first time it was suggested, I couldn't speak. I burst into tears - I knew that they were suggesting it because they wanted to get him healthy and get us home, but this was not how it was supposed to be. I asked the doctor if I could have some time to think about it. I thought long and hard. I spoke to my husband. I spoke to friends. I fielded a phone call from a well-meaning family member, encouraging me to use formula because "it worked for her kids." I took about a day to clear away all of the fog - the mess of opinions, the worries that others would think I was putting an agenda before the needs of my child, the guilt and fear.
The next day, I gathered myself up and waited by Orin's bedside for rounds. I knew what I wanted to happen and I was going to make it clear to all parties involved so we were all on the same page. When the doctor came around, I told her that breastfeeding my child was incredibly important to me. It was what he needed (both as a human infant in general and as a child with a sodium sensitivity - breastmilk is surprisingly low in sodium). I told her about the bottle preference and that I wanted the breast to be offered to him first at all times - every time he woke, fussed, seemed remotely hungry/thisty. I wanted to get rid of the bottles altogether for a while. I had seen many babies in the NICU with NG tubes because they were unable to eat themselves for whatever reason (usually because they were premature and were still too weak and small to nurse). I suggested we put in an NG tube for water in order to keep him hydrated and redevelop the nursing relationship. Once breastfeeding was well-established, we could attempt bottles again. I stood next to my baby, stone-faced, wearing messy gym clothes (my uniform while in the hospital) and generally looking disheveled, but serious. Much to my surprise, she said yes. As it turns out, the specialist in Halifax had suggested the same thing quite early on, but the local docs wanted to try more home-friendly options first
I couldn't pump (just as I couldn't with Isabel), so to feed him through the night, I had to be accessible. For five weeks, I lived at the hospital, sleeping in a 5'x 10' room when it was available and a leather couch in a TV lounge when it wasn't. I missed my family more than I can tell you. I lost the trust of my daughter temporarily. I didn't eat, sleep or maintain myself in anyway for five weeks. I dedicated myself to breastfeeding my son and helping him become healthy enough to come home.
He was released for good on March 16th at 5 weeks 4 days old. He will be six months old tomorrow and is still exclusively breastfed. Every doctor who has seen him (and there've been a bunch) have exclaimed over how healthy he is and how good he looks and how big he has gotten. One joked that whatever I have on tap is exactly what he needs - I couldn't have said it better.
I thought I might talk about the fight I fought in order to breastfeed my son.
There was no doubt in my mind that I would nurse my daughter and I did and loved every minute of it.
When I became pregnant again (a mere 4 months after I stopped nursing Isabel, it dawned on me one day), there was no doubt I would nurse that baby too. When we found out it was a boy, dramatically increasing the concerns with regard to NDI, my determination didn't waver. I read various places that there was no reason that a baby with NDI couldn't be exclusively breastfed (while being supplemented with water).
My boy was born and within less than a day, it was determined that he was dehydrating and there was little doubt that he had NDI and wasn't getting enough fluid from breastfeeding. This was the first blow to my self-esteem and determination.
He had an IV put in and then a central line, still breastfeeding on demand the entire time. Once he was hydrated enough, the medical intervention was gradually removed and we tried giving him water in bottles. For another two weeks, we tried a multitude of different solutions for getting Orin eating, drinking and, most of all, healthy. When things were at their worst, Orin wasn't really getting enough water from the bottles, preferred the flowrate of the bottle to that of the breast, so he fussed at the breast every time I tried to feed him, meaning he wasn't eating either. Neither of us was sleeping because, as he dehydrated again, he became fussier and fussier - I slept a grand total of 1.5 hours one day. I was slowly losing my mind. I was losing confidence in myself and my ability to take care of my baby.
At this point, the paediatrician suggested we may need to start giving him formula. The first time it was suggested, I couldn't speak. I burst into tears - I knew that they were suggesting it because they wanted to get him healthy and get us home, but this was not how it was supposed to be. I asked the doctor if I could have some time to think about it. I thought long and hard. I spoke to my husband. I spoke to friends. I fielded a phone call from a well-meaning family member, encouraging me to use formula because "it worked for her kids." I took about a day to clear away all of the fog - the mess of opinions, the worries that others would think I was putting an agenda before the needs of my child, the guilt and fear.
The next day, I gathered myself up and waited by Orin's bedside for rounds. I knew what I wanted to happen and I was going to make it clear to all parties involved so we were all on the same page. When the doctor came around, I told her that breastfeeding my child was incredibly important to me. It was what he needed (both as a human infant in general and as a child with a sodium sensitivity - breastmilk is surprisingly low in sodium). I told her about the bottle preference and that I wanted the breast to be offered to him first at all times - every time he woke, fussed, seemed remotely hungry/thisty. I wanted to get rid of the bottles altogether for a while. I had seen many babies in the NICU with NG tubes because they were unable to eat themselves for whatever reason (usually because they were premature and were still too weak and small to nurse). I suggested we put in an NG tube for water in order to keep him hydrated and redevelop the nursing relationship. Once breastfeeding was well-established, we could attempt bottles again. I stood next to my baby, stone-faced, wearing messy gym clothes (my uniform while in the hospital) and generally looking disheveled, but serious. Much to my surprise, she said yes. As it turns out, the specialist in Halifax had suggested the same thing quite early on, but the local docs wanted to try more home-friendly options first
I couldn't pump (just as I couldn't with Isabel), so to feed him through the night, I had to be accessible. For five weeks, I lived at the hospital, sleeping in a 5'x 10' room when it was available and a leather couch in a TV lounge when it wasn't. I missed my family more than I can tell you. I lost the trust of my daughter temporarily. I didn't eat, sleep or maintain myself in anyway for five weeks. I dedicated myself to breastfeeding my son and helping him become healthy enough to come home.
He was released for good on March 16th at 5 weeks 4 days old. He will be six months old tomorrow and is still exclusively breastfed. Every doctor who has seen him (and there've been a bunch) have exclaimed over how healthy he is and how good he looks and how big he has gotten. One joked that whatever I have on tap is exactly what he needs - I couldn't have said it better.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
You want to hear about a crap week?
Well, let me tell you about it.
Isabel got really sick last Sunday (i.e. fever, vomiting) and wasn't well again until she woke up Wednesday morning, just in time for Orin to get sick. He and I ended up having to go to the hospital Thursday AND Friday mornings to get him checked out, but he held his own, thankfully. He was back to his chipper self Saturday morning. At 11am, I noticed my throat was sore and by 2pm, I had a fever of 103. I have been miserable since...my temp got so high last night that I was shivering, crying and begging DH to help me. It was a sad sight. I can't lift my baby or walk with him without fearing dropping him or falling.
Oh right...and because it seems like a fun thing to throw in the mix, Orin has decided he doesn't want to nurse anymore and behaves like a maniac when I try to feed him - screaming like I am tearing his arms off, flailing his arms and legs and throwing himself backward off my lap. I *think* it is related to his teething (cutting two teeth while one has a RIDICULOUSLY bad virus and is already miserable is a sensible thing to do right?), but I can't say for sure that it isn't bottle preference coming to the surface again (he is still taking his water from bottles happily). As a result of his not taking milk, he is not getting enough fluid and is, once again, at risk of seriously dehydrating. This means weighing him before and after he "eats" (note the quotation marks) and his diapers to make sure things are moving normally.
Oh and hey, because there isn't enough going on. Isabel has been an absolute monster today (more time outs today than last week in its entirety). And our cat, who is experiencing renal failure, has thrown up about 5 times today.
Here's hoping that things start settling soon because I can't take much more.
Isabel got really sick last Sunday (i.e. fever, vomiting) and wasn't well again until she woke up Wednesday morning, just in time for Orin to get sick. He and I ended up having to go to the hospital Thursday AND Friday mornings to get him checked out, but he held his own, thankfully. He was back to his chipper self Saturday morning. At 11am, I noticed my throat was sore and by 2pm, I had a fever of 103. I have been miserable since...my temp got so high last night that I was shivering, crying and begging DH to help me. It was a sad sight. I can't lift my baby or walk with him without fearing dropping him or falling.
Oh right...and because it seems like a fun thing to throw in the mix, Orin has decided he doesn't want to nurse anymore and behaves like a maniac when I try to feed him - screaming like I am tearing his arms off, flailing his arms and legs and throwing himself backward off my lap. I *think* it is related to his teething (cutting two teeth while one has a RIDICULOUSLY bad virus and is already miserable is a sensible thing to do right?), but I can't say for sure that it isn't bottle preference coming to the surface again (he is still taking his water from bottles happily). As a result of his not taking milk, he is not getting enough fluid and is, once again, at risk of seriously dehydrating. This means weighing him before and after he "eats" (note the quotation marks) and his diapers to make sure things are moving normally.
Oh and hey, because there isn't enough going on. Isabel has been an absolute monster today (more time outs today than last week in its entirety). And our cat, who is experiencing renal failure, has thrown up about 5 times today.
Here's hoping that things start settling soon because I can't take much more.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Isabel's Wish List
I've had a couple of people ask me what Isabel needs/wants for her birthday next month. She is a pretty easy kid to please, but I thought it might be fun to make a list of what I think she likes and a list of what she says she likes (or her favourites is how I will likely phrase it) and cross-reference the two.
This is live-blogging at its best.
What Isabel likes/need according to Mom
What Isabel likes/needs according to Isabel
This is live-blogging at its best.
What Isabel likes/need according to Mom
- Toy Story
- In The Night Garden
- Backyardigans
- Bo On The Go
- Dancing
- Shoes (especially dress shoes which she calls her "dancing shoes")
- Computers
- Things with buttons
- Chair for reading nook
- Clothes in sizes 3/4
- Music...all kinds and especially stuff she can sing or dance along to
- Pretending (dress up, Little People, dolls)
- Crafts (painting and Play Doh especially)
- Cooking
- Swimming
- Books
- Klean Kanteens
What Isabel likes/needs according to Isabel
- dancing shoes
- Toy Story with Buddy (Woody), Buthhhhhhh (Buzz), Jessie & Cowboy (Bullseye)
- Water
- Mooshoof (Mischief), my Brudder, my Dad, my Mum (and so on until we got through her whole circle including Grandparents and daycare friends)
- Hockey (wtf?)
- Cars
- This drums (pointing to the Guitar Hero drumkit...she also noted here that it had buttons on it :P )
- Driving
- I PAINT!?!?!?!
- Buttons (I am not sure if she meant the ones on her pjs or the ones on the drumkit...either way...I think it proves my point)
- Swimming
- Pengins (penguins)
- Hippopotmus (Hippopotamus...she is obsessed with the Telus commercials)
- Jammies
- Toy Story skirt
- ...at this point she wandered off to play with a toy and undress and redress herself, so I figured the interview was done
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
It's like a heat wave...
Alright, there is no "like" about it. We are in week three of a ridiculous heat wave. The feel like temp, after humidex, hasn't dropped below 30 since it started. This is a tough situation for a little guy who doesn't sweat easily, does dehydrate easily and heats up fast. We've spent a lot of time in the house, unfortunately and were even sleeping in the basement for the first, hottest week.
We did get out occasionally, including a trip to the local splashpad:
Also the wee girl is just getting over her first stomach bug, which cramped our plans to attend a friend's birthday party on the weekend. Poor girl - it knocked the stuffing right out of her:
Luckily, she is definitely on the mend and hopefully we'll be able to get about to doing fun things again.
In other news, I've been planning Isabel's birthday party for next month. I don't want to give away too much, but the theme is Toy Story and I have all sorts of fun ideas. Looking forward to it :)
We did get out occasionally, including a trip to the local splashpad:
Also the wee girl is just getting over her first stomach bug, which cramped our plans to attend a friend's birthday party on the weekend. Poor girl - it knocked the stuffing right out of her:
Luckily, she is definitely on the mend and hopefully we'll be able to get about to doing fun things again.In other news, I've been planning Isabel's birthday party for next month. I don't want to give away too much, but the theme is Toy Story and I have all sorts of fun ideas. Looking forward to it :)
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Day trippin'
The kids and I took a day trip on our own a while ago, but it was a bit of a disaster, so we are ignoring it and counting this as our first daytrip since Orin was born :)
We went to Sussex to visit Gramma and Mike at their campsite. We hung out with them at their camper, had a little lunch, went swimming and just generally had a nice day. Some pics from our day below; I look forward to posting pics of many other summertime adventures.
The kiddies at the beginning of our trip:
What my footwell typically looks like when we travel - I never use it for my feet:
She *loved* swimming:
Cuddles :)
Tetherball *looked* fun :P
Home again, home again, jiggety jig
Sleepyheads
We went to Sussex to visit Gramma and Mike at their campsite. We hung out with them at their camper, had a little lunch, went swimming and just generally had a nice day. Some pics from our day below; I look forward to posting pics of many other summertime adventures.
The kiddies at the beginning of our trip:
What my footwell typically looks like when we travel - I never use it for my feet:
She *loved* swimming:
Cuddles :)
Tetherball *looked* fun :P
Home again, home again, jiggety jig
Sleepyheads
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Review of Cloth Diapers v. 2.0 - I think we have a winner!
Things are improving. We are now using cloth diapers at all times when at home between 7-8am (waking for the day) and 11pm (after dream feed when mommy goes to bed). I have stopped putting pressure on myself to use cloth exclusively or while out because it is just not going to work for us. There've been times when he's saturated/leaked through disposables onto the Piddle Pad (thank god for these things is all I have to say...we have one for each kid), so using cloth is just not an option. Letting go of the pressure I was putting on myself and focusing more on making it work as much as possible has definitely helped.
I am still preferring the pockets without question. They just work better for us, providing the versatility in absorption that we need. The best part is that I am THRILLED with the WAHM pockets that I bought recently. Let me tell you about them.
Cloth-by-Tel is the company. She makes products other than diapers too and runs sales regularly. We bought two animal print minky pockets.
To start with, the minky material is SO soft and adorable. The diapers are well-sewn; you can see the high quality workmanship. The placement of the stuffing hole is more comfortable than it is in the BumGenius and the elastic is nice and springy (I am sure that there is some deterioration of the elastic in the BumGenius from wear and tear, but I didn't realise just how much better it could be). The snaps are so much nicer to use than velcro and I find they fit Orin better than the other pockets, even with the extra stuffing we need.
They came with inserts that, again, were well-made, thick and soft.
We have had no problem with leaking, fit, wicking, absorption, rashes, staining, wash-wear (yet). In short, I love these diapers - especially for the price of $10-12 per diaper (insert included), which you absolutely can't beat! I will be getting more, without question!
A photo op:
I am still preferring the pockets without question. They just work better for us, providing the versatility in absorption that we need. The best part is that I am THRILLED with the WAHM pockets that I bought recently. Let me tell you about them.
Cloth-by-Tel is the company. She makes products other than diapers too and runs sales regularly. We bought two animal print minky pockets.
To start with, the minky material is SO soft and adorable. The diapers are well-sewn; you can see the high quality workmanship. The placement of the stuffing hole is more comfortable than it is in the BumGenius and the elastic is nice and springy (I am sure that there is some deterioration of the elastic in the BumGenius from wear and tear, but I didn't realise just how much better it could be). The snaps are so much nicer to use than velcro and I find they fit Orin better than the other pockets, even with the extra stuffing we need.
They came with inserts that, again, were well-made, thick and soft.
We have had no problem with leaking, fit, wicking, absorption, rashes, staining, wash-wear (yet). In short, I love these diapers - especially for the price of $10-12 per diaper (insert included), which you absolutely can't beat! I will be getting more, without question!
A photo op:
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