Transitioning

So last night I decided to take matters into my own hands. David had been working incredible work days (16+ hours) for five days on an important contract. And today he left for a long-planned fishing trip to Campbell River. Looking at the sea of Ikea boxes in my living room, I knew I couldn't wait another week before Nate's new twin bed was set up. So I undertook the project myself.

At 8.5 months pregnant, not perhaps the wisest move. But I was motivated. Must be that nesting instinct they talk about.

Now, I don't know, frankly, how any single person assembles pieces of Ikea furniture. Stuck in a smallish bedroom, with little turning radius and an enormous stomach that removed really any ability to move around, I somehow managed to put the frame together. Without swearing once. I was filled with "won't Nate be so happy" thoughts. And, "I'm doing this for my child, so I can't swear and curse despite the fact that I really need another set of hands... preferably two so all I have to do is supervise."

Finally, a sweaty two hours later (with the occasional "What you doing mom?" punctuating the air) I had the bed assembled. I put on the new sheets, bedding and called Nate into his room. I knew he would be excited. He loves sleeping and playing on our bed; he loves sleeping on "big people beds" when we visit friends and family.

"Look Nate, it's your new big boy bed. Mommy put it together for you."

"No. That's mommy's bed," he said pointing to the offending object. "This is Nate's bed," he emphasized, pointing to his crib.

"But don't you remember. We went to Ikea and bought your big boy bed. This is where big boys sleep."

Lip trembles, "No. Don't wanna! This is Nate's bed!!" And with that he heaved himself against the bars of the crib and began sobbing at the top of his lungs. You'd think I'd just ripped off his arm.

"But Nate..."

"Nooooooooooooooooo...."

A full 10 minutes later, he stopped leaking from his eyes, nose and mouth. I offered an ice cream bar out of guilt. Obviously, this didn't go nearly as smoothly as I'd planned. Thank god I didn't disassemble the crib before tackling the bed.

Now Nate's room is a bit of a disaster. Between the bed, the crib, the change table (no he's still not toilet trained), the wardrobe and his Ikea table, there's no room to move.

And my back is killing me.

And every time Nate goes into his bedroom, he points to the bed and tells me to move it "out there" into the hallway.

And we're planning on having a second one??

What was I thinking?

Adventures at the Adventure Park

Growing up in Southern Ontario, a yearly summerly ritual involved my brother and me dragging my parents to Ontario Place, and, when we were older, the CNE. For two weeks of the summer, the CNE is punctuated by the Ex! (it must be said with an exlamation mark), a two week fair which attracts even more people to an already over-crowded fairground.

Since moving to Vancouver, I have never gone to the PNE. Just like any good city dweller, I don't actually "do" tourist attractions. The PNE counts as one of those places. Besides, at only 1/10 the size of the CNE, I had to look down my Ontario nose at this West Coast attraction that could only pale in comparison. So when our staff decided that they wanted to go to the PNE for our monthly social, David and I were decidedly non-plussed.

We were proved wrong.

While we had to leave everyone on the "grown-up" rides, we took Nate around Playland. His eyes were enormous saucers and he went on virtually every ride on his own. At the end of each one, he wanted to go right back on it. (I didn't have the foresight to buy an entire pass as I was unsure how he'd react to the rides. So, I was forced to keep buying tickets for him.) Nate rode the merry-go-round, the boats, the race cars, the flying elephants and the scrambler. He even did the fun house twice where a kind attendant let him go through the second time for free.

Nate had his first corn dog, his first cotton candy, wiggly chips and some kettle corn. We would have bought more, but the cost of the food was outrageous. ($7.50 for a burrito??! $4.00 for a corn dog?! Yikes.)

Here are some photos from the PNE. We'll definitely go back for Nate next year. The only thing that was a drag was 3 hours of standing/walking on my feet. Thankfully the parking attendant let us park in the wheelchair section (at her suggestion) so I didn't have to walk an extra 300 feet to a parking spot!















The scrambler starts really slowly and then speeds up. Apparently Nate let out a huge squeal when the ride picked up. The bar pretty much prevented me from seeing anything that was going on with Nate. All I could see was his hair blowing!



Apparently the PNE is known for its mini-donuts.


No fair is complete without glowsticks!