When Nate was born, three years ago, I looked forward to being able to do all the reading I wanted on my whole year off of work. No more reading novels because I had to teach them. I would be maxing out the lending limit on my public library card. You know, 'cause they said newborns sleep a lot.
You may laugh at me. I was naive. I did become a magazine afficionado as I could easily read an article and put it back down. (And because I developed the attention span of a gnat due to sleep deprivation and the hard work that goes into learning how to parent something that does sleep lots, but still leaves a new mom with no free time.)
But now that child number two is approaching sleeping through the night, I have time to read again.
I've got my Book Club's selections to read, but this month's doesn't sound too appealing. And I've already read the next month's.
Sooooo... I plan to dust off my library card and put it to good use. What I'd like to know is what have you been reading and what would you recommend? I'll read most anything, except maybe non-fiction business books which are my husband's specialty.
So what's good out there?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Sleeping Update
Last night, out of pure exhaustion, David and I threw lovingly placed Jake in his crib last night at 7:51pm and by 8:10 he was asleep. Hallelujah! Praise the lord! And folks, he slept through the night until 4 am when I gave him a bottle, since he last ate at 7pm. Then he cried once and fell back asleep until 7 am.
Omigod I am so happy.
And since so many of you have been asking about his black eye recently, yesterday, we saw the doctor. Actually, Jake had his six month check up and after talking all about his eating and sleeping habits, she then asked, "Is there anything else you want to ask me about?"
"Um, no. I think that's it."
The doctor looks at me pointedly and says, "Really?"
At this point I am nervous. My doctor's on maternity leave and this is her locum. Does she want me to ask about her qualifications? About 6 month old shots and the controversy over vaccinating kids or not?
Then I notice her incline her head towards the eye.
"Oh, right. The black eye."
Anyway, I explained the story, talked about how we assessed Jake for equal and reactive pupils, his temprament, lack of puking after the accident, equal hand strength (thanks to David's Aunt Kathy the Paramedic for the pointers over the years).
Turns out Nate has a classic black eye. Whatever that means. She said it was healing well and not to worry.
Worry? I'd forgotten he had it, I'd grown so used to looking at the purple eyeshadow.
Anyway, if you're lucky and ask real nice I might subject you to the Black Eye Chronicals: Day 7 later today. If I can find my camera under the pile of housecleaning I need to do.
Omigod I am so happy.
And since so many of you have been asking about his black eye recently, yesterday, we saw the doctor. Actually, Jake had his six month check up and after talking all about his eating and sleeping habits, she then asked, "Is there anything else you want to ask me about?"
"Um, no. I think that's it."
The doctor looks at me pointedly and says, "Really?"
At this point I am nervous. My doctor's on maternity leave and this is her locum. Does she want me to ask about her qualifications? About 6 month old shots and the controversy over vaccinating kids or not?
Then I notice her incline her head towards the eye.
"Oh, right. The black eye."
Anyway, I explained the story, talked about how we assessed Jake for equal and reactive pupils, his temprament, lack of puking after the accident, equal hand strength (thanks to David's Aunt Kathy the Paramedic for the pointers over the years).
Turns out Nate has a classic black eye. Whatever that means. She said it was healing well and not to worry.
Worry? I'd forgotten he had it, I'd grown so used to looking at the purple eyeshadow.
Anyway, if you're lucky and ask real nice I might subject you to the Black Eye Chronicals: Day 7 later today. If I can find my camera under the pile of housecleaning I need to do.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Your Advice
Getting Jake to sleep in his crib has been interesting.
Okay, not interesting. It's been hard. The night before last was fairly successful and then last night, back to square one. He woke up at 1:50am and was still awake and crying/whimpering/NOT GOING BACK TO SLEEP at 4:20am. For two hours I lay next to his crib and tried to comfort him. For thirty minutes David had him in Nate's empty bed and tried to comfort him. Eventually I just nursed him back to sleep.
David and I are shattered.
Here's the problem in a nutshell:
1. He's not used to the crib.
2. Through unfortunate circumstances, he's gotten used to feeding several times a night, even though at 6 months and 20 pounds, he doesn't physically need it.
3. He's not yet learned how to soothe himself to sleep.
When we had trouble with Nate, I read just about every sleep book and/or theory out there. What I want to know is if you have any suggestions. I know I need to get the number of feeds down, but somewhere in between the Ferber, "shut the door and let them howl" and the Sears, "let them sleep in your bed for 20 years", what did you do?
You can email me at mandy [dot] eagles [at] donatgroup [dot] com if you don't want to post in the comment section.
Thanks!
... Now how to get through today with my well rested 3 year old!
Okay, not interesting. It's been hard. The night before last was fairly successful and then last night, back to square one. He woke up at 1:50am and was still awake and crying/whimpering/NOT GOING BACK TO SLEEP at 4:20am. For two hours I lay next to his crib and tried to comfort him. For thirty minutes David had him in Nate's empty bed and tried to comfort him. Eventually I just nursed him back to sleep.
David and I are shattered.
Here's the problem in a nutshell:
1. He's not used to the crib.
2. Through unfortunate circumstances, he's gotten used to feeding several times a night, even though at 6 months and 20 pounds, he doesn't physically need it.
3. He's not yet learned how to soothe himself to sleep.
When we had trouble with Nate, I read just about every sleep book and/or theory out there. What I want to know is if you have any suggestions. I know I need to get the number of feeds down, but somewhere in between the Ferber, "shut the door and let them howl" and the Sears, "let them sleep in your bed for 20 years", what did you do?
You can email me at mandy [dot] eagles [at] donatgroup [dot] com if you don't want to post in the comment section.
Thanks!
... Now how to get through today with my well rested 3 year old!
Monday, March 24, 2008
The Black Eye Chronicals: Day 3
Now he's got a little of the Goth look coming. Black eyeliner above and below the eye!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
The Black Eye Chronicals: Day 2
On Saturday morning, we hit Heywood Park in North Van since the Easter Bunny (cough, cough, Lion's Club, cough) makes a pit stop there.
Jake toured in his Baby Bjorn, the fashion statement for all infants in the know. And, his eye matched, always important for accessorizing an outfit.
We got a few sideways looks, but once David and I explained it was a disciplinary measure for not eating his rice cereal mush fast enough, people sighed in relief and walked away with a little chuckle.
Here is the eye on day two:
Jake toured in his Baby Bjorn, the fashion statement for all infants in the know. And, his eye matched, always important for accessorizing an outfit.
We got a few sideways looks, but once David and I explained it was a disciplinary measure for not eating his rice cereal mush fast enough, people sighed in relief and walked away with a little chuckle.
Here is the eye on day two:
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The Black Eye Chronicals: Day 1
Thursday evening, Jake received a little boo-boo. Okay, a big boo-boo.
It's so easy to be breezily off-hand when someone else is describing their own child's mishaps.
These things happen.
Don't worry. All kids fall.
Thursday night, while David and I were out at a nice dinner, Jake The Squirmer managed to launch himself off of a chair onto the hardwood floor head first. Needless to say, it was much to his chagrin, and that of his caregiver as well. Much to my chagrin, I would have drunk more at dinner had I known what happened. I had, fortunately, left my cell in the car, so I was able to enjoy my dinner uninterrupted by the news of my child's cordless bungee jumping experience.
Here is Jake, 24 hours after the initial event. Cover your eyes if gratuitous violence offends you.
I offered you two views, open-eye and and shut-eye versions. You will note that he does not look too bad... yet.
It's so easy to be breezily off-hand when someone else is describing their own child's mishaps.
These things happen.
Don't worry. All kids fall.
Thursday night, while David and I were out at a nice dinner, Jake The Squirmer managed to launch himself off of a chair onto the hardwood floor head first. Needless to say, it was much to his chagrin, and that of his caregiver as well. Much to my chagrin, I would have drunk more at dinner had I known what happened. I had, fortunately, left my cell in the car, so I was able to enjoy my dinner uninterrupted by the news of my child's cordless bungee jumping experience.
Here is Jake, 24 hours after the initial event. Cover your eyes if gratuitous violence offends you.
I offered you two views, open-eye and and shut-eye versions. You will note that he does not look too bad... yet.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Sleeping Beauty
In retrospect, Nate was a fairly easy child. Actually, he was a very easy child. Most of the time I knew this, but we did struggle through one major hurdle.... sleeping.
When he was a newborn, he could sleep anywhere but his bassinet. Anywhere. But get within 1 foot of that frilly white thing and he would wake from the deepest of sleeps to start screaming.
I tried everything -- harder mattress, softer mattress, pre-warming the sheet, sleeping on the sheets so they'd smell like mommy, aligning family chakras, full moon dances. Like I said, everything. More often then not, Nate would end up asleep between us on our bed. By month three, David had had enough, and Nate was voted off the island, relegated to his crib in a separate bedroom.
Except for the fact that I had to keep creeping into Nate's room to make sure he was still breathing, things went fairly smoothly. Well, fairly smoothly because when he woke from sleep one to three times a night, I would simply nurse him back to sleep. This worked well for everyone until somewhere around month six it dawned on me that I was never going to get a night off, and I was never going to get a full night's sleep. Let's just say that establishing a "go to sleep under your own aegis, and stay asleep for at least eight straight hours" routine was a very long and very painful process. Twelve months later, by the time Nate was one and a half years old, he'd finally, consistently, mastered sleeping through the night.
I prayed with the second child that we would not have these problems. Let me tell you first hand the damage chronic sleep deprivation can do to your appearance, patience, and outlook on life. (Think grumpy old woman.)
Jake, to my delight, slept well in the bassinet. In fact, around month two, he reached a point where he was only waking twice a night. We were getting 4, sometimes 5 hours of sleep at a stretch. Obviously, we had graduated as parents. We knew what we were doing.
Until Jake outgrew the bassinet near the end of month three.
I awoke one night to find him half out of the bassinet and since there was no room in either bedroom for a crib, and since we weren't moving for another month, we did the only thing possible; we moved Jake into our bed. Do I need to tell you that this was a big mistake?
Jake, finding himself in bed next to the "all you can eat" buffet, started waking for a snack. Every one to two hours. A pattern he's kept up for the past three months. He's almost 6 months and I am so tired all the time that I can barely see straight.
Now, this kid can sleep just about anywhere, but put him anywhere near his crib and he wakes and starts screaming bloody murder. Yes, my child would rather sleep like this, half fallen out of his carseat, than in his crib.
As David is now home from almost constant travel since we moved to the new house, it's time to reclaim our bed and to start sleep training. Here's hoping it doesn't take a year! And is it just me or does everyone else seem to have a child who sleeps 10 hours straight practically from birth?
When he was a newborn, he could sleep anywhere but his bassinet. Anywhere. But get within 1 foot of that frilly white thing and he would wake from the deepest of sleeps to start screaming.
I tried everything -- harder mattress, softer mattress, pre-warming the sheet, sleeping on the sheets so they'd smell like mommy, aligning family chakras, full moon dances. Like I said, everything. More often then not, Nate would end up asleep between us on our bed. By month three, David had had enough, and Nate was voted off the island, relegated to his crib in a separate bedroom.
Except for the fact that I had to keep creeping into Nate's room to make sure he was still breathing, things went fairly smoothly. Well, fairly smoothly because when he woke from sleep one to three times a night, I would simply nurse him back to sleep. This worked well for everyone until somewhere around month six it dawned on me that I was never going to get a night off, and I was never going to get a full night's sleep. Let's just say that establishing a "go to sleep under your own aegis, and stay asleep for at least eight straight hours" routine was a very long and very painful process. Twelve months later, by the time Nate was one and a half years old, he'd finally, consistently, mastered sleeping through the night.
I prayed with the second child that we would not have these problems. Let me tell you first hand the damage chronic sleep deprivation can do to your appearance, patience, and outlook on life. (Think grumpy old woman.)
Jake, to my delight, slept well in the bassinet. In fact, around month two, he reached a point where he was only waking twice a night. We were getting 4, sometimes 5 hours of sleep at a stretch. Obviously, we had graduated as parents. We knew what we were doing.
Until Jake outgrew the bassinet near the end of month three.
I awoke one night to find him half out of the bassinet and since there was no room in either bedroom for a crib, and since we weren't moving for another month, we did the only thing possible; we moved Jake into our bed. Do I need to tell you that this was a big mistake?
Jake, finding himself in bed next to the "all you can eat" buffet, started waking for a snack. Every one to two hours. A pattern he's kept up for the past three months. He's almost 6 months and I am so tired all the time that I can barely see straight.
Now, this kid can sleep just about anywhere, but put him anywhere near his crib and he wakes and starts screaming bloody murder. Yes, my child would rather sleep like this, half fallen out of his carseat, than in his crib.
As David is now home from almost constant travel since we moved to the new house, it's time to reclaim our bed and to start sleep training. Here's hoping it doesn't take a year! And is it just me or does everyone else seem to have a child who sleeps 10 hours straight practically from birth?
Monday, March 17, 2008
Little Angels...
When two perfect people meet, and decide to get married, they have the perfect marriage. Then comes the first perfect child, followed by the second perfect child. They lead the perfect life of contented bliss, being blessed by their perfectness.
And when I run into them, I'll tell you so we can all run screaming in the other direction.
While David has been awayfor an absolute eternity the past two weeks, the days take on a fairly predictable pattern.
1. Wake up, ingest lots of coffee. Start day. Everyone is cheerful.
2. Potty training progresses successfully (two morning pit stops on the plastic toilet gracing our living room). Group play in the playroom.
3. Go out in car to run errands/walk dog who is now crossing his legs/allow baby to fall asleep for a nap/escape the dirty dishes and laundry piles.
4. Eat out at swanky drive through like Micky D's. Feel guilty for about 15 seconds.
5. Return home in mid-afternoon. Spend time trying to keep eye on child who refuses to use potty for #2 and would rather escape in privacy to another part of house.
6. Clean up disasterous underwear. Repeat mantra: "Where does poo go?" which is dutifully followed by child: "In the potty or the toilet. Not in my pants." Sigh in frustration. Add to laundry pile.
7. Try to get both children to take a 45 min nap, mostly so I can nap. Give up after trying for 45 minutes.
8. Stop older child from tormenting the dog. Avoid looking at dog's baleful eyes. Shoo both out of doors to play in backyard.
9. Change sopping wet child who was too busy playing to use the potty.
10. Consider dinner options. Make rice cereal gloop for baby. Play paint the baby. Quit once I figure he's ingested 5 ml and is coated in 100 ml.
11. Try to stop older child from tormenting dog. Child is bored and whiny. Looks for ways to get negative attention: torment dog, torment mom, torment baby. Give innocent, "But I love Chilco/baby Jacob/you" as some sort of panacea.
12. Try to cook dinner, hold baby, avoid screaming at bored/overtired child.
13. Attempt dinner with squirming baby on lap while child refuses to eat because it's not peanut butter toast.
14. Try to put child down at 6pm. He doesn't bite.
15. Make it to 7 pm for pj's, stories, milk. Baby now screams if not being held and/or attached to a boob. Try to get milk sippy for Nate, potty run, stories read with one hand (try it sometime), teeth brushed, into our bed to sleep.
16. Child requests toy, back tickles, dog on bed, last ditch conversations, and "lie with me for a minute mommy" while baby screams bloody murder in playpen in living room.
17. Mom falls exhausted on couch and holds/feeds baby for 30 minutes while baby falls asleep. Intermittently yells at child to get back in bed.
But here's what my two angels look like around 10 pm. They're even holding hands.
And when I run into them, I'll tell you so we can all run screaming in the other direction.
While David has been away
1. Wake up, ingest lots of coffee. Start day. Everyone is cheerful.
2. Potty training progresses successfully (two morning pit stops on the plastic toilet gracing our living room). Group play in the playroom.
3. Go out in car to run errands/walk dog who is now crossing his legs/allow baby to fall asleep for a nap/escape the dirty dishes and laundry piles.
4. Eat out at swanky drive through like Micky D's. Feel guilty for about 15 seconds.
5. Return home in mid-afternoon. Spend time trying to keep eye on child who refuses to use potty for #2 and would rather escape in privacy to another part of house.
6. Clean up disasterous underwear. Repeat mantra: "Where does poo go?" which is dutifully followed by child: "In the potty or the toilet. Not in my pants." Sigh in frustration. Add to laundry pile.
7. Try to get both children to take a 45 min nap, mostly so I can nap. Give up after trying for 45 minutes.
8. Stop older child from tormenting the dog. Avoid looking at dog's baleful eyes. Shoo both out of doors to play in backyard.
9. Change sopping wet child who was too busy playing to use the potty.
10. Consider dinner options. Make rice cereal gloop for baby. Play paint the baby. Quit once I figure he's ingested 5 ml and is coated in 100 ml.
11. Try to stop older child from tormenting dog. Child is bored and whiny. Looks for ways to get negative attention: torment dog, torment mom, torment baby. Give innocent, "But I love Chilco/baby Jacob/you" as some sort of panacea.
12. Try to cook dinner, hold baby, avoid screaming at bored/overtired child.
13. Attempt dinner with squirming baby on lap while child refuses to eat because it's not peanut butter toast.
14. Try to put child down at 6pm. He doesn't bite.
15. Make it to 7 pm for pj's, stories, milk. Baby now screams if not being held and/or attached to a boob. Try to get milk sippy for Nate, potty run, stories read with one hand (try it sometime), teeth brushed, into our bed to sleep.
16. Child requests toy, back tickles, dog on bed, last ditch conversations, and "lie with me for a minute mommy" while baby screams bloody murder in playpen in living room.
17. Mom falls exhausted on couch and holds/feeds baby for 30 minutes while baby falls asleep. Intermittently yells at child to get back in bed.
But here's what my two angels look like around 10 pm. They're even holding hands.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Macro Lens Part Two: Jake's close ups
Warning: Of interest only to doting family members...
I think Jake has two expressions: smiling, about to cry.
He is developing more, but generally, he's a pretty happy little dude and he is good at amusing himself. This, I have decided, is a necessary skill for second children as they seem to be horribly neglected compared to the first ones.
I think Jake has two expressions: smiling, about to cry.
He is developing more, but generally, he's a pretty happy little dude and he is good at amusing himself. This, I have decided, is a necessary skill for second children as they seem to be horribly neglected compared to the first ones.
Macro Lens (Alternate Title: Grandparent Fix)
A few days ago, I noticed that the playroom had enough afternoon sun for some photos. I was experimenting mostly with the macro lens function. What it's told me though, as I keep telling David, is that I need some new lenses for the digital camera.
Specifically, I'd like this one and a digital macro lens like this one. If anyone has a few extra thousands lying around, I'll tell you how to make out the cheque and my mailing address.
Anyway, I think these shots are purely interesting to my direct family, but here are some close ups of Nate. What it shows is that kids move around too much for the slight lag a non-digital lens on a digital camera incurs.
Hmmm... and I need Photoshop lessons. Easter gifts anyone?
Jake's close ups to follow in a subsequent post.
Specifically, I'd like this one and a digital macro lens like this one. If anyone has a few extra thousands lying around, I'll tell you how to make out the cheque and my mailing address.
Anyway, I think these shots are purely interesting to my direct family, but here are some close ups of Nate. What it shows is that kids move around too much for the slight lag a non-digital lens on a digital camera incurs.
Hmmm... and I need Photoshop lessons. Easter gifts anyone?
Jake's close ups to follow in a subsequent post.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Dog Days
Normally I'd never do two posts in one day, but something very unsettling happened to me in the dog park today.
Many times a week, I walk Chilco at Ambleside in West Vancouver. It is a two kilometer, paved walkway which has the double bonus of being off-leash and flat. Nate can ride his tricycle, Jake can nap in his stroller and I can get a little exercise. The off-leash area ends at the beach, but the path and beach stretch on for several more kilometers. Recently, Nate has taken to riding another half kilometer or so to the playground area with its swings and climbers. Chilco, having run around and played on the off-leash part, is (relatively) happy to go back on leash for this section.
Today we had finished playing in the playground and were heading back for some much needed lunch. Nate, a little tired, was lagging behind me on his trike. I turned around to wait for him to catch up and noticed an attractive but overdressed woman and her 4 or 5 year old son just behind Nate with their Labrador Retriever pulling hard on the leash. As soon as that dog saw Chilco, he started barking and lunging on the leash.
I've seen lots of dogs interact over the years, and there was nothing playful in that dog's bark. It was aggressive. Chilco's stance switched from relaxed to tense right away. And there was Nate, right between the two dogs.
Now, I don't fault the woman for her dog's initial reaction. What I do fault her for is continuing to let her lunging, growling/barking dog make a beeline towards me and my kids. When she was within three feet of us I said, "Can you either get your dog under control or walk around us?!" and I pointed off the path to the beach.
She just stood there staring at me for about 5 seconds (it felt like 45), hauled her dog off to the side and sneered, "You are such a bitch. I heard there were some bitchy women down here, but you are one bitchy bitch." (Imagine "bitch" as a two syllable word -- "biiitch".)
Then she turns to her son and says, "See that woman? She's a bitch," turns to me and then says, "Why don't you just go? Go ahead of me you bitch."
Ummm, let me see. Try to corral a confused toddler on his trike, a stroller, and a dog who's now in protective mode ahead of you down the next few kilometers of walkway when we're just heading back into the off-leash area? I don't think so.
"No, please, you walk ahead and we'll wait here for a little bit."
She moved away at a snail's pace continuing to say to her son, "What a bitch! Can you believe that bitch? Oh my god she is such a bitch!" while her dog strained and pulled her in an erratic zigzag. At 20 feet away she turned back to yell back at me, "He's just a harmless 6 month baby you bitch. He wouldn't hurt a flea."
At 40 feet away, she stopped again, looked back at me, laughed, and pointed a finger, "Look, she's still standing there. C'mon you scaredy-cat bitch."
I don't think I've ever heard the word used so much by one person in such a short time frame.
Eventually we walked on, back to the car. I have to say, I pasted a smile on my face for the benefit of my son and other, friendly passersby, but my insides felt like jelly. I don't know what I should have done differently. Should I not have said anything initially? Should I have responded to her attack?
What would you have done in that situation?
Many times a week, I walk Chilco at Ambleside in West Vancouver. It is a two kilometer, paved walkway which has the double bonus of being off-leash and flat. Nate can ride his tricycle, Jake can nap in his stroller and I can get a little exercise. The off-leash area ends at the beach, but the path and beach stretch on for several more kilometers. Recently, Nate has taken to riding another half kilometer or so to the playground area with its swings and climbers. Chilco, having run around and played on the off-leash part, is (relatively) happy to go back on leash for this section.
Today we had finished playing in the playground and were heading back for some much needed lunch. Nate, a little tired, was lagging behind me on his trike. I turned around to wait for him to catch up and noticed an attractive but overdressed woman and her 4 or 5 year old son just behind Nate with their Labrador Retriever pulling hard on the leash. As soon as that dog saw Chilco, he started barking and lunging on the leash.
I've seen lots of dogs interact over the years, and there was nothing playful in that dog's bark. It was aggressive. Chilco's stance switched from relaxed to tense right away. And there was Nate, right between the two dogs.
Now, I don't fault the woman for her dog's initial reaction. What I do fault her for is continuing to let her lunging, growling/barking dog make a beeline towards me and my kids. When she was within three feet of us I said, "Can you either get your dog under control or walk around us?!" and I pointed off the path to the beach.
She just stood there staring at me for about 5 seconds (it felt like 45), hauled her dog off to the side and sneered, "You are such a bitch. I heard there were some bitchy women down here, but you are one bitchy bitch." (Imagine "bitch" as a two syllable word -- "biiitch".)
Then she turns to her son and says, "See that woman? She's a bitch," turns to me and then says, "Why don't you just go? Go ahead of me you bitch."
Ummm, let me see. Try to corral a confused toddler on his trike, a stroller, and a dog who's now in protective mode ahead of you down the next few kilometers of walkway when we're just heading back into the off-leash area? I don't think so.
"No, please, you walk ahead and we'll wait here for a little bit."
She moved away at a snail's pace continuing to say to her son, "What a bitch! Can you believe that bitch? Oh my god she is such a bitch!" while her dog strained and pulled her in an erratic zigzag. At 20 feet away she turned back to yell back at me, "He's just a harmless 6 month baby you bitch. He wouldn't hurt a flea."
At 40 feet away, she stopped again, looked back at me, laughed, and pointed a finger, "Look, she's still standing there. C'mon you scaredy-cat bitch."
I don't think I've ever heard the word used so much by one person in such a short time frame.
Eventually we walked on, back to the car. I have to say, I pasted a smile on my face for the benefit of my son and other, friendly passersby, but my insides felt like jelly. I don't know what I should have done differently. Should I not have said anything initially? Should I have responded to her attack?
What would you have done in that situation?
Starving Children in Western Canada
David and I are relatively normal-sized people. He falls on the muscular side, I fall on the lean side. You would think we'd average out to normal-size babies comfortably in the 50th percentile. In fact, both our parents claim we were average babies.
I, however, apparently produce triple-cream breastmilk because Nate, after the first month he was born, climbed to the 95th percentile for height and weight and stayed there until he could walk off some of those pounds. Not to be outdone, his younger brother Jake is following along in his footsteps, but flirts with the 98th to 100th percentile. They're chunk-a-monks for sure.
When I asked our family doctor if "start solids at 6 months" meant the beginning or the end of 6 months, she dashed my hopes by saying the end. That's March 26th for Jake. Now, he's been lunging at our food for two solid months, watching us eat our meals with the starving eyes of an Ethiopian relief camp child.
So two nights ago, I broke down.
With David wielding the spoon, and me the camera (yes, we have considerably fewer shots of our second born), here are the results of "Baby's First Meal":
1. Aim it at the mouth man, the mouth.
2. Okay, that's right. Fill 'er up.
3. Whaddya mean, "Last bite?"
4. Maybe I can suck a bit more... off.. of... here...
5. Reduced to eating my foot again.
6. Next time, bring more to the party, okay?
Yeah. He ate it all up and then some. And there was none of this tongue-thrusting, spit it back out stuff. He leapt at the food and gobbled it down in record time. Even the dog, well trained to look for little people left overs couldn't find anything to lick. And all evening Jake shot us looks saying, "I can't believe you've been holding out on me, man."
Lord knows what his reaction will be when we graduate him to strained fruit. He probably won't speak to us for days!
I, however, apparently produce triple-cream breastmilk because Nate, after the first month he was born, climbed to the 95th percentile for height and weight and stayed there until he could walk off some of those pounds. Not to be outdone, his younger brother Jake is following along in his footsteps, but flirts with the 98th to 100th percentile. They're chunk-a-monks for sure.
When I asked our family doctor if "start solids at 6 months" meant the beginning or the end of 6 months, she dashed my hopes by saying the end. That's March 26th for Jake. Now, he's been lunging at our food for two solid months, watching us eat our meals with the starving eyes of an Ethiopian relief camp child.
So two nights ago, I broke down.
With David wielding the spoon, and me the camera (yes, we have considerably fewer shots of our second born), here are the results of "Baby's First Meal":
1. Aim it at the mouth man, the mouth.
2. Okay, that's right. Fill 'er up.
3. Whaddya mean, "Last bite?"
4. Maybe I can suck a bit more... off.. of... here...
5. Reduced to eating my foot again.
6. Next time, bring more to the party, okay?
Yeah. He ate it all up and then some. And there was none of this tongue-thrusting, spit it back out stuff. He leapt at the food and gobbled it down in record time. Even the dog, well trained to look for little people left overs couldn't find anything to lick. And all evening Jake shot us looks saying, "I can't believe you've been holding out on me, man."
Lord knows what his reaction will be when we graduate him to strained fruit. He probably won't speak to us for days!
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
A Red Letter Day
Okay, more like a red hair day.
A few days ago I rang up my hair dresser, Jules, and told her I was thoroughly bored with being a washed out, greying mom. I offered her extra money if she could get rid of the dark circles under my eyes, but she told me she was just a talented hairdresser, not a miracle worker. (When will Jake start sleeping more than 3 hours at a stretch during the night?!)
She arrived today, supplies intact, and set to work. Two hours later, I looked considerably better and about 10 years younger. Of course, getting rid of half a head of grey will do that for a person.
Nate, not to be outdone, asked Jules to colour his hair too. He picked blue. Since I had blue food colouring left over from his second year birthday cake (Blues Clues, what else?), we used that.
David arrived home and took these shots. Naturally, there's no one good shot of the two of us, either Nate's sneering, or I look like an alien. But all vanity aside, here's the new us:
A few days ago I rang up my hair dresser, Jules, and told her I was thoroughly bored with being a washed out, greying mom. I offered her extra money if she could get rid of the dark circles under my eyes, but she told me she was just a talented hairdresser, not a miracle worker. (When will Jake start sleeping more than 3 hours at a stretch during the night?!)
She arrived today, supplies intact, and set to work. Two hours later, I looked considerably better and about 10 years younger. Of course, getting rid of half a head of grey will do that for a person.
Nate, not to be outdone, asked Jules to colour his hair too. He picked blue. Since I had blue food colouring left over from his second year birthday cake (Blues Clues, what else?), we used that.
David arrived home and took these shots. Naturally, there's no one good shot of the two of us, either Nate's sneering, or I look like an alien. But all vanity aside, here's the new us:
Friday, March 07, 2008
Heard Yesterday in our Car
Nate: Mommy, where's Daddy?
Me: On a trip honey. For work.
Nate: Oh. Can I go too?
Me: No honey. We don't have any tickets today.
Nate: Oh. Can I have those tickets in the window? (Parking stubs from local parking lots.)
Hands Nate tickets.
Nate: I have a blue ticket and a yellow ticket. When Daddy comes home, we're goin' on a 'venture.
Me: That sounds like fun.
Nate: Yes! We're goin' on a venture on a airplane, an' a train, an' a bus, an' a mighty machine, an' a bus, an' an' an' a boat. And you can't come.
Me: Oh. Why not?
Nate: You have to stay with baby Jacob and change his diaper.
Natch.
Nate: An' my friends are coming on a 'venture too: Granma Claudia an' the Pere, an the Other Granma, and Granpa, an' Uncle Jon, an' Cousin Madanaddya (ed. trans. Madeleine), an' Cousin Libya (ed. trans. Olivia), an' Uncle Becky.
Me: Aunt Becky.
Nate: Yes! Uncle Aunt Becky.
Me: And can Mommy come too?
Nate: No! You have to run errands.
Me: Oh.
30 second pause.
Nate: Mommy?
Me: Yes Nate?
Nate: I love you.
Yeah right kid. You just sold me up the river to a bunch of household chores.
Me: I love you too Nate.
Nate: 'An Mommy?
Me: Yes, Nate?
Finally. Here it comes... I'm going on the 'venture too...
Nate: Baby Jacob needs his diaper changed.
Me: On a trip honey. For work.
Nate: Oh. Can I go too?
Me: No honey. We don't have any tickets today.
Nate: Oh. Can I have those tickets in the window? (Parking stubs from local parking lots.)
Hands Nate tickets.
Nate: I have a blue ticket and a yellow ticket. When Daddy comes home, we're goin' on a 'venture.
Me: That sounds like fun.
Nate: Yes! We're goin' on a venture on a airplane, an' a train, an' a bus, an' a mighty machine, an' a bus, an' an' an' a boat. And you can't come.
Me: Oh. Why not?
Nate: You have to stay with baby Jacob and change his diaper.
Natch.
Nate: An' my friends are coming on a 'venture too: Granma Claudia an' the Pere, an the Other Granma, and Granpa, an' Uncle Jon, an' Cousin Madanaddya (ed. trans. Madeleine), an' Cousin Libya (ed. trans. Olivia), an' Uncle Becky.
Me: Aunt Becky.
Nate: Yes! Uncle Aunt Becky.
Me: And can Mommy come too?
Nate: No! You have to run errands.
Me: Oh.
30 second pause.
Nate: Mommy?
Me: Yes Nate?
Nate: I love you.
Yeah right kid. You just sold me up the river to a bunch of household chores.
Me: I love you too Nate.
Nate: 'An Mommy?
Me: Yes, Nate?
Finally. Here it comes... I'm going on the 'venture too...
Nate: Baby Jacob needs his diaper changed.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
And What's With That Anyway?
Sometime during the six years I lived overseas, someone invented one of the biggest time-wasting, ear-splitting, energy-sucking machines ever. Not only is this machine ridiculous in concept, but so is the appearance of the people wielding it. They're dressed in those reflective traffic vests, wearing huge ear protectors, 1970s style goggles, and enormous battery packs strapped to their backs.
All for, yes, you guessed it, the leaf blower.
The world's most inane machine.
When we lived in the heart of Vancouver's downtown, I would often see a man (because as we all know, there isn't a man alive who doesn't love a gadget) outside some building, chasing leaves and dirt around with what looks like an industrial vacuum hose set on reverse. Maybe men love it because it follows the same principles for them as inside the house. Don't vacuum up the dirt and get rid of it permanently, just shift it around from place to place.
Anyway, when I lived in the core, these machines were so popular that you couldn't escape them. Which gave me ample opportunity to study the two leaf blowing methods:
1. The Chaser. He finds one offensive leaf, twig or piece of dirt and chases it across the front walk to the gutter. Then he returns to find another piece and chases it to the gutter. Process repeats until all offending objects are cleared from the front of the building. Ineffective and time-consuming, the Chaser is obviously a novice user.
2. The Sweeper. The more experienced wielder of the mighty leaf blower, this owner swings his arm (and sometimes entire upper body) in an arcing motion, blowing all leaves, twigs and dirt from one area before systematically moving on to the next patch.
And these machines are loud. So loud, one city councilor motioned to get them banned through a city by-law, but this idea was promptly defeated.Obviously there were several leaf blower owners on council.
Now, if you've ever lived, visited, or even walked through a city's downtown, you may have noticed a little something called wind. Tall buildings create wind tunnels. Wind tunnels, however gentle, tend to stir up dust, leaves and dirt into the air. Thus, said elements resettle back onto lawns, building walkways and sidewalks. Repeatedly. Throughout the day.
And so leaf blower must run back out there and reclean his patch of property. All at the expense of another bunch of decibels.
But what sparked this rant is that today I saw the definition of ridiculous. As I was walking with the kids and dog along the sandy beach path at Ambleside, with the wind blowing from the water, over the sand, onto the path and beyond, we ran across a city worker.
Armed with a leaf blower.
Sweeping his arm in that rhythmic motion.
Clearing the path in front of him, while behind, the sand blew right back onto the path.
Our tax dollars... hard at work.
All for, yes, you guessed it, the leaf blower.
The world's most inane machine.
When we lived in the heart of Vancouver's downtown, I would often see a man (because as we all know, there isn't a man alive who doesn't love a gadget) outside some building, chasing leaves and dirt around with what looks like an industrial vacuum hose set on reverse. Maybe men love it because it follows the same principles for them as inside the house. Don't vacuum up the dirt and get rid of it permanently, just shift it around from place to place.
Anyway, when I lived in the core, these machines were so popular that you couldn't escape them. Which gave me ample opportunity to study the two leaf blowing methods:
1. The Chaser. He finds one offensive leaf, twig or piece of dirt and chases it across the front walk to the gutter. Then he returns to find another piece and chases it to the gutter. Process repeats until all offending objects are cleared from the front of the building. Ineffective and time-consuming, the Chaser is obviously a novice user.
2. The Sweeper. The more experienced wielder of the mighty leaf blower, this owner swings his arm (and sometimes entire upper body) in an arcing motion, blowing all leaves, twigs and dirt from one area before systematically moving on to the next patch.
And these machines are loud. So loud, one city councilor motioned to get them banned through a city by-law, but this idea was promptly defeated.
Now, if you've ever lived, visited, or even walked through a city's downtown, you may have noticed a little something called wind. Tall buildings create wind tunnels. Wind tunnels, however gentle, tend to stir up dust, leaves and dirt into the air. Thus, said elements resettle back onto lawns, building walkways and sidewalks. Repeatedly. Throughout the day.
And so leaf blower must run back out there and reclean his patch of property. All at the expense of another bunch of decibels.
But what sparked this rant is that today I saw the definition of ridiculous. As I was walking with the kids and dog along the sandy beach path at Ambleside, with the wind blowing from the water, over the sand, onto the path and beyond, we ran across a city worker.
Armed with a leaf blower.
Sweeping his arm in that rhythmic motion.
Clearing the path in front of him, while behind, the sand blew right back onto the path.
Our tax dollars... hard at work.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Unpacked and Settled In
It's taken two weeks, a lot of bumps and bruises, elbow grease and several bottles of wine, but we're finally moved in.
Well, we're 90% moved in. There are no pictures on the walls, there are a few boxes waiting for the buffet to arrive, or a few containers in the kitchen. But for the most part, things are in their place. Knowing me, the last 10% will take several months to complete, but it's looking good.
And if it weren't for Ron and Claudia, we'd be swimming in all the boxes, I'd be crying into copious boxes of kleenex and dinners would consist of delivery and/or take out.
Yesterday we celebrated with a phenomenal meal cooked from David's Vij's cookbook, a killer creme brulee, and a bottle of the Okanagan's Golden Mile Syrah. Life is indeed good.
Well, we're 90% moved in. There are no pictures on the walls, there are a few boxes waiting for the buffet to arrive, or a few containers in the kitchen. But for the most part, things are in their place. Knowing me, the last 10% will take several months to complete, but it's looking good.
And if it weren't for Ron and Claudia, we'd be swimming in all the boxes, I'd be crying into copious boxes of kleenex and dinners would consist of delivery and/or take out.
Yesterday we celebrated with a phenomenal meal cooked from David's Vij's cookbook, a killer creme brulee, and a bottle of the Okanagan's Golden Mile Syrah. Life is indeed good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
